Runner Up 8 20501.26

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Shock Treatment - Cdr Haren Mormel

© 2005 by Federation Space and the author pen named Haren Mormel

“Can I get you anything, Lieutenant?” the stewardess asked.

“No, thank you. Any more caffeine and I’ll be climbing up the walls” the passenger replied softly.

The stewardess smiled. “If you do need anything, just call.”

“Thanks. I will at that!” the lieutenant answered.

Nodding, the stewardess moved onto the next passenger in the commercial shuttle. The brand new vessel was on its maiden voyage from Starbase Bravo to Starbase Alpha, and was filled with some hundred and twenty passengers who were mostly very comfortable in the softly-lit cabin and large, spacious leather recliners. The stars flashed past the windows as the shuttle travelled at warp, providing some mild form of entertainment for those aboard.

Lieutenant Alanna Treborn curled up in her seat, adjusting her Science tunic where it pinched. Her fair hair was tied back in a long ponytail that hung down over her shoulder, and her deep blue eyes flicked languidly from passenger to passenger. Most of the passengers were human, with a few Star Fleet crew dotted around. From what she could see, no-one had more than the twin gold pips at her collar, although on a civilian flight it really didn’t matter.

She checked her wrist chronometer and sighed. Three more hours. Good grief, stir craziness isn’t going to be that far off! Alanna thought. The tall young woman had honed her body to a level of fitness that would shame most Marines, but the tradeoff was a complete inability to sit still and do nothing. Sighing again, she twisted in her seat and tried to get comfortable enough to sleep.


Alanna jerked awake, her eyes snapping open. She sat up straight and stretched as far as she could. As she looked around, she couldn’t see what had caused the sudden jolt; the seat next to her was empty and there was no-one standing up nearby who could have walked into her.

So what was that then? she thought, looking round. Several passengers looked just as bemused, the rest just looking disinterested. Alanna checked her chronometer; two hours to Starbase Alpha. One less hour to kill trying to figure out what happened then she thought, looking out of the window. Instead of flashing stars she was expect, she was greeted by the sight of a nebula, and judging by the gas and dust patterns the ship had stopped inside it.

As she stared out at the swirling matter, Alanna felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant?” It was the stewardess from earlier, looking decidedly worried. Alanna looked up. “You are a Science officer, aren’t you?” the woman asked. Alanna nodded. “The Captain would like to see you” the stewardess added, as she turned away and started to walk up the aisle towards the cockpit.

And there was me thinking only Star Fleet demanded unthinking obedience the young officer thought, climbing out of her seat and following the woman. The cockpit was a simple affair; pilot and co-pilot, both in light blue uniforms similar to the stewardess’ but much more ornate, a bank of controls and screens, and that was it. The pilot turned round as Alanna walked in, and the stewardess left.

“Captain Harwood” he said by way of greeting. He looked about mid-forties, thin and wiry with a shock of black hair. “And you are?” he asked in an oddly cultured voice.

“Lieutenant Alanna Treborn, Star Fleet Science officer. Good to meet you Captain” Alanna replied, offering a hand.

Harwood shook it. “Likewise.” He let go and turned round, pointing to a monitor. “You’ve probably figured out we’ve stopped. Our instruments are picking up these readings in the nebula ahead, and I don’t know what they are. Does it mean anything to you?"

Alanna studied the readouts.

“Looks vaguely familiar. Would I be able to take a closer look?”

“Of course. Bateman, get up and let the lady work.” On the Captain’s orders, the co-pilot got up, and Alanna took his seat. The interfaces were very similar to Star Fleet standard and she flicked between sensor readouts.

“Looks a little like some kind of… power failure?” she said. “I can’t tell for sure without some kind of matter breakdown, but the patterns are very reminiscent of strong electrical discharges. Could have been a reactor deteriorating or something.” Alanna looked up, her blue eyes meeting Harwood’s stare. “It looks recent too. Like no more than twelve hours old. Are you seeing any ships nearby?”

“This is a main shipping lane. How many ships would you like to have gone through?” the co-pilot volunteered from behind the chair. “Could it be weapons fire?”

“No, I don’t think so” Alanna replied. “No-one uses electrical weapons; they’re horrifically short-ranged and far too unreliable. Unless they get a clean contact you might as well use the energy to boil water to throw at a ship.” At least, I hope not she added silently. This is perfect ambush territory, but why pick on a main shipping lane? This is the main route between the two biggest Star Fleet installations – any pirates here would be hunted down in seconds. It has to be some kind of overload. The Ferengi and Orions run some real old crates…

“Thank you for your input” Harwood said. “I wasn’t sure, so getting confirmation first seemed like a good idea.”

Alanna gave the co-pilot back his station. “Not a problem. If there’s nothing else?” she said.

“No, you can go back to your seat now. I’ll make sure you get a complimentary drink or something.” Harwood had already returned his attention to flying the ship, and as Alanna watched the vessel started to move forward again.

Turning, she’d got halfway to the door when the whole ship jerked and shook violently. She was thrown to the floor, and as she got up the vessel was trembling underneath her.

“What was that!” she said.

“You tell me, whizzkid!” Harwood threw back. “Something’s got hold of us, and I can’t shake it! Looks like your electrical discharges were dangerous after all!” There was an audible whine in the background as the pilot ramped up the power to the engines, before the cockpit was filled with wailing sirens. “Damn it, the engines are overloading! Bateman, shut them down now. Whatever this is, we aren’t going anywhere.” The captain was icy cool as the crisis unfolded around him. On the viewscreen, what looked like forked lightning scoured the ship, and wherever they touched sent up showers of sparks.

“Sir, we’ve just lost comms, navigation and sensor arrays” the co-pilot Bateman reported. He looked up at Alanna. “So much for Star Fleet training!”

She bit back a retort, instead trying to focus on coming up with something meaningful. Before she could, the cockpit was bathed in blue light as something tried to beam in right next to her. Alanna backed away quickly, shielding her eyes as the piercingly bright light solidified into five humanoid shapes.

“We bid you greetings from the Machine.”

The harsh, artificial voice resonated within the cockpit as the same words were spoken in the same voice by each of the five boarders. When her vision cleared and she could see the faces of the humanoids clearly, Alanna’s heart leapt into her mouth.

Borg!


As she looked closer though, Alanna realised her first instincts were wrong. Although the boarders were pale, their skin tone was not the trademark grey. The implants that studded their faces were crude and looked barely up to Star Fleet standards, and all five wore crimson robes bearing a massive toothed wheel symbol on the chest.

“I’m Captain Harwood of the commercial transport Euphrates, and I demand that you release my ship!” the pilot barked.

“We cannot allow that. We bring you salvation in the name of the Machine. Soon we will be at one, and you will be at peace.” The answer echoed from all the boarders at once, and Alanna realised their lips weren’t actually moving; the voice was being projected from a loudspeaker wired into their necks. The young woman was speechless at what was happening, an affliction not apparently shared by Harwood.

“Give up with the doggerel and get hell off my ship before I beam you into deep space myself!” The Captain was incandescent. “Who the hell do you people think you are!”

“We speak with the authority of the God Machine.” A fork of lightning lashed out from the lead figure, striking Harwood in the chest. He was thrown backwards and landed awkwardly against the controls. His head lay at a sickening angle, and it didn’t take a doctor to see he was dead. Bateman fainted, leaving Alanna on her own.

“Erm… thank you for the offer, but we’ll pass for now?” she managed as the intruders all turned their attention to her.

“The Machine requires all to be cleansed in the Flow, and to join with the Cult of the Machine” they said. Together, the five boarders raised their hands. A hissing crackle filled the air as screams suddenly erupted from the passenger compartment. Alanna froze, torn between risking whatever these monks had in mind or the uncertain dangers of the passenger compartment.

The cultists made Alanna’s mind up for her. A bolt of electrical energy arced towards her and it was only her split-second reactions that saved her life as she threw herself sideways. Rolling gracefully to her feet, she darted through the door into the cabin as another bolt lashed at her heels.

As she ducked down the aisle, Alanna counted four more cultists stood in the middle of the aisle. They were absolutely still and bathed in a pulsing halo. Every pulse emitted a beam of light, and where it struck a screaming passenger they disappeared.

Oh hell Alanna thought, as with a flash the five figures from the cockpit appeared in the cabin behind her. Driven from her cover, she tried to dive between the next row of seats but was just too slow. A beam from the nearest cultist caught her in the small of her back, and everything went black.


When she came to, Alanna was lying face-down on a metal floor and felt like she had the mother of all hangovers. A red haze hung in front of her eyes and her limbs felt leaden as she rolled over and slowly stood.

What the…

Looking around, the only word for her surroundings was ‘pen’. The surviving crew and passengers were all coming round to find themselves in what looked like a huge metal box; matt steel walls, floor and high ceiling to a room big enough for roughly twice the hundred or so people it currently held. There was only one vent in the ceiling, and Alanna inwardly despaired as it became apparent there wasn’t so much as a crack in the constant dull metal. The sound of crying, moaning and fearful whispering filled the air; some former passengers had young children who weren’t reacting at all well to their new surroundings. Everyone looked worried at the very least, some outright terrified.

Fear gripped Alanna like a vice, but she fought against it. These people need someone to lead them, and in the absence of anyone else looks like that’s you… she thought to herself, shaking her head to clear her vision.

“Hey, everyone!” she shouted at the top of her voice. The words cut through the hubbub, and slowly all eyes turned to her. OK, time to lead… “Listen. I know you’re all scared, and believe me so am I.” Alanna was careful to keep her voice level; she didn’t waver, and sounded infinitely more confident that she actually felt. “But we will get out of here, I promise you now. Please, try to stay calm and don’t panic!”

I don’t know how I’m going to keep that promise, but I’ll try she thought, as the sound of voices rose to an almost deafening level. Half the room seemed to be yelling questions at her, and she was trying to calm them down when all four walls suddenly lowered into the floor. The startled passengers were now in the middle of a much larger room. Chanting, robed figures stood behind them, spindly artificial arms moving in patterns that hurt Alanna’s eyes as she tried to follow their movements. Just behind them was a huge door, sealed shut. Along the two sides of the room were maybe seventy to eighty cultists each side, stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting and watching.

All the passengers were staring straight ahead, and slowly Alanna turned around. When she saw what they were looking at, she swallowed hard. At the far end of the room, from floor to ceiling a beam of coruscating blue light flickered. Just in front of it stood two more cultists, but these were different. Where their arms should have been, these were fitted with huge mechanical claws that opened and shut with the tell-tale hiss of pneumatics. Their bodies seemed to be wrapped in some kind of reflective, highly-polished metal, and the discharges from the beam behind them sparked off their ‘armour’ harmlessly.

Captive lightning. I guess this is their Flow thing she thought. The scientist within Alanna wondered how this cult had managed to contain so much raw energy, whilst the survivor side of her looked for ways out as the claw-armed cultists approached.

They headed straight for Alanna; it seemed she’d been marked out as leader. She backed away, stepping from side to side and trying to move round behind them. They kept following her, always keeping her in front of them and always getting closer. Her mind raced and her heart thumped in her chest as she broke to one side and ran, trying to outflank them. A bolt suddenly sparked from one of the cultists along the side, knocking her off her feet and sending her skidding back towards the altered cultists.

For several long seconds, Alanna couldn’t move. The discharge paralysed her and no matter how much she struggled her body wouldn’t respond. She was powerless to do anything as a claw of one of the cultists closed around her waist and picked her up, its other hissing shut around her legs. Gradually, feeling returned to her limbs as Alanna tried to fight her captor’s grip. It was a futile struggle; the hold was so tight she could barely tense the muscles in her thighs let alone make any attempt to move.

As Alanna fought, the passengers scattered as the other modified cultist simply ploughed into their midst. Its claws picked the two closest people out of the crowd, before it moved slowly back towards the beam. The cultist holding Alanna fell into step behind it, and the two other prisoners looked pleadingly at the Science officer as they were carried along.

Five metres from the beam, the rearmost cultist stopped dead. Alanna jerked in its grasp as the other continued on, and her mouth hung open at what happened next. It stopped right at the periphery of the beam and thrust its claws forward, screaming humans and all, into the Flow. The stink of burning flesh filled the air and Alanna looked away, unable to watch as the captives disintegrated in the relentless energy stream.

“Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn.” The chant came suddenly from the mouth of every cultist in the room. They repeated it, again and again, as the cultist turned away from the Flow and headed back towards the mass of people.

“Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn.” Two more unfortunates were seized by the powerful claws, and carried towards the ravening energy beam. Alanna redoubled her efforts to free herself; she wasn’t going to let anyone else die if there was anything at all she could do about it.

“Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn.” Desperate to free herself, Alanna twisted her body tried to get an angle to punch at the cultist that held her. It proved to be impossible; she was facing the wrong way and there was no way to get enough force for any kind of meaningful attack.

“Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn.” The chant was almost drowned out by the yells of the victims as they were held in the Flow until there was nothing left of them but ash.

“Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn.” Alanna grabbed hold of the claw around her waist with her hands. She braced herself and arched her back, straining against the claw. She could hear the howls from behind her as the moving cultist picked two more passengers and started the journey back towards the floor. Closing her eyes, the young woman pushed with everything she had. Something gave and shifted an inch. Was it her body or the claw? Alanna honestly couldn’t tell, but redoubled her efforts anyway.

“Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn.” Screams heralded the demise of the latest pair. Again the cultist went back for more. Exhausted, Alanna stopped struggling. She went limp in her captor’s grasp, recovering what strength she could.

“Treborn! Do something!” The yell came from Bateman the co-pilot; he was one of the people carried towards the Flow.

“I’m trying!” Alanna shouted back, her voice cracking. Running out of ideas, she ran her hands along the surface of the claw. There has to be a wire or something I can pull out! There has to be! Despite her fervent prayers, there was nothing.

“Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn.” The hideous buzzing noise and the stench of death signalled that eight people had now been sacrificed. Alanna knew, if she escaped, the screams would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Suddenly and abruptly, the chanting stopped. The former passengers quietened as well. Something was about to happen; it was a tangible feeling in the air. Alanna looked around, then back at the Flow. Before her eyes it changed to green in colour, the intensity of the light increasing as it pulsed and flashed faster.

Then the cultist holding her jerked into life, carrying her towards the waiting beam. Eight shall be cleansed that one shall be reborn? Reborn into what? One of them?

Realisation dawned. That was exactly what was going to happen. I haven’t gone through everything to end up a brainwashed cyborg! Alanna thought as her despair turned to anger. She reached behind her, her questing hands finding the cultist’s face. She jammed her thumbs into its eyes, but it didn’t slow. Twisting its head didn’t work, and neither did hitting out with what little power she could muster.

The Flow loomed ahead. It was barely ten metres away as Alanna closed her eyes. Her hand brushed against something at the back of the cultist’s head. Instinctively she grabbed the thick cable and pulled hard. The cultist stumbled, but steadied itself and continued on. Hope fired Alanna on and she yanked harder. The cultist stumbled again. Holding the cable in both hands, Alanna took a deep breath. She could hear the Flow it was so close.

Heaving with every fibre of her being, she pulled the cable again and at last it came free. The cultist stopped dead. When Alanna opened her eyes all she could see was the green beam in front of her, inches away. She writhed in the grasp of the claws as sparks stung her all over. As she twisted, the claws worked loose, and by planting her hands on the metal she was able to pull herself free.

Vaulting the cultist’s head, Alanna landed on the deck and had to duck as the second clawed cyborg swung for her. She jumped as its other claw scissored in for her knees, and planted a solid kick in its side as she rolled around behind it. This one too had a thick cable coming from the back of its head and she lashed out, her kick knocking the heavy wire loose.

Instead of seizing up like its twin, the cultist suddenly shot forwards, away from Alanna and towards the Flow. It collided with the other clawed cyborg and both tumbled headlong into the beam of energy, which couldn’t penetrate their reflective armour.

The Flow was broken, and with a deep rumble it changed colour again to a venomous red. With a terrific roar its energies starting to arc off randomly, and as the priests and cultists around the room started to move towards the beam, many were vaporised by the flashing bolts of raw lightning. The whole room shook violently, the lights cutting off before flickering briefly on then off.

A bolt of energy smashed into the floor by Alanna’s heel, and she started to run towards the group of passengers as another flashed over her head, slamming into the door at the far end of the room and toppling it backwards.

“Now! Let’s get out of here whilst they’re distracted!” she shouted. Nobody needed any further encouragement and the mass of humanity fled down the corridor. Alanna accelerated, reaching the front of the pack to try and steer it as the chamber behind them crumbled.


“Slow down! Go and help the ones who are struggling!” Alanna yelled at the faster runners who were pulling away. Three ignored her and just disappeared down the smoking corridor, but the rest eased off and did as she asked.

OK, now what? the lieutenant thought, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes scanned the walls, looking for some kind of direction mark. She didn’t find anything, and a junction loomed large in front of her. One fork headed back in the direction of the chamber, the other went right and away. In a split second Alanna made her decision.

“Right! Go right!”

Come on docking bay…

The corridor went back on itself, but there was light ahead, and powered by a desire to get out the mob of people surged towards it. They emerged on a long gantry, and slowed down to a walk once everyone was on it. On the level below them sat the Euphrates, the shuttle they’d been taken from, and ahead of the ship was a window into the inky blackness of space.

Alanna looked around. Just ahead of her was a ladder down. Whilst it looked safe enough and there was no sign of any more of the machine cultists, she still wanted to check it out first.

“Hey!” she shouted, getting everyone’s attention. “Before we rush down there, I need a couple of volunteers and anyone who thinks they can pilot the ship, just to make sure its safe. Anyone?”

Of the eighty or so survivors, twenty of them raised their hands. Alanna picked the closest five and led the way to the ladder. She descended carefully, making sure the frame was stable enough to take her weight and that of the others coming with her.

The ladder didn’t even shake. Once at the bottom, Alanna and the volunteers scoured the ship from stem to stern. There was no-one aboard; even the bodies of those who had died during the boarding had been taken. Alanna made her way to the cockpit, and found two men in there. One was a young human, the other a slightly older Bajoran.

“Does this look sound to you?” she asked, addressing both. It was the Bajoran who looked back and answered.

“The systems are intact. We can fly, but we don’t have communications, sensors or navigation” he said, checking the readouts. His voice trembled slightly and his hands were shaking as he moved.

“I can fly it” the human piped up. “Midshipman Liam Branden, Tactical Officer USS Chronos.”

“Thanks. Can I leave you guys here whilst I go and get everyone on board?” Alanna asked, relief hanging from every syllable. She couldn’t stop the thought we’re going to get out of here! reverberating through her mind, however premature it was. Both men nodded, and Alanna walked back out and to the foot of the ladder.

“OK. One by one! Please be careful and take it easy!” she called, as the first passengers started to climb down.


Once everyone had boarded, Alanna hurried back up to the cockpit.

“If you’d be so kind? Get us out of here!” she said to the piloting team. They were only too keen to oblige; no sooner had Alanna closed her mouth than the shuttle lifted off the deck and was accelerating out into space.

As the Euphrates pulled away, Alanna looked at a monitor showing a feed from an aft camera. It showed a small asteroid, retreating into the distance, with an atmospheric dome covering an area of the surface. For a split second she wanted to know what it was, but those feelings were replaced by an overwhelming desire never to have to look at it again.

“Lieutenant.” The Bajoran was looking at her, and Alanna moved to just behind him. “I don’t know where we are. Any ideas on arranging a rescue?” he asked her.

She looked at the main viewscreen. Nothing looked immediately recognisable or of note.

“Erm, no” Alanna managed in reply. “Is the distress beacon working?”

The midshipman, sitting in the pilot’s chair, hammered at a control a couple of times. “No” he said. Alanna leaned over, whispered a silent prayer to any gods who happened to be passing, and gently pressed the same button. A second later, the cabin was bathed in a flashing amber haze as the beacon activated.

“Woman’s touch” she said, smiling.

Her work apparently done, Alanna retreated to a corner of the cockpit and let herself fall to the floor. She took a deep breath and relaxed, before covering her face with her hands. All the pent-up emotions she’d bottled within herself, fear, sadness, grief, terror, guilt and loss, all came flooding out at once. She wept freely, for all the lives lost and the horrendous ordeal everyone had been through. Tears streaked down her face as her composure broke down totally.

The Bajoran and the midshipman looked at each other, before the Bajoran got up and went to sit next to her. He put an arm around the sobbing young woman’s shoulder and held her tightly as she leant her head on his chest and cried, the emotions overwhelming her.

“Thank you. From all of us, thank you” he whispered in her ear.


Epilogue

From: Commander Hiram Narnyr, Science Office Starbase Alpha

To: Admiral Patricia Cassar, Star Fleet Command

Re: The Ley’s Maw

Admiral,

I have concluded my investigations into the ‘Cult of the Machine’, as per your orders. My full report is attached, but I will summarise briefly here.

As you are already aware, a small number of ships had disappeared whilst travelling on the main space lane between Starbase Alpha and Starbase Bravo. The most recent disappearance was that of the commercial liner Euphrates last month, which managed to escape and reported having been abducted by a group that called itself the ‘Cult of the Machine’.

Thanks to the reports filed by the passengers on the Euphrates, in particular one Lieutenant Alanna Treborn, we were able to locate an installation on an asteroid in the Ley’s Maw system. There was a Borg artefact buried within the rock, and a group of explorers had set up a base to study it. Unfortunately, it appears things went wrong very quickly when a previously unencountered form of technology similar to nanobots infested the bodies of the explorers. This would explain the group behaviour reported by the Euphrates survivors, and would go some way towards explaining their affinity with tesla coil technology. Driven by a need to spread the nanobots further, this ‘cult’ used their technology to snare passing ships and attempt to convert the crews.

However, many questions remain unanswered, and I for one look forward to studying the electrical field technology in more detail. The possibilities for utilising this for our own benefits are endless.

As an aside, I find the story of the Euphrates’ escape a particularly warming tale. Of the 117 passengers and crew on board, 85 survived the ordeal. All of the reports highlight exceptional leadership and calm under pressure from Lieutenant Treborn, and having read them it seems she is personally responsible for saving 85 lives. In these times of hardship, such a heroine comes as a welcome relief, and I have personally recommended that she be promoted immediately and awarded the Medal of Valour. I hope I will be able to count on your support in this recommendation.

Best regards,

Cdr Narnyr