Maximum Warp Part 5

"Negative, sir, we can't beam into the complex. It's one of these dead zones-"

"Here?" On Mars. Hitting a bit too close to home now. "Alert Starfleet Command. And have Data and an engineering team take a runabout. They can beam me aboard on their way down."

"You're going with the team, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Riker, I am. And if this weren't so important, I'd have you beam down here and continue the meetings in my stead. This time, you're lucky. Heard out."

S.S. Ralul Sector D17c In Orbit of Tellar V "Commander, I swear, no mistake was made." Grono lowered his head and tensed himself for his boss's tirade.

"The mistakes you've made could not be counted by the most complex of computers, Grono!"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't know why I let you live."

"No, sir."

The commander grabbed the data tablet, looked at it a moment without seeming to actually read it, then tossed it back to Grono. "How can three freighters and their escorts be lost on a trade route they've traversed a million times?"

With the commander, such a question could be rhetorical. All Grono could do was wait to see if his silence was ignored or condemned.

"Well?" The commander barked. "Have you no input? Are you worth even a tenth of what I pay you?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what happened. There was a subs.p.a.ce message of power fluctuations in one of the haulers, and then silence from all three."

"That tells me what I know. You are to tell me what I don't know: why?"

When the commander's voice took such a tone, Grono often had to suppress a wince. This time he could not.

The commander noticed. "You are useless!"

"Sir, there are some rumors... other s.h.i.+ps losing power and becoming disabled, even Starfleet vessels."

"Starfleet?" The commander straightened, shocked. "This must be very widespread, if Starfleet is involved." The commander turned away. "Send out my normal complaints to the Tellarite/Federation Liaison." He turned back quickly. "And I want you to contact the other trade ministers. I want to know who else has lost s.h.i.+ps under these conditions."

Grono wrote that all down on the data padd. "Yes, sir." He wasn't sure how to react. His commander's tone seemed different from his other tirades.

"Something tells me that if this has happened to Starfleet's s.h.i.+ps, it's more serious than a few lost freighters." The commander looked suddenly more calm, but also more tense. "I want to talk to Starfleet myself. I still have some friends there."

"Yourself, sir?"

Rather than admonis.h.i.+ng Grono for questioning his superior, the commander was uncharacteristically solemn. "Yes. Contact Admiral Tarlan." He rose from his chair and turned toward the door. "I'll be in my quarters. Tell me when you have the admiral on the comm."

Enterprise Runabout Hubble Sal IV [Mars]

Descending aver Vanes Marineris "We have lost main power, sir."

"I can see that, Data." Heard watched the pilot struggle with the runabout controls more than should've been necessary. Had the research center been in the domed part of the city, there would have been no crosswind. As it was, with only thrusters for maneuvering, the ride was rough.

"We are still two kilometers from the research plant. Apparently, the area of the dead zone is increasing."

"I can see that, too, Data," Picard grumbled. "See if you can raise the station using non subs.p.a.ce frequencies."

"Aye, sir." Data turned away and Picard looked out the runabout's windows. Picard thought there was no sense in being guided completely by sensors that might cut out at any moment. And, perhaps it was old-fas.h.i.+oned, but something about flying in an atmosphere demanded a true bird's-eye view.

"No response, sir," Data said as he turned back toward Picard. The android looked out the window, down to his console, then out the windows again, following a point with his gaze as it pa.s.sed out of view. Then he turned to the pilot. "Ensign, we are pa.s.sing the landing pad."

"Ensign Sanderson is operating under my orders, Mr. Data," Picard said before the young man could defend himself to his superior officer. "The landing pad has a lift to the main building, and that lift might not be operational."

"But the dangers of landing so close to the building-"

"Won't matter if we don't get in there quickly and find a solution to the problem."

"Aye, sir."

One of the oddities about Data, Picard thought, was that, unless he was in decision-mode, he didn't think like a commander, he thought like one of the commanded, and so he thought mostly about rules, and not when it was a good time to break such rules. Picard had seen Data in command, and found him to be quite good, but when Picard was in charge, Data always seemed a bit different, his mind in a different thought pattern. Not the most severe of problems, and Data wasn't insubordinate. He just asked bothersome questions at times.

Of course, Picard could order Data not to do so, but the one time he had, Picard found the android too quiet, too sterile. It was Data's personality to be the way he was, and Picard liked him. As with all those one calls friends, one understands the balance that is toleration.

A wind gust suddenly turned the runabout's bow away from the research reactor, and Sanderson had to turn into the gale before trying to zigzag back on course. As slowly as possible with the sudden down current Picard felt on the hull, the runabout landed on the sidewalk near the main entrance. It was part of the terra formed but rough Mars terrain, no s.p.a.ce suits were necessary, but out of doors the atmosphere was on the thin side, the temperature on the cold side, and the gravity on the light side.

Picard, Data, Gibson, and a crew of six engineers spilled quickly out of the runabout and through the main doors. Once the outer doors closed behind them, the inner set parted way.

"You're from Starfleet?" A tall man greeted them, somewhat relieved, somewhat weary.

"Picard, from Enterprise. We have a crew to a.s.sist-"

The man shook his head. He looked old and tired, his eyes sunken, his hair a mess of blond and gray. "No, there is nothing to do. Leave, and take my staff with you. Everyone else has evacuated."

With a wave of his hand, Picard ordered his team forward. "Data, find the main control room. Sanderson, gather any nonessential personnel and see them to the runabout." His men left quickly to carry out their orders, and the captain turned to face the man who'd warned them all away. "Who are you?"

"La Croix. I'm the project director," he said. "I appreciate you want to help, but..." The man had obviously been up all night, and as Picard began walking past him, La Croix seemed almost too tired to follow. "There's nothing to be done. I've tried everything, thought of everything. Our containment systems are offline. Pressure has caused a partial fuel meltdown and the coolant lines are closed off. Do you understand what that means?"

At first Picard thought he might moderate his gait to accommodate the director, but he decided to pick up his pace toward what signs had told him was the station control room. "I understand, Mr. La Croix. I'm familiar with the technology, and I understand why these things happened a few hundred years back, but today?"

The door to the control center opening too slowly for him, Picard stepped sideways and pushed through before the panel was completely out of his way.

La Croix followed. "You don't understand. It shouldn't have happened 'today." We had fail-safe upon fail-safe, but we expected containment fields to be working. They won't. We can't explain it but-"

"But only batteries are working, and those don't have enough power, correct?"

Surprised, La Croix stopped walking as Picard marched toward Data. "Ah... yes, correct."

"Data?" the captain prompted.

The android turned away from the console, a bit more slowly than it seemed he should have. Picard had to remind himself that within these dead-power zones Data wasn't at his most efficient. "The situation is grave, sir. There is very little time before the pressure builds to a point where the outer seals will crack, contaminating the atmosphere. Most of Vanes Marineris is domed, but some parts are not...."

His shoulders stooped, La Croix looked down sadly. "This just shouldn't be. The chances of this happening were seven billion to one."

Picard glanced up at Data.

"He is very close, sir."

"Mr. La Croix, it has happened," Heard said, "so now we must deal with it. Is there any way to seal this off, contain the pressure?"

The android shook his head, as did La Croix, but only Data spoke. "Not in time, except with a containment field, but the batteries available would last but a few moments."

"The Enterprise could swing into a low orbit, generate a containment field..."

"Yes, sir, but not for very long, at that range and of this size. If we could even form one in this dead power zone. As you remember, using our tractor beams-"

"Tractor beams."

"Sir?"

"Data, how long before we lose containment?"

"Difficult to say exactly, without proper sensor readings. The dead zone hampers our more advanced sensors, and the radiation hampers the lower-technology scanners. Without proper study-"

"Guess, Data," Picard barked.

"Fifteen minutes, sir," Data said quickly. Then he added, "Give or take."

Picard allowed himself the briefest of smiles. "Let's hope that's enough. Evacuate all personnel from the center. And I mean every last person." He turned to La Croix. "How many people would that be?"

It took a moment for La Croix to answer, as if he was thinking of each person in turn, remembering where they were, then taking mental note of it. "Ten-no, eleven, including myself."

"Plenty of time," Picard said as he took La Croix's shoulder and guided him quickly toward the door.

"What? Plenty of time for what? There's nothing that can be done."

"From here?" Picard said, "No. From the Enterprise, a great deal."

"Sir, you're breaking up badly." Squinting, straining to hear through bursts of static, Riker twisted toward Shapiro at ops. "Boost the gain on that."

"There's ...alot... time. I need beams... station as soon as out of... ange."

Frustrated, Riker shook his head and stomped from the command chair. "Ensign-"

"I'm trying, sir." The young man's hands danced over the ops console a bit nervously. "Here we go."

"Enterprise, do you read?"

"We do now, Captain. Repeat your last message."

"/ want all available nonessential power diverted to tractor beams. We have to punch through that dead zone and we have less than five minutes to do it."

"Sir?" Riker leaned over to see the ops station's sensor console. "I have you just coming out of the dead zone. Why would we need to tractor you?"

"Not us, Number One. The entire reactor."

Enterprise's powerful tractor beam sliced through atmosphere, energy, raw and determined, dancing in the thin Martian air as it pulled on the red planet itself, tore a chunk of crust from the surface. And with it, the hemorrhaging nuclear reactor.

From the Hubble, the scene was rather blissful for a moment, then it lurched out of Picard's view. The control consoles dimmed and the runabout dipped awkwardly and too quickly. He struggled with the controls as the wind thrashed the runabout up and to the side, then down and around. Picard felt his chair fall from under him as the s.h.i.+p lost alt.i.tude. He turned to Data and found the android giving a very human shake of his head, as if trying to clear mental cobwebs, or rattle off a stunning blow.

"Transfer s.h.i.+eld power to impulse drive," Picard ordered.

"Impulse is offline," Sanderson said, his voice tinged with minor panic.

Data's voice was tight with apprehension. "I am weakened myself, sir. The dead zone has expanded."

It had never done that before, at least not that they'd recorded. How, why, and all the other nagging questions simmered in the back of Picard's mind as he gazed at Sanderson's console. The ensign was trying to pilot a rock through a tornado. It was a very lost cause. Backup batteries wouldn't provide enough lift and everything else was offline. The runabout was falling quickly from the Martian sky.

"Picard to Enterprise."

"We're scanning you, Captain," Riker said. "See your situation. Trying to get a transporter lock now."

The captain glanced at Data. If applied right, the thrusters might at least level their descent as they fell. Might. Runabouts weren't gliders meant to ride air currents, they were powerhouses. They used energy to bend physics into the control of man. Without power, there was no control.

"I am unable to determine where the dead zone ends, sir," Data said. "If we could maneuver out of it-"

"a.s.sume we can't. Can we help Enterprise get a transporter lock?"

Data's expression seemed blank for a moment, as if lost in thought. It wasn't something Picard was used to seeing on him. "If we transfer all power to our transporter, it may provide a signal on which to lock. Both signals in conjunction may be able to break through the dead zone."

"Make it so."

The android nodded hastily and began his task. Sanderson set his board to transfer power as well, after locking thrusters on a course up and away from any possible settlements. If the runabout was going to crash, it would have a lot of wilderness in which to doit.

"Did you get all that, Number One? Can you link into our pad?"

"Got it, Captain. Data's fed us the coordinates. Ready when you are."

Darting from his seat, Data went into the small transporter alcove and began moving isolinear chips in and out of a control unit. "We will only be able to transport two at a time."

Picard nodded. "Begin with the reactor personnel."

"This is safe?" one of the scientists' voices cracked as Data ushered him onto one of the two transporter pads.

"Safer than cras.h.i.+ng, sir," Data said, and Picard couldn't help but allow himself the briefest of smiles. Out of the mouths of androids ... "We're ready with the first two, Number One," Pi card said. They were plummet ting like a stone now, and seeming weightlessness was taking over.

"Energizing."

A shower of light and sparkle fell over two very tense-looking scientists. The process lasted longer than it should. The two men didn't de materialize for a few moments, and then finally the process ended, taking them with it, up into orbit.

"Rough ride, but we have the first two, sir," Riker said. "We'd better hurry."

Two by two Data led the scientists into the transporter alcove, then the engineering personnel. Picard's Ark, the captain thought with a smile. Each beam-out took only seconds, but it seemed quite long for a transport, especially when riding a wind-torn runabout up and down as it fell, lifted a bit with a gust of air, only to fall farther on the next downturn.