“We may have finally found a workable solution to our Red King problem, Captain,” Jaza said, sounding almost ebullient as he handed a padd over the railing down to Riker. “It will involve taking action in the immediate vicinity of the spatial rift. And it will have to be done soon.”
Riker felt real delight at the genuine hope he perceived in the voice and manner of the science specialists. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel cautious just now about entire concept of hope. But as he glanced at the padd’s table of contents hope began to seize him in spite of himself.
And he couldn’t ignore the most immediate problem that faced Titanand her crew. “We’re nearly two days away from the Red King’s entry point at maximum warp, Mr. Jaza. Even if we were to head back there this minute—and that’s assuming your plan will work—the people stuck on Oghen now wouldn’t stand a chance of survival. Am I right?”
Jaza nodded, grim reality dialing down his earlier enthusiasm quite a bit. Norellis looked subdued as well.
“I agree,”Cethente said, in a voice like rows of tiny crystalline bells. “Our first priority remains rescuing as many people as possible from that planet below.”
Once again, Riker’s eyes drifted to the viewscreen. The irregularly shaped, shadow-cloaked satellite continued to grow larger.
And more familiar.
Turning toward Frane, Riker pointed at the approaching chunk of rock and nickel-iron. “Do you recognize that object, Mr. Frane?”
Still staring at the apocalypse, the Neyel seemed to have drifted into an almost catatonic state. He roused himself a moment later, only after Riker had repeated his name.
“That is Holy Vangar, of course,” Frane said in a near whisper. “The legacy of the Oh-Neyel People to all the Neyel who came after them.”
Though the object in question remained mostly in darkness, Riker saw a look of recognition cross Akaar’s features at that moment. Tuvok’s eyebrows lofted higher than Riker had ever seen them go.
“Vanguard,” both men said in perfect synchrony.
Of course,Riker thought. They were both aboardExcelsior when Vanguard was found.
He recalled from Excelsior’s reports that the lost O’Neill colony known as Vanguard—a self-contained terrestrial environment fashioned from a hollowed-out asteroid during the tumultuous first half of the twenty-first century—had been left parked in orbit about Oghen by the human ancestors of the Neyel. It was high enough so that its orbit had not yet been altered significantly by the long-term effects of upper atmospheric drag.
“Eviku. Tuvok. Scan that satellite. You’ll find that it’s hollow. I need to know if it’s spaceworthy.”
“It seems to be heavily shielded, Captain,” Eviku said. “There’s a lot of nickel-iron throughout the outer layers, as well as a fair percentage of other dense refractory metals, which make scanning difficult. But it appears to contain a significant internal atmosphere.”
One of the millennia-old aphorisms of Sun Tzu, whose works Riker had read thoroughly during his second year at the Academy, returned to him unbidden: “With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth?”
Tuvok crossed back to the tactical station, which was positioned only a few meters from the turbolift doors. “The Vanguard colony is approximately ten kilometers long,” he said, his composure once again recovered and unassailable. “Its girth measures about three kilometers at its widest point.”
“Life signs?” Riker asked.
“None discernible as yet, Captain. However, I am detecting rocky portions of the outer shell through which we can probably operate our transporters successfully.” The Vulcan looked up from his scanner, meeting Riker’s gaze. “The amount of space we can devote to refugees has just increased geometrically, Captain.”
“Assuming that Dr. Ra-Havreii can give us enough power to keep the transporters and tractor beams going at full bore for a couple of days straight,” Vale said, looking at Riker. “So the plan must be to fill that rock up with warm bodies, and then tow it as fast as possible toward the spatial rift.”
Riker allowed a wry smile to turn his lips upward. Once again, there was no time for rehearsal; improvisation would have to suffice, and his crew knew their licks. “Looks to me like the best plan available under the circumstances.”
Vale shrugged. “I have to admit I don’t have any better ideas right now. I say let’s try it.”
“I must agree,” Tuvok said, then resumed concentrating on his console.
Vale pointed toward the ancient husk of the still-approaching Vanguard colony. “I suppose it would be way, way too optimistic of me to hope that Vanguard can move under its own power.”
“Vanguard had no functional motive propulsion of its own when we first encountered it eight decades ago,” said Tuvok, stone-faced as he continued studying his sensor readouts. At the secondary science console beside him, Eviku was doing likewise. “Its drive units had evidently been cannibalized more than a century earlier,” Tuvok continued, rising from his chair. “As yet I have found no reason to believe that the situation has changed.”
“Of course. That figures. So we either tow it, or somebody’s got to get out and push.” Vale turned in Riker’s direction. “I see another potential problem with this, Captain.”
“Explain,” Riker said.
“I’ve got to wonder: If converting that Neyel sacred relic into a rescue ark is really such a great idea, then why aren’t the Neyel themselves trying to do it right now?”
Riker had to admit that his exec had raised an excellent question. He had no definitive answer, of course—a quick glance at the ashen-faced Frane made it doubtful that one was forthcoming anytime soon—but he still had the capacity for, and the prerogative of, choosing optimism.
Gesturing toward the expanding assemblage of conflagrations raging across Oghen’s land, sea, and sky, Riker said, “Look at the chaos down there. They’re losing ships as fast as they can launch them, and they probably don’t even know why yet. The crisis down there may have hit them so quickly that it just overwhelmed them.”
They just got caught with their proverbial pants down,Riker thought. Maybe in part because a Federation representative convinced them to stand down on their military readiness. Our fault, once again. Our responsibility.
“Captain, I must point out that several other inhabited worlds also lay in the path of the spreading pattern of spatial disturbances,” said Tuvok, who was walking back toward the turbolift to stand beside Vale. “With the Red King effect propagating superluminally through subspace, those systems will also be destroyed in a matter of weeks, if not days.”
Deanna looked pale and mournful. “Then we can only help Oghen, because it’s directly in harm’s way now. We won’t have time to do anything for the people on those outlying planets.”
“Vanguard has only a finite amount of internal space,” Tuvok pointed out. “Even if we had the time to mount other planetary evacuations.”
“Perhaps we cannot aid other endangered worlds directly,”Cethente said with a rhythmic jingling that reminded Riker of Christmas sleigh rides in Valdez. “Unless we succeed in…lulling Mr. Frane’s Sleeper back into a state of slumber.”
“How is that possible?” Vale asked. “We can’t be talking about reading it a bedtime story.”
Norellis grinned at Vale. “Actually, Commander, it’s more like a sedative, for lack of a better term. We’ve got most of the theoretical work done already.”
Riker decided he had nothing to lose by allowing himself to choose hope over reticence. If nothing else, it was a good way to keep despair at bay.
Raising Jaza’s padd, he turned to face Vale and Tuvok. “Chris, Tuvok, get to the transporter room, or wherever else you need to be to coordinate a large-scale evacuation to Titanand Vanguard. And get Ra-Havreii and his people to work on making sure that big rock is habitable and shipshape for towing. I’ll bring you both up to speed later on how we’re going to handle the Red King.”