“I don’t know,” Vaughn said, continuing to look at the city as it passed beneath them. Discarding his peculiar thoughts, he tried to speculate about what could have caused such widespread but disparate destruction of the civilization here. The pulse,he told himself, although he did not understand how that could be. He could only hope that the answers lay ahead of them. And to Prynn, once more, he said, “I don’t know.”

The energy readings had increased dramatically as Chaffeeneared the source of the pulse. Vaughn peered over ch’Thane’s shoulder at the sensor displays; the ensign had returned to the cockpit after preparing the scientific equipment. Scans seemed to indicate at least one more city between Chaffee’s current position and the source of the pulse, although readings in that direction were more erratic now than ever. Directly below the shuttle, surface conditions read calm and cool, with temperatures hovering around ten degrees. Gravity pulled marginally weaker than on Earth, and the atmosphere held a slightly higher oxygen content, though it was certainly breathable. Good,Vaughn thought. Unless conditions at the site differed significantly, they would be able to disembark Chaffeewithout having to use environmental suits; as streamlined and sophisticated as the Starfleet issues had become over the years, Vaughn found that they still hindered natural movement.

“I’ll get our gear,” he told Prynn and ch’Thane. He turned from the forward console and headed for the rear of the shuttle. He stepped into the aft compartment, which doubled as a transporter pad. Moving past the scientific equipment, he reached for a section of the starboard bulkhead. He opened a small storage closet, in which hung outerwear for the crew. He gathered this up in one arm, then pulled out a small locker, about half a meter long and not quite as deep or as tall; the box contained phasers, tricorders, and beacons.

Vaughn carried the gear back out into the main cabin. He dumped the jackets and his old field coat onto a chair, and then set the locker down on the floor. He squatted before the box, unlatched it, and then flipped open its lid, revealing four phasers packed in the upper tray. He pulled one free and attached it to his hip.

A sudden movement in Vaughn’s peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned and looked toward the bow of the shuttle in time to see a dark form move out of sight off to starboard. He stood up and started forward. “What—” he started to ask, concerned that he already knew the answer, and then the shuttle shuddered violently. Vaughn flew across the compartment into the port bulkhead.

“We’ve been struck by an energy surge from the clouds,” ch’Thane called, confirming Vaughn’s suspicions. “Engine power is down thirteen percent.”

“I’m taking us down,” Prynn said, not waiting for authorization. Vaughn felt Chaffeetilt down toward the ground. He looked through the forward windows and saw an empty plain below. Once they landed, they could assess the damage, make needed repairs as quickly as possible, and continue on their way.

Another blast thundered into Chaffee.Vaughn felt the shuttle drop precipitously, a wavering sensation filling his stomach. He thought they would fall from the sky, but then Prynn somehow reined Chaffeeback under her control.

“There’s another—” ch’Thane yelled, but too late. Another bolt of energy struck the shuttle. Vaughn hurtled toward the rear of the cabin. He slammed into the bulkhead and collapsed onto the deck. When he looked up, he was amazed to see Prynn still at her station. Ch’Thane, obviously knocked from his seat, now wrestled his way back to it.

Suddenly, a tremendous report shot through the cabin, followed by the horrible moan of tearing metal. Vaughn looked up at the ceiling and saw the dark, writhing sea of clouds above. For a moment, his mind could not process the image, and then he realized that a meter-square section of Chaffee’s roof had been torn open. He saw the blue tinge of an emergency force field and hoped it would hold. Ch’Thane called out, but Vaughn could not make out his words.

Vaughn felt the shuttle veer to port, then dip, and he wondered if Prynn was running evasive maneuvers. Just get us to the ground in one piece,he thought.

Holding on to a chair, Vaughn pulled himself back to his feet. He steadied himself with a hand to the bulkhead, then shuffled back into the aft compartment. He reached the transporter controls and punched at the touchpads, intending to establish a lock on Chaffee’s crew of three. If Prynn could not keep control of the shuttle, then he could beam them—

The transporter panel was dead.

Vaughn peered back through the doorway and out through the forward windows. The ground approached quickly, and he saw Prynn still working hard at the conn. Then another surge hammered into Chaffee,and air screamed through the breach as the shuttle decompressed, the force field obviously gone. The hull screeched as the compromised structure struggled against the forces of its flight. An acrid scent, like that of molten rock, filled the cabin.

Vaughn watched as a shadowy form pushed into the cabin through the hole in the ceiling. An amorphous, shifting mass of gray whirled through the compartment. Ch’Thane turned and saw it just as it reached him. A dark wisp seemed to graze the blue flesh of the ensign’s face, and he screamed. The terrible, ugly wail rose loud enough to be heard over the wind, and over the sounds of Chaffeebreaking up around them. Vaughn had rarely heard such a cry of agony, but something else about it struck him: it seemed less like a cry of pain than of anguish.

Chaffeeswerved to port then. The gray tendril withdrew from the cabin as though the shuttle had jerked itself away from its clutches. Their forward momentum slowed, and the wind dropped significantly. For an instant, Vaughn thought that Prynn—amazingly still at her post—might actually be able to land them safely.

And then Chaffeecrashed.

34

Bashir crawled through the Jefferies tube, a medical tricorder clutched in one hand. The metal grating that formed the base of the conduit rattled as his knees came down on the rigid surface. Voices echoed back to him from around a corner up ahead, the identities of those speaking impossible to distinguish above the din he made as he moved forward.

Bashir reached the intersection of three tubes and turned down the one to his right. Not too far in front of him, Ezri, Lieutenant Nog, and Ensign Gordimer sat one after the other in the enclosed space. Beside them, Bashir saw, several access panels had been removed from one of the bulkheads, revealing some of the ship’s circuitry within. As he neared the trio of officers, he slowed, quieting his approach so that he would not interrupt their conversation.

“— completed the scans,”said a woman’s voice that did not belong to Ezri, obviously being transmitted through a combadge. “The readings only occur at your location. There’s nothing on the exterior of the hull or anywhere inside the ship.”Bashir recognized the voice as that of Ensign Merimark.

“What about transporter signatures?” Ezri asked, glancing up at Bashir, but clearly still speaking with the ensign. Her words rang in the tube, echoing down the long metal conduit.

“We found none,”Merimark said.

“All right. Thank you,” Ezri said. “Dax out.” She raised a hand to her combadge and closed the channel, then addressed Bashir. “Doctor,” she said. He understood the need for such formality, but he also found it somewhat amusing, considering that she had come here directly from their cabin. For that matter, he had also just come from there, not long after she had left.