Spartacus. Part 1

Spartacus.

by T. L. Mancour.

Chapter One.

THE ENTERPRISE WAS coming apart all around him.

"Steady," Captain Jean-Luc Picard called out, gritting his teeth, even as he wrestled with the armrests of his chair to hold himself in place. The red alert strip throbbed at eye level on the bulkheads, bathing the bridge in a nightmarish, b.l.o.o.d.y glow. Behind him, he heard the sounds of his crew struggling to stay at their posts in the face of the terrible pounding the s.h.i.+p was taking.

Picard wondered how much more his s.h.i.+p could take-and as he wondered, he couldn't help but remember that in the last century, seven s.h.i.+ps had been destroyed by storms like the one raging on the other side of the hull. A hull that was a mere two meters thick.

Another shock wave hit them-and out of the corner of his eye, Picard watched Will Riker, his first officer, scramble for a foothold, wincing when he halfway collapsed against the gently sloping rail that separated the lower bridge from the upper. Simultaneously, a low, almost inaudible growl from the tactical station behind him told him that Worf, his Klingon security officer, had also gotten tossed around.

Picard felt for both of them. He knew they were as exhausted as he was by the shakes and s.h.i.+vers that had irregularly punctuated the last three days. Exhausted and frustrated-not being able to walk across the room without being knocked unexpectedly to the deck could drive you half crazy.

It was a maddening situation. The Enterprise, the flags.h.i.+p of the Federation, was the culmination of over four hundred years of s.p.a.ceflight technology. Built to explore all but the most deadly reaches of the galaxy, she could weather with near impunity the interstellar storms that had damaged and destroyed earlier vessels. Her hull's tritanium/duranium alloys and powerful deflector s.h.i.+elds kept the ravages of the worst magnetic and radiation storms at bay, while the crew carried on its business blissfully unaware of the turmoil around them.

But a Gabriel Effect was dangerously different.

"Captain," called Worf, apparently having regained his composure. "Damage control reports that the port warp nacelle has been totally destroyed, with major damage to the secondary hull."

"Again?" sighed Picard. "Number One, verify, please." Riker hoisted himself to his feet and straightened his uniform. He briskly continued his way up the gentle ramp, this time using the handrail, to the tactical station, where Worf was studiously examining the damage report.

For some reason the computer favored the port warp nacelle. Over the last three days it had been reported destroyed five times by the storm compared to the starboard nacelle's three times. The primary hull-where the computer core itself, as well as the bridge, was located-had been reported destroyed only twice.

"Spotters say that there's been no serious damage to the port nacelle," Riker said. "Or anywhere else. We reset the damage control programs-again."

"Of course not," Picard nodded. Another low growl told him Worf agreed with him.

On the forward viewscreen, the laser-pink lightning characteristic of the Effect arced jaggedly out of the murky cloud of gas that dominated the screen to touch an asteroid drifting by. The resulting impact created a spectacular explosion and light show that drew the worried attention of everyone on the bridge. Though it was a hauntingly beautiful sight, Picard would have been more appreciative if it didn't present such a grave danger to his s.h.i.+p. Secondary waves spilled out from the explosion and rocked the s.h.i.+p for a moment. As the shuddering of the deck beneath him ceased, he shook his head and waited for the automatic systems and the breathing of his crew to return to normal. So far the "lightning" had pa.s.sed them by. He could only hope it would continue.

The last Picard had heard, most astrophysicists now thought that the Gabriel Effect was a reaction of certain electromagnetic energies with a very specific kind of gravitational field such as that caused by a cosmic string, perhaps, or even a naturally occurring s.p.a.ce warp. Reality mechanics had something to do with it, they hypothesized, but both fields of study were still so new and theoretical that there was no language, let alone rules or laws, to describe the theory.

Gabriels were named not for the ancient Hebrew archangel, but for the captain of the first stars.h.i.+p to encounter one and survive. Very little was known about the storms themselves, because a Gabriel had incredibly disturbing and disruptive influences on all kinds of electronic systems. Instruments and sensors could not be trusted to show correct measurements, solid-state computer circuitry went crazy, even simple electronic devices could malfunction or cease working entirely for no apparent reason. There were even instances of highly charged reality-changing waves erupting from the fringes of the storm like lightning, disrupting any field generating devices, such as the ones used to propel the stars.h.i.+p faster than light. The storms were of indeterminate duration and could cover huge areas of s.p.a.ce-and could conceivably cause almost anything to happen.

Of the list of s.h.i.+ps that were listed destroyed, the USS Francis Drake was the most famous of the fatalities. Her hull, interior, and all hands had been transformed at the atomic level by some strange and unknown electromagnetic process into pure silica during a particularly violent Gabriel. Seventy-six men and women had lost their lives before they knew what was happening. The effect now in progress could have done the same to the Enterprise any millisecond since it began. Or worse. From the captain's point of view, besides their capacity for instant destruction, the most maddening thing about Gabriels was their disruptive effect on electronic equipment-especially computers, which ran nearly everything on board the s.h.i.+p.

Picard had weathered a Gabriel once in the Stargazer, and had hoped never to do so again. When the first indications of the storm sprang up as they made their way across the frontier to Starbase 112, he had stopped them immediately, and had shut down all nonessential electronic systems. Every system that could be was put on manual to keep the computer from accidentally killing them all, and the personnel that watched the controls were changed as frequently as possible. It frustrated him, but the only proven way to deal with a Gabriel was to sit tight and hope it went away.

He had been on the bridge continuously for hours now. He had grabbed only a few short hours of sleep in the last few days. There was nothing he, as captain, could really do, of course; the Effect didn't care if he was here or in his cabin, and could wipe them out either way. But he had a responsibility to his crew that demanded he provide at least one visible stable factor in the whirling chaos.

"Status report, Number One," he said, turning in his chair to face his first officer.

"All decks starting to report in," Will called back, standing next to Worf at tactical. "One minute, Captain."

Picard placed his head in one hand, and sighed again. Patience, he chided himself-the storm couldn't last forever, unless it affected the temporal dimension, as well as the spatial ones.

"Crusher here," a voice sounded. "Is it an emergency?"

"Is what an emergency, Doctor?" inquired Picard, frowning.

"Didn't you call me?" came the exasperated reply. "I heard you myself." Beverly Crusher was the s.h.i.+p's chief medical officer, and had been flooded, in the past few days, with minor injuries caused by the storm. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. However, the advanced medical equipment and diagnostic computers that would usually have aided her had been deactivated, lest they misdiagnose, mistreat, or cause havoc on their own. Not even the simple medical scanners could be trusted in the storm. Beverly had been treating everyone with archaic instruments and common-sense medicine. She had even unearthed her stethoscope-a simple listening device used for diagnosis before the advent of medical scanners, a gift from her parents upon entering medical school-to help out. Although the crisis had allowed her and her staff to brush up on some old techniques, Dr. Crusher was not very happy with the way she was forced to run her sickbay, and it showed in her voice.

"No, Doctor. No one on the bridge called you. It must have been a communications error."

"That's the third time in the last twelve hours, Jean-Luc! I sent a trauma team to Engineering to deal with a coolant contamination, only to find everyone there perfectly healthy. On the way back, they got stuck in a turbolift," she said. "Geordi's people are still trying to get them out. And this stupid records computer keeps lecturing from Gray's Anatomy at me!"

Picard almost smiled. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Doctor. Really, there's nothing I can do. You'll just have to turn the volume down-"

"It won't go down!"

"-and wait until the storm is over," he finished.

"Crusher out," came the chilly reply. Lt. Commander Data, a pale-skinned android, and Ensign Wesley Crusher were at Ops and Conn, respectively; the latter turned to the former and made an exasperated face.

"Mom's in a bad mood," Wesley whispered to the android.

"Apparently so," Picard murmured, quietly. Though he hadn't been meant to overhear, the boy-young man-was correct. Beverly Crusher had all the patience in the universe when it came to dealing with the health of her patients, but on more mundane matters she could-and did-get frustrated. After three days of frustrations, everyone's temper was wearing a little thin.

Truth be told, the overall level of tension on the s.h.i.+p was as high as Picard had ever seen it. That had been having an effect on the entire crew's performance; Deanna had told him as much a few short hours ago.

His s.h.i.+p's counselor, being half-Betazoid and able to read emotions, had warned him of the potential danger when people were placed under such continual stress. She had been seeing almost the entire bridge crew-save Data, of course-since the storm's second day. And many other personnel in critical areas of operation as well.

Deanna had told him that she was uncertain how much longer the crew could continue operating at even minimum efficiency. Not that Picard had needed all that much convincing-his own exhaustion, and the bags underneath her eyes were enough evidence for him.

The near total lack of diversions/amus.e.m.e.nts didn't help, either. Ten-Forward, the s.h.i.+p's main lounge and social club, was closed, the holodecks were turned off, the computer libraries were deactivated, and even the food slots had been powered down. He thought about the prepackaged emergency ration laying unopened on his desk even now. He just couldn't bring himself to eat another of those things.

And as the crew's patience wore thin, he was using up replacements at horrid rates. Data, of course, had not vacated his post since the s.h.i.+p had gone to yellow alert. Apparently the howling chaos that disrupted electronics had no effect on the more advanced positronic systems of Data's computers. Picard stared at his paler-than-death android with admiration. Data was built for this sort of thing, of course, and Picard wondered briefly if his second officer secretly reveled in the chance to show off his superior abilities. Doubtful, if not impossible, he decided-the android had no emotions, and therefore no ego to flatter. Sometimes Picard wished that Data would be less modest about his nature, learn to relax and enjoy instead of studying and worrying. But Data was Data, and Picard doubted if he would or even could change. In fact, he was certain that he didn't want him to.

"Captain," Wesley said, "sensors indicate that asteroid the Gabriel hit has become a seven-kilometer-wide chunk of nickel, iron, and ... felsium."

"If it is felsium, sir," Riker began, taking his seat in the command area next to the captain, "it's of no danger to us."

"Not unless the Gabriel Effect emits a directed stream of highly charged phased particles in the lower electromagnetic range," Data said, pus.h.i.+ng the rotating Ops panel away and turning towards the command area. "However, the chances of the storm producing such a stream in the first place are low; and the chances that such a stream, once produced, would impact on the same body are significantly smaller."

"About the same chance of lightning striking in the same place twice," said Picard. "Which is just the sort of thing these storms are good at. Data, could the hull of the Enterprise withstand such an explosion?"

"Certainly, Captain. With standard deflector s.h.i.+elds, we would take no damage at all-and only superficial damage to the unprotected hull. But there is no certainty that the cometary material is, indeed, what the sensors say it is. I would suggest launching a probe."

"Just to be safe," agreed Picard with a nod of his head. "Make it so."

Data returned his attention to the Ops console, and a few seconds later, a tiny shooting star erupted from the hull and onto the screen, soon lost in the turbulence of the storm.

"Probe away. Sensor data on the asteroid will be available in ... two minutes."

Picard turned to his first officer. "How's the s.h.i.+p, Will?"

"The port nacelle is still there, and the secondary hull is undamaged, but the s.h.i.+p insists that there is a ma.s.sive antimatter leak, compounded by a coolant leak. Apparently, it's gotten hold of one of the damage control drill routines and thinks it's real, and nothing we say is convincing it otherwise. At last report, the coolant leaks were approaching main engineering, and have been flooding sickbay with casualties. The computer is trying to alert sickbay now."

"Dr. Crusher will no doubt enjoy that," Picard said, ruefully. "I can't be derelict in duty by a.s.suming that they don't exist if the s.h.i.+p insists they do. Bridge to engineering."

"La Forge here," came the voice of the Enterprise's chief engineer.

"Geordi, look around you very carefully. Is there a large antimatter leak or other malevolent contamination in your section?"

"Uh ... negative, Captain. I wouldn't be talking to you if there was. Howard is looking a little ill-tempered, but I think that's those emergency rations we've been eating."

"Tell him I empathize," Picard said with a smile. "Fine. No need to abandon s.h.i.+p. How are your people holding out?"

Picard could picture Geordi's characteristic shrug. "Fine, Captain. A little tired of poking around with a flashlight and looking for imaginary problems, but they won't mutiny for a few days yet."

"Hopefully, the storm will be over before then. Keep me appraised of any difficulties. Picard out."

"Captain," Wesley said, suddenly, his fingers flying across his console. "Sensors seem to indicate that the background energy level is dropping. If it does, then it's possible that the secondary and the tertiary effects of the storm should recede or diminish. Of course, this may just be a temporary dip, but this could also be the end of it."

"Data, verify," Picard ordered. If what Crusher reported was true, then he wanted to know as soon as possible.

"Verified, Captain. Background energy level has fallen 7.254 percent in the last thirty minutes. There is the possibility of sensor error, however."

"Is there any way to double-check the readings?"

"Not without going outside of the system," Data replied.

"We can use the probe we just launched," Wesley interjected. "Once the probe is done scanning the asteroid, I can use it to sample storm levels in a number of planes, charting a graph-"

Picard cut him off. "Yes, yes, you don't need to explain it to me, Ensign. Just do it."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Wesley said, as he began preparing his console.

A minute or so went by in blissful silence, as the tiny probe the Enterprise had launched swept by the asteroid, pelting it with all manner of scanning waves. The information poured into its little brain, which processed and organized it before it spat it back to its mother.

"The probe corroborates our sensors' readings," Wesley said, "both of the asteroid's composition and of a lessening in storm activity."

"Confirmed, sir," Data said. "Estimating 23.5 minutes till the Gabriel's secondary and tertiary effects-including most of the electronic disturbances-will be noticeably diminished. However, the primary effects, as well as continued e-m emissions, will continue for some time. In any case, there will need to be a step-by-step diagnostic refit of every s.h.i.+p's system before we can safely be on our way."

"Excellent," Picard said. In his mind, there was a rising chorus of hallelujahs as he realized that he could get some sleep soon. So might, he reasoned, some other people. Perhaps he could take some of the pressure off Beverly and Deanna for a while.

"Attention all decks," he called out. "Sensors are indicating that the storm level is decreasing. The worst of it should be over in less than a half hour. We will then proceed to do a first level diagnostic run to repair any damage. Until then, however, I would like to remind everyone not to use any equipment until it has been checked out by one of the engineering staff. Once the s.h.i.+p has been thoroughly checked out and everything is in working order, we will proceed to Starbase 112 for personnel transfer-and a healthy dose of sh.o.r.e leave. Picard out."

Even through the soundproof decks he thought he could hear the cheers. The Enterprise had been in s.p.a.ce for some time, and everyone needed to blow off a little steam. The s.h.i.+p had become quite a pressure cooker, too, since the holodecks and other amus.e.m.e.nts had to be shut down because of the storm. He wouldn't mind a little jaunt into fantasyland, himself, he decided. Another case as Dixon Hill, perhaps- "Captain," Wesley said. "The probe we launched is picking up some sort of signal. Pretty regular. It could be another s.h.i.+p; it's hard to tell. It's probably just the storm, but ..."

"... but better safe than sorry," he said. "Start a pa.s.sive sensor search. Open hailing frequencies as soon as the storm permits. If there's another s.h.i.+p in the area, it might not have been as lucky as we were."

"The storm's intensity is falling off logarithmically, Captain," Data said. "It should be possible to transmit on subs.p.a.ce frequencies immediately."

Picard turned his attention to the viewscreen. It was true. The murky cloud that had been the epicenter of the Gabriel had almost entirely dissipated as quickly as it had begun.

"Stand down from red alert," the captain ordered. "Mr. Worf, try and isolate Mr. Crusher's signal."

The Klingon nodded, and turned his attention to his console. While Worf worked, Picard mentally reviewed the list of s.p.a.cefaring races native to this sector-and came up empty.

They were well past the borders of Federation s.p.a.ce at this point-had been, in fact, for the last week. Stars, and therefore habitable planets, were few and far between out here. It was light-years to the nearest inhabited world. This far out in the sector, he would not expect to run into any of "the usual suspects"-the Romulans, Catellox, or Carda.s.sians. More likely, it was an exploratory vessel of some sort-which could mean a Ferengi trading s.h.i.+p, or simply a nonaligned vessel.

"I have isolated the signal," Worf said. "It is definitely another s.h.i.+p-minimal energy output. No matches with any known s.h.i.+p configurations."

"Hmm," Riker said, turning to face him. "I would have bet on the Ferengi."

Picard nodded. "We'll soon find out who they are, Number One." He stood, turning to Worf as he did so. "Open hailing frequencies."

"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise. We are an exploratory vessel on a peaceful mission in this sector of the galaxy. Please identify yourself." He turned to Worf again. "Put them on screen when they respond."

"Aye, sir." The Klingon hesitated. "Their signal is very weak, Captain. The image will be fuzzy," he warned.

True to his words, a vaguely humanoid image replaced the contracting dust cloud that surrounded the s.h.i.+p. There was a slight pause as the translators picked up the alien signal and transformed it into something he could understand.

"This is Captain Jared of the Freedom. Where are you from, Enterprise? Are you in need of a.s.sistance?"

Picard smiled. Thank G.o.d they were friendly-the last thing his s.h.i.+p needed right now was a confrontation.

"We are from the Federation. And I think we have things under control," Picard a.s.sured the alien captain. The low energy readings Worf was getting from the alien s.h.i.+p-the Freedom-made him wonder if they'd been damaged themselves by the storm. "And yourselves? Are you in need of a.s.sistance?"

There was an extended pause. Picard thought he could see the other captain consulting with someone offscreen, but the disruption made it unclear.

"The Federation-I don't believe I've heard of it," Jared said. Though relayed almost at a monotone, Picard felt he detected a trace of suspicion in the other man's voice. Or maybe it was the translator ...

"The formal name is the United Federation of Planets. We're an interplanetary organization made up of several hundred cultures. Starfleet is the exploratory arm of the Federation, and the Enterprise is a Starfleet vessel. Where are you from, Freedom?"

There was more hesitation, and perhaps more offscreen discussion-the image was so distorted that Picard couldn't tell for certain. "Worf, get them clearer," he said with quiet urgency.

"Aye, Captain," Worf returned in a low growl. The picture did become clearer, though whether because of Worf's fiddling or the slacking storm, Picard couldn't tell. Now he got his first look at Captain Jared, and the Freedom's crew.

They were human-perfectly human.

Jared was seated in the middle of an area that looked shockingly like their own bridge-a handsome young man with longish dark hair, probably a few years younger than Riker-flanked by an extraordinarily beautiful woman on his right. Both were wearing nondescript tan coveralls. Picard also noted the machinery in the background was archaic and bulky by Federation standards.

"We have some significant damage to our s.h.i.+p, Enterprise," Jared said. "Three out of seven of our reactors are shut down, and we believe we have a lot of external damage. The storm we encountered played havoc with our internal electronic systems. The readings were so wild we thought we were under attack when it first began. We aren't going very far very fast unless we get them fixed."

"Acknowledged, Freedom," said Picard. He exchanged a quick glance with his first officer-Jared had neatly dodged the question he'd just asked by responding to his previous one. "We call the phenomenon we have mutually encountered a Gabriel Effect-they are very rare, but very dangerous. We are both lucky to survive intact." He paused. "Perhaps we can a.s.sist you in repairs. If you let us know what kind of drive you're using-"

"Condorite fusion reactors, Enterprise," the alien captain said. "State of the art."

"Condorite?" Riker said quietly, coming up behind his captain. "Sounds like an old s.h.i.+p. Nothing Geordi couldn't handle in his sleep."