Текст книги "Taking Wing "

Автор книги: Andy Mangels

Соавторы: Michael Martin
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Nineteen

U.S.S. TITAN

The shimmering curtain of light released him, and Tuvok found himself standing beside a moderately surprised-looking Spock on a much wider Federation transporter stage than the one the shuttlecraft had carried. He presumed that they were now aboard the very starship from which the shuttlecraft had originated.

“Lieutenant Radowski to bridge,” said the young male human Starfleet officer who stood behind the transporter room’s sleek control console.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,”replied the resonant, businesslike voice that issued from the junior officer’s combadge.

“They’re both on board, Captain.”

“Good work. I’m on my way.”

The next moment, the doors whisked open to admit a pair of armed personnel who were obviously security guards. Seeing their hard stares, Tuvok remained where he was on the transporter stage. He was mildly surprised to see Spock step off the stage and onto the deck.

“Please remain where you are, sir,” one of the guards said.

Spock obediently stopped, though his craggy features betrayed determination rather than fear.

Less than a minute later, a tall, bearded Starfleet officer followed the armed personnel into the chamber, accompanied by a petite, dark-haired humanoid woman. Tuvok recognized them both immediately. So, too, apparently, did Spock.

“Captain Riker,” Spock said. “Commander Troi.”

“Ambassador Spock,” Riker replied, nodding to the security guards. They both remained attentive, though their demeanor relaxed from vigilant suspicion to an obvious dawning awareness of the ambassador’s identity.

Riker and Troi turned toward Tuvok, who decided that the ideal moment to introduce himself had arrived. “Commander Tuvok, currently on detached duty with Starfleet Intelligence. Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Tuvok allowed himself to be pleased by his discovery that he had not been so weakened by his prison ordeal as to have entirely forgotten Starfleet protocols.

“Granted,” Riker said. “Welcome aboard Titan.”

Tuvok replied by moving down from the stage to stand beside Spock. Tuvok realized only then that the ambassador had pointedly notasked anyone’s permission before he had stepped down onto the deck.

“I must confess to some surprise at your presence here, Captain,” Spock said, fixing his gaze squarely upon Riker. “Your arrival has greatly complicated my work on Romulus. I must return to the Remans quickly if I am to finish dissuading them from their war plans.”

“You’re welcome,” Riker said with an ironic shake of his head. “Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador, but I was under the impression that we just rescuedyou.”

“ ‘Rescue’ from the company of an ally and negotiating partner is hardly necessary, Captain,” Spock said dryly.

Mention of the word “rescue” had a bracing effect on Tuvok’s fatigued mind. “Captain, regarding Mekrikuk—the Reman who was helping me escape when your rescue team reached me—do you know if he managed to escape as well?”

Riker nodded. “He’s suffered some pretty serious injuries. My chief of security has already beamed him directly to our sickbay, along with our shuttle pilot and one of our security officers. But my chief medical officer is confident that they’ll both pull through.”

“I am gratified to hear that, Captain. I would almost certainly have died in that prison if not for Mekrikuk.”

“I see. Dr. Ree will do everything he can.” The captain looked Tuvok up and down, obviously taking in his distressed, bloodied clothing. Tuvok supposed that Riker was also inventorying his many visible scrapes, cuts, and bruises—to say nothing of the forehead surgery he had obviously undergone in order to pass unnoticed among the Romulans. “I want you to report to sickbay, too, Commander Tuvok.”

Though he was inclined to argue that his injuries weren’t that severe, Tuvok merely nodded silently.

The transporter room door slid open once again. Yet another Starfleet officer entered the room, ducking because the doorway had not been designed to accommodate his atypical height. Although Tuvok had not seen the silver-haired Capellan in decades, he recognized him immediately—and felt a surprising rush of pleasure at his presence, in spite of what had passed between them some thirty years ago. Silently cursing the extent to which his lengthy prison ordeal had obviously compromised his emotional control, Tuvok carefully schooled his features into an unreadable mask.

“Admiral,” Tuvok said after glancing at the pips on the other man’s collar. When had Akaar been promoted to fleetadmiral? “You are looking well.”

A grin slowly spread across Akaar’s lined face. “But you have certainly looked better, my old friend. I am pleased to see you, Tuvok. I had begun to fear that the Empire’s current upheavals had proved to be your undoing.”

“As had I, Admiral,” Tuvok said, his voice hoarse, his throat suddenly feeling as dry as Vulcan’s Forge. He was grateful that the admiral had the sensitivity not to try to touch him.

“We both should have known better,” Akaar said, no doubt remembering more carefree times, when they had first served together aboard the Excelsior.

But the moment quickly passed, and Akaar turned his attention elsewhere. “Ambassador Spock.”

Something perilously close to a human smile touched the ambassador’s lips. “ ‘Spock’ will be sufficient, Admiral.”

“Spock,” the admiral repeated, the single syllable sounding almost awkward. “I am pleased, also, that you are unharmed.”

“While I, too, am gratified to see you again, Admiral, now is not the best time for reunions. I must return to the Remans immediately, so that I may prevent a likely war and return to the task of reuniting the Vulcan and Romulan peoples.”

Tuvok thought that Spock had made a good point. Perhaps now was not the best time to have summarily yanked the ambassador away from his emotionally volatile Reman allies. Would his sudden disappearance cause them to panic and take some precipitous action? Knowing what he did about the ships and weaponry the Remans had quietly accumulated during the Dominion War, he believed that they could cause a good deal of damage if given sufficient reason.

Tuvok noticed that Akaar’s already solemn expression had subtly shifted toward outright grimness as he responded to the ambassador’s request. “I regret that I cannot do that, Ambassador. At least not yet. We have pressing matters to discuss first.” Akaar then turned to address Captain Riker. “And the transporter room is a less-than-ideal place to do that, Captain.”

“Of course,” Riker said. Turning his gaze toward Spock, he added, “Ambassador, Admiral, please accompany me and Commander Troi to my ready room.” To Tuvok, he said, “Commander Tuvok, I’ll have one of my people escort you to sickbay.”

Tuvok quietly shook his head, displaying what he hoped Riker would take as persuasive determination. “I believe that can wait, Captain. As Admiral Akaar has said, we have pressing matters to discuss first.”

Striding forward in silence, Riker led Deanna, Admiral Akaar, Ambassador Spock, and Commander Tuvok—whom he had included in the meeting at the insistence of both Vulcans—across the bridge and into his ready room.

Akaar was the first to take a seat, settling on a tall chair that was situated directly in front of the captain’s desk. His eyes firmly fixed on Spock, the admiral made a simple, blunt declaration. “Ambassador Spock, the Federation Council has decided to formally withdraw all of its covert support for your Unification movement, effective stardate 57088.8. I am sorry.”

That’s only about a month from now,Riker thought.

But Akaar wasn’t finished. “The council also requests, and requires, that you cease your activities here and return to the Federation for debriefing.”

Trying to conceal his surprise at these revelations, Riker took a seat behind his desk as Deanna sat on a couch beside Tuvok, who was still clad in the distressed Romulan civilian clothing he’d been wearing at the time of his rescue. Though the bruised and battered Tuvok was clearly in need of medical attention, he was just as obviously determined to take in this meeting first.

Ignoring the seat he’d been offered, Spock remained standing, his expression impassive and all but imperturbable. He turned away from Riker’s desk to face Akaar.

“I already know,” Spock said, betraying no trace of emotion.

For the first time that Riker could recall, Akaar looked genuinely surprised. “You know?”

Spock seemed almost to enjoy the admiral’s momentary discomfiture. “I have my resources. The council, it would seem, perceives my work here to be a potential impediment to its own peace efforts. And perhaps even a danger.”

Akaar merely stared silently at Spock without denying his assertion.

Riker glanced at Deanna, who was shifting uncomfortably next to Tuvok; he’d known her long enough to see that she was reacting to someone’s particularly strong emotional spike.

“Admiral, I came to Romulus to requestAmbassador Spock’s temporaryreturn to Earth,” Tuvok said. Though he spoke quietly, Riker could see from the set of Tuvok’s jaw that he was the source of Deanna’s distress. “However, I was told beforehand that Unification had the council’s full support. When did the council reverse itself?”

“The initiative began the day the council learned of the assassination of the Romulan Senate,” Akaar explained.

“The day the Romulans took me prisoner,” Tuvok said, apparently staring off into some horrible memory hole. Recalling his own recent maltreatment as a prisoner of war on Tezwa, Riker shuddered involuntarily.

Grave-faced, Akaar nodded to Tuvok. “Much changed that day. The formal decision to order Spock’s return came later, after several weeks of…spirited closed-door debate. I am sure I need not remind anyone here how profoundly and quickly the fall of the Senate changed the Federation’s relationship with the Romulan Star Empire.”

“Indeed,” said Spock. “But I trust that the council’s decision does not comport with the wishes of President Bacco.”

“It does not. But the Federation president is not an autocrat. She can be overruled by the council. Perhaps if you had been present on Earth weeks ago for the meetings you had scheduled with the president and the security council, the outcome of the council’s deliberations might have been different.”

“I might have come to Earth per those plans, had I believed the council to be persuadable. And had the post-Shinzon Romulan-Reman political landscape left the Unification movement in less desperate need of my direct guidance.”

Riker wondered briefly why the ambassador hadn’t had any official communication with anyone in the Federation for more than seven weeks, his disagreements with the council notwithstanding. Then he decided that Spock, who had somehow maintained a subterranean existence on Romulus through four praetorships and the assassination of an emperor, knew better than anyone when it wasn’t safe to put one’s head up.

“We’re here to help calm down the political landscape, Mr. Ambassador,” Riker said. “By doing everything we can to build an understanding between all the competing Romulan and Reman factions.”

His right eyebrow rising, Spock looked toward Riker. “Curious, Captain. The Federation Council decides to cease supporting Unification, the one political movement on Romulus that holds the greatest hope of achieving lasting peace. Then, in place of that support, it sends a flotilla of armed ships.”

Riker shook his head. “Ambassador, this is a relief convoy. Not an attack wing.”

“And we are operating our ‘flotilla’ out in the open,” Akaar pointed out, “rather than continuing a program to covertly run supplies to what can only be described as an illegal dissident group.”

“Indeed,” Spock said, nodding and steepling his fingers before him. “However, the distinction you have drawn might be too subtle for either the Romulan or Reman eye.”

“I think you may be selling these people short, Mr. Ambassador,” Deanna said. “Particularly the Romulans.”

“Not at all, Commander Troi. In fact, I believe I understand Romulan psychology far better than anyone else here. Paranoia is etched deeply into their culture and character. Why else would the large star map that adorns the floor of the Romulan Senate make such a prominent display of the Neutral Zone, the symbol of everything that either inhibits or threatens the Romulan Empire?”

Riker watched Deanna silently concede the point, and had to admit himself that Spock’s observation made sense. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Federation Council, for all its good intentions, might not have taken this component of Romulan psychology sufficiently into account.

Spock turned to address Riker. “Colonel Xiomek tells me that your convoy appears to consist of four Starfleet vessels, accompanied by three heavily armed Klingon warships.”

“That’s correct,” Riker said.

“And Titanis one of Starfleet’s twelve new Luna-class vessels, is she not?”

“Right again, Mr. Ambassador.” Riker wondered how the ambassador was able to stay so up to date on such relatively recent developments within Starfleet. Of course, he could have learned a great deal about the Luna-class starships being developed at Utopia Planitia during his most recent visit to Earth two years earlier.

“Which means,” Spock continued, “that Titanis hardly unarmed herself.”

Riker’s brow crumpled involuntarily into a frown. “If you’re aware of the Lunaprogram, then you know that its purpose isn’t to wage war.”

“I understand, Captain. Just as I understand that good intentions are necessary but insufficient requirements for success here.”

“The Federation cannot simply stand by and do nothing,Mr. Ambassador,” Akaar said. “Nor can the Klingon Empire, for that matter. You know as well as I do that billions of deaths could result from the sudden collapse of the Romulan Empire, and the accompanying unconstrained spread of its weapons technologies across two quadrants.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed. “I have never been more keenly aware of anything in my life, Admiral. This is a proud but gravely wounded empire. One that is arguably more susceptible to provocation now than at any other time since the Vulcan and Romulan peoples became sundered from one other. And both Romulus and Remus are all but certain to experience a mutual bloodbath unless they fundamentally reorient their social priorities.”

“And you offer a cultural reunification with Vulcan as the solution to the Empire’s woes,” Akaar said.

“Given the Empire’s current vulnerabilities, Unification—tempering the Empire’s ingrained violence with the discipline of Vulcan logic—could well be the last viable chance for peace. It may be the only way to guarantee a secure future for both the Romulan and Reman peoples.” He paused before adding, “And it may bring Vulcan a step closer to becoming truly whole.”

Riker couldn’t help but admire Spock’s idealism. But he also had the real world to consider, as well as the immediate future. “You could be right, Mr. Ambassador. History might even prove that someday. But we don’t have the luxury of hindsight right now. We have to worry first about the short-term survival of billions of people. Unification is just too long-term a goal and too lengthy a process to provide the kind of immediate stability the Romulan Empire needs in the here and now.”

Spock nodded somberly. “Your analysis may indeed prove to be the correct one, Captain. Nevertheless, I must caution you: Romulus and Remus are both caught in the grip of fear, one of the more incendiary of the emotions. The presence of a heavily armed outworld contingent such as this convoy could well ignite that fear—thereby bringing about the very societal collapse we all seek to prevent. Imagine for a moment how the Klingons would have reacted to such an intrusion after the Praxis explosion nearly laid waste to Qo’noS.”

“But we’re not ‘intruding,’ Mr. Ambassador,” Deanna pointed out. “The Romulan praetor has requestedour presence here.”

“Tal’Aura,” Spock said, “is a praetor whose authority is opposed by a strong plurality, if not a clear majority, of the Empire’s citizenry. Supporting her is a dangerous gamble.”

“We’re not supporting anyparticular faction here,” Riker said, feeling a surge of pique rising and doing his best to squash it back down. “Our goal is to help them all hammer out a mutually acceptable power-sharing arrangement.”

“The Remans have yet to be included in any such discussions,” Spock pointed out. “Therefore they might be forgiven for doubting your goodwill. And perhaps that of the Federation Council itself.”

Riker felt his own frustration continuing to rise. “We’re trying to include everyonein the power-sharing talks, Mr. Ambassador.”

“That is wise, Captain,” Spock said. “Please allow me to assist you by returning to the Remans. Unless, of course, your intention is to arrest me for having failed to respond more promptly to the council’s diplomatic recall order.”

Riker leaned forward, meeting Spock’s gaze squarely. “Mr. Ambassador, my intention has always been to rescueyou. And then to ask you to return the favor by helping me accomplish a damned difficult peace mission. However, your fate isn’t entirely up to me.” His questioning gaze lit upon Akaar.

“Conducting unauthorized interstellar policy on behalf of either the Federation or a Federation member world is a serious offense,” Akaar said. “Especially after the council has issued a formal order of diplomatic recall.”

“Indeed,” Spock said. “However, I have…resisted such orders before without suffering any serious consequences.”

“That was before Shinzon changed everything,” Akaar said. “Certain members of the council are nervous enough to wish to see you in irons, Mr. Ambassador. However loudly Councillor Enaren may sing your praises, both Gleer and zh’Faila continue to characterize your activities as unacceptably dangerous under the current circumstances. Even T’Latrek of Vulcan voted in favor of the recall order.”

“I am not surprised,” Spock said. “Fear exists in abundance on bothsides of the Neutral Zone. And fear trumps logic all too often.”

“It’s too bad the council has no way of knowing for certain whether or not you ever actually receivedthe recall order, Mr. Ambassador,” Riker said, allowing a slight smile to tug at his lips.

“A logical assessment, Captain,” Spock said, then turned to face Akaar. “Am I under arrest, Admiral?”

Akaar mirrored Riker’s smile. “I doubt I could trust myself to carry out such an order, Starfleet discipline notwithstanding. I have not forgotten that you and my namesakes saved my life, and that of Eleen who bore me, more than a century ago.”

“Then allow me to return to my Reman negotiating partners now,” Spock said. “Before they overreact to my sudden departure by—”

An almost shrill voice from Riker’s combadge interrupted the ambassador. “Ensign Lavena to Captain Riker.”

Riker tapped the device on his chest. “Go ahead, Ensign.”

“The new sensor nets have just picked up a whole fleet of incoming warships, Captain. Several dozen strong. They’re entering orbit around Romulus. And they’re loaded for bear.”

“More Romulan military vessels?” Riker asked, rising from his chair.

“Yes, sir. But Jaza’s scans say they’re crewed byRemans .”

Chapter Twenty

U.S.S. TITAN

M aybe Spock was right after all,Riker thought as he left his ready room just ahead of Deanna, Akaar, Spock, and Tuvok; he bounded through the doors and toward the center of Titan’s bridge as the others hastened to follow.

Christine Vale—her short hair still somewhat disheveled after the raid on Vikr’l Prison—was already relinquishing the central command chair, moving toward the seat located on its immediate right. But she remained standing, her small frame fairly vibrating with tension.

“Red alert! Shields up!” Riker shouted as he seated himself in the command chair while Deanna took the seat at his immediate left. “Hail the lead ship, Mr. Keru.”

“Shields up. Hailing again, Captain,” said the tactical officer. Unlike Vale, he still wore one of the black stealth suits the away team had been issued for the prison rescue operation. His suit was torn, bloodied, and caked with dust: he had obviously spent as little time as was permissible getting patched up in sickbay following the rescue raid.

“We started hailing them right after the sensor web detected their launch from Remus,” Vale reported. “Their only response has been to drop their cloaks.”

Which means either that they know there’s no longer any point to maintaining their cloaks,Riker thought. Or that they’re about to attack Romulus.

Or both.

Riker leaned forward as he studied the image on the bridge’s panoramic central viewscreen. The cloud-streaked blue-brown orb of Romulus stood out in sharp detail, the curving shadow of its terminator temporarily consigning half of the planet—including Ki Baratan—to darkness. Two of the planet’s four airless, rocky moons were visible as well, each of them in half phase, poised on the twilight boundary between day and night.

Beyond lay the pockmarked orange hellworld of Remus, which appeared to be only a quarter the size of Romulus because of its relative distance from Titan.Though it was co-orbital with Romulus, Remus had an eternally broiling day side as well as a perpetually frozen night side. Less than half the planet’s bright side was visible, dominated presently by its ever dark and frozen hemisphere.

Harsh white sunlight glinted off the gray-green hulls of what appeared to be dozens of vessels, which were flying in formation and dropping in a long graceful arc from un-inviting Remus toward the cool blue world that Titanorbited. The incoming fleet’s trajectory confirmed that it had just crossed the shallow gulf of cisplanetary space—a span scarcely larger than the distance between Earth and Luna—that separated Remus and the fleet’s obvious target, the surface of Romulus itself.

Vale quickly consulted one of the consoles built into the arm of her chair. “None of these ships are on the cutting edge of Romulan design, Captain. Most of them are Amarcan-class warbirds. Some appear to be Klingon cast-offs that might be K’t’inga-class or even old D-7s. There are even a few horseshoe-crab–shaped birds-of-prey that have to be at least a hundred years old.”

“They must be decommissioned ships, then,” Riker said, nodding his understanding. “Mothballed long enough ago that the Romulan military wasn’t keeping a close enough eye on them during the last few sudden management changes in Ki Baratan.”

Vale shrugged. “Maybe so, Captain. But wherever the Reman crews got these ships, they’re relatively well armed—and they outnumber us nearly six to one. They’re more than a match for us, maybe even with our Klingon escorts.”

“They’re charging their weapons systems, sir,” Keru said, his voice steady, though pitched a bit higher than his customary baritone. “And their shields are going up.”

“Alert the rest of the convoy,” Vale said to Keru.

“And tell the commanders of the Phoebus, T’rin’saz,and the Der Sonnenaufgangto get their ships into a higher orbit,” Riker added. “They’re not equipped for combat, and I want them out of the line of fire.”

“Aye, sir,” Keru said, already working the companel.

Riker turned toward Vale and noticed then that her gaze had drifted, just for a second, toward a conspicuously blank space on the bulkhead beside the main turbolift. It was the spot they had reserved for Titan’s dedication plaque, once the captain and first officer finally agreed on exactly what they wanted to have engraved on it.

“How could the Romulan military lose track of so many warships?” Deanna asked, shaking her head incredulously.

“This kind of thing has happened before,” Riker said. “After the Cold War of Earth’s twentieth century, a lot of questions were asked about the whereabouts of Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, as well as its stockpiles of weapons-grade nuclear material.”

“Mr. Keru, any sign of Romulan planetary defenses?” Vale asked, turning toward the aft tactical console.

The large Trill shook his head. “I’m picking up a gabble of planetside communications, Commander. The local defenses are trying to respond, but they seem to be in disarray.”

“Just as they probably have been ever since Shinzon’s attack on the Senate,” Riker said.

Glancing aftward, the captain saw that Akaar was standing silently beside the turbolift, making his stolid presence as unobtrusive as a man his size possibly could. Ambassador Spock and Commander Tuvok, still clad in the Romulan civilian garb they had been wearing at the time of their rescue, stood flanking him. All three men seemed to be taking conspicuous care not to get in anyone’s way. Riker momentarily considered ordering the malnourished-looking Tuvok to report to sickbay, but decided to leave that for later; like Akaar, Spock, and everyone else on the bridge, Tuvok’s attention was riveted to the drama that was unfolding on the bridge’s central viewscreen.

“The sensor nets are picking up intermittent tachyon emissions,” said Jaza, turning from the science console. “They may indicate the presence of other nearby cloaked vessels. And they don’t match the tachyon profile of General Khegh’s warships.”

“So whose ships are they?” asked Vale, who was still standing before her chair as she studied the main viewscreen.

“They’re apparently Romulan,” Keru said.

“More Remans?” Deanna said.

Riker shook his head. “I’d bet real money that they have Romulan crews.” He felt certain that Commanders Donatra and Suran wouldn’t have left the Romulan capital so utterly open to a Reman sneak attack, which they surely must have suspected was coming. But they might not have been able to post a large force—either because of dissension within their own military hierarchy, or out of fear of provoking Tal’Aura, Durjik’s hard-liners, or even the Tal Shiar.

Ambassador Spock stepped down into the center of the bridge, simultaneously facing Riker, Vale, and Deanna. “Captain, you see before you an eloquent argument in favor of returning me to the Reman leadership. Immediately.”

Riker sighed. “You may be right, Mr. Ambassador. Unfortunately, I’m afraid the opportunity to do that may already have passed.” Spock treated him to a withering glare as the captain moved up to the upper portion of the bridge, passing Akaar and Tuvok as he crossed to the tactical station.

“Any response yet from the Remans?” Riker asked Keru.

“No, sir. I’m continuing to hail.”

“And there’s still no definitive evidence that the Romulan military is intact enough to mount an effective defense,” Vale pointed out. “The Remans have a lot of ships, and there are a hell of a lot of soft targets down there.” She was still standing, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. Once again, Riker noticed that her gaze lit fleetingly on the missing dedication plaque.

Looking toward the screen that displayed the approaching Reman fleet, Riker said, “Mr. Keru, get me General Khegh.”

A moment later, the image of Romulus and the Reman-operated flotilla that threatened it shrank and withdrew to the upper left quadrant of the screen. The rest of the image area was now dominated by the ruddy illumination of the Vaj’s crowded bridge; in the foreground was the grinning, jagged-toothed face of the commander of the local Klingon forces.

“This is an exhilarating spectacle, Captain Riker, is it not?”Khegh said, punctuating his observation with a coarse guffaw.

“That wouldn’t quite be how I’d describe it, General,” Riker said, standing before his command chair. “You’ve received my tactical officer’s alert. You know that the Remans are in control of those incoming vessels, and that the Romulans might not be able to defend themselves from them. We can’t just sit by while Romulus is decimated.”

“Captain, my government didn’t send me here to fight on behalf of honorless RomulanpetaQ,” Khegh growled. “We are here, in large part, at the request of our Reman allies—not their former slavemasters.”

“Damn it, General, the Klingon Empire hasn’t abandoned its Dominion War alliance with the Romulans, and you know it.”

Khegh pursed his lips as his rheumy eyes narrowed in anger. “True, Captain. But I will shed no Reman blood this day.”

Riker tried to reign in his own escalating irritation with the Klingon, without complete success. “Then I’d appreciate it if you’d give the Romulans the same consideration. Please don’t do anything to help the Remans attack Romulus, General.”

Khegh bared two rows of discolored, highly asymmetrical teeth. But he was not smiling. “I will take your request under advisement, Captain,”he said before abruptly vanishing. On the screen, nearly forty Reman-crewed vessels entered the troposphere of Romulus. Rarefied gases began to ionize against their hulls, each ship creating a spectacular orange streak over the planet’s night side that resembled a meteor burning up during its terminal descent.

Riker had a sickening feeling that Romulus and Remus both were about to witness a great deal more fire and burning. “Ghuy’cha’,”he whispered, repeating one of the first of the many colorful Klingon curses he had learned over the years.

He knew that brute force wasn’t going to work here. What he needed instead was a diplomatic solution. He had one of the Federation’s most celebrated diplomats at his disposal. But there seemed to be no safe way to deliver him to where he was needed most: the immediate presence of the Reman leadership.

“What are you planning to do, Captain?” Akaar rumbled.

Riker exchanged a significant glance with Vale, then turned to look into Deanna’s eyes. He knew that they both supported his unspoken decision, and understood that he couldn’t stand by idly while Reman slaughtered Romulan wholesale. He might be forced to fire Titan’s weapons, even though this was ostensibly a mission of peace. Hell, I have to do something to stop this,because this is a mission of peace.

He turned to face the admiral’s cool stare, though his words were for his conn officer. “Ensign Lavena, prepare to change our heading. Intercept the lead Reman vessel.”

“Aye, Captain,” the Pacifican said, her nervousness plain even through the slight muffling caused by her hydration suit’s rebreather unit.