Fleet Captain Peter J. Koester and his First Officer, Commander Setton To’Lock ‘Monster’ Arbelo, crouched behind the trunk of a large tree, their phasers at the ready.

 

            “What do you think, Exec?” Koester whispered.

 

            “I think we’re surrounded,” Arbelo replied, equally quietly.  “Surrender may be our only option.”

 

            “Surrender?” Koester said, the word pronounced with distaste.  “Nev…!”

 

            The captain’s sentence was cut off by the sound of branches rustling and footsteps moving through the underbrush.  Silently, Koester used hand gestures to tell his first officer to duck low and start crawling toward better concealment behind a large boulder about a dozen meters away.  Arbelo had barely moved when an energy beam emerged from the jungle in front of the two Starfleet officers, barely missing Koester’s head before striking the tree trunk.  The captain quickly fired back in the direction from which the beam had emerged, smiling with satisfaction as he heard the surprised yelp and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

 

            “Go, Exec!  Go!” Koester implored as the two made a dash for the cover of the boulder.  Several more beams of energy shot toward them from different directions, causing Arbelo to drop and roll to narrowly avoid another shot.

 

            Halfway to the boulder, Koester heard running feet behind him, but he dared not pause to look, when suddenly he heard a shot and felt his right foot go numb as it was struck by a beam fired by his pursuer.  The captain fell to the ground, unable to move most of his right side.

 

            “Skipper!” Arbelo shouted, turning back to help his commanding officer.

 

            “No, go on!  Go on!” Koester implored.  Arbelo paused for a moment until he saw the assailant who had shot his captain appear out of the foliage.  Arbelo quickly fired his phaser at the pursuer, causing him to dive to the side, before turning to head back toward the boulder, only to find another weapon pointed directly at his chest.  A second later, Commander Arbelo was unconscious on the ground.

 

            “Well, Captain, it appears you are once again our prisoner,” the assailant who shot Koester in the leg said to him as he stood over the captain menacingly.  “Anything you want to say?”

 

            “A deal’s a deal,” Koester sighed.  “From now on, holodeck one is reserved for your golf games on Saturday afternoons, COB.”

 

            Chief Pono Kyman smiled as he lowered the barrel of his type-3 phaser rifle and said, “Computer, end program.”  Immediately the jungle scenery faded away to reveal Kyman and several members of the USS Dauntless Fleet Space Cadet unit literally surrounding the captain and his exec, who was once again conscious with the termination of the program.  Nearby, Cadet Gem Koester, the captain’s teenage daughter, was helping her friend, Cadet Emma Foster, the adversary Captain Koester had managed to hit and disable, back to her feet.  On the other side, Cadet Annika Arbelo-Eeta, the Exec’s young daughter, and Cadet Wyatt Cerilli – also known as Five due to his time assimilated by the Borg, several implants and nodes still visible on his face and hands – had their simulated weapons aimed at the two senior officers.

 

            “Annika, you shot me!” Arbelo said to his daughter in disbelief as he returned to his feet, helping his captain, whose leg was no longer numb, back up as well.

 

            “Was that not the point of the game, Dad?” Annika asked, sounding older than her age of eight.

 

            “But your own father?”

 

            “Chief Kyman promised us some additional holodeck time if we won,” Annika explained.

 

            “Oh, he did, did he?” Koester said, glaring at his Chief of the Boat.  “Well, I suppose he can do whatever he wants with his Saturday afternoons now.”

 

            All seven started heading for the doors when the heavy Scottish brogue of the starship Dauntless’ Second Officer, Commander Alasdair Myrddin Wallace, sounded from the intercom.

 

            “Bridge t’ Cap’n Koester.  We’re enterin’ th’ Algore solar system.”

 

            “Understood, Alasdair,” Koester replied.  “Drop us down to impulse and have the senior staff muster in the observation lounge for mission briefing.”

 

            “Aye, Cap’n.”

 

 

Space, the Final Frontier…

These are the voyagers of the starship Dauntless!

 

Star Trek: Dauntless

 

“An Inconvenient Lie” By PJK

 

 

Captain’s log, stardate 63273.9:

The Dauntless has entered the Algore star system to conduct first contact and establish diplomatic relations with the civilization on Algore Prime.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

 

 

            In the observation lounge behind the bridge, the starship’s senior staff gathered.  Sitting in his customary chair at the head of the table sat Fleet Captain Peter J. Koester, commanding officer of the Sovereign-class starship Dauntless.  To his right sat his first officer Setton To’Lock Arbelo, strategic operations officer Carter Breitling, and the emotional Vulcan chief engineer Jeff Bloom.  At the opposite end of the table, in his own customary chair, sat Chief Pono R. Kyman, while the remainder of the briefing table was occupied by chief medical officer Justin MacMillan, chief science officer Alasdair Wallace, and chief operations officer Tom Riker, as security chief Sean McIntyre and his gunnery sergeant, Christopher ‘Olly’ O’Laughlin, stood near the transparent display case that contained three gold model starships all named Dauntless.

 

            “Would you please start the briefing, Mister Riker,” Koester said.

 

            Lieutenant Tom Riker, a duplicate of the commanding officer of the USS Titan created by a transporter anomaly twenty-five years earlier, nodded as he addressed the crew.

 

            “The Algore system consists of a G-type yellow star and two planets.  The first is class-M, orbiting at a distance of 152,880,000 kilometers from the star, and is referred to as Algore Prime.  The second planet, class-J, is a gas giant – very similar to Jupiter in the Sol system – and orbits at a distance of 458,640,000 kilometers.”

 

            Riker pressed a control on the table and a hologram of Algore Prime appeared, the beautiful blue-green planet floating over the center of the briefing table.

 

            “Algore Prime is the home of a humanoid civilization roughly equal to Earth’s mid-to-late-21st century.  They are seemingly peaceful by nature, according to covert surveillance, and developed a form of warp drive approximately twenty years ago.”

 

            As Riker concluded, Lieutenant (JG) Breitling took over the briefing.

 

            “According to long range observation, the Algorians use their warp drive to explore and exploit their own solar system.  They’ve set up a permanent settlement on their own planet’s lone moon and have developed a mining operation in orbit of Algore II and its several small satellites, mining hydrogen, helium, and tibanna gasses from the planet and various precious metals and elements, including dilithium, below the surface of the moons.  But they have yet to venture any significant distance beyond their own solar system.  And while they seem peaceful now, there’s no real way of knowing how they’ll react once we make our presence known.”

 

            “No way of knowing other than letting it happen,” Koester said.  “We’ve all done this before.  We know their reaction can go to either extreme, being welcomed with open arms as interstellar friends or shunned as religious blasphemies.  I want the entire crew to be on their toes, or whatever appendages they walk on, until this mission is over.”  The entire senior staff nodded in agreement.  “Are there any questions?”

 

            “How are we going to handle contacting them, Skipper?” Chief Kyman asked.  Koester looked at his Chief Science Officer to offer a recommendation.

 

            “Accordin’ t’ long range sensors, several o’ their mining craft are preparin’ t’ leave th’ third moon o’ Algore II.  ‘Tis standard procedure, apparently, that once they’ve moved a safe distance from one planet, they perform a short warp jump  ‘bout half the distance t’ their destination, conduct a course correction, an’ then warp the remainder of the distance to the other planet,” Wallace explained.  “Mister G’raff currently has us on a course into th’ system that should place us within visual range o’ the mining ships right were they make their course corrections.”

 

            “Hopefully they don’t emerge from warp right into our hull,” Jeff Bloom, the Dauntless’ newly reassigned Chief Engineer commented.  The orphaned Vulcan who had been adopted and raised by humans during infancy displayed an expression of distaste at the thought of a deep space collision between one large vessel traveling at impulse speeds and a second filled with explosive gasses and minerals just dropping out of warp.

 

            “Mister Spot’s got th’ sensors tuned so fine, y’ could detect a needle in a’ asteroid field, Mister Bloom,” Commander Wallace remarked with a hint of pride.

 

            “Stations everyone,” Fleet Captain Koester ordered.  “Company’s coming, and we don’t want to be unprepared.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            The Dauntless had slowed to less than one-third impulse on a course perpendicular to the expected route of the Algorian mining vessels.  Koester and his senior officers manned the bridge, awaiting the expected arrival of the Algorian ships, where the captain chatted with Commander Arbelo about their recent foray on the holodeck.

 

            “Shot in the back by your own daughter, huh?” Koester commented with a smile.  “Annika is turning into quite a marksman.”

 

            “Shot in the chest, actually,” Arbelo corrected.  “And yes, it’s a skill that the symbiont Eeta brought along with it.”

 

            “Captain!” interrupted the British-accented, slightly metallic-sounding voice of Lieutenant Spot through Koester’s combadge.  “Two Algorian vessels have just dropped out of warp, sixteen kilometers off the port bow.”

 

            As the non-corporeal science officer made his report, the viewscreen blinked to the image of two light brown spaceships similar in design to old Antares-class freighters moving slowly through empty space.

 

            “What’s their status?” Koester asked.

 

            “Both ships are altering course in order to warp directly from their current position directly to Algore Prime,” Lieutenant Riker replied.  “It would appear the Algorians have yet to develop the ability to change course while traveling faster than light.”

 

            “One step at a time, Mister Riker.  Have they seen us yet?”

 

            “Both vessels are powering up their warp engines.  It appears we may have been overlooked,” Spot reported.

 

            The captain made a disappointed sigh as, on the viewer, one of the cargo ships warped away toward its home planet.  The second remained in the middle of the screen.  Koester blinked, then after sharing a look with Arbelo, straightened in his chair and leaned forward hopefully.

 

            “Captain, the second vessel has disengaged their warp drive,” Spot reported.

 

            “Algorian vessel turning toward,” Riker added.

 

            Koester smiled as on the screen it became apparent that the cargo ship was turning to face the Dauntless.

 

            “Mister G’raff, all stop.  Let’s assure them we’re not going to run into them.”

 

            “Answering all stop, sir,” the Antican helmsman affirmed.

 

            “Captain, we’re being hailed,” reported Lt Colonel McIntyre from his post at tactical.

 

            “On speakers.”

 

            “Uh… Hello!  We’re the cargo transport Karenna,” said a voice that sounded both nervous and excited.  “Who are you?”  Koester stood up from his command chair and stepped to the center of the bridge.

 

            “This is the starship Dauntless.  On behalf of the entire United Federation of Planets, we offer you greetings,” Koester replied.

 

            “Hi… I mean, greetings,” the voice replied back, causing laughter on the Dauntless’ bridge.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s log, supplemental:

After our greeting in deep space, we allowed the Algorian ship to escort us back to their homeworld.  The Algorians were surprised to learn that we too possessed warp drive, though the scientists who invented the technology on Algore Prime call it superluminal propulsion drive.  Our arrival will be somewhat of a surprise on their homeworld, since the Algorians still use simple radio for communications and our ships will arrive in orbit many minutes before a radio message would.

 

 

            The Dauntless and the Karenna dropped out of warp beyond the orbit of Algore Prime’s single moon.  Much like Luna orbiting Earth, Algore’s moon was rocky, barren, and lifeless save for the permanent settlement, most of which was built below ground, near the natural satellite’s North Pole.  A monitoring station at the pole challenged the Dauntless as she approached, a challenge answered by the crew of the mining vessel.  The Federation starship was soon intercepted as it entered standard orbit of the planet by several hastily deployed armed military vessels.

 

            “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Skipper,” Arbelo remarked.

 

            “Relax, Monster.  We’re the unknown element here,” Koester reassured.  “I’m sure the Algorians are just being cautious.  After all, it’s not every day you have an alien spaceship enter orbit over your planet.”

 

            “Captain, we’re being hailed from the planet’s surface.  They’re using a system of visual images transmitted via radio waves,” Riker reported.

 

            “Television!” Koester remarked.  “Is the transmission compatible with our viewscreen?”

 

            “Aye, sir.  Though only barely.”

 

            “On screen then,” Koester ordered.

 

            The viewer blinked to a mildly distorted view of a room somewhere on the planet.  Several Algorians were visible, monitoring various screens and pieces of electronic equipment.  The Algorians looked – for the most part – human, with the exception of several bumps on their foreheads and the bridge of their nose and their completely black eyes.

 

            One Algorian, wearing what appeared to be an elaborate uniform, stood prominently in the center of the image.

 

            “Alien spaceship, I am Brigadier Triden, commander of the Algorian Defense Directive,” he said, sounding both firm and polite.  “I have been informed you have arrived at our world under a banner of peace.”

 

            Fleet Captain Koester took a step closer to the viewscreen and replied, “I am Captain Peter J. Koester commanding the Federation starship Dauntless.  We have recently become aware of your planet’s discovery of warp…  I mean, superluminal propulsion drive, which my civilization holds as a benchmark for initiating peaceful contact with developing cultures.  We would like to meet with you and, if feasible, open diplomatic relations with your world and civilization.”

 

            “I’m very glad to hear that, Captain,” Triden responded.  “Especially in light of the fact that from our own observations of your spaceship, we believe it would take little effort on your part to wipe out a good portion of our defense force.”

 

            “Nothing could be further from my mind,” Koester assured.  “Is there a time and place where we could meet with your planet’s leaders?”

 

            Almost immediately a signal was heard coming from somewhere near Triden.  The Brigadier picked up a communications device and held it to his ear.

 

            “Yes, Chancellor?  Yes, I’m relieved too.”  The Algorian listened for several seconds before finally saying, “Of course, Chancellor.  I will relay your invitation.  Good day, sir.”  Triden then hung up the communications device before turning his attention back to Koester and his crew.  “Captain, can I assume your spaceship has some method of scanning the surface of our world?”

 

            “Indeed, Brigadier.”

 

            “Our Chancellor has invited you to meet with him when the sun is at its highest point over the largest city on the west coast of this continent.”

 

            “That would be exactly three hours, twenty six minutes, sir,” the voice of Lieutenant Spot reported.

 

            “We can do that, Brigadier,” Koester assured.

 

            “Will your entire spaceship be making planetfall?” Triden asked.

 

            “No, the Dauntless is much too large to land on a planet’s surface.  We will arrive in one of our auxiliary craft.”

 

            “Very good, Captain,” said Triden.  “We will begin preparations to greet you properly.  I look forward to meeting you in person.”

 

            “Likewise, Brigadier,” Koester replied.  “Dauntless, out.”

 

            Koester immediately turned to his first officer and said, “Start assembling a diplomatic away team, Monster.  Dress uniforms, obviously.  And since Admiral Fil is back at Starbase 719 for that sector conference, I’ll lead the away mission.”

 

            “Aye, Skipper,” Commander Arbelo acknowledged.

 

            “Oh, and be sure to include Doctor Yale on this away mission,” Koester added.  “Her personal experience with this type of first contact could be beneficial.  She might be able to answer some of the Algorian’s questions we wouldn’t even anticipate.”

 

            “I’m on it,” Arbelo replied.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Almost three and a half hours later, on the surface of Algore Prime, an official greeting party gathered in a large park atop a sheer cliff that overlooked the western sea.  Several members of the Algorian military, in uniforms similar to what Brigadier Triden had worn during initial contact with the Dauntless, lined each side of a wide blue carpet, at the near end of which stood Brigadier Triden and several civilian officials while the far side ended at an open field of green grass.

 

            A moment later a reaction from the crowd gathered along the park’s perimeter caused Triden and the other officials to look skyward.  Slowly descending through the patchy clouds was a vessel nearly as large as the mining ships which transported ore and minerals from the moons of Algore II back to processing plants on Algore Prime.  The vessel, which was covered in strange symbols the Algorians had never seen before, slowed further and turned so that the side hatch would meet with the carpet that had been placed on the field.  A few seconds later, amid the hushed crowd, the Runabout hummed to a landing, its thrusters quickly powering down.

 

            As the side hatch of the Merrimack opened, Brigadier Triden signaled a military band standing off to one side, which started playing a rendition of the majestic Algorian national anthem.  As the music played, from inside the Runabout stepped Lt Colonel Sean Elliot McIntyre and Gunnery Sergeant Christopher Alan O’Laughlin, both wearing dress blue Marine uniforms with polished white ceremonial rifles, who each took a position on both sides of the hatch and stood at present arms.  As the Algorian contingent, at the order of the Brigadier, snapped to attention on each side of the carpet, following the two Starfleet Marines out of the Runabout’s hatch stepped Fleet Captain Peter J. Koester, Commander Setton To’Lock Arbelo, the joined-Trill Ship’s Counselor Tanzia Gera, and Strategic Operations Officer Carter Breitling – all looking resplendent in their white dress uniforms – followed by Chief of the Boat Pono R. Kyman in his grey enlisted dress uniform and Dr. Mirasta Yale of Malcor III, the Dauntless’ civilian stellar cartographer, dressed in formal civilian attire.  All six crew members walked down the carpet between the two columns of Algorian soldiers, directly up to Brigadier Triden.

 

            “On behalf of the citizens of Algore Prime, we welcome you as friends,” the Brigadier said before turning partly toward and gesturing to one of the civilian officials, a man wearing an ornate robe over his normal clothes, standing beside him.  “May I introduce Chancellor Proje’, elected leader of the planet of Algore Prime.”

 

            Fleet Captain Koester first greeted the Chancellor, then after introducing his own crew, took an embossed presentation case Lieutenant Breitling had been carrying and presented it to the Chancellor.

 

            “On behalf of the citizens of the United Federation of Planets, please accept our gift to you in the spirit of friendship and cooperation.”  Koester then opened the case, which contained a small gold plaque bearing the emblem of the Federation and, beside it, a Vulcan IDIC medallion.  Chancellor Proje’ gratefully accepted the offered gift.  Then, as the Chancellor requested the Dauntless crew join him at his official residence for a banquet to be held in the visiting crew’s honor, Gunnery Sergeant O’Laughlin pulled a wrapped item out from behind his belt and handed it to McIntyre as they brought up the rear of the away team.

 

            “Brigadier Triden,” McIntyre addressed the Algorian military commander.  “On behalf of the Starfleet Marine Corps, from one military man to another, a gift for you.”

 

            Surprised, Triden accepted the package and opened the wrapper part-ways, revealing a bottle of well-aged Saurian brandy.

 

            “Goes best with a good stogie, Brigadier, sir,” the Gunny remarked, leaving the Algorian to wonder what in the world a ‘stogie’ might be, as the away team and planetary officials entered several waiting ground vehicles.  As the vehicles started moving toward the Chancellor’s official residence, Captain Koester noticed a group of Algorians along the side of the road, being held back by what looked like police or soldiers.  The group all looked angry and were holding large signs the Starfleet members obviously could not read as they appeared to be chanting phrases.

 

            “Chancellor,” Koester said, pointing to the group as the vehicle passed them.  “Are those protestors?  They’re not protesting our arrival, are they?”

 

            “Some of them are,” Proje’ admitted.  “Not that they have anything against you personally, Captain.  They’re just an extreme, radical environmental organization.”

 

            “Yes, they’ve been protesting the use of superluminal drive since it was invented,” added Brigadier Triden, still holding his new brandy bottle tightly.  “Claims the use of the drive has caused climate change across the planet and has called for a ban on its use.  The arrival of your ship with its even larger superluminal propulsion drive has just angered them even more, I’m afraid.”

 

            “I don’t understand,” Counselor Gera remarked.  “Warp drive cannot effect the climate of a planet.  While its true that an older generation of our warp drive was found to have damaged the fabric of space about fifteen of our years ago, it took centuries of its use before the damage was evident, and we’ve developed new systems that have eliminated the damage the older drive was causing.”

 

            “We’ve tried to offer studies that prove our superluminal drive has no effect on our environment to those who are concerned,” Proje’ said.  “But there are several in our scientific community who have discovered there is value in skewing test results to show what they want the results to ‘prove,’ and have been using the faulty data to spread their misinformation among the population of the planet.”

 

            As the Chancellor spoke, the motorcade pulled up in front of the large building that served as both an official residence and the seat of government on Algore Prime.  Koester and his crew noticed more protesters gathered outside the fence surrounding the residence.

 

            “The worst of the whole lot of them is a scientist named Hansenj, who was originally my official scientific advisor,” Proje’ said as the door of the vehicle was opened and he led his guests into the residence.  “He was originally involved in the creation of superluminal drive.  But now he tours the planet in his jet-powered aircraft giving speeches in front of larger and larger crowds telling them our world is doomed unless we stop using the superluminal propulsion drive and various other modern amenities.”

 

            Koester paused at the top of the stairs before entering the door of the official residence and looked back at the protesters gathered outside the gate.  He shared a silent look with Commander Arbelo before telling Chancellor Proje’, “Perhaps we can analyze the data you have collected and help convince your concerned citizens they need not worry?”

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s log, stardate 63276.6:

After a sumptuous feast hosted by Chancellor Proje’ and his government, during which we discussed many of the concerns the citizens of Algore Prime have about technological progress, particularly where superluminal propulsion drive is concerned, I have invited the Chancellor to join me and my crew in a discussion that I hope will put those concerns to rest.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

 

 

            “Colonel McIntyre signals he is ready, Captain,” the transporter chief, Gregory Blackman, informed.  Fleet Captain Peter Koester, who stood in front of the transporter booth with Chief Pono Kyman – both wearing their normal duty uniforms – and Dr. Mirasta Yale, turned and nodded at Blackman.

 

            “Energize, Chief.”

 

            Blackman acknowledged the order, then activated the console.  A moment later four humanoid shapes materialized on the pads.  One of them was the starship’s security chief, Lt Colonel Sean McIntyre.  The captain stepped forward to offer his hand in greeting to the man standing at the front next to the Marine colonel, Chancellor Proje’ – leader of Algore Prime – a gesture the away team had introduced to the Algorians the previous evening.

 

            “Chancellor, it only seemed fair that we host you and your officials after the wonderful reception you organized on our behalf last night.  Welcome aboard the Dauntless!”

 

            Proje’ looked around in wonder as he returned the captain’s handshake, saying, “That is a truly remarkable device, your teleporter.  Are we really in space?”

 

            “It’s properly called a transporter, Chancellor, and yes, you’re really in space,” Koester replied with a smile.  “You remember my Chief of the Boat, Chief Kyman, and Head of Stellar Cartography, Doctor Yale?”

 

            “Of course,” the Chancellor said, greeting each before introducing his own companions.  “You of course remember Brigadier Triden.”  All nodded.  The Chancellor then gestured toward the third Algorian standing on the transporter platform and said, “And this is Doctor Leowein, my head scientific advisor.”

 

            “I’m very interested in studying the data you have compiled on the environmental effects of superluminal propulsion… what I believe you call warp… drive,” the scientist said as he too exchanged handshakes with Koester and his crew.

 

            “If you will all please follow me,” Koester said, gesturing toward the door before leading his crew and guests to the 10-Forward lounge.  He immediately led the Chancellor and his officials over to one of the large forward-facing windows, which afforded an impressive view of deep space and the blue-green planet of Algore Prime far below.  All three Algorians looked awed.

 

            “My planet has had the technology to explore space for nearly a hundred of our years, Captain.  Superluminal propulsion drive for nearly twenty.  But I am now the first of my planet’s leaders to see our world from space with my own eyes.”  The Chancellor looked at Koester, who thought the alien leader appeared on the verge of shedding tears from his solid black eyes.  “Thank you, Captain.”

 

            Koester smiled, then gestured for a nearby steward to bring a tray with a bottle and several glasses filled with a pale yellow liquid over to the window.  A glass from the tray was then handed to Koester, the Chancellor, Triden, Leowein, McIntyre, Kyman, and Yale.

 

            “Chancellor Proje’, this is a drink that comes from my own homeworld, a planet called Earth.  We call it wine.  This particular wine comes from the family vineyard of a friend of mine and former fellow starship captain who, from what I have heard, recently retired from Starfleet and was appointed a Federation Ambassador.”  Chief Kyman glanced at the label on the bottle still sitting on the tray, which read ‘Chateau Picard, vintage 2364.’  “With it, I would like to propose a toast.”  Koester, McIntyre, Kyman, and Yale lifted their glasses slightly, which the Algorians quickly mimicked.  “To friendship and cooperation between our people, now and for many years to come.”

 

            “To friendship and cooperation,” everyone repeated before taking sips of their wine.  Then, as Chancellor Proje’ returned his attention to the view outside the window, Koester tapped his combadge and said, “Koester to Commander Wallace.”

 

            “Wallace here, sair,” came the reply a moment later.

 

            “Commander, could you please meet me and our guests in astrometrics so we can brief Chancellor Proje’ and his officials on the data we have compiled?”

 

            “On my way, Cap’n,” Wallace replied.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            The doors swished open, admitting Captain Koester, Chancellor Proje’, Brigadier Triden, Doctors Leowein and Yale, Colonel McIntyre, and Chief Kyman.  The room was fairly large, with consoles lining each side and a large platform filling half the space.  The platform was surrounded by a semi-circular holographic viewscreen which currently displayed an image of Algore Prime with its star, Algore, off in the distance.  Commander Alasdair Wallace, the starship’s chief science and second officer, stood with his back toward the door at the console directly in front of the platform.

 

            “Welcome to astrometrics,” Dr. Yale said.  “This is where I spend a great deal of my time, analyzing data and correlating sensor readings into new star charts.”

 

            “The astrometrics lab was installed during the ship’s last major overhaul at Antares Shipyard,” Chief Kyman added.  “It has become quite useful to the crew.”

 

            Koester escorted the three Algorians up onto the platform while the rest of the crew remained on the deck below.  “Do we have the data I requested, Mister Wallace?” he asked.

 

            “Aye, sair,” Wallace replied, pressing one of the console controls that changed the view on the holographic display to a chart of an area of space bound by intense tetryon fields.  “This is th’ Hekaras Corridor in th’ Alpha Quadrant, an area o’ space twelve light years in length, surrounded by high intensity tetryon fields that made warp travel impossible in th’ sector except f’r within th’ corridor itself.  In 2370, abou’ sixteen years ago, it was proven by Hekaran scientists that cumulative exposure t’ warp fields was destabilizin’ the fabic o’ space-time within th’ Corridor, and that continued high speed warp travel had th’ potential t’ cause a subspace rift in such a heavily traveled location.  However, it was also proved that lower warp speeds, warp five or less on th’ current scale used by th’ Federation and other comparable civilizations, could pass safely through such regions and that it takes centuries o’ such abuse to destabilize subspace to such an extent.”

 

            Wallace touched another control, and one of the Algorian cargo ships appeared on the display as the previous graphic shrunk and moved aside.

 

            “From what our sensors have been able t’ tell us about your warp-capable vessels,” the chief science officer continued, “they’re propelled by what we refer to as second-generation warp drives, or superluminal propulsion drive if ya prefer, roughly equivalent t’ the engines that equipped Class-J Earth freighters a little more ‘en two centuries ago, limited in speed t’ warp factor two.  An’ with your limited use o’ them, there’s no danger of you damagin’ subspace within your system or causin’ any environmental change on your planet.”

 

            “Which is exactly what I’ve been trying to explain to Hansenj and his backers in our media,” Dr. Leowein said in a tone of frustration.  “That superluminal propulsion drive will not and can not effect our planet’s environment.  But every time I release a report refuting his latest claim – that our cities will be flooded, that endangered species will be driven extinct, that our atmosphere is going to evaporate away into space – he and his backers publish three more reports full of their dubious facts claiming evidence that our SLP drive is causing the polar caps to melt, the planet’s magnetic poles to shift, and our sun to literally roll over!  One of the biggest problems is our reports are written in scientific papers hardly anyone reads, while Hansenj is touring the planet with elaborate displays and speeches that the media cover extensively.  They even gave him a special award!  And most of his data is cooked!”

 

            “What do you mean, cooked?” Dr. Yale asked.

 

            Leowein sighed as he answered, “Data he obtained that refutes his own claims is ignored and not included in his published statistics.  A misplaced decimal point here, a heavily modified chart there.  And he refuses to debate his conclusions with anyone credible in a public forum, because he knows we can prove him wrong and as long as he provides his own ‘proof’ that we’re screwing up our environment, there are people willing to give him large amounts of currency to continue his ‘research.’  Meanwhile one of his largest benefactors has started selling lithium credits, claiming for each credit sold, it will counter the effects of our planet’s SLP usage by one day and ‘save our world.’  That media personality is racking in riches by the hundreds of thousands.”

 

            “That’s not science,” Yale remarked, appalled at the thought.  “That’s fraud!”

 

            “What are Doctor Hansenj’s claims exactly?” Wallace asked.  “Maybe we can come up with the answers in a way your people will understand tha’ you can confront this fake with?”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            The next morning, Captain Koester, Commander Wallace, and Dr. Yale were back on the planet’s surface, standing to one side of a stage with Brigadier Triden as Dr. Leowein held a press conference and, using a slide show and easy to understand language, explained to the citizens of Algore Prime the research that had been conducted with the aid of the visiting Federation starship, to prove SLP drive and other everyday conveniences were not damaging Algore Prime’s environment.

 

            Koester, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, looked out at the gathered Algorian reporters and politicians and noticed, almost hidden in the middle of the crowd, the face of Dr. Hansenj, the planet’s leading proponent of Algorian-caused climate change.  He was glaring at Dr. Leowein angrily, his large completely black eyes looking flat and soul-less.  Meanwhile, Leowein was finishing his presentation.

 

            “…And so, with the help of the visiting alien starship, government scientists have been able to conclusively prove that the events touted by the climate change alarmists are in no way connected to our use of superluminal propulsion drive or any other facets of modern technology.”  He looked out at the gathering before adding, “Are there any questions?”

 

            “You’ll kill us all!” a voice shouted from the audience, causing a stir among the gathered Algorians.  Brigadier Triden stepped forward instinctively to protect Dr. Leowein and their Federation guests as Koester noticed one Algorian push his way through the crowd toward the stage.  The captain quickly realized it had been Hansenj who had spoken.  “You will destroy this planet, this whole star system, and stand by and watch it die as you do nothing to prevent it!” Hansenj accused.

 

            Leowein’s expression and tone became like one a parent would use when trying to explain something to a stubborn child.

 

            “We will do nothing because there is nothing that needs to be prevented, Hansenj.  Everything you claim is a result of our use of SLP drive has been shown to be occurring naturally.”

 

            “The rise of our planet’s average temperature is natural?” Hansenj challenged.  But before Leowein could speak, Commander Wallace stepped forward.

 

            “While ‘tis true your planet’s average temperature has increased two degrees on your scale o’er the last twenty o’ your years, the evidence we confirmed show it is th’ continuation o’ a trend that started fifty o’ your years ago, with temperatures risin’ abou’ a degree a decade.  An’ before that, the temperatures were droppin’ a degree every five years for th’ forty or so years prior t’ that.  A natural cycle your planet has been experiencin’ for centuries!”

 

            “And something’s causing it!” Hansenj growled, his anger becoming all the more apparent.  “If not by us and our use of modern technology, then what is causing it?”

 

            “Your sun,” Dr. Yale answered.  “Your star, like all stars, undergoes cyclical events.  Changes in magnetic polarity.  You have claimed your planet’s use of SLP drive has literally flipped your sun over recently, when in reality it is natural for the magnetic polarity of a star to reverse itself.  From the data Doctor Leowein has given us and our own study of your solar system, we have determined the change in magnetic polarity of your sun happens regularly every fifteen of your years.”

 

            “Other events you have cited, like the melting of your polar ice cap, you simply did not possess the technology to recognize previously,” Koester added.  “Scientists on my own planet, almost four hundred years ago, detected a large hole in the ozone layer of our atmosphere, a layer that is important in protecting the planet’s surface from harmful stellar radiation, and it was believed at the time the hole was being caused by the use of certain everyday chemicals.  It took those scientists decades to realize it wasn’t the chemicals that were causing the hole.  The hole had always been there.  It was only that they had developed the technology to actually see it when it was discovered.”  Koester moved closer to the podium where Leowein was standing.  “Yes, your northern ice cap is getting smaller and thinner, but you don’t seem to realize that your southern ice cap is getting larger and thicker at the same time, and both are explained by the wobble of your planet’s axis.  You only recently developed the means to detect this cumulative change in the polar regions, but this build-up and break-down of your planet’s ice caps is another cyclical event that occurs over the course of hundreds, even thousands of years.  Within a few decades, both polar regions will stabilize, and then you will find the southern pole will start losing ice as the northern pole regains it.”

 

            Hansenj noticed the reporters around him quickly scribbling notes into their notepads, and he became angrier.  Turning to face the audience, he shouted with his hands held above him, “Are you going to believe these aliens over one of your own people?”

 

            “But it’s not just the aliens, Doctor Hansenj.  Minister Leowein has presented compelling evidence,” one of the reporters standing near Hansenj said as he held up a press packet the government officials had handed out at the start of the press conference.  “Point by point, this shows where your research missed many facts or exaggerated events.”

 

            Hansenj grabbed the Algorian reporter by the collar, causing the man to drop the press release and his notes.

 

            “You have to listen to me!” Hansenj insisted.  “You have to listen to me because only I am right!  You have to listen or we’re all doomed!  Doomed!”

 

            Brigadier Triden gestured for two security guards who had been standing near the rear exit of the room to come forward and escort Dr. Hansenj out of the conference room.  Hansenj struggled as the guards grabbed him, man-handling the scientist toward the door.

 

            “Don’t you understand me?” he continued to shout.  “Unless you all listen to me, we’re all dead!”

 

            The room became quiet as Hansenj was finally forced out the door.  Dr. Leowein looked at Captain Koester and his crew apologetically and said, “I’m sorry, Captain.”

 

            “Environmental extremism is a religion to some people,” Dr. Mirasta Yale commented.  “I saw it on my own planet when I helped develop our FTL drive.  And like all religions, it has its fanatics.”  Both Koester and Wallace nodded at Yale’s comment.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Angry and embarrassed, Dr. Hansenj made his way to the lab where one of the first experimental superluminal drive core prototypes was housed.  The device, located several kilometers outside the city along the sea-cliff coastline, was now used to provide for almost half of the everyday power needs of the Algorian capital city.

 

            “These people don’t realize how much they need me, and to continue my research into how our technology is destroying our whole star system!” he grumbled to himself as he flashed his access badge to the bored-looking guard sitting behind the desk at the core facility’s main entrance before quickly making his way to one of the labs down the corridor.

 

            Entering the lab, he paused at the large shielded window that overlooked the thrumming power core, which looked very similar to a starship’s warp core.  He frowned at the device as one of the lab assistants walked over.

 

            “I’m surprised to see you here today, Doctor,” the assistant said.  “I thought you would be attending the Science Ministry’s press conference.”

 

            “Fools!” Hansenj exclaimed, his large, completely black eyes never leaving the power core.  He then addressed the assistant.  “Are we still storing the waste product from the prototype core?”

 

            “Of course, Doctor.  The resin is being stored in an inert environment in sub-level three.  Why?”

 

            “I will be conducting a series of experiments, and I need a sample with which to work,” Hansenj replied as he finally turned away from the window and slipped a pair of gloves on his hands.

 

            “Be careful, Doctor.  That resin is highly reactive,” the assistant warned.

 

            “Depending on the results of my tests,” Hansenj remarked as he removed a magnetic storage vessel from one of the lab cabinets and headed toward the door, “it could make the difference between life and death… for everybody.”  Then Hansenj quickly disappeared out the door to collect a sample of the substance the Federation called trilithium.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s log, stardate 63282.1:

Following several days establishing relations with the government of Algore Prime, the Dauntless is preparing to get underway and resume our mission of exploration.  A diplomatic vessel from Starbase 719 will arrive in a few weeks to hammer out the final treaty between the Federation and Algore.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

 

 

            “I would like to take the opportunity to thank you and your people for your hospitality, Chancellor Proje’,” Captain Koester said to the image of the Algorian leader on the viewscreen.  “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

 

            “The pleasure was all mine, Captain,” Proje’ responded.  “It is a good feeling knowing we are not alone in a vast universe.  I look forward to the arrival of your diplomatic te…”

 

            Proje’s sentence was cut off when Brigadier Triden suddenly appeared at the Chancellor’s side, whispering in his ear.  Proje’s expression turned to shock and his eyes faded to a dull dark grey color before he looked off to the side at something outside the range of the viewscreen.  A moment later he returned his attention to Koester and his crew.

 

            “Captain, have you the ability to monitor our audio-visual broadcasts?”

 

            “Yes, Chancellor.  Why?” Koester asked.

 

            “Tune into frequency 58 MHz,” Proje’ advised.

 

            Concerned, Koester nodded toward his ops officer, Lieutenant Tom Riker.  Riker quickly accessed the broadcast frequency and displayed it on the left half of the main viewer.  The image blinked to the view of Dr. Hansenj, and from the looks of him the Algorian scientist had not slept since he was last seen at the press conference days earlier.  The broadcast had caught him in the middle of a sentence.

 

            “…All I’ve cared about is the well-being of our people, our planet, and our solar system.  All the currency I was donated went toward proving my theories.  And nothing any aliens tell me with whatever agenda they have of their own is going to convince me otherwise.  Superluminal propulsion drive and many other conveniences like internal combustion vehicles and fossil-fuel power plants are killing this planet.  I tried to explain it to people, tried to wean them off modern technology slowly, and it was starting to work.  The movement was gaining momentum.  That is, until the aliens arrived and with the help of our own government pushed us right back to where we started all over again.  But I can’t let that happen.  I won’t let that happen!”

 

            Hansenj’s look turned maniacal, like the classic image of a mad scientist out of one of the 20th century’s grade-B sci-fi films.

 

            “I’m guilty of it myself.  My invention of the Planet Wide Network made the knowledge of our most dangerous technology around the planet possible faster.  But I am now making amends to our planet.  I demand that all superluminal propulsion drive, air-trams, ground vehicles, and non-hydro-powered generating plants cease operation immediately, around the planet.  This entire world has six hours to comply.  If it does not, I will be forced to prove just how dangerous our technology can truly be!”  Hansenj then stepped partway out of the camera to reveal a missile poised on a launch platform behind him.

 

            “Alasdair, see if you can determine where this broadcast is originating from, and if we can transmit to there,” Koester ordered his chief science officer.  He then looked at his first officer and ordered, “Monster, raise shields and go to yellow alert.  I don’t want to take any chances if that thing is aimed at us!”

 

            “Aye, Skipper,” Arbelo replied before ordering, “Shields up!  Yellow alert!”

 

            As the crew reacted to the new orders, Wallace looked up at his commanding officer.

 

            “Cap’n, I’ve located th’ source o’ th’ transmission.  It appears t’ be a combination laboratory an’ power plant several kilometers south o’ the Capital City.  It appears the Algorians are usin’ a prototype warp core as a power generator for th’ city.”

 

            “Can we transmit to Hansenj?” Koester asked.

 

            “Aye, bu’ audio only.”

 

            “Patch me through, Lieutenant,” Koester directed to Riker.  A moment later he said, “Doctor Hansenj, this is Captain Koester of the Dauntless.”

 

            Hansenj, who had still been ranting incessantly on the left hand side of the viewscreen, suddenly stopped talking, a look of shock on his face before he finally replied, “What do you want?”

 

            “We want to resolve this peacefully.  We already explained, to you and your planet’s government, that things are not as bad as you are making them seem.  Why are you doing this?”

 

            “Why?!?” Hansenj replied, the mad scientist appearance quickly returning.  “Because you forced me to!  You stole something from me.  You stole my prestige.  My respect.  I have spent years trying to convince my people of the folly of their ways, and in one week you stole away everything I have accomplished!  Do you know how much currency I have received for my research?  Do you know how much more could still be contributed to the cause?  My cause!”

 

            “Just what do you expect to accomplish by firing that missile at my ship?” Koester asked.

 

            “At you?  Hardly,” Hansenj replied, causing the captain to relax a notch.  “It is my bargaining chip.  Developed from the waste material produced by our superluminal propulsion drive.  Another example of how we are killing our planet!”  Alarm bells started going off in the captain’s head.

 

            “Alasdair, please tell me that missile is not what I think it is!”

 

            Wallace scanned the lab facility in more detail before replying, “Aye, sir, ahm afraid so.  The good doctor has devised a trilithium device.”

 

            “And if this planet does not give up its reckless, greedy use of advanced technology within six hours, I will fire this missile, made from the highly volatile, highly dangerous waste product, into our star.  Then everyone will see just how dangerous our technology really is, and everyone will know I was right all along.”

 

            “Doctor, we’re familiar with the waste material you’re describing.  And while it can be volatile and dangerous, we have learned to process it, make it inert and recrystalize trilithium into dilithium.  We would be willing to share this technology with you and your people.”

 

            “There you go again, claiming to be able to solve all our problems with more technology!” Hansenj ranted.  “How will my people ever learn to give up what they must to save our planet if you claim you can solve all our problems with a snap of your fingers?”  Hansenk then cut off his broadcast.  The left half of the viewscreen went blank until filled in by the original image from Chancellor Proje’s office.

 

            “Chancellor,” Koester said.  “If Doctor Hansenj actually does what he’s threatening to do, your whole solar system will be doomed!  I’ve seen the results of a trilithium weapon’s use in what remains of the Amargosa system.  Is there any way your police or military can storm his lab and capture him before he can launch?”

 

            “Probably not before he can launch his missile,” Brigadier Triden replied.  “Is there anything you can do, Captain?”

 

            Koester looked at his science officer and asked, “Can we beam the missile out of there before he launches?  Maybe at least just the warhead?”  Wallace consulted his sensor readings before replying.

 

            “’Fraid not, Cap’n.  The prototype is a first generation core.  It’s puttin’ out a great deal o’ hyperonic radiation, which interferes with th’ transporter.”

 

            “Perfect,” Koester remarked.  “Colonel McIntyre, what are our odds of being able to shoot that thing down if he launches it?”

 

            “Pretty good, I would say,” McIntyre replied.

 

            “Actually, Cap’n, we have an added complication,” Wallace added.  “I’ve completed a full scan o’ th’ lab complex.  Tha’ missile’s not simply a missile in th’ conventional sense.  It’s somethin’ akin to a photon torpedo.”

 

            “You mean…?”

 

            “Aye, sair.  That missile is equipped with a miniature warp drive unit.  If it goes to warp before we c’n destroy it, we won’t get a second chance.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            A short time later, Koester was sitting in his usual seat at the conference lounge table with McIntyre, Arbelo, Wallace, science officer T’Pan, and strategic operations officer Carter Breitling, laying their options on the table.

 

            “We know he won’t active the warp drive on his torpedo before it clears the atmosphere,” Arbelo was saying.  “That should give us plenty of time to lock weapons on it and destroy it before it warps toward the Algore star.”

 

            “Do we know for sure he won’t activate the warp drive within the atmosphere, Commander?” Breitling asked.

 

            “The Lieutenant has a point, Exec,” Koester confirmed.  “Hansenj has no concern for what his missile is going to do to the star.  Why would he care what the warp drive could do to his planet’s atmosphere?”

 

            “I get the impression that Hansenj doesn’t completely comprehend what he is doing here,” McIntyre commented.

 

            “What do you mean, Mack?” Arbelo asked.

 

            “To this point, Hansenj’s goal seems to be proving himself and his theories about environmental change right, and that these new technologies are dangerous and the use of them must be discontinued while he continues his own research with better funding.  He doesn’t seem to have done any real research into how certain technologies actually effect the environment around them.  He probably thinks shooting a trilithium device into the sun is going to cause a huge solar flare or something like that, something spectacular but harmless, like the ice shelf collapses in Antarctica on Earth during the early 21st and late 23rd centuries.  Something that would scare the population of the planet into falling in line with his beliefs, not something that will literally destroy his whole star system.”

 

            “The Algorians are still fairly new to warp technology,” Wallace agreed.  “It’s unlikely Hansenj realizes when his device detonates amid th’ nuclear fusion of a star, that it’d cause said star to undergo nuclear collapse.”

 

            “So what do we do?” Koester asked.  “What are our options?  We can simply warp out of the Algore system if necessary. The Algorians can’t!  Not all of them.”

 

            “There is one option I have been considering, Captain,” remarked the young Vulcan woman sitting next to Wallace.  But it is quite elaborate and has no guarantee of success.”

 

            “And that is, Lieutenant…?” Koester asked.

 

            “We let Doctor Hansenj’s missile hit the sun.”

 

            Immediately the conference table erupted with expressions of disbelief.

 

            “Wait a second!” Koester commanded, holding up his hands to quiet everyone down before looking at his junior science officer with skepticism.  “What do you mean, let the missile hit the sun?  Are you crazy?”

 

            “My sanity is quite intact, Captain,” T’Pan replied.  “As I said, my plan is elaborate, but it may be our only chance.”

 

            “Okay, Lieutenant, I’m listening,” Koester said resignedly.

 

            “As I’m sure you’re aware, when a trilithium weapon detonates within the body of a star, it acts as a quantum inhibitor and implodes the star, creating a subspace shockwave that will destroy anything within 1.5 billion kilometers radius, effectively destroying the entire solar system.”

 

            “Of course.  We’ve seen such a result in the Amargosa system almost fifteen years ago,” Koester nodded.

 

            “We have certain materials aboard the Dauntless that I believe, if prepared properly, could counteract the effects of the trilithium device.  The first is a material the Vulcan Academy of Science has been developing.  For lack of a better name, the scientists involved have referred to it as Red Matter.  I requisitioned a small sample, less than a single kilogram, to study and conduct experiments on while the ship was undergoing refit at spacedock.  The sample is currently stored in stasis in Science Lab Three.  It is believed a small sample of Red Matter, when introduced to an environment of high heat and pressure, like the interior of a star, would create a temporary artificial singularity.”

 

            “A black hole!?” Breitling exclaimed.

 

            “While the gravitational effects of a black hole would likely negate the effects of the subspace shockwave,” Arbelo started to say, “How does that help the Algorians?  Rather than having their planet blown apart, it will be sucked into oblivion instead!”

 

            “That, Commander, is where th’ other material we have in storage in Science Lab Two comes inta play,” Wallace responded.  Captain Koester immediately deduced what his Chief Science Officer was referring to.

 

            “The protomatter sample!” the captain exclaimed.

 

            “Aye.  Protomatter was used to reignite the star Epsilon 119,” Wallace explained.  “We could do something similar to reignite the Algore star once the subspace shockwave has been averted.”

 

            “This sounds risky, not only for Algore Prime, but us too,” McIntyre stated.

 

            “At this point, the only other choices are for the Algorians to voluntarily give up their modern technology, which we know they won’t do,” Koester said.  “Or just let Hansenj launch his weapon and destroy this whole system and the three billion plus people living here.”  The Captain then looked at his two science officers.  “What do you need to accomplish this plan, in case further negotiations or just plain common sense fail?”

 

            T’Pan presented a padd to her superior officer.  Wallace looked at the proposal on it for a moment before replying, “We c’n easily modify a class-1 probe t’ pierce th’ shockwave safely an’ deliver the Red Matter.  Bu’ the protomatter is a differen’ story.  I may need Mister Bloom’s assistance modifyin’ one o’ th’ shuttlecraft to contain th’ protomatter matrix an’ remotely pilot it into tha’ singularity.”

 

            “Do what needs to be done, Mister Wallace,” Koester ordered.  “We have less than five hours left.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Several hours later, Fleet Captain Koester was sitting behind the desk in his ready room.  On the screen of his desktop monitor was displayed an image of Chancellor Proje’ in his own office.

 

            “As I said, our plan is risky, but Hansenj’s device could destroy your system.  Unless your negotiations with him conclude successfully with him disarming his weapon, I don’t see as we have much choice,” Koester said to the Algorian leader.

 

            “I’m afraid I must agree with you,” Proje’ responded.  “I had no idea superluminal propulsion drive was so dangerous!”

 

            “Normally it’s not,” Koester assured.

 

            “Wallace t’ Cap’n Koester,” interrupted the intercom.

 

            “Excuse me a moment, Chancellor,” Koester said before touching the intercom on his desk.  “Go ahead, Alasdair.”

 

            “Progress report, Cap’n,” Wallace replied.  “We’ve completed modifications t’ th’ probe, which is currently loaded into forward tube two.  Mister Bloom estimates at least another two hours until th’ shuttlecraft is ready.”

 

            “That’s cutting things a little close,” the captain remarked.  “Thank you, Alasdair.  Koester, out.”  He then turned his attention back to Proje’.  “Hopefully you heard that, Chancellor?”

 

            “I did.  I only hope all your crew’s hard work is for nothing, if you understand my meaning.”

 

            “I do indeed, Chancellor,” Koester replied.

 

            As Koester spoke, he noticed Brigadier Triden rushing into the Chancellor’s office in the background behind Proje’.

 

            “Chancellor!  We have a problem!” the leader of the Algorian military exclaimed as he rushed up to Proje’.  “One of the security units that was guarding the Seacliff Lab and Power Center took it upon their own authority to try and storm Hansenj’s lab.”

 

            “Please tell me they captured Hansenj before he could launch his missile?” Koester heard Proje’ ask on his monitor.

 

            “The missile has not actually been launched,” Triden confirmed.  “But Doctor Hansenj sealed the lab he has occupied.  There is absolutely no way in or out.  And he activated the countdown sequence.  We have less than fifteen millihours before the missile launches.

 

            “We’re doomed!” Proje’ remarked as he looked back at Fleet Captain Koester through the monitor screen.

 

            “Not if I can help it,” Koester remarked.  “Wish us luck, Chancellor.  Dauntless, out.”  The captain then rushed out of his ready room and onto the bridge.  “Exec, sound red alert.  All hands to emergency stations!”  Immediately the red alert klaxon filled the air.

 

            “Bridge to Commander Bloom.  What is the status of your shuttlecraft modifications?” Koester asked.

 

            Down in the main shuttlebay, the emotional Vulcan Chief Engineer stopped the work he was performing inside the type-16 shuttlepod Hue and tapped his combadge.

 

            “I’ve finished the protomatter containment grid, but I’m still working on the system to remote pilot the shuttle.  It’s going to take me at least another hour, Peter.”

 

            “Why so long?” Koester asked, trying not to sound too impatient.  “We remote pilot auxiliary craft all the time!”

 

            “Not so close to the vicinity of a subspace shockwave or gravitational singularity,” Bloom reminded.  “In order for this to work, we’re going to need to be in very close proximity to the star, and the shuttle will need to be launched before the Red Matter probe!”

 

            “Understood,” Koester said, gritting his teeth resignedly.  “What else can we do if you can’t rig the shuttle in time?”

 

            “Only one thing, Pete.  Have somebody pilot it manually.”

 

            “That’s a suicide mission!” Koester objected.

 

            “Not if we can beam the pilot out at the last possible moment,” Bloom said before adding, “It’ll be rough.  Gravimetric changes will make transporter lock hard to maintain.  I’ll volunteer.”

 

            “No, sir!  Let me!” said Lieutenant (JG) William Hyland III as he turned in the helm seat to face the captain.  Koester’s feelings turned conflicted for a moment before he gestured toward the turbolift.

 

            “Go, Will!”  He then addressed Bloom through the intercom.  “I’ve sent Mister Hyland down there to pilot the shuttle, Jeff.  He’s the best we’ve got.  Keep working on the remote system until the moment that shuttle lifts off the deck, but I think I could better use your skills alongside Chief Blackman in the transporter room when the moment comes.”

 

            “Aye, Captain.  Understood.  Bloom, out.”

 

            Koester then turned his attention to Lieutenant Breitling, who had replaced Hyland at the helm, and ordered, “Helm, get us as close to the star as you can, and hope we can pull this off.”

 

            “Aye, sir.  Engaging full impulse power,” Breitling replied.

 

            Down in the main shuttlebay, Hyland rushed over to the small shuttlecraft where Bloom and Wallace were supervising two of Bloom’s junior engineers loading a green, glowing container of protomatter into a modified storage compartment in the rear of the shuttle.

 

            “The sample container is secured, Commander,” one of the young engineers informed Bloom.

 

            “Very well,” the unusual Vulcan man replied before turning his attention on Hyland.  “The Skipper says you’re the best pilot we have aboard.  You’re going to need all you skills and then some to do this job without blowing yourself to atoms.  You need to be on-station before the Algorian trilithium weapon even hits the star.  Once the star collapses and we launch the Red Matter probe, you’re going to be hit by gravimetric stresses your subspace physics professor at the Academy could only have seen in nightmares.”

 

            “Understood, Commander,” Hyland replied.

 

            “Are you sure you want to do this?” Bloom asked, placing a hand on the young officer’s shoulder.

 

            “You’re needed in the transporter room, sir,” Hyland said in way of an answer.  Bloom nodded gravely.

 

            “Good luck, lad,” Wallace remarked, offering Hyland a handshake before the young man sat in the cramped cockpit and started buckling in.  The two senior officers then watched as the hatch slowly shut and the thrusters hummed to life.

 

            “Better get t’ our stations,” Wallace remarked.

 

            “Yup,” Bloom replied as he glanced once more at the Hue before the pair each went their own way, Bloom to the transporter room, Wallace to the bridge, and the atmosphere retaining field lit up moments before the shuttlebay door opened.

 

            “Mister Hyland is ready to launch,” Wallace reported as he stepped out of the turbolift and over to his station, where Lieutenant T’Pan and Lieutenant Spot waited.  The ambient temperature of the ship was already several degrees higher than normal due to the starship’s proximity to the star.  Many of the crew members on the bridge, with the notable exception of the Vulcan T’Pan, were wiping sweat off their faces with their uniform sleeves.

 

            “Well, here’s hoping he won’t need to launch…,” Koester started to say before he was interrupted by the non-corporeal entity, Spot.

 

            “Captain, long range sensors indicate the trilithium missile has lifted off the planet’s surface,” said the entity’s British-accented, slightly mechanical sounding voice through Koester’s combadge.  “Recommend the Leftenant launch immediately.”

 

            “Mister Ramad, to the main shuttlebay: Launch shuttlecraft immediately!” Koester ordered.  He then turned to look at the blonde-haired woman sitting at the engineering console.  “Commander Windsor, see if you can keep our shields around the shuttlecraft for as long as possible.”  Lt Commander Amanda Windsor nodded acknowledgement.

 

            “The missile has left the atmosphere of Algore Prime,” Spot reported.  “It has now entered warp!  Estimate time of arrival; four minutes, forty seven seconds.”

 

            “Captain Mendez,” Koester said to the Starfleet Marine officer at tactical.  “Ready tube two.”

 

            “Red Matter probe is standing by.  Tube two ready in all respects,” April Mendez replied.

 

            “Bridge to transporter room.  Do you have a lock on Mister Hyland?”

 

            “Transporter locked on and standing by,” replied the voice of Jeff Bloom.

 

            The seconds ticked by as the missile, at low warp speed just barely above the speed of light, moved ever closer to the Dauntless and the nearby star.

 

            “Incoming!” Spot announced as the missile quickly warped past the ship.

 

            “Mister Breitling, stand by on warp drive, in case this doesn’t work!” Koester ordered as, on the screen, the missile entered the star.  A moment later, a ripple covered the star’s surface.  Areas like huge sunspots erupted and the star visibly shrank.

 

            “The star is beginning to collapse.  Subspace shockwave on collision course,” Spot reported.

 

            “Launch Red Matter probe!” Koester ordered as he watched the visible shockwave grow around the rapidly shrinking star.  “Stand by warp drive.”

 

            The modified probe launched from one of the torpedo tubes below the main deflector dish.  A second later it pierced the shockwave, its course knocked off slightly before it corrected itself.  Koester crossed his fingers as it disappeared into the darkened star.  For a moment, it appeared nothing would happen.

 

            …And then suddenly the shrinking star collapsed even faster.

 

            “Gravimetric stresses have increased exponentially,” Commander Wallace reported as the Dauntless started vibrating violently.  “We have successfully created a singularity where the star Algore was.”

 

            “The gravitational pull of the singularity is dragging us toward it!” advised Chief Kyman from his post at mission ops.

 

            “Compensating with full impulse power!” Breitling reported.

 

            “Captain!  Leftenant Hyland’s shuttle has slipped out of our shields!” Windsor reported.  “He’s heading toward the singularity!”

 

            “Dauntless to Hue.  Is everything alright?” the captain asked.  Hyland’s reply could barely be heard through the gravimetric distortion.

 

            “I’m okay.  I’m delivering the protomatter into the star!”

 

            On the main viewer, the crew watched as the shockwave reversed direction, drawn back to the star by its now immense gravitational pull, and the shuttlepod headed toward what remained of Algore, weaving back and forth as the stresses on it tried to make the craft tumble, its course designed to reach the rapidly decreasing surface at the exact same time as the shockwave.

 

            “Shuttlecraft is 10,000 kilometers distant,” Lieutenant Ramad reported.

 

            “Transporter room to bridge!” came the voice of the transporter chief, Gregory Blackman.  “We’ve lost our lock on Lieutenant Hyland!”

 

            “No!” Koester said under his breath.

 

            “Commander Bloom is trying to re-establish the lock.”

 

            “Shuttle is 25,000 kilometers distant,” Ramad reported.

 

            “He’s got only seconds to do it!” Koester exclaimed to Blackman.

 

            Down in transporter room one, Jeff Bloom’s fingers were dancing across the transporter console like a concert pianist as he attempted to re-establish contact with the shuttlepod’s pilot, his job made all the more difficult by the starship’s heaving to and fro.

 

            “Gravimetric distortion was higher than I had anticipated,” Bloom remarked as he continued to work.

 

            “Readings are still off the scale,” Blackman reported from the secondary panel on the bulkhead behind the console as the starship rolled again.  “The shuttle is almost at extreme range!”

 

            “It’s now or never!” the emotional Vulcan man exclaimed.  “I think I’ve locked onto something.  I only hope it’s not the protomatter!  Energizing!”

 

            On the bridge, the crew witnessed the shuttlepod start to tumble out of control as it moved faster and faster toward the decreasing singularity.

 

            “Shuttle is now beyond transporter range,” Ramad reported.

 

            “Nothing more we can do here!” Koester said resignedly.  “Mister Breitling, warp us to a position behind Algore II!”

 

            “Engaging warp drive!” Breitling reported.  A second later the starship warped away in a trail of rainbow streaks.

 

            “Commander, the matter stream is depolarizing!” Chief Blackman reported.  On the transporter platform, one of the pads lit up, humming loudly, but the entire system sounded like it was under extreme strain.

 

            “I’m compressing the annular confinement beam,” Bloom announced.  “Cross-circuit the phase transition coil to ‘B’ and override the Heisenberg compensators.”

 

            “If we override the compensators, the system may crash!” Blackman warned.

 

            “If we don’t, then Hyland is already dead!  Just do it!” Bloom ordered.

 

            As Blackman entered the commands into the control panel, a warning light on his panel started blinking.

 

            “Commander, the pattern buffer is overloading!”

 

            “Compensating!” Bloom yelled over the noise of the equipment as he tried once more to initialize the materialization process.  Sparkles swirled above the transporter pad.

 

            “Bridge to transporter room.  Have you got him?  Have you got Mister Hyland?” asked the captain, sounding desperate.

 

            “Stand by, bridge,” Blackman responded.

 

            Bloom’s fingers traced up the console controls, the initialization sound filling the transporter room before the transporter again hummed to life.  The sparkles on the pad coalesced into the form of a young, dark-haired man.  Hyland looked confused when the process finally finished.

 

            “Bridge, we have him!” Bloom cried out.

 

            “What happened?” Hyland wanted to know.  “That was the roughest transport I’ve ever been through.  I feel like my molecules have been passed through a cheese-grater.”

 

            “Chief, escort the Lieutenant to sickbay and have Doctor MacMillan check him over,” Bloom ordered.  “I’m heading up to the bridge.”

 

            “Aye, sir,” Blackman responded, helping Hyland off the platform and out the door.

 

            A few minutes later, Bloom stepped out of the turbolift on the bridge.  Everyone was watching the viewscreen intently.  On the screen, the gas giant Algore II took up most of the image, though it was hard to tell since it was mainly the night side of the planet the Dauntless was hiding behind that was visible due more to the lack of stars than the actual visibility of the planet’s turbulent atmosphere.  In the far distance, just beyond the sliver of the planet’s day-side that was visible from their position, the Algore star grew smaller and dimmer.  Disappointment covered the chief engineer’s face.

 

            “It didn’t work?” he asked no one in particular.  “What went wrong?”

 

            “Hold on!” Bloom heard Lieutenant Spot’s voice say.  The emotional Vulcan was not sure if the Daminian was speaking directly to him or the entire bridge crew.  Suddenly the viewscreen lit up with a brilliant light.

 

            “Compensate,” Captain Koester ordered.  The viewer dimmed to better display the image.

 

            Still in the far distance, what had been a dim hole in space now glowed brightly as nuclear fusion recommenced across its surface.  Slowly, it appeared the star had started to grow.

 

            “We did it!” Commander Wallace exclaimed, prompting a cheer from the crew.

 

            Still a little puzzled, Bloom looked toward Captain April Mendez.  She smiled at the Chief Engineer and said, “You weren’t here when Commander Wallace explained it would take the starlight several minutes to reach us way out here if we were successful.”  She gestured toward the viewscreen and added, “Which we were!”

 

            “Fusion reaction within the star is stabilizing, Captain,” Lieutenant Spot reported.  Surface temperature is about 5575 degrees Kelvin, about 200 degrees below what it was before the trilithium missile detonated.  There is a definite temperature shift toward the red.  The Algorians are going to have to get used to slightly dimmer, cooler sunlight, but their planet will still remain habitable.”

 

            “Better than the alternative,” Koester remarked.  “And maybe it will serve as a reminder to them all of what can happen when one person tries pushing their personal agenda over and above everyone else’s concerns?”  The captain then looked at his helmsman and added, “Mister Breitling, put us back in orbit of Algore Prime.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s log, stardate 63284.8:

USS Dauntless is back in standard orbit over Algore Prime.  Aside from some disorientation and a need to replenish his electrolytes, Mister Hyland is none the worse for his little adventure.  I have entered a commendation for bravery in his service record.

Meanwhile, the diplomatic vessel USS Bolton has arrived with Admiral/Ambassador Penji Fil aboard to complete negotiations and sign a treaty of mutual benefit to both Algore Prime and the Federation.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

 

 

            Fleet Captain Koester, his First Officer Commander Arbelo, and COB Chief Kyman, walked down the corridor of the Algorian Chancellor’s official residence with Admiral Fil and Captain Jessica Rasp, commander of the Bolton, Chancellor Proje’, and several of the Chancellor’s ministers, including science minister Leowein.  They had just finished another elaborate banquet of celebration hosted by the Algorians.

 

            “What is to become of Doctor Hansenj?” Arbelo asked the Chancellor.

 

            “The good doctor had no idea what his device was capable of,” Proje’ replied, looking at the Dauntless’ first officer as they walked.  “When he saw our sun start to collapse, he truly believed there was nothing which could have stopped it, not even your advanced technology which he so desperately wanted rid of.  He abandoned his lab and begged to be put aboard one of our superluminal mining vessels so he could flee the system and was captured by the security forces that had surrounded his lab.”

 

            “What will happen to him?” Chief Kyman asked.

 

            “He was arrested and is being charged with attempted genocide of the Algorian race.  After his arrest he was allowed to see his wife and children one last time, and that’s when the security forces made the most unexpected discovery.”

 

            “And what was that?” Admiral Fil asked, still catching up on all the events that had occurred during his absence from the Dauntless.

 

            “Doctor Hansenj was truly a gifted scientist.  But he was also a complete hypocrite,” Proje’ replied.  “His home was filled with all sorts of ultra-modern labor-saving devices, things he invented himself that no one else had access to.  His home’s energy usage was triple the average Algorian’s.  Yet he was demanding everyone else return to a pre-industrial, labor intensive society for the ‘good of the planet.’  His policies, if implemented, could have cost us innumerable lives and inestimable fortune while he continued to live an easy, labor-free life.  All this will be revealed to our people in detail when his trial begins shortly.  I believe his environmental movement will quickly collapse and he will be seeing very little of the new sun he helped create in the coming decades.”

 

            “Our computer models predict that, because our sun is putting out somewhat less radiant energy than before Hansenj’s attack, we will be suffering through much cooler summers and more brutal winters from now on,” Dr. Leowein remarked.

 

            “I wish we could have done more to help you,” Fleet Captain Koester said.  “It seems unfair that our visit has cost you so much.”

 

            “Believe me, Captain, we know you did everything you could do to help protect people you did not even know a week ago from themselves,” Proje’ told Koester.  And I know, even if you had not arrived, Doctor Hansenj would eventually have attempted his blackmail on our whole civilization, and who knows if we would have survived?  It helps even more knowing we have friends like you, out there, beyond the bounds of our own solar system.”

 

            The away team stepped out the door of the Chancellor’s residence.  Koester notices, a bit sadly, that everyone outside was wearing coats and jackets when, only a few days earlier, it had been almost tropical weather upon their arrival.

 

            “I now leave you in the capable hands of Ambassador Fil,” Koester remarked before turning to face the admiral.  “Have the Bolton contact us on subspace when your mission here is complete, Admiral, and I will arrange a rendezvous to return you to the Dauntless.”

 

            “Thanks, Peter,” Fil replied.  “Good work here.”

 

            Koester nodded at the admiral as he, Arbelo, and Kyman stepped away from the others and the first officer tapped his combadge.

 

            “Away team to Dauntless.  Three to beam up.”

 

            “Stand by, away team,” Commander Wallace’s voice responded.

 

            Koester offered one last wave of farewell to the Algorians before, a moment later, he and his crew dematerialized.

 

The End

 

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