Chapter 10

        LeAnn looked back at the Marines standing at the door hatch. The runabout was packed to nearly full capacity. A squad of twelve Marines stood ready in the aft section of the runabout, while Ironsides and one of the Engineering crew were seated near LeAnn in the cockpit. “We’re secure,” she told them. “The magnetic clamps are holding. You can start cutting.”
        Ironsides nodded and turned back to the Marines. “Allright. Get to it.”
        Two Marines handled the laser shears controls mounted on the wall next to the hatch. They cut a wide oval, just within the short docking collar that held the runabout Fuji to the massive doors that sealed off the Galaxy’s main shuttlebay.
        Within moments, they had cut a hole into the shuttlebay. They had already checked for an atmosphere, so there wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened to the cargo shuttle San Francisco.
        “All clear,” one of the Marines said, looking at his black tricorder. “No atmosphere and no bogeys in range.”
        Ironsides nodded from inside his suit. “Allright. Open the hatch. Weapons hot.”
        The door swung open, and the Marines filed out into the dark cavern that was the shuttlebay.
        Their lights shone on rows of shuttles parked alongside one side of the bay. Then their lights hit a large craft that took up more than half of the shuttlebay. It had a smooth, yet angular design, something already familiar to Ironsides and LeAnn.
        “So that’s how they got here,” Ironsides remarked.
        “Looks damaged, sir,” Lieutenant Dawson said. He shone his rifle’s light at a deep groove alongside the shuttle.
        “Yeah,” Ironsides said. “Probably from hitting the warp nacelle.”
        “The Galaxy must have let it come in, to help out,” Dawson guessed.
        “Bad move.” Ironsides turned and looked at the others. He raised his rifle, looking at the power indicator. “I’ve got a bad power pack, I need to swap it,” Ironsides told the others. “Hold position here.”
        The major walked back into the runabout, going into the aft compartment. LeAnn’s voice spoke to him in his suit. “Major? Something wrong, sir?”
        “Bad phaser power pack. I’m changing it out,” Ironsides told her. He kneeled at the far back of the runabout, out of view. He pulled open a storage drawer, looking at the small octagonal grey devices inside.
        Ironsides tapped on his gauntlet’s wrist readout. His suit’s limited computer processor spoke back to him. “Confirmed, Q-6 charge frequency keyed in to Ironsides’s suit.”
        He pulled several of the charges out of the drawer, secreting them into his suit’s various storage compartments, discarding his suit’s tricorder and first-aid kit to make room.
        Once he had stowed away five charges, the major cleared his throat and spoke into his suit’s comm system. “Ensign LeAnn, sit tight. If there are any problems, we’ll be coming right back for a pull out.” But not before we blow this ship to hell, Captain’s orders or not, he thought to himself.
        “Yes, sir,” LeAnn nodded, speaking into her suit’s comm system, unaware of Ironsides’s covert actions.
        Ironsides shoved the drawer back closed, out of view. He stood, picking up his rifle and walked out to see the other Marines standing vigilantly.
        “Come on. We’ve got a timetable to keep.” Ironsides looked at the group under his command. “Stay together.”
        The group of Marines walked out into the dark shuttlebay, passing underneath the Vendoth craft, headed for the doors that led out into the ship.
        One of the Marines doused his rifle’s light and held his fist up, making the others pause and do the same. Ironsides saw why. One of the Vendoth entered the shuttlebay, heading for the ramp that led up into their craft.
        Apparently he was unaware of their presence since they were behind one of the large landing struts of the craft. Ironsides motioned for them to wait until the alien reached the ramp.
        When the black suited Vendoth stepped in front of the ramp, Ironsides and two other men converged onto the alien. They leapt on him, wrestling him to the ground. Ironsides tried to pin the alien’s arms back, but his sharp fingers kept scraping across his suit’s armor. He kicked with a squat leg, pushing one of the Marines backwards. The other Marine jumped on his legs, trying to press them down.
        Another Marine came out of hiding and kneeled on the Vendoth’s chest. “Smash the helmet,” Ironsides ordered.
        The Marine obliged, hammering on the Vendoth’s black featureless helmet with his rifle’s butt. After several blows, the faceplate cracked. It took several more blows to subdue the alien.
        The Vendoth laid motionless on the deck of the shuttlebay, his face a pulpy orange mess.
        Ironsides stood up and looked at the Marine laying on the floor several meters away. “Someone check on Private Winvox.”
        A Marine hurried to the fallen Marine’s side. “He’s unconscious. His suit indicates a severe concussion. Must’ve banged his head hard on the deck.”
        “Damn it,” Ironsides sighed. He turned to Dawson who stood by his side. “Go and help him carry Winvox back to the runabout. I’ll contact the ship.”        
        “Yes, sir,” Dawson said, walking over to Winvox.
        Ironsides shook his head and took one more look around the shuttlebay, with his rifle’s light back on. “What the?” He slowly walked up to one of far walls, just beyond where Winvox fell to the deck. He moved his light and saw that the far wall was bumpy.
        The closer he got, he saw the truth. Piles of bodies were stacked like cordwood, to over his head. Some of the other Marines walked up to him, looking at the grotesque pile.
        “Holy shit,” one whispered.
        “So that’s where all of them went,” the other said.
        “No,” Ironsides said. “There were 47 crew. This is only about 20 or so. They must be gathered up elsewhere.” Ironsides shone his light on a single body laying next to the pile. The body was human, stripped of her uniform. Her chest was opened, revealing the internal organs.
        “Why would they do that?” one of the Marines asked.
        “Probably a dissection,” Ironsides said. “These Vendoth apparently like to learn new things.”
        “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
        Ironsides turned back to the Marine. “Don’t. It’s too messy in a suit. Be sick some other time.”
        “Yes, sir.”
        Ironsides stepped away from the stack of bodies. He looked at the queasy Marine. “Take a tricorder recording of this. Maybe we’ll be able to sort out who is who, so their families can be informed.”
        The Marine nodded, pulling out a black tricorder. He walked slowly past the pile of stiff bodies, waving the tricorder.
        Ironsides watched the Marine for a moment, before turning away. “Marine One to No Name City, please advise.”
        Johnson’s voice echoed within his helmet. “No Name City here. Give me a sitrep.”
        “We subdued a Vendoth, no weapons. There’s an alien shuttle in this shuttlebay, probably their ship. We’ve also found approximately 20 of the ship’s original crew here, all dead.”
        “I see.”
        “One of my men is down, Private Winvox. Severe concussion. That will leave us with only seven to take the Battle Bridge.”
        “Is the engineer still alive?”
        Ironsides turned to look at the white suited engineer that was part of the group. “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Poulson is fine.”
        “Good, we need him to break the Vendoth’s computer control.”
        “Without Winvox, I will only have eight men to take the Battle Bridge,” Ironsides pointed out.
        Johnson’s answer was almost immediate. “Take Ensign LeAnn, have her replace Winvox. She can help pilot the ship out of the nebula.”
        “Is that wise? She has not been in a combat situation like this before. She’s green.”
        “She’ll be fine. Your men will be there to protect her. Proceed as planned. No Name City out.”
        Ironsides heard the telltale click of a closed connection. “Yes, sir,” he sighed.

        Johnson rubbed his finger against his thumb, frowning at the viewscreen. “Status of the Rainier team?”
        Bogarde replied, “They’re enroute to rendezvous with the Vesuvius team.”
        “Good, is everything going according to the timetable?”
        “Yes, sir.”
        Johnson looked at the helm officer, Lieutenant Amanda Ruiz, seeing her glancing back at him.
        “Is there something, Lieutenant?”
        She took a deep breath, about to begin to say something, but instead expelled the air. “No, sir. I’m just concerned about the teams.”
        “They’ll be fine,” Johnson said. “Ensign LeAnn will be fine as well,” he smiled.
        Ruiz blinked at the mention of the ensign’s name. “Yes, sir, they should be,” she replied, turning back to her station at the helm.

        “Allright, this is the junction we’re supposed to hold at,” Corporal Yonig said to the rest of his men. “Lieutenant Dawson is due here any minute,” he said, looking at his wrist gauntlet’s readout. He looked at the six other Marines who stood warily in the corridor. As per their training, they watched all directions.
        Private Ballatin spoke up. “Do you think we’re gonna make it?”
        Yonig looked at the private. “Of course. We know how to hurt them now, and we won’t be ambushed. I’ve been thinking about something. We’ve never seen more than five of them together at the same time. Makes me wonder just how many there are, really.”
        “Good point, sir,” Ballatin nodded. “I can’t help but feel like they can’t be stopped. I watched them wipe out four of our guys in no time flat. I would’ve been smoked too, if it hadn’t been for you guys showing up just on time.”
        “Relax, Thora,” Yonig said. “I know you’re scared. We’re all scared. Anyone who says otherwise is a lying endvoith.”
        Ballatin chuckled slightly.
        Yonig added, “But we’re Marines, aren’t we?”
        “Yes, sir, we are.”
        “I didn’t hear you!”
        Ballatin shouted, “Yes, sir, we are!”
        Yonig slammed a fist on Ballatin’s shoulderpad, and she slammed a fist on his suit as well.
        Several dots of lights floated down one of the corridors, approaching the Marines. Yonig tensed up, aiming his rifle. The others took aim with their rifles as well, shining lights down at the newcomers. “Halt, friend or foe?”
        “Neither,” came the reply. “Lieutenant Dawson here. At ease.”
        Yonig smiled thinly, exhaling a sigh of relief. “Right on time, sir,” he said to the lieutenant.
        “Allright,” Dawson said. He surveyed the group of Marines, twelve in all. “Let’s get moving to Main Engineering.”

        Bogarde called out. “Lieutenant Dawson’s team has joined up with the Rainier team. They’re enroute to Main Engineering. ETA less than nine minutes.”
        “And the ETA for Ironsides’s men?” Johnson asked.
        “Under five minutes.”

        Ironsides paused, switching off his rifle’s light. He peered around the corner to the single door that was in the hallway. “Doesn’t look like anyone is around,” he said. He stepped around the corner slowly, clicking his rifle’s flashlight back on. The light shone down the hallway, revealing nothing.
        He motioned for the others to follow him down the hallway. “You, watch down that way. And you, guard the other direction. We have just about four minutes before we start.”
        His men acknowledged his orders, spreading out in a defensive posture. Ironsides looked at his wrist readout. After pressing a series of requests on the console, his suit’s computer told him what he wanted to know.
        “Confirmed, all charges are now active, awaiting encrypted detonation code.”
         Each of the five charges he had surreptitiously placed throughout the journey from the shuttlebay to this deck were ready. Ironsides looked up from his wrist readout and stared out into the corridor, waiting.

        Dawson paused, crouching at the corner. He knelt forward, looking around the corner. Then he looked in the other direction. “Allright. Move, doubletime!”
        The others hurried past Dawson, weapons at the ready.
        “They’re gone,” Ballatin declared.
        “Who?” Dawson asked as he stood up.
        “The Marines that were killed from before,” Ballatin explained. Four of them were right here in front of the entrance.”
        “She’s right,” Yonig added.
        Dawson looked down the hallway that led up to the large doors of Main Engineering. “Well, they must have taken them elsewhere. Remember what the major found in the shuttlebay?”
        “Ugh, yeah,” Ballatin said.
        Dawson looked at his wrist gauntlet and tapped in a message.

        “Lieutenant Dawson reports his team in place,” Bogarde told Johnson.
        The captain turned to look at Favor, sitting in the adjacent seat to him. He turned to look at Lieutenant Kyle sitting in the other adjacent seat. Johnson looked back up at the blurry viewscreen. “Tell all teams to be ready,” he said to Bogarde.
        “Aye, sir.”
        The captain twisted the monitor between him and Favor, calling up a tactical schematic.
        Johnson looked back at Favor. “Go ahead.”
        The ambassador stood up and stepped to the space in between the helm station and the captain’s seat. He looked back at Bogarde. “Chief, if you please?”
        “Yes, Ambassador. Hailing the Galaxy.”
        
        “Project Leader, the other ship has initiated an communications connection to this craft,” Si’Paien said from her seat at one of the aft stations.
        Aung’Rama looked up from her remote minutiae viewer in her hand. “Are they attempting to seize control?”
        “No,” Si’Paien answered. “This is an communications request, addressed to us.”
        “Allow it,” Aung’Rama said, looking back at Si’Paien.

        The viewscreen on the Courageous changed from a murky, static filled view of the Galaxy within the nebula, to a slightly clearer, but still static filled view of the bridge of the Galaxy.
        Favor saw one of the Vendoth seated in the captain’s seat. The Vendoth turned to see Favor in her own viewscreen. He thought he could see another Vendoth seated in the far back, but the resolution of the image was too poor to be accurate.
        He licked his lips and smiled. “This is the U.S.S. Courageous, a Federation starship. I am Ambassador Nathan Favor. You are the Vendoth, correct?”
        The Vendoth turned aside, speaking to another figure. Favor couldn’t understand what was being said. All that came through was a long series of guttural sounds. Favor turned to Bogarde. “Is the Universal Translator working?”
        “Yes,” Bogarde said. “It just says it needs more information to analyze their language.”
        The Vendoth turned back to face the viewscreen. “You are correct. We are the Vendoth. I am Project Leader Qe’Doth Aung’Rama, the superior here.”
        Favor looked back at Bogarde. “About time the translator started working.”
        “It’s not the translator,” Bogarde answered back. “That alien is speaking Federation Standard.”
        “Oh,” Favor nodded, looking at Aung’Rama. “Well, Project Leader Aung’Rama...”
        “Project Leader Qe’Doth Aung’Rama,” the Vendoth snapped.
        “Project Leader Qe’Doth Aung’Rama,” Favor amended. “I’m here to negotiate for the release of our ship.”
        “There is nothing to negotiate. We have this ship in our control. It is ours now.”
        “Well, I would understand that under certain salvage laws. However, I know that this ship was not abandoned when you arrived. So it remains the Federation’s property.”
        “This ship and its technology is Vendoth property. We will use it as we see fit.” Aung’Rama stared at them through the viewscreen. “You seek to negotiate with us. You have nothing to offer. You have nothing to bargain with. Our superiority should be evident. Your soldiers have seen that.”
        “The fact that your soldiers were able to kill ours quickly does not prove superiority,” Favor said.
        “Your ignorance to facts is almost forgivable in light of your inferiority,” Aung’Rama said. “The simple fact of the matter is that the only thing we need to negotiate is your surrender. Realize the truth. We Vendoth are superior.”
        Favor turned to face Johnson, hoping for some hint as to how to proceed. Johnson’s face was only set in a grim frown. “Right,” he said, pressing an icon on the monitor next to him.

        “Time to go,” Ironsides looked at his men. “Move out.”

        “That’s the order,” Dawson shouted. “Go!” He set down the corridor, running at breakneck speed, followed shortly by the others. They slammed against the wall next to the Engineering doors. Two Marines twisted the door manual release.
        “It’s not working!”
        Dawson swore. “Someone give me a quick reading!”
        “There’s an atmosphere in Engineering!”
        “Right, then,” Dawson nodded. He stepped back and leveled his rifle at the door. The others did the same. They started firing. Within seconds, a huge gaping hole was burned through the locked doors. Air started rushing out, pressing the Marines back.
        Almost comically, a partially suited Vendoth was sucked through the hole, slamming into the Marines, knocking several, including Ballatin, down to the deck.
        The Vendoth, having a remarkable presence of mind not to breathe, grabbed at the collar of Ballatin.
        The others struggled to grab the Vendoth, dragging him off Ballatin. She swung her gloved fist in the Vendoth’s face. The punch seemed to have no effect.
        The walls around the Marines erupted into weaponsfire. Ballatin looked through the hole and saw that several of the Vendoth were fully suited, protected against the explosive decompression. They were firing wildly, trying to regroup against the unexpected attack.
        Ballatin pushed with her feet, forcing the Vendoth to lose his balance. She was able to scramble for her rifle while the other two Marines pulled at the alien. Once she seized her rifle, she spun around on her knees, and fired at near-pointblank range. The Vendoth’s exposed head erupted in a geyser of orange blood and tan bone shrapnel.
        “Move back!” Dawson shouted, seeing the suited Vendoth approaching the ruptured doors. “Take cover!”
        The Vendoth converged at the entrance, firing at the Marines. One Marine’s chestplate erupted in a flare of sparks, exposing the sensitive inner workings. He pinwheeled his arms as he staggered backwards. It only took another shot to pierce the chestplate and scorch the Marine’s chest.
        “Spread out,” Dawson screamed into the comm system. “Don’t bunch up together, you stupid assholes!”
        Ballatin scrambled further back in the corridor. She turned and kneeled in a firing position, laying down cover fire, keeping the Vendoth pinned in Engineering. She saw the others doing the same in the side corridors. She smiled grimly. This time, it seemed, they had the upper hand against the Vendoth.

        The thin door slid open easily, and a grey-suited Marine rushed in, waving his rifle around. “All clear,” he called out. His light played over the small pie-shaped room that was the Battle Bridge. Several more Marines rushed in, spreading around the perimeter of the room, their multiple beams of lights crisscrossing across the dark room.
        Ironsides stepped in, and grabbed Poulson. He pointed to one of the small curved Aft stations. “Lieutenant, get to work, we only have so much time!”
        Poulson rushed to the station, not bothering to sit at the small stool provided there. He ran his thick white gloved fingers over the dimly lit console. The lights brightened at his touch. Within seconds, the rest of the consoles in the Battle Bridge lit up.
        Ironsides watched LeAnn rush into the room, carrying a phaser rifle clumsily. He pulled her aside. “Ensign, forget the rifle. Go to the helm. As soon as Lieutenant Poulson gets impulse power, get us the hell out of this nebula.”
        “Aye, sir,” LeAnn nodded, dropping her rifle against the side of a computer station. She weaved past the freestanding Tactical station and the lone captain’s seat to one of the two stations at the forefront of the Battle Bridge. She sat down in the right hand station, sliding the seat up against the console.
        “Rerouting power,” Poulson called out. “Initiating fusion reactors.”
        Ironsides looked over at LeAnn at the forefront of the bridge. “Get us moving as soon as impulse engines are hot, Ensign.”
        “Just a minute, sir. I have to reset flight configuration. I don’t know why, but all warp nacelles are being brought online.”
        “No, shut down the Starboard Nacelle!”
        “I just did,” LeAnn said. “Warning lights were starting to come on. I just took all nacelles offline.”
        “That’s fine,” Ironsides nodded. He turned to Poulson. “How’re you doing with those command lockouts, Poulson?”
        The lieutenant spoke as he typed. “It’s hard. So many relays through this ship are blown out, either by damage or by the emergency protocols.”
        “Well, hurry,” Ironsides said. “Pretty soon the Vendoth might figure out what we’re up to.”

        Aung’Rama looked at the tall long haired human that stood in the viewscreen before her. He continued talking about the legality and illegality of her actions. She listened to him out of morbid curiosity, listening to him trying to explain their laughably inferior system of law.
        He was attempting to open a mutual dialogue, as she had been told to expect. She felt almost embarrassed for the ambassador, because he was clearly making a fool of himself.
        If Roq’Ragn had been here, he would have not even allowed the communication to occur. He saw no point in talking with these inferiors. She prided herself in listening to new sources of information, however unorthodox they might be.
        Still, she was gleaning no new information from this human. She turned to Si’Paien. “Terminate this conversation,” she ordered the other Vendoth.
        “Wait, Project Leader. I’m detecting unusual computer activity,” she told Aung’Rama.
        “From their craft?”
        “No, from within this craft,” Si’Paien said. “I’m being denied access to various subsystems. It seems to be a fairly simple encryption code. I shall break through in several moments.”
        “Good,” Aung’Rama said. She turned to the viewscreen and clacked her teeth shut. “This conversation is over. Take this time to prepare yourselves for your surrender.”
        The viewscreen went black. She raised her remote minutiae viewer, using her sharpened thumb claw to activate it. “Tr’Dunarg, report.” No reply came.
        She tried again. “Qo’Doth Tr’Dunarg, answer to your superior!” She turned to Si’Paien. “Can you determine the status of the Engine Room?”
        “There is no longer an atmosphere within the Engine Room,” she reported back.
        Suddenly, the craft began vibrating around her. Aung’Rama jerked in her seat at the startling motion. She leapt to her feet and ran to Si’Paien. “What is happening?”
        “Propulsion has been activated. The craft is attempting to move.”
        “The fools! Don’t they realize this craft is mired in the gravitational pools? Can’t their sensors see that?”
        “Apparently not,” Si’Paien said. “They are attempting a course outside of the nebula.”
        “Where are they doing this? From the Engine Room?”
        “No, Project Leader. From within another command nexus in this craft.”
        Aung’Rama hissed. “Discover the location, and contact Roq’Ragn on his personal communications signal.”

        Dawson watched another Marine fall forward, struck by a precision strike by the two Vendoth snipers hiding behind the Engineering doors. He frowned and fired his rifle, driving them back under cover. The ship’s strange vibrations told him that the Battle Bridge team had taken control.
        He counted how many Marines were still left. He could make a visual headcount of nine Marines. He squinted, looking into the Engineering chamber. He saw several Vendoth run in one direction, while one remained fixed in front of the warp core.
        “Everyone, start preparing to pull out,” he spoke into his suit’s comm system. “We’ve done our bit.”
        He slowly walked backwards, firing his rifle. From his new vantage point, he saw that only one Vendoth remained at the doors. Sudden realization dawned on him.
        “Dawson to Ironsides! Come in, Ironsides!” he shouted. A squeal of static answered him. “Goddamn piece of shit,” he banged his helmet. “Dawson to Courageous, warn Ironsides! They’re after him now!”

        “What’s going on?” Ironsides shouted, steadying himself against a bulkhead. “Why’s the ship shaking like this?”
        “I don’t know!” LeAnn shouted. “I have full impulse already, and the sensors say we’re not moving a millimeter!”
        Poulson added, “We’re draining energy by the second. If we haven’t broken free of any gravitational forces by now, we’re not likely to. I recommend we shut down before we tear the ship apart.”
        Ironsides swore indistinctly. He cleared his throat and looked over at LeAnn. “Ensign, power down the impulse engines. Poulson, keep locking the Vendoth out.”
        “They’re already hacking into the security codes,” Poulson said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ll keep trying more sophisticated encryption codes, but I think--”
        The emergency turbolift on the far side of the Battle Bridge, just beyond where Poulson was sitting, exploded outwards. The Marine standing nearby was flung to the front of the bridge by the force of the explosion. Ironsides saw several shards embedded in the private’s side.
        A Vendoth, in full environmental gear, leapt through the open turbolift doorway, his weapon firing. Ironsides dove for cover, shouting, “They’ve found us! Pull out!”
        Another Vendoth jumped in through the turbolift shaft. He brandished his weapon, and fired. Ironsides followed the energy bolt as it blasted through LeAnn’s suit. The console in front of LeAnn exploded, knocking her backwards. He heard LeAnn’s scream of agony, then a sudden silence.

Chapter 11

        The silence following LeAnn’s curtailed dying scream was replaced by Johnson’s voice. “Is the Battle Bridge secure?”
        “No, the Vendoth burst in us,” Ironsides shouted glancing around the enclosed location. “We can’t keep them out!”
        “Why haven’t you moved the ship yet?”
        “We tried! No good! I’m ordering a retreat! I’ve already lost Ensign LeAnn and Private El Abbendi,” Ironsides shouting, looking around on the bridge.
        “No! Stay there!” Johnson shouted into Ironsides’s ear.
        “I’m not going to lose more people,” Ironsides shouted back. “Our defenses are blown! We’re pulling out!”
        The major gritted his teeth and fired his rifle from his low position. His shots found their marks in the first Vendoth’s leg, knocking him down on the deck.
        Another Vendoth came through the shaft, diving to the ground. Ironsides saw that the alien had a clear shot at him. He rolled quickly onto his back, pushing with his right arm. The energy bolt that would’ve drilled down his head, instead struck his wrist, causing the keypad to explode.
        He shouted at the searing pain, and jerked his hand back, tucking against the wall. Ironsides looked up at Poulson, and saw him trying to run. A Vendoth fired, ripping an energy bolt through the small ankle joint in Poulson’s boot. He screamed, tumbling to the ground, losing hold of his weapon.
        Ironsides scrambled to his feet, shouting into his helmet’s comm system. “Everyone, pull out!” He ran backwards, firing his rifle in a wide arc, awkwardly with his left hand and arm. He bumped into another Marine, headed back out into the corridor. The other Marine stepped aside to let the Major through, and that courtesy cost him his life.
        One of the Vendoth fired a head shot, knocking the Marine back against the wall. Ironsides paused to see if he could grab the Marine, but a bloody faceplate told him it would’ve been pointless.
        He fired his rifle at the Vendoth who had just killed the Marine next to him. Most of the shots went wild, but a few struck the Vendoth on the shoulder, causing him to drop back for cover.
        Ironsides turned and ran, following several Marines out into the corridor. He felt a dull thud on his back. Since it didn’t burn through to his skin, he guessed it was just a shot that grazed him. He dove out of the door, spilling into the hallway.
        The other Marines that were able to escape looked at him. “Back to the runabout!”
        They set off running. Ironsides turned, running backwards, watching the corridors. None of the Vendoth seemed to come after them. “Singleminded sons of bitches,” he muttered to himself. They hadn’t changed their modius operandi- drive out the intruders, and secure the area.
        
        “We’re almost there,” Dawson told the others. “Ballatin, are any of them following us?”
        “No,” Ballatin answered back. “Nothing on the tricorder either.”
        “I hope Ironsides got out,” Dawson sighed. He turned another corner and saw the docking port. He looked at the Marine he was carrying. “You’ll be okay. We’ll patch you up in the Rainier and take you back to the Courageous.”
        The Marine could only groan his thanks. His suit’s midsection showed a dark grey patch covering up a large burn hole below his suit’s chestplate. The two of them hobbled to the docking port as others rushed by them.
        Within moments, Dawson was seated next to the designated squad pilot. “No Name City, come in. Marine Boat Two requesting evac.”
        “Come home,” Bogarde’s voice said.
        With that, the squad pilot pulled the runabout away from the Galaxy.

        Aung’Rama looked at Tr’Dunarg. “Your bravery is commended. I am pleased you are able to continue your service to the Vendoth.”
        “It is simply the fact that I still cannot get this ship’s technology to reveal itself to me,” Tr’Dunarg said, wincing slightly. His green hide showed grey scaling, a result of the low temperatures when the Engine Room had been decompressed.
        “Referring to that, what is your progress.”
        “I regret to inform you, Project Leader, that our progress is nil. With our limited working technology, we are unable to make progress as usual.”
        “I understand,” Aung’Rama blinked.
        “Furthermore, this craft’s power reserves are dangerously low. We need more power, otherwise we will be soon dead in space, as we were before.”
        “Well, it seems I shall now have to bargain with these inferiors. Fortunately, we come prepared.” She turned to Roq’Ragn. “Stay here. I shall return to the Central Command.” With that, she clicked her helmet back on, and strode out of the Engine Room.

        Johnson looked at Ironsides. “You did a good job pulling your men out.”
        Ironsides shrugged, looking at his hand, encased in a metallic cast. “I was doing my job, sir. I look out for my men. I do what’s in their best interests.”
        “I know,” Johnson nodded. “I see no other option. I’m going to have to scuttle the ship.”
        “Lieutenant Dawson already has a plan for that. Talk to him,” Ironsides said.
        “I will,” Johnson nodded, leaning against the wall of the biobed Ironsides laid on. He looked around, seeing other injuries being treated in the large Sickbay.
        “Bridge to Captain Johnson.”
        Johnson tapped his combadge. “Johnson here.”
        “The Vendoth are hailing us,” Kyle announced.
        “I’m on my way,” Johnson said, walking briskly out of the Sickbay. Moments later, he walked onto the Bridge. “Report, Lieutenant.”
        Kyle stood away from the command seat. “The Vendoth, Aung’Rama, is hailing us.”
        “On screen,” Johnson told Bogarde.
        The viewscreen showed Aung’Rama standing in the center of the Galaxy’s Bridge.
        Johnson walked to the center of his bridge and sat in his command seat, glaring at the Vendoth.
        Aung’Rama began speaking. “Courageous, your diversionary tactics failed. Once again, you lose more people to our superior forces. You prove your inferiority in your actions.”
        Favor, who had remained on the bridge, spoke up. “Superior people don’t need to gloat, since they know they are superior. You contacted us for a reason.”
        “Ah, a minuscule flash of superior insight,” Aung’Rama said. “Earlier, you wished to bargain. You had nothing to offer. Now it turns out you do.”
        “And what do you have to offer?” Favor asked.
        Aung’Rama looked at him. “Are you the superior on your craft?”
        Favor frowned slightly. “No, I’m not necessarily-”
        “Begone, do not waste my time. Who is the superior?” Aung’Rama asked.
        “I am,” Johnson leaned forward in his seat. “What do you propose?”
        “I do not propose. I dictate,” Aung’Rama said. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. Johnson noticed the strange black marks on her head seemed to raise away from her skin, like quills.
        “Your foolish maneuver has cost us much power. We require more of your power batteries.”
        “To what end? What do you want?” Johnson asked, realizing this was the first time anyone had asked the Vendoth that question.
        “I want your submission. I want you and one other of your subordinates to deliver more power batteries. I also wish for you to deliver all your technical data on your superspace, that is, your Transwarp Drive, to us.”
        Johnson frowned. He remembered that Dawson noticed how much they protected the interior of Engineering. “If I do this for you, what will you offer in return?”
        “We have survivors from your previous blunders. I am willing to return them to you, in exchange for the power batteries and technical information.”
        Johnson frowned and clasped his hands together, thinking.
        Aung’Rama spoke again. “We also know you want this ship. If you follow our terms, there is the highest likelihood that we will return this craft back to you. You asked what we wanted. It should be clear from what we asked for from you.”
        “You just want the Galaxy’s Transwarp Drive,” Johnson stated.
        Aung’Rama cocked her head. “Do you see? There are instances in which you can rise above your own inferiority.” She put her hands behind her back, and turned away from the viewscreen. “We will expect your arrival within twenty of your standard minutes. We shall discuss terms more. Do not bring weapons. That will only serve to lower my opinion of you, and it is low enough already.”
        The connection ended, and her image disappeared from the viewscreen. Kyle looked at Johnson. “What are you going to do, sir?”
        “What else can I do?” Johnson shrugged. “I have an opportunity to salvage this screwed up situation. They have hostages as well.”
        “But how will we know they will keep their word?” Kyle asked.
        Johnson turned to Favor. “You’re one of the best judges of character I know. You’ve had time to speak to this Aung’rama.”
        “Aung’Rama. There’s an emphasis on the second syllable as well. Yes, their cultural viewpoint is glaringly obvious, and I hate to add, reasonably acceptable. I’ve read all the reports on the Marines’ encounters. Their suits are more advanced and resilient. Their weapons seem to be more accurate and destructive. They’ve demonstrated a high level of intelligence and sophistication.”
        “Get to the point, Nathan,” Johnson snapped.
        “They’re certainly more superior than we are,” Favor said. “They know that. They’ve known that for a time. As such, they have no reason to lie to us. You’ve noticed her arrogance, too.”
        “Her?” Johnson’s eyebrows went up. “Aung’Rama is a she?”
        “Yes.”
        “Oh. I didn’t know that. Well, you’re right. She’s fairly arrogant.”
        “That only bolsters my opinion that they’re telling the truth. Why lie when the real truth is so much more devastating?”
        “So you think they’ll do what they say?”
        “Well,” Favor sighed, “I think so, as long as you give them what they want. At least, that’s the impression I’ve garnered from speaking with Aung’Rama. Favor looked at Johnson. “I think you should make the trade.”
        Johnson looked back at Kyle. “What do you think?”
        She seemed slightly surprised at being asked. “Well, uh, sir, the ambassador’s observations certainly seem very valid. I’m just concerned with what they may do once they get what they want.”
        “So am I,” Johnson said. “Still, I think I should go and talk with their leader. She seemed fairly reasonable.”
        “That much, she did,” Favor said.
        Johnson stood up, tugging down his uniform. “I’m going. Kyle, since Ironsides is recuperating from his injury, you have the bridge. Use your best judgment.”
        Ruiz spun in her seat and stood up. “I volunteer to take you to the Galaxy.”
        Johnson turned to look at her. He paused for a moment, considering it. He nodded briefly. “Allright.” He tapped his combadge. “Bridge to Engineering. Have four portable power generators brought to Shuttlebay Two.”
        “Acknowledged, Bridge.”
        Johnson turned to Ruiz. “Meet me in Shuttlebay Two. I have some information I have to dig up.”

        When Johnson stepped into the shuttlebay, he saw several of the Engineering crew set down four boxy power generators next to the shuttlepod. Lieutenant Ruiz was already in the shuttlepod, which Johnson noted was named after Edward Teller, the 20th century Earth scientist.
        Johnson looked at the PADD in his hand. Contained within the memory of this device were a dozen files full of sensitive information Johnson was able to find on the Galaxy’s experimental Transwarp Drive. It pained him to prepare to turn it over to a ruthless enemy, but Admiral Nechayev’s dire prognostications continued to echo in the back of his mind.
        The Galaxy was an unexpected treasure, found in the emptiness of No Man’s Land. The retrieval of the ship could only boost morale, but also fill up another slot in Starfleet’s war fleet.
        Ruiz stepped out through the back of the shuttlepod Teller, and grabbed two of the portable generators. Johnson stepped up and took a third, carrying it in his free hand into the aft compartment of the shuttlepod.
        Another crewman stowed away the final generator. Johnson looked at Ruiz. “We need to suit up,” he told her. She nodded, and walked to the rear of the shuttlebay, where the EVA suits were stowed. Johnson followed her, and they both went through the suit-up procedure in silence.
        Once in full EVA gear, they walked back to the Teller. The flight deck had been cleared in anticipation of their departure. Ruiz took the small boxy shuttlepod through the deactivated forcefield, looping around to the Galaxy.
        Johnson squinted through the foggy view to look at the lost ship. Now closer to the ship, he could make out better details than the viewscreen on the Bridge ever could show.
        “The Vendoth shuttle must have crashed into that warp nacelle,” Johnson remarked, pointing upwards through the cockpit windows. “I don’t know what else could’ve done that.”
        Ruiz only grunted, focusing on the shuttlepod’s flight controls. Johnson looked at the PADD in his hand, reading.
        “What are you doing?” Ruiz asked after a moment’s silence.
        “Well, I’m reviewing the data I gathered. I need to know what my enemy’s going to know, if I’m going to hand this information over to them.”
        “I’m also reading up on the status of the Galaxy from the briefings we got from the surviving Marines,” Johnson added.
        “I see.”
        After several long silent minutes, the Teller backed into the docking ring set on the Galaxy’s 25th deck. With a shudder, Johnson remembered this was the port the San Francisco had docked to.
        Johnson stood up and went to the aft compartment, stowing away his PADD in one of his suit’s utility pockets. The air within the shuttlepod was vented, and the docking hatch opened. Johnson took a surprised step backwards to see two black suited Vendoth standing inside the Galaxy. One of them gestured with his weapon.
        Johnson looked at Ruiz. “They want the generators. Help me carry them.”
        Ruiz stood up and joined Johnson in the aft compartment. Each Starfleet officer picked up two generators and followed their Vendoth escorts.
        After a lengthy journey through Jeffries tubes, hampered by carrying their loads, Johnson and Ruiz came up against a forcefield in front of the open Engineering doors.
        Another forcefield went up behind them and their Vendoth escorts. A sudden gust of air pushed Johnson back. He realized the forcefield was holding air in. The Vendoth behind Johnson and Ruiz pushed them forward to the ruined doorway into Main Engineering.
        Johnson saw a Vendoth he believed to be Aung’Rama, and several other Vendoth. He glanced around the area, noting Vendoth posted in strategic points. He counted only seven.
        Aung’Rama was standing in front of the Master Control Station, the table-like computer station that stood between Johnson and the warp core. Two other Vendoth were there as well. Johnson noted that one was taller than most of the other Vendoth, and was still partially dressed in his EVA suit.
        His escorts were the two exceptions, still fully clad in their EVA suits.
        Aung’Rama stepped forward, and gestured to her head and hands.
        Johnson unfastened his helmet’s collar, and pulled it off his head. Ruiz followed suit.
        “Good,” Aung’Rama’s sibilant voice reached Johnson’s ears. “And your gloves. I’m sure you, as we do, have a much easier time manipulating tools without the bulk of vacuum suits.”
        “Yes,” Johnson nodded, taking his gloves off. “You are Project Leader Qe’Doth Aung’Rama, correct?”
        “Yes.”
        “I’m Captain Thomas R. Johnson, Junior, commanding officer of-”
        “Your name is not important,” Aung’Rama interrupted him. “You are the superior for your ship. That is all I need to know. I see you have complied with part of our terms. Attach these batteries to the power system.”
        Johnson looked at Ruiz and nodded. They walked over to a wall. Ruiz pulled off a beige panel, and Johnson knelt, pulling out clear cords from within the recess in the wall. Ruiz did the same, connecting the cords with the generators she carried.
        Johnson finished and stood up, turning to look at Aung’Rama. “The generators are feeding their charged power into the ship’s power system.”
        “Yes, so I see,” Aung’Rama nodded, looking at a thin angular device in her hand.
        Johnson had to guess it was their version of a PADD. He spoke again. “It’ll take a few moments before the power is fully fed into the ship.”
        Aung’Rama stared at Johnson for a moment. The captain fixed his eyes back on her, determined not to appear afraid.
        Aung’Rama’s grey eyes blinked. “I am certain you wish to know the fate of this ship’s peoples.”
        “I know you killed some of them,” Johnson said.
        “Yes, regrettable,” Aung’Rama rubbed her hands. She turned to look at the tall Vendoth, who only stared blankly back at her. Johnson frowned, wishing he knew what that was about.
        Aung’Rama turned back to him. “After our unfortunate collision with their ship, they allowed us to enter their shuttlebay. It was then we noticed odd behavior. Some acted very irrational and attacked us. We noted some cellular disruption in their bodies.”
        “Yes, the effects of transwarp travel,” Johnson nodded. “We know. The ship was not fully protected against that.”
        “Our Qa’Doth has come to the same conclusion, the radiogenic effects of your transwarp device affected their physiology.”
        “Look, with all due respect, you said you would just leave this ship to us,” Johnson said. “Let’s just do this trade.”
        The tall Vendoth surged forward, obviously angry at Johnson’s terse comment. Aung’Rama pointed at him, shooting him a stare. She turned back to Johnson. “You cannot be blamed for your erroneous behavior to us. You cannot understand our infinite superiority without sufficient information. We come from the Kalium Galaxy. Actually, not your Kalium Galaxy, but one that exists on a different plane from this one.
        “Our society has thrived for many generations, and we control much of the inhabited systems in the Kalium Galaxy. It is only understandable, since we have proved to be superior to the other species we have encountered. My shuttle was trapped in this gravitational nexus, interacting with the energies released by your Transwarp Drive. We only wish to return to our proper home. Once we are able to operate your Transwarp Drive, we will incorporate it within our shuttle and leave your dimension, rejoining our fleet.”
        The tall Vendoth shouted a long string of guttural noises, pointing at Aung’Rama.
        Her eyes narrowed in slits, and her quills stood on end as she spun to face the tall Vendoth. She shouted at him. Suddenly, the tall Vendoth leapt forward, grabbing Aung’Rama’s arms, his own quills erect.
        Johnson furrowed his brows in confusion. He looked at the other Vendoth, and none of them seemed concerned for their leader’s welfare. They only stood by, watching the struggle.

        “That is enough! You seek to bring yourself down to their level,” Roq’Ragn shouted. “You speak to the inferior as a near equal, and provide information unnecessary to his submission. This, in addition to your clear dependence on inferior minds and technology requires me to challenge your claim to superiority. I, VenQu’ Roq’Ragn, challenge you, Qe’Doth Aung’Rama. Since there is no dumcre to judge my claim, I invoke a challenge by strength, to you, Aung’Rama!”
        Aung’Rama whirled around to look at Roq’Ragn. The subdued resistance to her authority had erupted full force. She glanced around at the others, and saw no support. She knew that Roq’Ragn had the clear advantage in a purely physical combat. However, she was highly trained in combat. She would prove herself to be the superior, once and for all.
        “Fine, Roq’Ragn, I accept your challenge by strength!”
        Roq’Ragn wasted no time in attacking. He grabbed Aung’Rama’s wrists, but she spun deftly around, countering his move. Now one of her hands was free. She ducked a chop from Roq’Ragn’s hand, and jammed the sharp talon of her thumb into Roq’Ragn’s neck.
        Orange blood spouted from the wound. Roq’Ragn hissed and staggered. The tide had turned into Aung’Rama’s favor. Suddenly, Roq’Ragn spun, executing a multilayered move, which ended with Aung’Rama bent backwards over his knee. He bent down, burying his lower fangs into Aung’Rama’s exposed neck. With a jerk of his head, Roq’Ragn tore her throat out.
        Victorious, Roq’Ragn dropped Aung’Rama’s body to the deck, as orange blood pooled around her. He glared at the others. “I have proven my superiority by strength! Are there any who challenge my claim to superiority? Come, before I assume leadership.”
        None of the others called out a claim. “Good. I am your superior. You are my inferiors,” he declared, ending the ritual transfer of power.

Chapter 12

        Johnson barely could keep up with the aliens’ ritualized grappling. It superseded all forms of combat he had ever seen. It was like a complex martial arts exhibition being presented in high speed. Almost as quickly as it began, it ended with Aung’Rama’s throat ripped open by the tall Vendoth. He stood tall, dropping the other Vendoth to the deck. He called out again in his own language, looking at the other Vendoth.
        All of a sudden, Johnson realized the whole incident had the striking similarity to the way the Klingons challenged their superior officer’s competency. The tall Vendoth must be the new leader.
        The Vendoth turned to Johnson. “Now, give me the transwarp data,” he said in Federation Standard, tinged with a mild accent.
        Johnson put a hand to his pocket. “Who are you?” he asked.
        “I am superior, that is all you truly need to know,” the Vendoth said. Johnson noted that the accent was completely gone. “By now, our superiority should be evident. However, you may address me as Project Leader VenQu’ Roq’Ragn. Now, turn over the transwarp data.”
        Johnson set his mouth in a tight line. “Show me the hostages. I want to know if they’re still alive.”
        Roq’Ragn gave Johnson what seemed to be a hissing sigh. “Be mindful that resistance to Vendoth superiority is punished by death.”
        Johnson crossed his arms and looked at Roq’Ragn. “Fine, do what with me as you will. I don’t care. Kill me, and you lose the data you desperately need.”
        Roq’Ragn stared at Johnson, opening and closing his jaw with a slight clacking sound. He turned to another Vendoth nearby. Talking in his native language, he spoke a string of commands. The Vendoth answered back and walked into the Chief Engineer’s office. He and another Vendoth came out with two of Johnson’s men.
        With a start, Johnson recognized a half-Bajoran, Ensign LeAnn Walker, and a human, Lieutenant Anders Poulson. LeAnn was bent over in pain, holding her side. Johnson saw a burn hole in the front and back of her EVA suit. She had a scabbed over wound and some bruises from an impact on her head.
        Poulson was limping painfully. His suit’s right boot had been removed, and Johnson saw blood seeping through some rudimentary bandages made from his black trousers.
        The Vendoth escorted the wounded prisoners to Roq’Ragn’s side. The Vendoth placed a hand on the nape of LeAnn’s neck. “As you can see, they are relatively alive. We were able to provide some medical attention.”
        “Walker! Are you okay?” Ruiz shouted.
        The ensign wheezed. “I’ve been better, Mandy.”
        Johnson’s mouth suddenly went dry. He swallowed. “Okay, Project Leader VenQu’ Roq’Ragn, I will--”
        Roq’Ragn squeezed his thick hand, twisting. LeAnn’s neck snapped loudly, and her body went limp. Roq’Ragn held her lifeless body up by the strength of his hand and arm. “You misunderstand me. Your resistance does not necessarily mean your death,” he spoke.
        “Walker!!” Ruiz surged forward, held back by the two Vendoth escorts. “Walker!”
        All the words left Johnson’s mind. He watched as Roq’Ragn dropped Ensign LeAnn’s body down to the deck. He heard the sobs of Ruiz behind him. Roq’Ragn clasped his hands behind his back, looking placidly at Johnson. His voice sounded distantly in Johnson’s mind. “Provide us with the transwarp data, now.”
        Johnson turned back to see Ruiz, on her knees, weeping. His shoulders slumped and he unsealed the pocket he secreted the PADD in. He pulled it out, walking to Roq’Ragn at the Master Control Station. “I’ll help you, Roq’Ragn.”
        “Project Leader VenQu’ Roq’Ragn,” he corrected Johnson. “It is good to see you accept the proper order of things.” Roq’Ragn said. “Finally, you submit,” He took the PADD from Johnson and handed it to a nearby Vendoth, speaking briefly.
        The Vendoth nodded and walked towards the Transwarp Drive near the warp core, reading the PADD. Johnson stepped to the Master Control Station, calling up an engineering display. “The power transfer is nearly complete. I’ll reconfigure Engineering so you can get this working, and get the hell out of here.”
        
        Roq’Ragn watched the human working at the station. He looked at the other Vendoth. Tr’Dunarg was busy reading the PADD that they just acquired. He looked at one of the other Vendoth, his clanmate, Roq’Rulgul.
        “The fool doesn’t realize he is dooming his Earth. Once we return to our proper dimension and carry out our invasion, destroy the offending Federation, we shall use this technology to return here. Then we shall obliterate this inferior’s Earth, thus proving Vendoth superiority in two dimensional planes. Imagine the accolades we shall garner! Our clan shall be elevated!” Roq’Ragn gurgled in laughter.
        The human looked up from the computer station, his dull eyes looking into Roq’Ragn’s eyes. “Project Leader VenQu’ Roq’Ragn, you wanted it? You got it.” The human jammed his blunt thumb on a menu icon on the table.
        The ship bucked beneath them, the deck rolling beneath their feet. A tremendous vibratory shockwave rippled throughout the metal of the ship.
        “Inferior!” Roq’Ragn shouted at the human, grabbing at the station for support. “What did you do?!”
        The vibrations worsened, and the shaking was jarring Roq’Ragn’s teeth. The human tumbled to the floor and started scrambling for the entrance. Roq’Ragn felt a draft of air blow past him, towards the ruptured entrance doors.
        He looked over at Tr’Dunarg, who was trying unsuccessfully to get to his feet. “Report!”
        “The Transwarp Drive is energized! I don’t know what is happening, I cannot see the control panels!”
        The lights began flickering, as did the control station displays. Roq’Ragn stared at the menu the human was working on. “No!” he shouted.

        Johnson managed to get to his feet. It felt like an earthquake was ripping the ship apart. He called out to Ruiz, who managed to free herself from her Vendoth captors in the explosive confusion. “Lieutenant! Put your helmet and gloves on!”
        “Why? What did you do, Captain?”
        “I fed all power into the Transwarp Drive! Life support’s losing power now! So is everything else, this ship is gonna tear itself apart!”
        Ruiz had her gloves on in a matter of seconds after pulling them out of an utility pocket. She went after her helmet, which was rolling on the deck.
        Johnson ran after his own helmet, crouching for stability. A Vendoth fired at him, but the shot went over his head since he was bent over.
        His helmet rolled towards the entrance, following the outrush of air. He managed to grab it, breathing heavily in the thinner air. He snapped it in place and looked at Ruiz, who was fully suited now.
        Johnson turned back and saw Poulson struck down with a Vendoth energy bolt. Blood spilled from his mouth as he crawled across the deck. The Vendoth that killed Poulson looked at Johnson. It was Roq’Ragn. He screamed at Johnson.
        Johnson spun and dove past the crumpled doors, hitting the deck. Roq’Ragn’s shot sizzled over him.
        Ruiz grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, leaning against the side of a corridor for support. “How the hell are we supposed to get back to the shuttlepod before this ship goes?”
        Johnson thought back to a favorite phrase that his father tended to employ, while at work in his naval shipyards in Ireland. Oh, bugger me. He looked at Ruiz. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”
        Ruiz frowned angrily at Johnson.
        “Wait, Deck 40! Port side! We can get there just in time, there should still be lifeboats there!” Johnson ran down the corridor, with Ruiz in tow. Together, they pulled open a vertical Jeffries Tube, and slid down the ladder to the next deck. Fortunately, most of the hatches between decks were open, so they were both able to slide down the ship. The dwindling gravity let them leap down the final few decks without serious injury.
        Ruiz saw the deck number plate first. “Captain, here!” She rushed to the hatch leading to Deck 40. She pulled it open, and jumped through it. Johnson leapt through the hatch, bouncing off the deck. Ruiz shone her flashlight. “Down here!”
        They ran to a series of hatches. Ruiz peered in one. “This lifeboat’s gone.”
        “So’s this one,” Johnson said, struggling to look through the hatch window in the midst of the severe vibrations. He ran to the last one in the series. “This one’s still here!” He grabbed the long lever, opening the lifeboat hatch.
        The ship shook violently again, throwing them to the deck. Ruiz yelled as she climbed up on the lifeboat hatch. “What the hell did you do?”

        Kyle watched the viewscreen nervously. Now that she had the bridge in a crisis mode, with the first officer in Sickbay, and the captain in the middle of the danger, she didn’t quite like the feeling of the command seat.
        “Sir,” Bogarde called out to Kyle. “I’m reading a power spike in the Galaxy.”
        “What?” Kyle sat up in the command seat. She saw the faint red glow of the Bussard collectors appear in all three of the Galaxy’s warp nacelles. Then blue light shone through the warp engine field grill that lined each nacelle.
        Suddenly, a blinding flash filled the viewscreen. The viewscreen went black for a moment, compensating for the high illumination factor. When the viewscreen turned back on, Kyle saw that the starboard warp nacelle was completely gone, and part of the nacelle support strut was gone as well.
        In horror, Kyle noticed something else as well. A burning fringe of gases was sweeping around the Galaxy. The liquid-like flames continued to consume the pockets of flammable elements hanging in the nebula.
        “Red alert!” Kyle ordered. She looked at the helm officers at the helm stations. “Get us out of the nebula, full impulse!”
        Favor turned to look at Kyle. “What about Captain Johnson?”
        “He’s probably gone. I’ve got to get us out of here. Chief Bogarde, what’s the status of the Galaxy? Is she moving?”
        “Sir,” Bogarde said, “If I’m reading this right, I think the Galaxy is going into transwarp. I don’t think it’s going to make it.”
        The Courageous shuddered violently. “Report,” Kyle called out.
        “I don’t know what’s going on,” Bogarde said.
        Kyle thumbed the command seat’s comm panel. “Bridge to Science Lab One.”
        “This is Doctor Joh,” a woman’s voice answered.
        “Can you tell us what’s going on here?”
        “Yes, I can,” Joh replied. “I’ve been monitoring the situation. Part of the gravitational mass of this nebula is due to the elements suspended here. Since the warp nacelle’s explosion ignited the elements, the unusual gravitational fields are changing.”
        “She’s right,” one of the helm officers said. “We’re being pulled and pushed in different directions.” The ship shook again, and Kyle felt her motions turn sluggish.
        Bogarde confirmed her suspicions. “We’ve been just hit by two gravitational fronts!” The lights dimmed on the bridge. “The Structural Integrity Field and inertial dampers are being overloaded!”
        Suddenly, a computer display on the far wall exploded in a shower of sparks, coinciding with a near blackout on the bridge.
        “EPS relays are blowing out all over the ship! Decks 4, 8, 27, 43! More reports coming in,” Bogarde called out, gripping the Tactical station for support. The lights came back on as Bogarde finished his report.
        “Maintain power to the SIF and IDF,” Kyle shouted. She looked at the helm officers. “Helm, do the best you can,” Kyle said. “We need to get out of here before the whole place goes up in flames around us, or before we’re crushed by the nebula’s gravitational center.”
        “I concur,” Doctor Joh added through the comm system. “Can you tell me what the captain did?”

        “Starboard nacelle,” Johnson answered Ruiz, climbing in the lifeboat. He twisted around, sitting in the acceleration seat. “There’s no time to explain, get going!”
        Ruiz, already belted in her seat, jammed the emergency release, and the lifeboat propelled away from the ship. Johnson got a glimpse of a huge ball of fire beyond the broken ship, just before the hatch sealed shut. He turned to Ruiz, who was already gripping the joysticks that flew the lifeboat. “The nebula’s on fire.”
        “I got worse things to worry about. We’re stuck in a gravimetric current, I can’t alter our course. We’ll be crushed.”
        A sudden jolt shook Johnson and Ruiz. “Our course’s changed. We’re being pushed in a different direction.”
        Another jolt shook the lifeboat. “We’re being bounced around by the gravitational forces in here!”
        Johnson activated a small computer display. “It looks like the gravitational currents are being changed. The gravitational center of the nebula is fluctuating.”
        The lifeboat was shook again by another shockwave. Johnson refocused his eyes on his display. “The Galaxy’s gone.”
        “Gone?” Ruiz repeated. “Where?”
        “I don’t know, but it’s changed the gravitational fields again. I think we’re being pushed away from the center of the nebula now.”
        “That’s good news,” Ruiz said, struggling with the flight joysticks, peering at the small flight information readout mounted in front of her.
        “Yeah, but the bad news is to get out of here, we’re going to have to go through the burning gases. It’s coming now,” Johnson looked at Ruiz. “I’m sorry.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the lifeboat jerked.
        The cube shaped lifeboat was engulfed by the rolling tidal wave of fire, spinning helplessly.

        “We’re clear!”
        Kyle sighed in relief at the helm officer’s announcement. Still, the danger wasn’t past. “Bogarde, fortify the shields! The nebula may still be erupting.”
        “Already on it, sir,” Bogarde replied.
        As if in response to Kyle’s instincts, the ship shook as geysers of fire shot outwards from the burning nebula.
        “We’re being hammered by gravitational shockwaves,” Bogarde said. “Shields are still holding, but taking a beating.”
        “Helm, increase distance between ourselves and the nebula. Stay within scanning range. Doctor Joh will need the data to analyze what happened.”
        Kyle looked at the viewscreen, which at last was perfectly clear. The nebula, which once had filled the screen, was now dwindling small and smaller. Flashes of light and eruptions of fire streamed out into the cold vacuum of space.
        Kyle panted, tugging at her uniform’s collar. “Bogarde, any sign of the Galaxy?”
        “No, sir. It’s vanished from sensors.”
        “Well, scan harder! Maybe the captain did take control of the ship... I don’t know.” A sick feeling filled the pit of Kyle’s stomach.
        Bogarde nodded. “Aye, sir. Increasing sensor range and strength.”
        Kyle chewed on her lower lip, watching the roiling ball of fire on the viewscreen.
        “I’m picking up something!”
        “What is it? On screen!” Kyle told Bogarde.
        A small beige speck floated on the viewscreen, trailed by quickly evaporating fire. Kyle leaned forward. “Magnify.”
        The speck grew to a large misshapen hunk of metal. It looked like a molten slab of tritanium to Kyle. “Is it... a lifeboat?” It didn’t look like any she had ever seen before. No hatches were in view, nor were there anything else recognizable about it.
        “Could be, it’s about the right size,” Bogarde said.
        “Any life signs?” Favor asked quickly.
        “I’m not reading any,” Bogarde intoned.
        Kyle breathed deeply. “Lock a tractor beam on it.”
        
        Johnson opened his eyes. He saw Chief Fonda’s worried face looking down at him. He realized he felt someone holding his hand. With a slight move of his neck, he saw Fonda holding his hand.
        “Hi,” he croaked.
        “Hi,” Fonda replied. “Well, you’re awake. I’ll be going to Engineering now.” She withdrew her hand from his, and walked around Johnson’s biobed, on her way out of the Sickbay. She paused and turned back to Johnson. “Don’t ever give me a scare like that again, Thomas. I mean it.” She turned and stepped to the doors that led out of Sickbay.
        Another person stepped up to Johnson’s side. Johnson looked up into the light blue eyes of Doctor Michelanos, the ship’s other senior doctor. He smiled back at the captain. “Hi.” He looked at the departing figure of Fonda, then looked back at Johnson. “You know, Commander Fonda has been here for over nine hours, since we brought you in.”
        “Oh,” Johnson managed to say.
        Michelanos looked at Johnson for a moment. Finally he said, “So, how’re you feeling, Captain?”
        Johnson took a moment to assess the state of his body. “I hurt,” he declared.
        “As well you should,” Michelanos said. “You’re very lucky to be alive. When we cut you out of the lifeboat, both you and Lieutenant Ruiz had suffered varying amounts of first and second degree burns, and you two had been without oxygen for approximately fifteen minutes. It’s fortunate you were wearing EVA suits, that protected you from the intense temperatures your lifeboat was subjected to.”
        “How’s the lieutenant doing?”
        “She’s fine,” Michelanos glanced across the Sickbay. “She’s sleeping now, which is what you’re supposed to be doing.”
        “Where’s Ed? Doctor Hartman?”
        Michelanos looked away and shifted on his feet. “There was an incident earlier today. Everything’s fine, but he took himself off the rotation for the day. Do you want me to contact him?”
        “No, no. What about the others? The Marines?”
        “They’re all recovering from their wounds,” Michelanos answered.
        “Good. Good,” Johnson nodded, immediately wincing at the motion. “Doctor, I think I’d like to be alone. I think I’ll go back to sleep.”
        “Sure,” Michelanos smiled. “If you feel any itching, just call me or any one of the nurses, and we’ll give you a topical cream, or a hypo. Do you need a sedative to sleep?”
        “No, I’m tired enough as it is,” Johnson said. “Thanks, doctor.” He settled back and closed his eyes.

        Johnson sat up in the biobed, tugging at his blue jumpsuit. He adjusted the blanket over his legs, and looked back at the PADD in his hand. He read the text of his previous recording.
        “Resume record mode,” he spoke to the PADD. “It’s hard to believe that it’s only been 48 hours since we first got the distress signal from the Galaxy.” His words appeared in text form on the PADD’s display window.
        “Even harder to believe is the fact that the entire events I have just dictated in my log happened within less than 23 hours. 48 hours ago, I still had 33 of my crew still alive. Now, I have six people, including myself, in Sickbay. The good news is that we all should recover nicely.
        “I have read Fonda’s report on the Galaxy. In her professional opinion, which I will take over the entire Corps of Engineers in Starfleet, she believes that the Galaxy was unable to overcome the strain of transwarping to another location.
        “There was little to no power to any system but for the Transwarp Drive propulsion system. Combined with the destroyed starboard nacelle, the ship almost certainly collapsed with the lack of a Structural Integrity Field. Chief Fonda also believes that some of the Galaxy’s autodestruct ordinance were triggered by the catastrophic series of explosions that resulted from the starboard nacelle’s destruction.
        “So the fate of the Galaxy can be laid to rest. The ship could not have survived.
        “In Lieutenant Kyle’s review of the logs we were able to recover, she has determined that part of the Galaxy’s crew died in an attempt to abandon ship during one of the rare instances it emerged from transwarp. The rest most likely died trying to repel the Vendoth incursion on the ship. We have tricorder readings confirming the identities of 19 crewmembers, who died from various causes: decompression, cellular degeneration, and of course, the Vendoth.
        “The theories about what happened during that tragic test flight can now be settled. Just as the Voyager reported in their transwarp experiment, once the Galaxy entered transwarp space, she lost directional control. A power feedback ran through the ship, keeping her transwarping from place to place all over the universe, before it was caught; trapped within the anomalous nebula we found in No Man’s Land.
        “Doctor Joh has said what Aung’Rama told me may be true, that the Vendoth had been drawn through the dimensional layers enclosed in the nebula. I hope it’s true. I hate the idea of a planet full of these ruthless soldier-scientists, spreading their hold on an entire galaxy. We have no record of a Kalium Galaxy, but then again, that was her name for her home galaxy.
        “Ambassador Favor raised a very interesting point when he visited me earlier today in Sickbay. He remarked that the Vendoth were exactly what we’re looking for in the Borderlands- a race with advanced knowledge and technology. I certainly hope the ones we meet are much more hospitable and tolerant.
        “Still, one thing bothers me. Aung’Rama said she was separated from the rest of her fleet. Where were they going? And to what purpose? Somehow, I doubt it was a peaceful mission. I pity the people who will have to face that fleet. We got lucky. Pure dumb luck. And the deaths of 33 of my crew weighs heavily on my mind. Still, our mission still stands. The Borderlands lie in wait for us, to explore and discover new worlds and new peoples. By doing that, we will be helping the Federation fight back in this ugly war against the Dominion. End log entry.”
        
Epilogue:
        Billions of light years away from the U.S.S. Courageous, a nearly sentient creature stepped out from its dark nest. The hunched bipedal creature looked up into the night sky. Its rough brown skin rippled in the starlight. Its multifaceted eyes took in the vista of the night sky. Suddenly, a bright star appeared, blossoming outwards. Tiny pinpoints of lights spread out from the star, appearing to rain on the planet below.
        The creature would not understand that it was not a star, but an exploding starship. The rain of light was not magic, but debris from the U.S.S. Galaxy, entering the planet’s atmosphere. Among the debris were the dead cellular remnants of aliens that did not originate from this universe.

        Meanwhile, in another universe, apart from that of the U.S.S. Courageous’s own, a message speeds its way through the interstellar void. It is a call to arms, for any ship that can receive the message. The Vendoth Fleet has found their target. Earth is under attack. However, such extradimensional matters are not the Courageous’s concerns as she speeds her way to the Borderlands...

SECTION ONE | SECTION TWO | SECTION THREE | SECTION FOUR

 MISSIONS | PERSONNEL | SHIP SPECS | COMMENTS | CREDITS | MAIN