Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy #6: Mystery of the Missing Crew by Michael Jan Friedman

He saw that where there were even a few, slender threads of energy in a given spot, they drew in other threads to effect repairs.
    “It’s not working,” prodded Lagon. “Why isn’t it working?”
    “We haven’t got enough power,” Sinna told him. “But we’ll address that.” She stole a glance at Data. “Won’t we?”
    The android nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We will.”
    To penetrate the energy barrier, to attract the attention of its creators, he would be forced to … what was the expression Captain Thorsson favored? Put all his eggs in one basket. In other words, he would have to pour all available power into a single blast—and trust that he would not need a second one. Because if he did, there would be no power left to create it.
    For the last time Data targeted the weak spot in the energy field. Locking phasers, he called for the narrowest, most intense beam the batteries could muster up. Then he tired.
    The viewscreen showed him the result. As he watched, the blast met the alien grid—and tore a hole right through it. It was not a particularly large hole, but it was big enough to keep the energy field from making itself whole again.
    “We did it!” cheered Lagon, bursting with relief. “We ripped a gap in it big enough to fit a ship through.”
    That wasn’t exactly an accurate assessment, Data mused. However, they had indeed accomplished their goal. They had damaged the barrier to the point where its creators couldn’t help but take notice— if they were still in existence.
    Still, as seconds stretched into minutes, there was no response. Data could see ,the Yann showing signs of impatience—tapping their fingers on the bridge’s work stations and exchanging worried glances.
    “They’re not doing anything about the hole,” noted Felai. “That’s not a good sign.”
    Odril came up beside the android and surveyed the tactical monitors. He couldn’t understand much of what they said—but he could understand enough to see what kind of trouble they were in.
    He looked up at Data. “You used all the power in the ship’s batteries. There’s just enough to keep the life support going on the bridge—and pretty soon, that will be used up, too.”
    Felai’s brow furrowed. “But without life support to sustain us…” His voice trailed off soberly.
    Odril nodded solemnly. “We’ll all die.” He glanced meaningfully at Data. “Or maybe not all of us. Only those who need to breathe in order to survive.”
    “There was no other way,” the android countered.
    “It was either expend all our energy or resign ourselves to defeat.”
    “Maybe there was another way,” Lagon chimed in. “At least, we could have given it some thought. We could have talked about it. Now it’s too late for that.”
    “Wait a minute,” Sinna said. “Data did the best he could. None of us has any reason to—”
    She was interrupted by a sudden flash of light from the viewscreen—a flash which obliterated the Opsarran graphics there and replaced them with something else. It was only after a second or two that the android realized it was a face .
    Of course, it was different from any face he’d ever seen before. Not even vaguely humanoid; it resembled a collection of leathery bulges supported by a thin, metallic-looking stalk. If it wasn’t for the smooth, black orbs set roughly where eyes ought to be, Data might not have figured it out at all.

    “I am S’rannit of the T’chakat,” said the alien. His voice—or perhaps it was her voice—was little more than a rasp. “I am confused. Why do you attack our field? Having discovered it, would it not have been simpler to go around it and proceed to your true target—our civilization?”
    The android took a step forward. “I am Data of the Federation. We mean no harm to your civilization—or to any other, for that matter. Our vessel’s computer log will prove that—as will the log of our comrades, the Opsarra. All we want is for you to return our