Somewhere to Belong, page 22
“Incoming!” Tilly’s warning was frantic enough to make everyone on the bridge turn toward her. “Brace for impa—”
Something punched the ship. It was the only thing Burnham could think as she felt the deck heave beneath her and she flailed for anything to keep from being thrown across the bridge.
31
Materializing in Discovery’s engineering section after transporting from the bridge, Paul Stamets took in the sights and sounds of what had to be every single alert indicator on the ship screaming for attention.
“Engineering, what’s the story? We’re blind up here.”
It was Burnham, now in full captain mode as the ship weathered whatever sort of attack was being thrown at it. Stamets heard the determination in her voice, could almost see the set of her jaw as she processed the rapidly unfolding situation and formulated responses in that deliberate, hyperfocused manner that made her good at her job and even a bit awe inspiring while at the same time being a tremendous pain in the ass.
“Working on it, Captain,” replied Commander Jett Reno from where she stood at one of the main engineering master systems consoles. Stamets saw her enter a series of commands and the audible alarms stopped their wailing. Lighting returned to normal, but the alert indicators continued to flash. “Whatever that was, it kicked us right in the onions.”
Stamets crossed the floor to a console next to Reno’s, swiping across its surface to activate its holographic interface. “I’m pretty sure something collided with us.” He called up a damage report, and a schematic of Discovery appeared before him. Rotating the model, he took note of the crimson icon on the underside of the ship’s secondary hull.
“Point of impact,” said Reno. “Near engineering and the main computer core.”
“I’m not seeing evidence of a hull breach.” Stamets frowned. “And I’m also not seeing any foreign object.”
Reaching across to his console, Reno swiped at the diagram. “Yeah, but look at this, Sparky.” She enhanced the highlighted area of the secondary hull, then tapped it, changing the image from a technical schematic to a view of the ship’s underside as if rendered by sensors for a viewscreen. The perspective was close enough for Stamets to note the seams between the dull silver plates comprising Discovery’s hull. He also saw that the center of the image wavered and blinked as if the visual feed was out of focus.
“A distortion field,” he said. “Something’s there, but blocking our sensors.”
“Give that man a cigar,” replied Reno as she shifted back to her own station. “Just not one of mine.”
Stamets frowned. “You smoke cigars?”
“Only when I’m called in to work at the last minute.” Switching between engaging her console’s tactile controls and the holographic display, she said, “The field is similar to the one surrounding the station but using way less power. If we can isolate the frequency, we might be able to cut through it.”
“I see where you’re going.” While he considered himself no slouch when it came to his technical acumen, he could appreciate Reno’s approach. Years of training, combined with hard-won experience forged in peacetime and war along with a knack for improvisation and a wealth of sheer talent and determination, made her a formidable engineer. While it was true they had rubbed each other the wrong way at the beginning of their relationship—and in truth he still found himself irritated with her on occasion—there was almost no one he would rather have caring for Discovery and its crew when the heat was on.
After a moment, Reno said, “I think I’ve got it.” Another series of commands to her console and the sensor image cleared to reveal a squat cylinder lying on its side and affixed to the ship’s belly. Using the surrounding hull plates to provide perspective, Stamets guessed it to be at least a meter in length. It was composed of a gray metal that almost made it invisible against the ship itself. Then the image started breaking up.
“Bridge to engineering,” said Burnham over the intercom. “Did I hear you right? There’s something on the hull?”
“It must be magnetized.” Reno tapped another control. “It’s putting out a massive amount of energy that’s starting to screw with our sensors. We might be able to depolarize that section of the hull, but—” She stopped herself when another indicator began flashing. “Okay, kids. Bad idea. Scans are showing that thing’s carrying some kind of explosive.”
Stamets called out, “Adira! Evacuate that section and seal it off.”
Working at a nearby console, the young ensign nodded as they got to work. “Aye, Commander.” As they dispatched those instructions, Stamets saw them pull their hands from the console as everything in front of them blinked and the station’s holo display broke apart. Then every console in the room began following suit.
“Warning,” said Zora. “Outer hull breach detected. Deck seventeen, section nine.” As always, the artificial intelligence’s voice remained almost serene even in the face of chaos.
“Holy shit. That thing just detonated,” said Reno, and Stamets looked over to see her struggling with her own console. A moment’s wrestling restored the image of the ship’s underside, and the device was still there, affixed to the hull.
“I don’t get it,” said Adira, moving to stand next to Stamets. “It’s still there.”
Reno grunted in obvious irritation. “Some kind of shaped charge, aimed downward into the ship. The hole’s only about thirty centimeters in diameter, but it punched right through the outer and inner hull. What the hell is that about? And it didn’t even use all of the explosive material I’m seeing inside its shell, so the whole thing is still a bomb.”
“Warning,” said Zora. “Computer system intrusion. Primary operating systems breach. Emergency firewalls and encryption protocols activaaaaaaaaaaa—”
Stamets, struggling to get his station back under control, stopped cold as he took in what was happening. “I’m picking up multiple strings of unfamiliar code attempting to infiltrate the main computer. It’s already breached one firewall. Zora, are you there?”
“I am attempting… block… trusion.” The computer’s voice was halting, almost a stutter.
Working with Stamets to wrestle his station back to working order, Adira said, “Whatever this thing is, it’s picking up speed as it moves through the network’s security perimeter.”
Through the intercom, Burnham said, “Engineering, we’re detecting multiple attacks throughout the computer network. Whatever that thing pushed in here is targeting as many system entry points as it can at the same time.”
“It’s a brute-force attack, Captain,” said Stamets. “Trying to overwhelm our safeguards and exploit any weakness it finds or just creates for itself. Zora’s staying ahead of it, but the attack program is spawning clones of itself and launching a multipronged assault on the system firewalls.”
“Primary power is fluctuating,” reported Burnham. “We’re switching to emergency power. We’re without main propulsion and still linked to the docking port umbilical.”
Adira reported, “Secondary and tertiary security protocols are online. That’ll buy us some time, but not much.”
“How do we stop it?” asked Burnham.
Reno said, “Getting that thing off the hull would be a great start.” She scowled as she reviewed the data scrolling across her displays. “Hang on a second. It’s literally anchored itself to the ship.” She used her fingers to zoom in on a section of the sensor feed, and Stamets saw a trio of what could only be metallic umbilical cables running from the device to Discovery’s outer hull. The image was clear enough for him to make out the puncture marks where the cabling, likely fitted with some kind of compressed-force projectile, had penetrated the duranium plating.
Another alarm echoed across the room, drawing Stamets’s attention to the new indicator flashing across his display. “Firewalls and encryption protocols are still in place, but the way this thing is hammering at us, it’s only a matter of time.”
“What about a tractor beam?” asked Adira. “To grab it off the hull.”
Stamets replied, “The emitters can’t reach it at that angle. Same with phasers.” He stopped, catching himself. “Ship’s phasers, that is.”
“Right,” said Reno. “The angle for those is all wrong too.” Then her expression shifted. “Hang on, cowboy—”
“I can go out there and cut it loose by hand.” Crossing to a nearby equipment locker, Stamets extracted a tactical vest and began strapping it around his chest and back.
“Paul,” said Burnham over the open channel. “Wait. We don’t know what that thing might do if you get too close to it.”
“Then I won’t get too close to it, but if we need to defuse or deactivate that thing, it should be one of us. We’ve all gotten a look at it thanks to Reno’s sensor scans.” The vest secure and in place, he returned to his console and began entering commands. “She and Adira can feed me more information once I’m out there, but we don’t have time to argue about this.”
“You’re right,” said Burnham, much to his surprise. “But you might need backup. I’m coming with you.”
Though he started to protest, Stamets saw the logic in her decision. “Yes. That’s… that’s a good idea, Captain.” With a final check of his console, he transferred the device’s location to his tri-com badge. To Reno and Adira, he said, “Keep monitoring that thing. No surprises, okay?”
“No surprises,” said Adira.
Reno smirked. “No promises. Try not to get blown up out there.”
Feeling a sudden urge to laugh, Stamets pressed the control on his vest and its built-in programmable-matter environmental suit began forming around him. It took only seconds for him to be encased from head to toe in the protective garment, a helmet with clear face shield coalescing around his head. That transition completed, he tapped his tri-com badge and the engineering room disappeared, replaced with Discovery’s hull.
He felt his suit’s gravity boots attaching themselves to the duranium plating, and there was a moment of vertigo as he realized he was upside down in relation to many of the Sanctuary islands and clusters of buildings. The sphere’s immense support lattice was even more prominent here, high above the main population centers, with the inner shell curving away from him to disappear beyond the habitat’s inwardly curved horizon. While he thought he might expect a strong wind to buffet him the instant he was outside the ship, Stamets instead found the air here to be calm, and almost deathly quiet. If not for his present location, he could just be out for an afternoon stroll.
Just so long as I don’t throw up, he thought.
“You okay?”
It was Burnham, walking across the hull toward him. She wore a suit like his, and she moved with practiced ease along the ship’s outer skin.
“This is a little outside my normal wheelhouse,” he said. Despite any lingering resentment he might feel toward her, Stamets was glad to have the captain watching his back.
Turning toward the rear of the ship, they began making their way along the hull. Out here in simulated daylight, the rogue device contrasted more noticeably against the ship’s silver finish. Beyond it, Stamets could see the underside of the warp nacelles, which at present were connected to the ship via programmable matter. Their Bussard collectors still glowed blue even though he could tell they were operating at less than full power. It was an obvious indication the assault on the ship’s computer systems was manifesting in numerous ways, only a few of them observable to the naked eye at this point.
As he and Burnham closed to within twenty meters of the device, he called up his holo-tricorder and set it to align with the information being collected by Discovery’s sensors. “It’s broken through a second firewall. Zora’s managed to throw up a new one on top of our existing perimeter, but it took this thing less time to get through that than the first one.”
Tapping her tri-com badge, Burnham said, “Engineering. What’s your status?”
Over the open comm link, Reno said, “We’ve got a penetration into the backup memory banks, and we’re seeing new scans coming from the device, sweeping the interior of the ship. Almost like it’s searching for something. The code it deployed is directing search algorithms throughout the system. Firewalls and encryption are holding for the moment, but if you’ve got some awesome plan to get rid of it, now’s the time.”
“Something’s controlling it,” said Burnham. “What if we can overload its transceiver or whatever it’s using for communication? If we can avoid damaging it, we might even be able to track back to a point of origin.”
As if in response to her suggestion, Stamets heard a groan of protest from ahead of them, and he saw the collectors on the warp nacelles go dark. He also noted illumination fading from the various portholes along the hull as well as the ship’s exterior lighting.
“That’s it for primary power,” said Reno over the link. “And it just busted through a third firewall. It’s launching attacks against the main operating system. We’re not going to keep it out much longer.”
His tricorder’s visual display flashed red and Stamets threw out an arm, indicating for Burnham to stop her advance. “Hold it,” he said. “It just scanned us and activated some kind of proximity sensor.” He cast a glance in her direction. “Looks like you were right about getting too close. It definitely knows we’re here.”
“Heads up, kids,” said Reno. “That thing’s getting feisty. We’re tracking a new energy reading connected to its remaining ordnance payload. I think it’s on a buildup to detonation.”
Burnham said, “We can’t let that thing blow while it’s still attached to the ship.”
Almost in sync with her, Stamets flexed his wrist to activate the programmable-matter pendant on his suit sleeve. Phasers materialized in their hands, and he checked his weapon’s power setting. “Any ideas on how hard we hit it?”
“As hard as we can.” Taking several steps backward, Burnham adjusted her weapon’s power to maximum. Stamets mimicked her action before they both took aim at the device.
Burnham’s eyes shifted toward him. “Ready?” When he nodded, they both returned to sighting in on the device. “Fire.”
Both phasers unleashed their own torrents of energy with sufficient power to penetrate the drone’s outer casing. Sparks erupted from its interior and Stamets even saw it tremble before it tore free of the hull. He and Burnham fired again, sending the device away from the ship.
“We need to get out of here,” said Burnham. “Back inside.”
Stamets felt what he thought was the tingle of a transporter beam forming around him even before he tapped his tri-com badge. This was different from the familiar sensation he associated with Starfleet transporters. The process was slower, enough for him to see the cascade of energy coalescing to envelop him.
“Paul!” shouted Burnham, and he saw her reaching toward him before everything faded to black.
32
Burnham stood near an expansive window forming the outer wall of Queen Ki’s sitting room. The chamber itself was appointed in elegant detail, beginning with heavy, colorful tapestries featuring abstract art that decorated the walls. The carpet was thick and plush, giving beneath her feet even though Burnham noted how it seemed immune to footprints or other signs of traffic. Sculptures and other mementos and personal effects occupied space on shelves or the small desk in the room’s far corner. The large window offered Burnham a breathtaking, unfettered view of one of Sanctuary’s larger population centers. Suspended between cross sections of the habitat’s colossal support lattice, it was an artificial island in the sky with structures stretching upward toward the curved shell and plunging down to anchor points along the sphere’s central core. Standing at the window, Burnham could almost believe she was flying. If only she could enjoy the obvious beauty Sanctuary offered.
Not today, she reminded herself. Maybe tomorrow, but that depends on what happens right here, right now.
“I cannot even begin to express my horror over what has happened,” said Ki as she paced the length of the sitting room. “This attack on your ship is appalling, and the abduction of your officer is inexcusable. I have ordered our minister of security to direct all available resources toward securing his safe return.” She stopped her pacing and shook her head. “I know your arrival has raised concerns among the population, but it has been obvious from the beginning that you presented no threat. If I believed otherwise, I would never have permitted you to enter Sanctuary. One might reasonably think a queen’s decisions had a bearing on matters of this sort, but I am apparently mistaken.”
Her arms were clasped behind her back as she attempted to affect a composed demeanor. There were no guards with them in the sitting room. No advisors, and no aides or assistants. That alone had to have sent the queen’s security detail into an apoplectic fit, but still she sent them away, seemingly confident that her well-being was not at risk. To Burnham, it was the ultimate gesture of trust and respect, one perhaps rarely if ever afforded to anyone, let alone an outsider. She suspected it was a privilege extended to no non-Xahean in centuries, and certainly not to anyone representing the Federation. The magnitude of this moment was not lost on Burnham, and if circumstances were different, she would be nothing but honored and humbled to stand here.
At the moment, however, circumstances were what they were.
“I understand there’s been a new wave of protests,” said Burnham. She already knew about the unrest, thanks to Discovery continuing to monitor local broadcasts even as the crew completed repairs from the drone incident and assessed the full impact of its attack. “Opinions seem rather divided on what happened.”
Ki sighed. “Indeed.” She tapped a control on the bracelet adorning her left wrist, and in response to that simple command an array of six holographic displays appeared at the center of the room. Each window depicted a different scene, but it was easy for Burnham to recognize the theme connecting them.
