CHAPTER 8... Don't accept any substitutes... But first, a question. Just out of curiosity,

CHAPTER 8... Don't accept any substitutes... But first, a question. Just out of curiosity, mind you, how does my book compare with other ST and ST:TNG novels? Now, on with the show... (C) 1991 - Doug Geiger Chapter 8 Chris dodged out of the way of the still falling ceiling and ran down the tunnel. After the rumbling had finally ceased, he went back just far enough to pick up a piece of the rubble that exhibited the peculiar phosphorescence, intending to study it further after his return to the Enterprise. "That is, if I return," he reminded himself. Continuing down the passage, Chris observed no remains of any kind. He found this surprising, until he realized that Q probably constructed the whole labyrinth. If Q didn't want it to seem that others had gotten this far, it was up to him. Lost in thought, Chris panicked as the floor fell out from under him. Although surprised, he still managed to leap onto more solid ground. He rolled and came up facing the direction he had come, phaser in hand. Where there had been ground moments before, was just a large hole. Inside, Gawron could see the phosphorescence glinting off sharp sticks covered with liquid that tricorder analysis proved to be poison. "Maybe Q isn't as fond of the Enterprise crew as he says. I don't think I was meant to survive." Resigning himself to his fate, he ventured on. Soon, the walls became less craggy and resolved themselves into a series of sharp outcroppings. Chris's foot came down with a sharper click than his boots had been making. Suspiciously he looked around and saw that the walls had begun to come together, narrowing the passage. He could just make out the forward edge of the sliding walls. He glanced behind him and saw that he had not quite come halfway. Deciding quickly, he ran down the tunnel towards the far end, occasionally checking his progress. When the passageway, not very wide to begin with, had shrunk to half its width, Chris put his head down in an all-out sprint toward the end of the passage. He emerged from the closing walls, panting, and turned in time to see them close to eighteen inches and slam shut. By now, Gawron's uniform shirt was all but destroyed and his pants hung in tatters below his knees. Looking ahead, Chris noticed a strange glow, stronger than the walls' natural phosphorescence, emanating from around a bend in the cave wall. Approaching warily, he rounded the bend and saw where the bluish light was coming from: the ceiling. "Captain, sensors indicate a source of hard radiation has just appeared on the planet," reported Data. "Location in relation to Mister Gawron." "The radiation is distorting the readings, but he appears to be standing within it." "Must be coming from the ceiling," said Riker. "How long can he be safely exposed to it, Data?" "Any exposure to radiation is unsafe, Commander, but there will be no irreparable damage for at least forty-five minutes. I cannot be more precise." "Great he has forty-five minutes, and we have two and a half hours," muttered Riker. "Engineering to Bridge, LaForge here." "What is it, Geordi?" asked Picard. "Captain, we've been in the planet's atmosphere for thirty-two minutes and the hull temperature has already reached 200 degrees Centigrade. Without shields, we don't have as long as we normally would," came the voice from the intercom. "Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Do what you can. Bridge out," snapped Riker, upset at his inability to do anything useful. "Take it easy, Number One. We have Q trying to kill us already. We don't need anyone else's help to do it for him," said Picard warningly. "Aye, sir," said Riker, a little too loudly, a little too formally. Taking out his tricorder, Chris aimed it upwards. After scanning the tunnel roof for a few seconds, he read the results of the analysis. The ceiling was coated with nearly pure, energized dilithium. Prolonged exposure would result in a horrible death from radiation poisoning causing rapid decay and massive systems disfunctions. As he put the tricorder away, his rock sample fell from his belt and bounced. The stone leapt up to shoulder height, where Chris caught it, startled. He put it back into his belt. "Reduced gravity. Sure, why should Q make anything simple." Laying down on his stomach, Chris began a slow, relaxed crawl through the anti-grav field, careful not to make any sudden, violent movements which would result in his being thrown at least partly to the tunnel roof. After nearly thirty minutes, Ensign Gawron had made his way under the fifty foot stretch of dilithium. Gratefully, he stood, his uniform shirt falling in shreds to the ground to reveal his chest, covered in lacerations, both large and small. His back was covered with bruises and burns. Deciding to talk to Captain Picard about combat pay upon his return to the ship, he proceeded around another bend and was confronted by a blank wall of rock. He search exhaustively for the familiar button that would return him to the junction, but could not find it. Finally defeated, with no retreat possible, Chris slumped against the dead end wall -- and fell through it. He found himself in a large chamber. There, on a stone pedestal, sat the pile of dilithium crystals. Rising quickly, footsteps echoing loudly, he grabbed the dilithium crystals. In a flash, his rocky surroundings were replaced by the familiar environs of the Enterprise. Riker was talking to LaForge over the intercom. "... don't care what you have to do. Get out and push if you have to. We've been in the atmosphere for nearly an hour." "Commander, hull temperature is increasing. Fifteen hundred degrees Celsius and rising. Estimated survival time of the Enterprise, assuming temperature increase continues at this rate is one hour, thirty-eight minutes, fourteen point eight three five six ni--" "Commander Data," spoke up Chris from the back of the Bridge, no one having noticed him, "I've got the crystals. How long will it take to install them and power up the engines?" The channel to Engineering still open, Geordi answered: "Installation will take about ten minutes. Restart will take an hour and a half." "Two minutes too long. What happens if you bypass the safety checks?" asked Picard, anxiously. While he waited for the answer he turned to Data and Gawron. "Get down to Engineering as fast as possible." Data and Chris left the Bridge. "Under present circumstances, I was going to bypass the safety sequence anyway. That gains us about forty-five minutes," came the answer from the Bridge speaker. "Do it, Geordi. As quickly as possible," ordered Picard. "Bridge out." Picard noticed that he was sweating and turned to survey the Bridge. Everyone there had a sheen of perspiration on their faces. The humans were red-faced from the heat. Picard knew that the environmental controls were suffering from the heat of the atmospheric friction. He flicked on the intraship communicator. "This is your captain speaking. We have entered the atmosphere of an unknown world. The increased heat is from the atmospheric friction. Steps are being taken to remove the Enterprise from danger. In the meantime, all non-duty personnel and civilians, remain in your quarters and keep your physical activity to a minimum. Picard out." The Bridge was silent. Periodically reports came in from Engineering. There were no major problems and the restart process was nearly complete when the red-alert sirens blared. "Warning! Maximum safe temperature exceeded! Total systems failure imminent!" warned the computer. "Bridge to Engineering. You better have some good news!" yelled Riker into the intercom. "I need more time, Commander," pleaded Geordi. "The engines will be back on-line in three minutes. You have shields now." "Not good enough, Geordi. This ship can't hold together for much longer. Bridge out." Riker slapped the channel shut before Geordi could respond. Wesley turned quickly, an idea forming in his mind. "Worf, what's the minimum safe distance for the Enterprise to survive the detonation of a photon torpedo?" "Two kilometers. Why?" growled the warrior, his bony brow wrinkling in confusion. "Captain, I recommend that we fire a photon torpedo and set it to detonate two kilometers in front of our predicted position." "Ensign Crusher, what purpose would it ser--" Picard's expression changed as he saw where this was leading. Turning to Lieutenant Aures at Ops, he said "Transfer all available power to forward shields." As she moved to raise the shields, Picard turned to Worf and ordered him to "Fire two photon torpedos. Set one to detonate two kilometers in front of us and the other to detonate two seconds after, same position." All eyes on the Bridge turned to Picard, wondering what he could be planning. The whoosh of escaping air could be heard as the torpedos were launched. As the first one detonated, the blast forced the Enterprise's bow up so that the lower hull was absorbing the friction of the atmosphere. "Now, Ensign, transfer all power to lower shields!" No sooner had her hands stopped moving, than Aures was thrown from here chair, as were most of the Bridge crew, by the second explosion. The Enterprise was lifted up and pushed back, out of the planets atmosphere. It settled into a high, loose orbit. Seconds later, the warp nacelles lit up red and blue. "Warp power is now available, Captain," reported Wesley. "Resume course and speed," said Picard, and, tapping his combadge, "Ensign Gawron to Sickbay, then meet me in my Ready Room. You have the Bridge, Number One." Picard left the Bridge through the portside doors into his Ready Room. As Chris entered Sickbay, Pulaski rushed over. "It's about time you got here. Here, sit down," she said, indicating a diagnostic bed. "What happened to you, have a disagreement with Worf?" "No, Q," replied Chris. "I think I won." "I'm impressed. Now lie down." Chris lay back slowly, trying not to aggravate his injuries, especially those on his back. The scanners in the bed went to work automatically, displaying their results on the wall panel beside the bed. "Life signs appear to be normal. Just surface injuries," diagnosed Pulaski. "You mean I'll live, Doc," inquired Chris, only half jokingly. "I'm afraid so." Pulaski wheeled over a healing ray: a low power laser used to graft synthiskin over wounds. She set to work and after about twenty minutes, Chris looked, if not felt, as good as new. Except for the burns on his back. For these, and as a treatment for his cuts, Pulaski bathed him in a different ray, one that would help to regenerate his skin. "Unfortunately, this will have the side effect of making you tired and stiff. I suggest you take it easy for twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Consider yourself relieved of duty, Mister ..." she trailed off, not knowing his name. "Gawron. Ensign Chris Gawron." "Pleased to meet you, Chris. Anyone who can beat Q is certainly a good person to know. I'm Doctor Katherine Pulaski," she said, reaching out to shake Chris' hand, careful not to reopen any of his injuries. The door to Picard's Ready Room chimed. He switched off his desk terminal and said, "Come." The doors parted and Chris entered. "Tell me, Ensign, just what happened to you down there?" Slowly, carefully, not wanting to omit any details, Chris told Picard about his adventure. When he finished, Picard went over to the food dispenser in the corner and ordered "Tea, Earl Grey, Hot." As he returned to his chair, sipping his tea thoughtfully, he said, "Most impressive. You exhibit tremendous stamina and resilience." "I can't really take all the credit for it myself, sir. I owe part of it to an old friend," Gawron admitted. "He trained you?" "No," Chris laughed. "Putting up with him over the years convinced me I could do anything. He was a little hard to take for an extended period of time. Had a terrible sense of humor, too." "You mean he took everything seriously?" asked Picard. "Just the opposite. There was nothing that he took seriously. Nothing except his friends," he said wistfully. "What happened to him? He sounds like an interesting personality," said Picard, curiously. "Had the wrong psych profile for Starfleet. He had what some people call 'spontaneous genius;' brief, unexplained, unpredictable flashes of brilliance. Jumped to too many conclusions, too many times. Even though he was right the majority of the time, he was considered too much of a risk for Starfleet Sciences. Wouldn't have lasted long, anyway. He had no use for authority of any kind," finished Chris. "I know the type. As much as I'd like to continue reminiscing with you, we have a mission to complete. You, however, are confined to the civilian areas of the Enterprise until Doctor Pulaski or myself tell you otherwise," said Picard, in a tone heavy with tension, but with relief evident. "I see no problem with those orders," replied Gawron. "Glad to hear it. Dismissed." Chris exited, followed by Picard. As Chris walked toward the Turbolift, Riker turned and said sternly, "Ensign, is that uniform regulation?" Chris stopped and looked down at the sorry state of what used to be his uniform. His shirt was gone and not much was left of his pants. His boots were ripped and scorched. "I think it used to be. I wonder if this look will catch on." Almost as an after thought, Chris added, "Sorry, sir. I didn't have time to change." "That's alright," said Riker, breaking into a wide grin. "I just hope it doesn't catch on. Carry on, Ensign." The Turbolift doors closed with a soft his behind Chris as he sped away from the Bridge. Picard took over the command chair from Commander Riker. "Status, Number One." "Still orbiting the planet, Captain. Sensors register nothing down there. No city, no lifesigns at all," reported Riker. "Strange. From what I understand of Ensign Gawron's story, there was a good-sized village and an extensive series of tunnels on the planet, as well as at least one species of large water lizard and a carnivorous plant. I can see Q's hand in this. I wish he'd stay in the Continuum or do something useful, rather than continually bothering us." Riker turned to look at Picard, eyes bright. "I know you won't believe this, but after being part of the Q for a few hours, I think I understand him. At least a little. Being omnipotent there's not much that challenges him. Humans do because we are stubborn." "I agree, Captain," said Counselor Troi. "He sees us as both superior and inferior at the same time. He envies us our mortality and our ability to love others. Because of the Q's immortality and their power, they must always be careful. We have no such responsibility." "Captain, if I may remind you, we have a mission to perform," reminded Worf from above. "Yes, quite right, Lieutenant. Mister Crusher, compute and execute a new course to the Vexis Corinhi system." "Aye, Captain," acknowledged the Ensign. "Course computed and laid in." "Warp 5, engage." "Warp 5, sir," replied Wes. "Mister Data, ETA to the Corinhi system." "Three hours, barring any further interruptions," answered the android. "Counselor, how are the crew faring?" asked the Captain. "For a time they were nervous, but now that the Enterprise is no longer in immediate danger, they are again confident in our ability to succeed," reported the Betazoid. "I hope so, Deanna. But where Q is involved, we're always in immediate danger," said Riker somberly. "I sincerely hope that you're wrong this time, Number One," said Picard grimly. "I don't care about Q's assurances. Neither the crew nor the ship can take much more." "I agree, Captain. Mister Data, dig up any information you can on the Vexis Corinhi system. We might as well know as much as possible about our destination," ordered Riker. "Accessing, Commander." Data cocked his head slightly to one side as he searched his internal memory banks for the requested information. "The Vexis Corinhi system contains fourteen planets orbiting a G class star. The fourth and fifth planets are marginally class M. The inner three planets revolve around the sun in very tight orbits and are little more than molten lava. The sixth through ninth planets are solid, but inhospitable by human standards. They are home to perpetual geothermal and electrical disturbances. The remaining planets are lifeless pieces of rock, barely large enough to be classified as planets. At this time, the Klingons have peripherally scanned the system but have not explored it or established any outposts. In our time period, the fourth planet is known as --" Data stopped, unsure of whether to continue. "What is it, Data? What do we call it in our time?" demanded Picard. "In our time period," continued Data, after a worried glance at Worf, "the fourth planet is known as Khitomer." Worf looked up, startled. "Khitomer," he said under his breath, and more loudly, "My family! Captain, we must warn the Klingon high command of the attack on Khitomer." "You know we can't, Worf. If we were to change everything that we think went wrong with history, we may not continue to exist. I can sympathize with you, though. With our knowledge we could prevent the destruction of the original Enterprise and the death of Tasha Yar, but we can't." Picard turned back to Data, obviously saddened at his inability to change things for the better. "Where will we most likely find these creatures?" "If the creatures we are looking for energy to absorb as a nutrient, the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth planets would be the logical choice," answered Data. "Ensign Crusher, when we enter the Corinhi system, plot a course for the sixth planet at one-half impulse power." "Worf, a want a full sensor sweep of the area. Check for any potential surprises," ordered Picard. As Wesley started his computations, Worf protested, "Captain, if Commander Data is correct, we will be unable to scan the planets because of the prescence of so much energy. I recommend a shuttlecraft survey of each planet." "Make it so, Lieutenant. When we enter orbit around Vexis Corinhi VI, take ten shuttles and perform a routine search. Once you find something, return to the Enterprise and we'll take it from there," said Picard. "Aye, sir. I will select ten shuttle crews and make the necessary preparations," said the Klingon. As he moved to the Turbolift his replacement moved to take his place. "Good luck, Worf." "Thank you, Commander Riker, but Klingons do not believe in luck." The Turbolift doors closed and he was gone. As always, tell me what you think... Oh, BTW, I don't think I'll make 20 chapters. Having just finished Chapter 12 this past weekend, I think that maybe 15-17 Chapters is all I'll need. I know how the book is going to end, but getting there's the problem. I'm already thinking about a sequel, so if you don't want spoilers for something that's not written yet, don't read any more...(Boy, I sure am negative this morning.) How about... The Borg know about Q and the Q Continuum. After being exposed to the Q's powers, the Borg have adapted. Now they seek to absorb the Q into themselves. Desperate, Q calls upon the Enterprise, as the only ship to ever defeat the Borg... On the next exciting episode of Staaaar Trek: The Next Generation... (Very effective if read in the voice of the "Promo-Guy(tm)" from the end of the TNG episodes. There, now that you have plenty to think about, get to work, whaddaya think it is, summer break or somethin'...#B-) -- "You've managed to kill everyone else, but like a poor marksman, you keep missing the target!" - Kirk to Khan, STII:TWOK. "Does anyone else want to say something, or can we end this charade now?" - Riker (paraphrased), "Future Imperfect" (fix this quote, PLEASE!!!!!) Doug geiger@klaatu.cs.canisius.edu