Even the ship’s new XO wasn’t immune; she paced the deck in front of the transporter console, the other members of the landing party giving her a wide berth. Tall, blond, and athletic, Commander Hallie Gannon was an imposing physical presence, but still an unknown quantity to many of the crew, having joined Dauntlessjust nine weeks earlier when the ship’s extensive repairs had been completed at Starbase 7. Lean and long of limb, Gannon moved like a dancer.
“Something I can help you with, Doctor?”
The question made Fisher blink, and he sheepishly realized Gannon had caught him staring. She’d stopped pacing directly in front of him, her piercing green eyes daring him to say something unrelated to ship’s business. “Martial arts,” he ventured to say.
Gannon frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Your extracurricular fitness training. I’m guessing it was some form of martial arts. Am I right?”
Her eyes narrowed. “This is that thing the captain warned me about, isn’t it?”
“Oh, he warnedyou about me, did he?”
Gannon smirked. “Well, not you per se . . . just your odd little preoccupation.”
“Is that what he called it? My, my. I never realized the practice of guessing a crewperson’s Academy sport was something anyone would find particularly odd.”
“It is when you consider you could find out easily enough by checking my personnel file,” Gannon said. “Or, I dunno, just askingme.”
Fisher smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Before Gannon could offer a rejoinder, the room’s starboard doors parted to admit the last member of the crisis response team. Everyone not already on their feet, including Fisher, rose as Chief Engineer Shey made a beeline for the XO. The Andorian held out a data slate.
“It’s about time,” Gannon said as she accepted the slate and started to scroll through it. “The ARA certainly cut it close.”
Shey’s antennae dipped toward Gannon in agreement. “At least they came through, though I’m not sure how much the new data will help.”
“We’ll take what we can get,” Gannon answered. She raised her voice to be heard by the rest of the team. “All right, people, listen up. We still don’t know what exactly we’re beaming into, but Commander Shey has our update from the Arkenite Resources Administration, so pay close attention. Commander?”
Shey’s antennae were taut as she addressed the room. “By now, the ARA’s most current schematics of the Azha-R7a asteroid mining complex have been uploaded to your tricorders.” She gave the team a moment to call up the files, but Fisher opted to peer over the shoulder of Soledad Valdez, one of the other doctors, who already had her tricorder open. “Please note they show that the mine has sixteen levels, not the twelve indicated in our library computer database,” Shey continued. “Also, the tunnels are spread over a much wider area than we were led to believe. You have a question, Mister Okano?”
Kunimitsu Okano, a structural engineering specialist, lowered his upraised hand. “How recent are these files?”
“The update is eighteen months old,” Shey answered.
“The schematics in our library computer were four years old,” Okano said over the murmurs rising among the other engineers. “If the complex expanded this much in thirty months, the actual number of levels and the area they cover must be even greater by now.”
“Correct,” said Gannon. “But as we’ve still had no success in contacting the colony directly since the initial distress call, this is the best we have to work with.”
Shey said, “We do know that in addition to mining topaline, copper, and zinc, the Arkenites have begun tapping deposits of uridium. These sections are marked in orange on your maps. If it becomes necessary to enter these areas, you’ll be required to rely on hand tools. Medical team, this means absolutely no use of laser scalpels or defibrillators.”
“Why not?” asked Doctor Valdez.
“Raw uridium is unstable,” Okano offered. “It reacts explosively if exposed to an electrical charge or a particle beam.”
“That’s right,” said Shey. “Injured personnel requiring treatment with powered equipment will have to be moved out of those areas before the procedures may be carried out. No exceptions.”
“The mission hasn’t changed,” Gannon said. “We still don’t know what precipitated the distress call, the exact nature of the emergency, which areas of the settlement may be affected by it, or even what the Arkenites’ needs may be. Supplemental crisis response teams are standing by in Emergency Transporter Rooms 2, 3, and 4, and will await deployment as needed. If it becomes necessary to transfer colonists to Dauntless,we’ll be following Evacuation Protocol Alpha, unless otherwise dictated by conditions within the mining complex. Hopefully we’ll get a clearer picture once Dauntlessis able to scan the asteroid.”
Gannon didn’t bother stating the obvious. The distress call from Azha-R7a had reached Dauntlessthirty-two hours ago. Because it had broken up in mid-transmission and all attempts to reestablish contact with the colony had failed, there was a very real possibility they would arrive too late to do any—
The alarm Klaxon wailed, derailing Fisher’s train of thought. “Red alert,”came the announcement over the comm system. “All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill.”
As if a switch had been thrown, the assembled CR team started streaming toward the exits. Fisher hesitated, watching as Gannon moved behind the transporter console and toggled its gooseneck intercom. “Gannon to bridge. What’s going on?”
“Ensign Kendrick here, Commander. We’ve come out of warp two thousand klicks from the asteroid, and there’s a Klingon battle cruiser keeping station directly above the settlement. It’s theChech’Iw.”
Fisher winced. Gorkon’s ship. Of all the Klingons, why him?
“Do we know the status of the Arkenites?”
“Is that Gannon?”came another voice over the comm. “What the hell is she waiting for, an engraved invitation? Tell her to get her ass up here, pronto.”
“Commander, the captain—”
“I heard him, Lloyd. I’m on my way. Gannon out.”
Fisher followed Gannon out the door. “Mind if I tag along?”
She spared him a glance without slowing her brisk march to the turbolift. “Don’t you need to prep sickbay?”
“My people know the drill,” Fisher said as they entered the lift. He held up his hand to block Doctor Valdez, who ran to catch up before the doors closed. “Nonstop to the bridge, Soledad. Take the next one.” As the doors hissed shut, Gannon called out their destination to the lift’s voice interface. Fisher felt the elevator car rotate on its vertical axis and then glide forward. “Besides,” the doctor continued, “sickbay was already on high alert for the rescue mission. There’s little else to do unless we start getting wounded.”
Gannon let out a long breath. “Let’s hope your department has a slow day.”
“Amen to that, Commander,” Fisher said. The lift’s forward motion slowed to a stop, then it started to ascend.
“This’ll be the first time the captain’s faced Gorkon since Xarant,” Gannon said.
Fisher kept his eyes facing the doors. “That’s true,” he said neutrally, uncomfortably certain he knew where Gannon was headed with this. The engagement at Xarant five months ago had torn up Dauntlesspretty badly, and cost the lives of eighteen members of the crew, including Gannon’s predecessor, Commander Rajiv Mehta. For all the survivors, memories of Xarant were still raw, but especially so for Dauntless’s captain.
“Is he past it, do you think?” Gannon asked.
Fisher didn’t offer an answer, and to his relief, the commander didn’t wait for one when the lift stopped again and opened onto the bridge. Gannon stepped out ahead of him and headed straight for the command well. Fisher hung back, stopping at the portside aft railing. At starboard aft stood Lieutenant Terence Sadler, ship’s chief of security, whose intense blue-gray eyes regarded the doctor’s presence on the bridge with only slight disapproval before he turned his attention back to the situation at hand.