Chapter 1
Cheryl walked into her cabin on Deck Seven aft with a fierce grin on her face. She knew that her vengeance was going to be sweet and savory tonight. It had been a long shift filling in for Ensign Patterson in the Biogenics lab in addition to her own shift, but she had still managed to collect and assemble all the components for her "special" project and put them in place just an hour ago. In fact, Lt. Commander Hanson should be getting his surprise any minute now.
It didn't help that Trevor Hanson was one of the most handsome officers aboard the ship. His short, perfectly wavy auburn hair and those roguish good looks were enough to get any girl's heart beating quickly. His manly voice and immeasurable charm kept her thinking about him more than he deserved. She tried hard to ignore her feelings towards him. After all, he was also a department head and strictly speaking, should be considered off-limits. But her feelings bade otherwise, especially since he was the one that had attacked first.
Cheryl walked over to her dresser and looked at herself in the mirror. Her uniform had a slight smudge from a chemical stain where she spilled a portion of the genetic precursor from Patterson's biology experiment, but she knew she wouldn't have time to change. She carefully removed the smudge with a handkerchief she withdrew from a stack in her drawer. Then, she picked up a brush and quickly gave her sandy curls a few brisk strokes, in sets of five, before tying her usual green ribbon in them. There was just enough time for one last glance to make sure there were no dark circles under her eyes and ensure her breath was clean before she got the call that she knew was coming.
She couldn't help but admire Hanson's own cabin prank on her. Somehow, he had managed to connect her bathroom controls to the red alert klaxon, so that it would sound when she turned on her shower—but only in her cabin. The effect was brilliant, as she had quickly rinsed the soap from her hair, thrown on her uniform, and run to her duty station only to find out that there was no actual emergency.
But cabin pranks, as they were called by the initiated, had apparently been going on aboard the Dominion for as long as there had been officers aboard. It was common knowledge aboard the ship that when a new officer came aboard, they had better keep a sharp eye out because you never knew when yours would be sprung on you.
"Lieutenant Kinson," a terse voice uttered from the intercom on the nearest wall. "Report to main engineering immediately." The voice coming from the intercom sounded rather annoyed, which was to be expected.
"Kinson, acknowledged," she said as she pressed the intercom button and ran into the hallway at a brisk trot. Tiny lines at the corner of her mouth tilted into a slight smile against her will. If only she had a winter parka, that would complete the effect.
After all, it wasn't that hard to create the atmospheric conditions necessary to make it snow. She just couldn't get the effect to work in Hanson's cabin—at least not without re-plumbing half the ship's environmental systems to do it. So she had done the next best thing.
As she jogged briskly toward the end of the passageway, she played out in her mind how the exchange would take place. He would appear angry, but would begrudgingly accept that he had been beaten. She would say something witty and he would laugh and fix her with those big, beautiful brown eyes. Silent communication would pass between them as an unspoken promise that they would keep their behavior professional, but would secretly desire each other.
As Cheryl slid merrily down the maintenance ladder leading to Deck One, she dodged a crewman working on a plumbing manifold and rounded the corner into the compartment marked MAIN ENGINEERING. The scenery was even better than she had hoped for.
There was almost an inch of accumulation on the floor and the artificial clouds she had made form were hovering gently, just below the ceiling, dumping a considerable amount of snow all about the compartment. She struggled very hard not to giggle. But that was before she heard the unexpected bellow of the ship's first officer, Lt. Commander Connor Leary, call her to attention.
"Lieutenant Kinson," he began. He hadn't even shouted, but her body involuntarily jumped with the shock of surprise. She stood stiffly at attention and didn't dare look him directly in the eye. "Are you responsible for this disaster?"
"Yes, commander," she squeaked. She hated it when her voice betrayed her nervousness. It had been doing that since the academy.
Lt. Commander Connor Leary was the ship's executive officer, or XO. Commander Leary was responsible for the smooth running of the ship, all administrative functions, and the execution of every activity aboard the Dominion. Short of being the skipper, he was the highest-ranking man on the boat.
Connor waved his arm in a slow horizontal arc meant to take in a panoramic view of a compartment of the ship that should not normally be supporting a minor blizzard. He had his gaze fixed on Ms. Kinson in a stare that left no room for ambiguity concerning his level of anger at what he had walked into moments before. It was just dumb luck that the second-in-command of the boat had picked this late hour to visit engineering and he was very likely to tear a few stripes from the back of this freshly minted lieutenant to ensure this never happened again.
Everyone in the compartment found something else to do, which primarily meant disconnecting the spray nozzles that were generating near-frozen mist or disconnecting the rigged vent ports that had channeled the heat in the compartment directly out to space through the same system used to put out fires.
Connor's breath could be seen as he enunciated the words. "Are you aware, Ms. Kinson, that this ship, and this compartment, may be called upon at any given moment to go into battle, perform emergency maneuvers, enable faster-than-light acceleration, or perform nearly any other action or function that its captain may require from it?"
Cheryl continued to fix her stare straight ahead and answered meekly in the affirmative. Connor slowly circled the frightened lieutenant; his anger draining away, as he thought about how brilliantly she had hidden the components needed to pull off her bold retaliation on the ship's senior engineering officer. He came to a stop directly behind her and silently counted to five for full effect.
Lowering his voice to a menacing growl, he rendered his verdict.
"You will assist Mr. Hanson in getting this mess cleaned up and back to full and spotless readiness. Furthermore, you will never construct such an apparatus at any time in the future. Move."
To her credit, Cheryl replied with a crisp "Aye, sir," and immediately began giving instructions to the technicians removing a piece of thermal conduit that had been used to rapidly drop the compartment temperature from a comfortable twenty-two degrees Celsius to a frigid twelve degrees below the zero line.
Connor knew it would take her the better part of several hours, even with help, in spite of the fact that she had just come off her own shift. He stood observing her for several seconds as Trevor Hanson, the ship's chief engineering officer, walked over to join him.
"She did a real number on your section, Trevor," Connor said as he surveyed the slowly melting slush that had moments ago been real snow.
"Yes, sir, she did indeed," he said shaking his head to hide his grin. "Somehow, she managed to rig the fire suppression system to not only fail to signal the status board, but she was also able to drop the humidity in the compartment to the right ratio to form the ice crystals. See that port over there?" he said pointing to a thermal exhaust vent on the far side of the room.
Connor nodded.
"It's the reactor thermal exhaust vent. She rigged it to drop the vent clamp when the temperature reached the frigidity she needed by knowing exactly how it would thermally contract against its seals. That's how she created the warm air blast she needed to make the clouds."
As the compartment temperature returned to normal, the frosty mist began to vanish as it drizzled down on the people and equipment in the compartment.
"I'll adjust the duty roster to keep her extra busy for the next several days to help her better use her free time," Connor said, as he folded his arms against the chill remaining in the cold air. "But I must admit, she planned and executed her attack quite well. She wasn't even here to make the temperature drop."
"Yes, sir. She's a clever one that's for sure," Trevor shook his head and smiled. "It's just too bad she's not an engineering rating."
Connor allowed a slight chuckle to escape his otherwise stoic composure. "You must've really put a bee in her hat to get this kind of premeditated retaliation."
"Oh, come on. Everyone learns about cabin-pranks when they come aboard; it's a rite of passage," said Trevor. "I understand yours was legendary."
Connor shot him a withering look. "And it will remain a closed subject."
Trevor hid his grin, but everyone aboard knew about his ingenious prank. Connor just didn't want to hear about it just now.
He turned to go. "As soon as the lieutenant has returned your engineering bay to ship shape, you can release her back to her quarters. We have a briefing at 0600 tomorrow."
* * *
Early the next morning, a very tired-looking Cheryl Kinson, the first officer, was in attendance for the briefing. She focused on her data pad as the other officers filed in. No one mentioned the state of the engineering bay.
Captain Owen Cantrell took his usual seat at the head of the conference table. Connor retasked the monitor, which had been showing the stars outside the ship. The star field vanished, being replaced with pictures of four members of a science team.
"We've been diverted from our usual assignment in Task Force 36 to pick up Dr. Maxim van Helm's biogenetics team, along with some resupply items for the fleet," Connor stated.
Captain Cantrell surveyed his officers before speaking. "Dr. van Helm's team is part of a classified imperial communication effort known as Project Containment. In essence, van Helm's team may have discovered a way to tap latent telepathy in humans and use it to amplify and project messages across the galaxy. If he is successful, it would provide us with a means to instantly coordinate our forces across the galaxy using a technology that is virtually undetectable and impossible to intercept. Our job is to transport van Helm and his team to a secure base in the Mutara system so he can complete his work without alerting certain rebel elements who might wish to exploit his technology for use against the empire."
He nodded to Trevor. He had delivered the executive summary and now left it to his engineer, who smoothly picked up the conversation and began giving the technical details.
"Dr. van Helm is the team's biologist and a leader in the field of cerebral neuroscience." Trevor pointed to the next person in the slide. "Beside him is Tyrell Sanders, their nanosciences expert."
Everyone looked either at the images on the screen or at the same image repeated on the screens of their data viewers. Sanders' tall frame, boyish face, and unruly red hair gave him a distinctive towering presence among the team. Maxim van Helm was no less commanding with his jet-black hair, bushy gray beard and eyebrows, and a wizardly scowl.
"To his left," Trevor continued, indicating the tall brunette, "is Candice Picoult. She's the odd one out in that she's reportedly one of the empire's only living precogs."
"She's a what?" Connor's confusion was plainly on his face.
"Precognition is a special case within parapsychology where the subject can either see or influence future events," Cheryl said before Trevor could answer. "In the case of Dr. Picoult, she is reported to have," Cheryl paused for a heartbeat to find the right wording, "visions of future events before they happen. But it should be noted that not all of her colleagues believe in her abilities."
Connor was impressed. Not only had Cheryl somehow managed to catch a few hours' sleep before the briefing, but she had also taken the time to familiarize herself with the background reports on van Helm's team.
Trevor continued with only the slightest hint of irritation at having been interrupted. "Correct. And finally, we have Sandy Dovell, an accomplished quantum physicist. According to our data, she has been lending her expertise on ultra-long-distance quantum entanglement."
"So, what is Project Containment in layman's terms?" Connor asked.
"Well, sir, it is effectively a specialized neural implant that allows someone in one corner of the galaxy to talk to someone else in a different corner of the galaxy—in real time."
Connor whistled as he stole a glance at Cheryl. Her eyelids were drooping slightly, which told him that she hadn't gotten much sleep, if any. He suspected they would have no more engineering pranks from her, at least for a while.
Early the next morning, a very tired-looking Cheryl Kinson, the first officer, was in attendance for the briefing. She focused on her data pad as the other officers filed in. No one mentioned the state of the engineering bay.
Captain Owen Cantrell took his usual seat at the head of the conference table. Connor retasked the monitor, which had been showing the stars outside the ship. The star field vanished, being replaced with pictures of four members of a science team.
"We've been diverted from our usual assignment in Task Force 36 to pick up Dr. Maxim van Helm's biogenetics team, along with some resupply items for the fleet," Connor stated.
Captain Cantrell surveyed his officers before speaking. "Dr. van Helm's team is part of a classified imperial communication effort known as 'Project Containment.' In essence, van Helm's team may have discovered a way to tap latent telepathy in humans and use it to amplify and project messages across the galaxy. If he is successful, it would provide us with a means to instantly coordinate our forces across the galaxy using a technology that is virtually undetectable and impossible to intercept. Our job is to transport van Helm and his team to a secure base in the Mutara system so he can complete his work without alerting certain rebel elements who might wish to exploit his technology for use against the empire."
He nodded to Trevor. He had delivered the executive summary and now left it to his engineer, who smoothly picked up the conversation and began giving the technical details.
"Dr. van Helm is the team's biologist and a leader in the field of cerebral neuroscience." Trevor pointed to the next person in the slide. "Beside him is Tyrell Sanders, their nanosciences expert."
Everyone looked either at the images on the screen or at the same image repeated on the screens of their data viewers. Sanders' tall frame, boyish face, and unruly red hair gave him a distinctive towering presence among the team. Maxim van Helm was no less commanding with his jet-black hair, bushy gray beard and eyebrows, and a wizardly scowl.
"To his left," Trevor continued, indicating the tall brunette, "is Candice Picoult. She's the odd one out in that she's reportedly one of the empire's only living precogs."
"She's a what?" Connor's confusion was plainly on his face.
"Precognition is a special case within parapsychology where the subject can either see or influence future events," Cheryl said before Trevor could answer. "In the case of Dr. Picoult, she is reported to have," Cheryl paused for a heartbeat to find the right wording, "visions of future events before they happen. But it should be noted that not all of her colleagues believe in her abilities."
Connor was impressed. Not only had Cheryl somehow managed to catch a few hours' sleep before the briefing, but she had also taken the time to familiarize herself with the background reports on van Helm's team.
Trevor continued with only the slightest hint of irritation at having been interrupted. "Correct. And finally, we have Sandy Dovell, an accomplished quantum physicist. According to our data, she has been lending her expertise on ultra-long-distance quantum entanglement."
"So, what is Project Containment in layman's terms?" Connor asked.
"Well, sir, it is effectively a specialized neural implant that allows someone in one corner of the galaxy to talk to someone else in a different corner of the galaxy—in real time."
Connor whistled as he stole a glance at Cheryl. Her eyelids were drooping slightly, which told him that she hadn't gotten much sleep, if any. He suspected they would have no more engineering pranks from her, at least for a while.
"So, you can all see why the emperor wants to make sure their discovery stays under the control of Imperial security. Lieutenant, I will be assigning you to be their liaison since they fall under your department," Connor said, turning to Cheryl. She snapped her head up as she heard her name.
But before she could voice any concerns, the comm chime sounded. Captain Cantrell pressed the receive switch and his gruff voice answered, "Cantrell here."
"Captain, we have an urgent message from Commodore Brenton."
"Very well, Ensign. Put her on speaker."
The communication officer's voice was replaced with the soft alto of their task force commander.
"Captain, I'm sorry to have to give you a secondary mission considering the personnel you are about to pick up, but we've got an emergency that has arisen on Mutara VI. Apparently, there has been a breakout of Gregor's disease that they are unable to contain. Since your current assignment will take you within a parsec of Altair, I'm instructing you to pick up the necessary medicines from our medical facility there."
Cantrell turned to his chief medical officer, Madison Spinoza. Madison was a wiry-framed, petite woman with keen eyes and unruly blond hair that she kept pulled tightly behind her head.
"Commodore, I assume we will be picking up Thedrozine to treat the outbreak?"
"My ship's doctor, Madison Spinoza," Cantrell provided by way of introduction.
"That is correct, Doctor. Do you have some aboard the Dominion?" Brenton asked.
"In limited quantity," she continued, "but not nearly enough to combat a plague."
Brenton went on. "Jyeshta colony has over seven thousand inhabitants and over sixty cases have been reported so far. It spreads quickly and they anticipate that it could infect half the colony before you arrive. Without enough Thedrozine, they'll be dead within a week. Unfortunately, Altair only has a limited quantity of processed Thedrozine on hand, but they have a natural supply of Byrozium which you will take aboard and distill. I'm told you have the facilities aboard to use it to synthesize the necessary quantities of Thedrozine you will need."
"Yes ma'am, we can do that," Spinoza said confidently.
"In that case, do not linger once the science team is aboard. You are ordered to make the best speed to Mutara VI to rescue and treat as many of the colonists as possible. We'll be diverting ships from Task Group 41 to lend you medical personnel to assist, but they'll be four days behind you and won't have the vaccine. It's up to you, Captain."
"Dominion won't let you down, ma'am," Cantrell said smoothly.
"Contact me once you arrive at Mutara. Commodore Brenton out."
The channel went silent as Captain Cantrell considered his options.
"Very well. Commander Leary, please see to the accommodations for our science team. Commander Hanson will arrange the cargo spaces for the medical supplies. Doctor, let me know if there is anything you will require to begin the synthesis."
"I'll work with Trevor to set up logistics from the cargo bay to our synthetics lab and we'll set up round-the-clock synthesis of the Thedrozine."
"What about me, sir," Cheryl asked. Connor leaned closer to the table and smiled.
"Your responsibility will be Dr. van Helm's science team. Make sure they get settled in and provide them with whatever they need so they may continue their important work."
Connor smiled, knowing that Cheryl's job would likely be the most difficult of all the staff. Scientists often have egos that would be hard to fit into the ship's confines. And Cheryl would need to run interference to keep them out of the way of the normal operation of the ship. Well, that should be punishment enough for her little engineering prank and provide her with good experience managing civilians aboard a military vessel.