Текст книги "Orion's Hounds "

Автор книги: Christopher Bennett

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

As she neared her quarters, she saw Dr. Bralik, the Ferengi geologist, approaching from the other direction. She waved absently to the small-eared female, intending to leave it at that, but Bralik seemed to have other ideas. “Ensign Lavena!” she crowed in her loud, nasal voice, whose grating qualities were only slightly muffled by the air-water interface between it and Aili’s dainty seal-like ears. “You know, I’ve been hoping to have a talk with you.”

Lavena stopped, accepting that comfort would have to wait. “Hello, Dr. Bralik. What can I help you with?”

“Oh, just a matter of curiosity, if you can spare a few minutes.”

“I’m glad to help, if I can.”

“Good, good. Now, let me see, if I’ve got this straight, you Selkies, you can’t breathe out of the water, right? I mean, of course, you’ve got that suit on and all, but is it just a convenience or do you need it all the time?”

It was a question she’d gotten many times, and she didn’t mind satisfying the Ferengi’s curiosity about her species. “In this phase of my life, I’m fully aquatic,” she said. “In the first phase of our lives, we’re amphibious, able to breathe on land at least part of the time, though we need to stay near water so our gills don’t dry out. Later in life, after childbearing, our lungs can no longer sustain us, so we live in the water full-time.”

“But you still have lungs, right? I mean, you’re talking to me.”

Aili smiled. “My lung is smaller than it was, and has changed in structure. It serves as a flotation sac, nothing more. And my voice is produced by muscle vibration, not airflow.”

“Hm. I’m no biologist, but that seems kind of an odd evolutionary twist.”

“We don’t have much land on Pacifica,” Aili explained. “We go out to the sea so we don’t use up resources our young need to grow. As humanoids we need to develop at least partly on land.”

“Okay. I’ll take your word for that. Still there’s one thing, though, one other matter I’m wondering about.”

“Yes?”

“So if you can’t breathe air even for a little while…how exactly did you frinxwith Dr. Ra-Havreii last week?”

Aili gaped at her, speechless. Bralik shrugged and added, “That is, unless Efrosians can breathe water. I asked Ravvy about that at lunch the other day, but he didn’t want to go into detail.”

“He…he toldyou?” The bastard had insisted he’d be discreet!

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you, did I upset you? Didn’t mean to, honey, really. I mean, I thought Selkies were pretty liberal about such things. Judging from the gossip I’ve heard from Ferengi males, though you can’t always believe that.”

“No, it’s…I’m certainly not a prude,” Aili insisted forcefully. Being thought of as a prude was perhaps the one thing more embarrassing to an aquatic Selkie than…well, the other thing her people thought of her. “It’s just…other species, you know, and their standards…I’d just really rather appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my liaisons to others. And I’m going to have a talk with Dr. Ra-Havreii about that, too.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ravvy didn’t tell me.”

“He didn’t? Then, how—”

Bralik tapped one of her ears. “I may not hear as well as a male, but my quarters are nearby. I overheard Ravvy talking to Counselor Troi when he left your quarters.”

Oh, Abyss!“Troi?” Aili gasped. “You mean—she saw him leaving…she knows about…oh, no.” She was almost tempted to rip her suit open right here and drown herself in the air.

“Say, what’s the problem? No reason she’d be jealous. It’s not like Ravvy was frinxingher too—though not for want of trying, I can tell you.”

“Look, just—please, don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Aili moved on and hastened to her quarters. Now more than ever, she needed to be alone.

“Just to be clear,” Deanna explained in the next morning’s briefing, “the gestalt is not like a mind-meld. The ship’s telepaths and empaths will be linked together, but only to share psionic sensitivity and power, not thoughts or knowledge. We will be… awareof each other’s presence, affected by each other’s responses and needs, but on a visceral level, not a cognitive one.” Riker was glad to hear that. He didn’t want every telepath on the ship to share in Deanna’s memories of last night, or any given night.

“It will be necessary for Dr. Ree to neutralize the telepathic suppressants he administered before,” Deanna added. “We may need every psi-sensitive mind the ship has. The larger the gestalt, the better.”

Tuvok seemed uneasy. “What you propose will be difficult for…the Vulcans on board. Once we make contact, the influx of intense emotion will prove difficult to endure.” Riker didn’t need to be a telepath to know Tuvok was concerned on a personal level, not just a tactical one. Most Vulcans weren’t nearly as good at hiding their feelings as they liked to think—a discrepancy which had served Riker well in many a poker game.

“Your role in the gestalt,” Deanna explained, “and that of the others, will be mostly passive. You’ll essentially serve as psionic amplifiers for Cadet Orilly and myself, allowing us to broadcast more strongly. Hopefully once we have the star-jellies’ attention and can open communications, the gestalt won’t be necessary any longer—they’ll be able to read my thoughts and send theirs back to me.”

“Hopefully,” Tuvok repeated.

“Even if not, Orilly and I will bear the brunt of their communication. That may shield the rest of you from the full effects.”

“But again you cannot say so with certainty.”

“Mr. Tuvok,” Riker asked with a touch of steel, “will you be able to perform this duty or not?”

The Vulcan met his gaze evenly, though he was very closed off. “Yes, sir, I will.”

“Good. Counselor, proceed.”

Deanna chose to assemble the group in stellar cartography, adrift in free fall, in order to help them find the right state of mind to communicate with beings who lived most of their lives that way. She knew it was an uncomfortable environment for Orilly, but it was important for the Irriol to accept it, to open herself to it, if this was to work. The cadet understood that and was making a brave effort, though her legs and trunks were still flailing some and she kept putting herself into a slight spin. Fortunately, Lieutenant Chamish was nearby and used his low-level telekinesis to halt it. The simian-featured Kazarite was an ecologist, his telepathy limited to communion with animals, since higher cognitive functions interfered with it somehow. Deanna was hoping that wouldn’t reduce his usefulness here, since he was serving mainly as a conduit. Then again, the jellies’ emotions had affected him before, even though they were sentient beings. That anomaly might be worth exploring later on, but for now it was simply convenient. At least he was comfortable with floating; the Kazarites could use their TK abilities to levitate for short distances, a useful skill in their mountainous home-land.

The others here were all Vulcan—Tuvok, T’Pel, Savalek—except for Ree. He was here mainly to monitor the others’ health, but Deanna was hoping that, although he lacked the active empathy of some Pahkwa-thanh, he might have some latent sensitivity that could contribute to the gestalt.

Deanna realized that she hadn’t yet had much chance to get acquainted with Tuvok’s wife T’Pel, even though she’d been aboard for weeks now. She was a civilian with no scientific credentials, and thus had no formal shipboard duties requiring interaction with others. She had kept largely to herself so far, and Tuvok had shown no interest in discussing his personal life with his crewmates. When T’Pel had arrived in cartography, Deanna had apologized for imposing on her. T’Pel had simply stated that Tuvok had briefed her on what was expected and she was ready to serve. Deanna sensed a tentativeness in both her and Tuvok, and perhaps between them as well, but maybe it was just their unease at the situation.

Ree handled himself unexpectedly well in free fall, using his heavy tail to maneuver about his center of mass gracefully, almost like a cat. He scanned each person present with his medical tricorder, and bringing himself to a halt facing Deanna, reported, “The psi-suppressant has been fully purged from all your systems. All your psi indices read nominal. Sadly, mine is also at its normal, immeasurably small level.”

“Then we’re ready,” Deanna said, and turned her head to Orilly. Reaching out to take the cadet’s trunk-hand, she caught her gaze and said, “It’s time, Malar.”

Ree tilted his head at them. “Should we all join hands?”

Orilly looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Oh. Never mind, then.”

“Just try to relax and clear your mind,” Deanna told him. “Like meditation.”

Ree sighed. “I knew I should have eaten first. Anyone willing to volunteer a limb?”

Orilly winced. “Please, Doctor,” Deanna said. “Not all of us find your sense of humor relaxing.”

“Sorry.”

After that, things grew quiet. With a little physical and empathic handholding from Deanna, Orilly was able to calm herself and begin reaching out with her mind. At first, there seemed to be no effect. But gradually Deanna recognized a change in her awareness. There were no other thoughts impinging on her mind, no subsuming of her identity; but she seemed to feel her own mind expandingin scope and perspective. It was like she was opening up, freeing herself from constraints she hadn’t even been aware of, as though the full range of her senses before had only been tunnel vision. The rest of the universe seemed closerthan it had before, clearer to discern.

She reached out her senses, listening for familiar voices, sending out a probe: We are here. Speak to us.It seemed to echo now, her mental voice/presence; it was stronger, more resonant than before. She knew it would carry farther.

And indeed, before long there was a return echo, a faint impression on the edge of awareness: acknowledgment, curiosity. We are also here; where are you?Or so it would be if it were in words, rather than emotions and impressions.

Here.Deanna opened her eyes, taking in stellar cartography’s display of the heavens around the ship. Six others were with her, but she saw only the cosmos. Stars– founts of lifewarmth—watering holes. Dust clouds– ticklish softness, nourishment—grazing fields. Emission nebulae– invigorating, soothing—cool breeze. Stellar nurseries– turbulent lifewarmth [too much/careful you don’t get burned/whee, let’s do it again!]—swimming the rapids.

Yet there was more than she could see, and now she saw it. Fields of energy: gamma, radio, tetryon, psi [how’s the weather?/let’s ask it!].Contours of [starpull]gravity, hills and vales in spacetime. All of it a veneer atop the fathomless depths of subspace [we dive, but not too deep!/mustn’t lose our way].

They saw what she saw, and she felt attention focus upon her, engulfing her—gentle curiosity, but that of a child’s hand cupping a ladybug, not threatening but still overpowering. We greet you, but you are not-us [wary/ caution/curious]. How do you know us?

We have met your kind before,Deanna sent back, a long way from here in space and time.She looked around, found Deneb in the sky and focused her attention on it. There,she thought, and gave them her memories of Farpoint.

Yes—our cousins sang of you! Listener and Liberator [great joy/gratitude]. Not so far from here, though.

We wish to get to know you, be your friends,she projected. She hesitated to send the next thought, since it might commit her a bit too much; but this was a bond of emotion, and it just felt right. We believe we can help you with a problem.

Chapter Six

Christine Vale had been staring at Jaza Najem for over a minute now, while he stared in turn at his console. The Bajoran was so enthralled in his studies that he didn’t even realize she was studying him—his warm coffee-colored skin, his wide dark eyes, his high, intelligent forehead, his expressive lips, the way the ridges between his eyebrows gave him a perpetually thoughtful look.

Knock it off,she thought. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he was intelligent and thoughtful, and an extremely generous lover… Stop that.That was something that needed to remain in the past, and not affect her job. She was the first officer, he was the science officer, and that was all there was to it. So if she wanted to go up to him and ask for an update on his researches, she should just do so. As simple as that.

Sure.

So she just stood there and kept staring.

“You don’t have to feel guilty, you know.”

Jaza didn’t even look up from his console, so it took Vale a second to realize he was addressing her. “What?” she asked, coming close enough that they could talk in private.

Now he did look up, and smiled. “I told you I understood, and I meant it. I don’t begrudge you going back on an impulsive promise made in the heat of passion. I’m a scientist, remember—which means not only that I place a premium on rational thought, but that I understand the value of admitting one’s mistakes. So it’s not a problem.”

“Well…good. Of course. Didn’t need to be said.” He smiled and nodded. After a second, she sidled closer. “Not that I think it was a mistake to…do it at all. Just…”

“Right. To follow up on it.”

“And it’s not like I don’t wantto, you understand. Not that I wouldn’t like to.”

“I get it.”

“It just wouldn’t really…”

“Work, right. And I respect that.”

“Good.” She cleared her throat. “So…you seemed pretty enthralled by those energy-beings just now.” A short time ago, while Counselor Troi and the others had been starting their seance or whatever it was in stellar cartography, Jaza had detected yet another new cosmozoan species in a small HII region half a light-year away. The bright magenta cloud of excited hydrogen was inhabited by thousands of discrete plasma-energy matrices which demonstrated lifelike behavior. They fed off the hydrogen-band energy emissions in the cloud, competing for the best feeding locations, on the side facing the young A-type giant star whose radiation fuelled the emissions, but not so close to the surface of the cloud as to be disrupted by that radiation. “Are they showing any signs of intelligence?”

“No, not a trace. But I’ve discovered a secondary feeding behavior. They can disrupt the molecular bonds in carbonaceous asteroids, absorbing the released binding energy.”

“Oh. That’s…very interesting.”

Jaza smiled. “I suppose it doesn’t sound that way. It’s just that…well, it’s somewhat unusual in the annals of Starfleet to come across energy beings that can be studied at leisure rather than trying to kill you, take over your body or subject youto testing.”

They shared a laugh, which was bigger than the comment deserved but then trailed off into an uneasy silence. After a moment, Vale found herself speaking in spite of herself. “So…do youwant to? I mean…would you, if it weren’t…”

He smiled at her, knowing she wasn’t talking about studying incorporeal beings. “Of course I would. But…most of all, I don’t want you to feel we can’t be friends.”

That made her blush more than the rest of the conversation had. He deserved better than the silent treatment. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Jaza’s console began beeping. “What is it?”

He studied the data. “A school of armored star-jellies has just come out of warp next to the HII region.” After another moment, his eyes widened. “They’re firing on the creatures.”

Vale tapped her combadge. “Captain Riker, to the bridge, please.”

A moment later, Riker emerged from his ready room. “Report.”

“A group of armored star-jellies has engaged the energy beings in the nebula, sir.”

“On screen,” Riker ordered. Jaza hit the transfer controls to uplink his console readouts to the main viewer. The bridge crew watched for a moment as the distant saucers flew into the hydrogen cloud, lighting it up with their plasma stings, whose color almost matched its own. The energy beings, localized shimmers of light within the depths of the cloud, grew more frenetic in their movements. Soon there were brighter discharges of light within the cloud, vast searing arcs that struck the saucers.

“The energy beings are harnessing the cloud’s electrostatic potential as a defense,” Jaza said. “The potential energy contained in a nebula is immense—it makes for a devastating weapon. The attackers are taking significant damage despite their armor. One of them is spinning away out of control, leaking air and fluids…it’s done for.”

“Are they Pa’haquel or live jellies?” Riker wanted to know.

“Hard to get bioreadings at this range,” Jaza said. “But looking at the subspace emission spectra from their warp emergence…yes, there’s a subtle difference in their warp signatures. It wouldn’t be detectable with standard sensors, but yes, these are Pa’haquel ships.”

Ensign Kuu’iut spoke from tactical, his voder interpreting his chirping speech. “Judging by their number, sizes, and surface details,” the Betelgeusian said, “it’s the same pack that we encountered before. Including their recent kills.”

“Did they follow us?” Riker asked.

“Their warp emergence vectors suggest they came from 308 mark 41, sir.”

“More or less ahead of us,” Vale interpreted.

Kuu’iut’s hairless blue head nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“More than likely,” Jaza said, “they just thought the same way we did—the closer to Vela, the more cosmozoans they’re likely to find.”

“But why attack the energy beings?” Vale wondered aloud. “What possible use could they have for them?”

“Hard to say,” Jaza said. “The beings they kill lose cohesion—their energy dissipates into the cloud. Maybe they intend to use the energy as a fuel source. Live jellies feed on energy, after all. But I see no sign that they’re absorbing the dissipated energy. Maybe that comes later.”

“Or maybe they just do it for sport,” Riker said coldly.

“Either way, they’re winning,” said Kuu’iut. His feeding mouth snarled in excitement as he spoke through his beaklike upper mouth. “They’ve disrupted hundreds of the creatures and they aren’t slowing down. I don’t think they intend to leave any of them alive.”

Riker stared at the screen for a moment. “Could that be why we haven’t found this kind of spacegoing ecosystem in other star-formation zones?” he said heavily. “Because somebody hunted the life there to extinction?”

Just then the turbolift doors slid open and Counselor Troi emerged, followed by Tuvok and Ree. Vale saw Troi stare at the viewscreen for a moment and then meet Riker’s eyes. It seemed to Vale as though there was more passing between them than a significant look. “How far are they?” Troi asked at last, seeming to confirm that impression. Vale frowned slightly.

“About half a light-year,” Riker replied.

The counselor shook her head. “We have to move,” she said emphatically, coming down to Riker’s level of the bridge. “The star-jellies are coming to meet us.”

“You made contact.”

“Yes. They’re wary, but they’ve heard of what we did for them at Deneb, so they’re willing to talk.”

Riker raised his brows. “Always nice to have good references.”

“But we can’t rendezvous this close to a Pa’haquel fleet. We need to get out of here, meet them en route.”

The captain nodded, accepting her urgency. “Do you have a course?”

“They’re coming in from the protostar cluster at 54 mark 223. They should be here within half an hour.”

“Helm, you heard. Set an intercept course and engage at warp six.”

“Aye, sir,” Lavena said, and bent to it.

“In the meantime, you can report on what you learned. Senior staff to the observation lounge,” he ordered.

Most of the senior staffers were already on the bridge, save only Keru and Ra-Havreii, so it didn’t take them long to assemble. Vale took a moment to get a cup of coffee before the meeting started, and sipped it absently as Troi began her report. “The gestalt technique was a success, but it shouldn’t be necessary anymore. Now that I’ve gotten their attention, they can read my thoughts and send theirs to me. I should be able to interpret for them.”

“In that case,” Tuvok asked, “I suggest the doctor read-minister his telepathic suppressants, lest we again become overwhelmed by their emotions.”

“It will take a few more hours for the counteragent to clear from your systems,” Ree said.

“Don’t worry, Tuvok,” said Troi. “Their normal emotions are far more…pleasant than what we experienced during the attack.”

“Emotions of any kind are distasteful to me, Counselor—including worry,” he added pointedly.

“Is there any chance of programming the UT to translate their thoughts directly?” Vale asked. “It’s been done before.”

“The Hoodtried that sixteen years ago during their attempt to study the jellies,” Troi told her. “It wasn’t successful. I suspect the problem is that their communication is more emotional than verbal.”

“More like animals?”

Troi mulled it over. “They’re very intelligent. Clear thinkers with long, detailed memories and knowledge spanning half a galaxy. But yes, in some ways they are very animal-like. Intelligent but wild, like dolphins or Betazoid pachyderms. They live for the moment, act on instinct. I suppose that’s why Mr. Chamish is sensitive to them, even though Kazarite telepathy generally only works with animals.

“They’re very open, uncomplicated creatures—childlike, in a way, but with centuries of life experience and a perception that dwarfs ours. They’re very honest and forthright; they share everything telepathically, so they have no secrets in their society—much like Betazoids, only more so. Indeed, they have a strongly communal sense of identity.”

“A group mind?” Vale asked.

Troi shook her head. “No, they are individuals. They just don’t entirely think of themselves that way, and rarely act that way. Their emotional and social bonds with their schoolmates are so strong that they feel an intense sense of identification, a blurring of their definitions of self and other. Not unlike the bonds I’ve often felt between new mothers and their babies. Remember when Noah Powell was a baby?” she asked the captain. “How Alyssa spoke of Noah as ‘we’ all the time, as though they were a single person? And it wasn’t an affectation. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.” Riker grinned. “It’s the same with the jellies, only intensified by their telepathy and empathy.

“They’re so close to each other that they can’t even contemplate harming one another. They can defend themselves against other species—we saw the one at Deneb attack the Bandi who’d imprisoned its schoolmate—but they can’t cause each other pain without sharing in it. The idea of attacking one another is inconceivable to them.

“That’s why the Pa’haquel’s attacks are so horrifying to them, so devastating. As I thought, they don’t know that the ‘zombies’ attacking them are manned by living beings. Apparently their senses can’t penetrate the Pa’haquel’s armor or shielding. They think they’re being attacked by members of their own kind who have somehow risen from the dead and turned destructive. And they can’t bring themselves to attack their own.”

“Even when they’re dead?” Keru asked.

“Perhaps especially then. It would be seen as a desecration. They believe that violating the dead, even in self-defense, would bring down a fate even worse than this. So they’re helpless against the attacks when they come. And they have no warning, since they can’t tell the difference between live and dead jellies until they attack.”

“They’re telepathic, aren’t they?” Vale asked. “Can’t they tell by the lack of thought activity? Or by the fact that they’re armored? Hell, if this has been going on for millennia like the Pa’haquel claim, shouldn’t every jelly in the galaxy know by now to go on the alert whenever they detect a warp emergence?”

“The attacks are comparatively rare on a galactic scale,” Troi explained. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, if they detect jellies coming out of warp, it’ll be a friendly contact. And if they do come out armored, or aren’t broadcasting telepathically, then they could be live jellies who are injured or in danger. The jellies can’t just ignore that possibility, no matter what the risk. It’s simply not in their nature to reject contact with others of their kind—not if there’s the slightest chance that they are live jellies in need.”

“There is a detectable difference in their warp signatures,” Jaza told her. “We just discovered it with our wideband sensors—which were also what allowed us to break through the Pa’haquel’s shielding and read them inside. I guess the jellies don’t have anything equivalent. If we shared the knowledge with them, they could replicate our sensor tech for themselves.”

“That would let them detect the hunters and evade them,” Vale said, “but what would that do to the hunters’ way of life? They need these things to live on.”

“These ‘things’ are living, feeling creatures,” Troi protested, but Riker quieted her with a look.

“She’s right,” he said. “I don’t want to save one species by endangering another.” Troi subsided, her expression conceding the point.

“So you didn’t tell them about the Pa’haquel?” Vale asked, then chose to rephrase it. “They didn’t take the information from your mind?”

Troi faced her. “I wouldn’t have made that decision unilaterally, Christine. And they wouldn’t take anything from my mind that I didn’t share.”

“But if they have no concept of privacy—”

“The link doesn’t work that way. As I said, it’s primarily empathic. For me at least, conveying factual information takes a little more…interpretation.”

“But your reports from Farpoint said they could replicate anything a person thought of, telepath or no. How do we know they can’t just take the knowledge from any of our minds?”

“They only seem able to read from nontelepaths within a very short range.”

Jaza leaned forward. “You say they don’t realize the attackers are piloted as ships. So they have no awareness of having been engineered for that purpose? No memory or history of serving that role?”

“I didn’t explore the question with them in detail. But I get no sense that they’ve ever been anything other than wild creatures. And—”

The comm interrupted. “Bridge to Captain Riker,” came Kuu’iut’s voice.

“Riker here.”

“You should get out here, sir. We’ve picked up the star-jellies on approach…but it looks like the Pa’haquel have too. They’ve broken off from the nebula and are headed after the jellies.”

“Damn. Adjourned,” Riker said, and rushed to the bridge. Vale and the other bridge officers were close behind.

“We should warn the jellies, tell them to raise their armor,” Troi said to the captain. He looked to be on the verge of agreeing, so Vale spoke.

“We shouldn’t. Then they’d want to know how we can tell the attackers aren’t star-jellies. If we’re not prepared to give them that ability, we can’t let them know we have it.”

Riker grimaced. “You’re right. We’ll just have to protect them ourselves until they can armor up or warp out.”

“Should we really be getting involved?”

He glared at Vale fiercely. “They came here to meet us. It’s our fault they’re under attack.” My fault,she saw on his face, and the same was mirrored on Troi’s. “Shields up! Weapons on standby. Put us directly in the hunters’ path.”

“Tuvok,” Troi said, “I suggest doing what you can to raise your own mental shields. This may get rough.”

“And Mr. Kuu’iut, take over tactical again,” Riker added. “Tuvok, if you’d prefer to return to quarters, be with your wife—”

“I would rather stay, sir. I believe I will be better able to handle it this time.”

Riker stared at him for a second. “All right. Are your countermeasures ready?”

“The shields have been recalibrated for bio-energy. The warp core is rigged to emit a series of magneton pulses which should somewhat deflect and dissipate their plasma bolts for several kilometers around the ship.”

“Excellent.”

Once the hunters dropped out of warp, Lavena began her blocking maneuvers again. On the screen, the jellies scattered as the shooting began, and their panic reflected on Troi’s face, though she kept it under control. Vale looked to Tuvok, and saw it there too. On screen, she saw the Pa’haquel’s blasts go astray under the influence of Tuvok’s magneton pulses—meaning that Lavena didn’t have to move quite so fast to block them all.

Soon a hail came, and Elder Qui’hibra appeared on the screen. “Move aside,Titan. We have lost a skymount today and must take another.”

“They don’t seem to want to help you, Qui’hibra. I suggest you consider other options.”

“You have chosen a foolish course, Riker. You fight against the balance, and it must be restored—at your expense, if the Spirit wills.”

“I don’t see balance in your relationship with these creatures, Qui’hibra. I see parasitism. Maybe once you had a healthy symbiosis, I don’t know, but now you’re exploiting these beings, terrorizing them. I think the Pa’haquel are capable of being better than that. I’m still willing to help you and the ‘skymounts’ negotiate a peace, but I will not—”

“You would destroy what we are, and far more—more than you begin to understand. If you understood, you would stay out of this. But I have no time to explain it to you. Your loss.”The screen went dark—only to light up with weapons fire.

“Aili, block it!”

“No need,” Lavena said. “It’s aimed at us!”

Against a dead-on weapon blast, the outward push of the magneton pulses only slowed and weakened the bolt, so most of the hits connected. Tuvok’s shield recalibrations held, but the ride was bumpy. Several Pa’haquel saucers ganged up on Titan,trying to herd it aside so the others could pursue the star-jellies. “Should we return fire?” Kuu’iut asked.

Vale saw the dilemma play out on Riker’s face. He didn’t want to make an enemy of the Pa’haquel, but he had to protect his ship. Then an idea struck him. “Put ship’s phasers on stun,” he said. “Their ships were life-forms once—maybe we can knock them out temporarily.”

Kuu’iut let out a whistle at the unusual order, but complied as he did so. A few dull orange beams lanced out at the attacking ships, with no apparent effect. “No good,” Kuu’iut reported. “Either their armor is too strong or it’s because they’re already dead.”

But Lavena had just about managed to wriggle free of the herding group. She flew after the rest of the pack, struggling to get the ship back between the hunters and their fleeing quarry. But despite her best efforts, Titanwas still only one ship. And the Pa’haquel gunners were swiftly learning to compensate for the magneton deflection. A number of energy bolts got through, and jellies began to be struck. Troi and Tuvok gasped with the pain of every blow. When Tuvok screamed and Deanna sobbed in agony, it was clear that another jelly had taken a mortal hit.