Текст книги "Summon the Thunder"

Автор книги: Dayton Ward

Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

It was especially true in T’Prynn’s case. Following the Bombay’s destruction, it had been her actions which had helped prevent word of that unspeakable tragedy at Tholian hands from snowballing into a full-blown interstellar incident. Though her methods had proven to be unorthodox, unethical, and even illegal, they had fostered the results Reyes needed at the time and thereby alleviated—for a while, at least—the danger of pitting the Federation into a war with the Tholians. While he could not argue with the outcome of T’Prynn’s various schemes—the complete details of which she had yet to divulge—Reyes had lain awake on many nights afterward contemplating the morality of activities he had sanctioned, if only by virtue of his acceptance after the fact of what they had accomplished.

Had the ends justified the means?

Pushing away the thoughts while knowing they would revisit him in due time, Reyes turned to Jetanien. “Okay, what’ve you got up yoursleeve?”

“It seems the most prudent course of action would be to bring our resident Klingon and Tholian delegations together for a summit of sorts,” the ambassador replied. “Perhaps by working together here, we can hammer out some form of accord that’s agreeable to all parties.”

The very notion of the Klingons, Tholians, and Jetanien all corralled into the same room for any length of time sent a fresh stab of pain to Reyes’s temples. “Why don’t I save us some time,” he said, “and just activate the station’s self-destruct protocols?”

Though Vanguard currently played host to diplomatic envoys from the Federation as well as the Klingon Empire and the Tholian Assembly—a measure seen as a judicious forethought at the time of its institution—Reyes himself had questioned the prudence of the idea. Tholians of any professional stripe could be counted upon to be reserved and paranoid in all their dealings with those not of their own race, and in that regard could be somewhat predictable. Klingon politicians, on the other hand, could be annoyingly fastidious in how they chose to comport themselves, switching indiscriminately between slavish devotion to their warrior caste’s honor code and the more nuanced, duplicitous nature that seemed to characterize their own diplomatic corps.

Or any politician, for that matter.

Despite his misgivings, Reyes was forced to admit that having representatives from the other governments had to be of some benefit with regard to the current situation. What he wondered though was whether Jetanien, even with his impressive record of diplomatic achievements, was up to confronting the formidable task of bringing the Tholians and Klingons to the same negotiating table.

As if reading his thoughts, the Chelon leaned toward Reyes. “I have no doubts that what I propose will be difficult, Commodore,” he said. “However, I see no alternative if we are to pursue a peaceful resolution to what is quickly becoming a volatile state of affairs. Rest assured that I will employ all methods at my disposal toward meeting that goal.”

“I don’t doubt that you will, Ambassador,” Reyes replied, and he meant it. He only wished he could view his own role in what might lie ahead with equal confidence.

While he was content to keep his concerns to himself, it was T’Prynn who gave them voice as she turned to regard Reyes.

“With no disrespect intended toward the ambassador, sir,” she said, “if a diplomatic solution cannot be reached, we may have to be ready with a more direct course of action in order to protect our interests in the region.”

Though couched in words that were not immediately provocative, there was no mistaking the meaning behind T’Prynn’s statement.

If there’s going to be a fight, we have to be ready to get bloody.

19

With the bedcovers carelessly tossed to the floor of her quarters, Sarith lay atop her bed in soft repose, allowing the sweat of their lovemaking to cool her body as she watched N’tovek rise and begin to gather the components of his uniform. Her right hand absently stroked the sheets beside her, still warm to the touch from the heat of his body.

“Are you in that much of a hurry to make your escape?” she asked as she watched her lover fumble for his clothes, her tone teasing. “Is that fear I see in your eyes, Centurion?” Her eyes traced the lines of his unclothed body, noting the fresh scratches across his back and the tinge of green blood highlighting them. It seemed her enthusiasm had gotten the best of her, again.

Retrieving one boot from where it had fallen next to the small wardrobe positioned against the bulkhead opposite the bed, N’tovek looked to her and returned the smile. “I don’t think there is a safe answer to that question, Commander,” he offered with mock formality as he began dressing. “Not that it matters. I must report for duty.”

Lying naked in her bed, her body still aglow in the aftermath of the brief but passionate interlude they had shared, Sarith for a moment was tempted to exercise command prerogative and simply call for a replacement to be assigned to N’tovek’s station. She just as quickly dismissed the notion, however. While Sarith knew it was unwise to fraternize with members of her crew, it would be far more damaging if word spread across the ship that she was allowing anyone to shirk his responsibilities in favor of being her consort.

In truth, she had considered simply halting any further clandestine rendezvous, but had decided against it. At first, she had argued with herself that this lone indulgence was understandable, given the long-term nature of their assignment and the very real possibility that the Talonmight not return home. Finally, however, she had offered a solitary confession to the reflection in her lavatory mirror that her reasons for keeping N’tovek’s company were simple: She enjoyed it, and him.

Further, she could trust the centurion to maintain discretion with regards to their surreptitious relationship, and the advantages to be gained by keeping his silence on the matter. Both of them understood also that if she suspected that was no longer the case, Sarith would simply dispose of him out the nearest airlock.

I’ve already made one mistake,she reminded herself ruefully. There is nothing to be gained by compounding it.

Dressed once again in his uniform, N’tovek smoothed his tussled black hair down atop his head before reaching for the gold helmet that would complete his ensemble. Donning the helmet, he melodramatically came to a position of attention and offered the traditional military salute. “Request permission to take my leave of the commander.”

A small laugh escaped Sarith’s lips even as she made a mental note to have N’tovek wear nothing but the helmet the next time he came to her. “Permission granted, Centurion,” she replied, clasping her clenched fist to her bare chest before returning the salute. “Glory to the empire; crush the Praetor’s enemies.”

That bit of mockery completed, N’tovek relaxed his stance and smiled, stepping closer until he could lean forward and kiss Sarith’s forehead. “I enjoyed this morning.”

“As did I,” Sarith responded with genuine contentment, though she caught the barest hint of worry clouding that sensation. Despite the risks that came with involving one’s self with a subordinate, the brief intervals of reprieve that N’tovek offered when they were together were a welcome distraction from the demands of her command.

Still, as N’tovek turned and departed, leaving her alone in the solace of her quarters, she continued to hear his last words. The look she had seen in his eyes danced in her memory. Was the centurion perhaps considering their trysts to be the start of something more meaningful—or dare he think it permanent? For both their sakes, Sarith hoped that was not the case, for such was a complication she most certainly did not need at this point in time.

Perhaps that airlock isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Gathering the sheets around her, Sarith reveled in the comfort and warmth of her bed. She glanced at the chronometer on the far wall and decided she could afford herself an additional hour before returning to the bridge. A brief nap followed by a refreshing bath, and she would be ready to face the remainder of the day.

Sleep was just beginning to tease the edges of her consciousness when the all-too-familiar tone of the intraship communications system echoed across her quarters from the computer terminal perched atop her desk.

“ Commander Sarith, your presence is requested on the bridge.”

Duty calls,she admitted with amused resignation, tossing the bedclothes aside as she began the hunt for her own uniform.

“Report.”

Everyone on the Bloodied Talon’s bridge stiffened to attention as Sarith made her entrance, all save Ineti, of course. Like the mentoring taskmaster he was, her trusted second-in-command was pacing the perimeter of the small room, keeping a careful eye on the activities of the centurions on duty. He nodded in respectful greeting to Sarith.

“Our long-range sensors have detected three vessels,” Ineti said, “two Tholian and one Klingon, exchanging weapons fire.” Looking to her, he added, “The cloak is cluttering our sensor returns, however, and I was about to order a course correction to bring us closer.”

Listening to the irregular chorus of status indicators and humming machinery packed into and behind the bulkheads forming the ship’s control center, Sarith nodded at Ineti’s report. “Can we do so without risking detection?”

Ineti nodded. “Yes, Commander, if we reduce our power output as we draw closer, we should be able to remain concealed.”

“Make the course change,” Sarith ordered as she crossed the deck to a computer terminal. Like the other workstations on the bridge, the monitor and interface were built directly into a console molded into the angled bulkhead. As she activated the display, she called over her shoulder, “Do we know where either side’s ships came from?”

Still pacing around the central hub of control stations, stopping only to correct the settings on one centurion’s console, Ineti replied, “It appears the Tholians ambushed the Klingon ship, which we initially detected traveling from the direction of a nearby system. According to the star charts our agents were able to intercept from Klingon data transmissions, their military refers to it as the Palgrenax system. Four planets, only one inhabited by a preindustrial culture. From the subspace communications we’ve already decoded, the Klingons have laid claim to the system.”

“No doubt it offers something of value to them,” Sarith said as she called up to the computer display one of the pilfered Federation star charts. Stellar cartographers had already translated the Klingon chart’s various notations into native Rihannsutext, and she was pleased to note that someone had also taken the initiative to remove much of the vibrant—and distracting—color schemes that seemed to saturate the original versions.

According to the chart, the Palgrenax system was well away from the travel and patrol routes that had already been established by Starfleet vessels traversing the Taurus Reach, at least if Sarith was to believe the intelligence reports provided to her prior to the Talon’s departure from Romulan space. It was, however, clearly within the area that seemed to have been dominated by Klingon ships since their incursion into the region some weeks ago. It was possible that—in addition to whatever natural assets it might offer to the resource-deprived Klingon Empire—the system’s lone inhabited planet might also be providing a base of operations for Klingon vessels working in this sector.

Worth investigating,Sarith decided.

“Commander,” said N’tovek from where he stood before his station at the central hub, “we approach the enemy vessels.”

Turning from the computer terminal, Sarith moved across the bridge until she could see into the viewfinder at the centurion’s station. As she leaned closer to better see the sensor displays, she made a conscious effort not to look at N’tovek. To his credit, he stepped aside to allow his commander unfettered access to the station, as always conducting himself like the acceptable, if not outstanding, officer he was and offering no clue to anyone who might be watching that he was anything more than a subordinate sworn to live and die by her command.

Why, then, do I get the feeling that neither he nor I are fooling anyone with this pretense?

Forcing away the errant thought, Sarith focused her attention on the viewfinder. Inside the miniaturized display, which provided N’tovek with images translated from the abundance of information being received by the suite of sensor arrays positioned all around the exterior of the Talon’s hull, she could see the sensors’ depiction of the skirmish taking place far ahead of them. Reduced to cold, lifeless bits of computer-generated icons and commentary text, it was easy to forget that the digital caricatures represented lives thrown into the chaos; violence surely gripped the participants of the conflict she observed.

Or, in the case of the Klingons, the exhilaration of heading once more into battle.

One line of sensor data caught her eye, and she noted the distance separating the Talonfrom the pitched battle. “Maintain this position,” she ordered as she stepped away from the viewfinder. “Transfer the sensor feed to the main display.”

She felt the change in pitch as the Talon’s engines cycled down, sensed the slight pull as the inertial dampening systems lagged ever-so-slightly behind the ship’s abrupt deceleration. For a moment she wondered if their arrival and the sudden bleeding off of power, despite the still active cloaking device, might attract the attention of the Tholians or the Klingons. The earlier close call with the lone Tholian vessel was still fresh in her memory, and she was not yet ready to dismiss that occurrence as a stroke of random good fortune on the part of the Tholians’ sensors.

Moving to stand before the large display screen built into the bridge’s forward-facing bulkhead, Sarith folded her arms across her chest as the image on the monitor coalesced into a view of black, barren space. Otherwise serene darkness was peppered by the dim illumination of distant stars as well as the frenetic movements of two Tholian ships darting above, below, and around a single Klingon battle cruiser.

Though the small, arrowhead-shaped Tholian ships were of a design Sarith had never seen firsthand, the Klingon warship was of the same basic configuration as had been employed by the empire for more than a century, its distinctive orblike primary hull at the forefront of a long, narrow boom extending from the vessel’s angular main drive section. Warp nacelles mounted to the underside of the hull gave the cruiser an illusion of menace, power, and speed even now as it struggled against a more maneuverable and decidedly tenacious enemy.

While other militaries—including her own—often attempted to create something new and improved in the hopes of enhancing the abilities and efficiency of their ships and technology, Sarith knew from experience that the Klingons approached such matters from a much different mind-set. Though upgraded and enhanced over time, the well-worn design had in its basic form served the empire with distinction for longer than she had been alive. She suspected it would continue on in some fashion well after she had left this plane of existence.

On the viewscreen, arcs of energy flared into existence as particle-beam weapons impacted on the Klingon ship’s deflector shields, its movements to evade and engage its harassing enemy seeming sluggish and ineffective against the pair of smaller and faster vessels.

“The Klingon cruiser’s shields are almost depleted, Commander,” reported Centurion Darjil, standing just to Sarith’s left and not looking up from his own control console. “One Tholian ship has lost all shields and has sustained damage to its main engines.”

Other than the centurion’s report and the usual telltale harmony of background noises that filtered through the room, the bridge was silent as the battle unfolded before her. Studying the battling vessels with a practiced eye, Sarith could tell from its somewhat slower and less graceful maneuvers which of the Tholian vessels was the more vulnerable. The commander of the battle cruiser must also have made that assessment, either via his own expertise or thanks to his ship’s sensors, as the larger ship rotated on its axis as if to bring its weapons to bear on the compromised enemy attacker. As its primary hull moved into view, Sarith noted the blackened and pitted sections of hull plating where damage had been inflicted near the ship’s forward torpedo launcher.

“It’s unusual for a Klingon ship to be caught in such a compromising position,” Ineti said as he moved to stand next to Sarith. “Were I that ship’s commander, I might consider ritual suicide were I to fall victim to such a pedestrian blunder.”

Sarith frowned at her friend’s observation. “It’s not like you to underestimate an adversary, Ineti,” she said. “We know the Tholians can be formidable opponents. I’m not about to let our earlier encounter set the tone for how I approach this particular enemy. That victory was little more than fortunate happenstance.”

On the screen, the Klingon cruiser unleashed a barrage of weapons fire as it completed its turn, catching the wounded and now noticeably slower-moving Tholian vessel in a vicious onslaught. Even without the assistance of magnification to enhance the viewer’s image, she could see explosions wrenching apart hull plates as the smaller vessel twisted and spun to retreat from the barrage. Brief plumes of fire and rapidly escaping atmosphere—the noxious combination of superheated gases that contributed to a livable environment for Tholians—appeared from the new gashes in the ship’s hull. Fragments of hull and whatever might have been blown into space from inside the wounded ship sailed out, leaving behind a rapidly expanding cloud of debris.

“The Tholian vessel has lost all main power,” Darjil reported, “including life support. Its companion remains undamaged.”

“What about the Klingon ship?” Sarith asked.

Still at his own station, N’tovek replied, “They have sustained major damage to their primary propulsion system, aft shield generators, and forward disruptor banks.”

“That should still be more than a match for the Tholians,” Ineti offered. “The Klingon commander should strike now, while the other ship exposes itself to attack as it attempts to render aid.”

While she and Ineti watched, the undamaged Tholian ship swept toward the Klingon cruiser. It released a fresh volley of weapons fire as it described an intricate series of rolling, twisting evasive maneuvers that succeeded in avoiding most of the return fire the warship could muster, compromised as it was due to the loss of its forward weapons emplacements. New wounds were gouged into the ship’s hull as the Tholian weapons found their mark, punching through the thick armored plating like a wild animal sinking its teeth into the soft flesh of newly captured prey.

The tactic seemed to work, as the cruiser abruptly rotated once more on its axis in what to Sarith appeared a desperate attempt to protect severely damaged sections of its exposed hull. Taking advantage of the momentary respite as the Klingon ship ceased its attempts to return fire, the Tholian vessel darted away from the point of attack, coming alongside its wounded companion. It produced a bright orange beam of energy that lanced out to envelop the damaged ship before accelerating again, this time away from the scene of battle.

“Retreat?” Sarith said, reacting with genuine surprise to what she was seeing on the screen. “No stomach for conflict when the tide turns against them?”

Still standing next to her, Ineti frowned. “Most unexpected. It appeared they had the tactical advantage.”

“Is the Klingon vessel giving chase?” Sarith asked.

There was a distinct pause, but before she could turn to rebuke her subordinates for the delay in answering her question, N’tovek suddenly looked up from his station. “Commander, they’re altering their course and heading in this direction.”

What?

“Disengage all power systems except for the cloak and passive sensors,” Sarith ordered without another moment’s hesitation. “Now!”

They had been detected. It was the only logical explanation, she decided, but how?

All around her, consoles went dark as power generated by the Talon’s engines was severed. The bridge was plunged into darkness as life-support and illumination disengaged, and Sarith felt a momentary twinge in her stomach when the artificial gravity was first lost then restored, low-power battery backup systems automatically engaging to compensate for the loss of primary power. Dim red lighting flickered on, distorting the shadows and the expressions on the faces of the crew around her.

“Report,” she said, involuntarily adopting a hushed whisper as she issued the order. Logic told her the measure was ridiculous, as sounds could not travel through the vacuum of space, but nevertheless she felt somewhat eased by not disrupting the shroud of quiet that had fallen over the bridge.

Apparently, she was not alone. “All primary systems are offline, Commander,” N’tovek replied, his own voice low and subdued yet clearly audible now that the control room’s characteristic background noises had faded. “The Klingon vessel is moving in this direction on half-impulse. Its sensors are active at full power.”

So, they had somehow been detected. Sarith looked to Ineti and saw even through the shadows masking her old friend’s face that the subcommander shared her deduction.

“How?” she asked him, neither of them requiring her to elaborate.

“I suspect the Tholians,” Ineti replied, also employing a reserved tone. “Perhaps the vessel we encountered was able to transmit information on what their sensors recorded before we destroyed it.”

That made sense, Sarith decided. If indeed the Tholians had relayed information on whatever sensor readings they had registered prior to their destruction, it was possible that data had been disseminated to other vessels traveling the Taurus Reach. For all she knew, her vessel might already be a quarry hunted by the forces of the Tholian Assembly.

Her jaw clenching as she regarded that alarming theory, Sarith turned to where N’tovek manned the bridge’s only operational workstation. Almost all of the controls and gauges before him were darkened in response to operating on battery backup systems. Only the soft blue glow of the sensor viewfinder into which he peered offered any sign of activity across the otherwise lifeless control room. “Where are they?” she asked.

“Four hundred mat’drihto port and closing,” N’tovek replied. “They are executing a series of irregular steering maneuvers, Commander.” Looking up from the viewfinder, he fixed Sarith with a knowing gaze. “It appears to be a search pattern.”

The Klingon vessel already was closer than the first Tholian vessel had been when its sensors apparently had detected the cloaked Talon. Were sensors aboard the battle cruiser at least as proficient as their Tholian counterparts?

The angled bulkheads of the bridge seemed to press in around them as Sarith counted off the intervals until—based on her calculations—the Klingon warship would either pass by or perhaps even run headlong into her ship. Without power for the viewscreens or even the ship’s more active sensors, there was no way to watch the enemy vessel’s approach or to see just how much danger she and her crew currently faced. N’tovek was her only source of information, and she could see even in the control room’s reduced lighting that the strain was beginning to show on his normally passive features.

“We are drifting,” the centurion called out softly, and Sarith’s heart beat harder against the walls of her chest. Given the Klingon cruiser’s movements as it searched for whatever had spooked its commander and the Tholians, there was no way for her to predict whether her vessel’s path would cross that of the warship. Should she order restoration of thruster power to make a course correction? Would that action reveal their presence? She knew she had only moments to make a decision that regardless of the option she chose almost certainly would result in disaster for her ship and its crew.

“Maintain present status,” Sarith ordered, instinct telling her to stay the course. The odds of them drifting into the path of the Klingon ship had to be lower than her vessel being detected due to rash action on her part. She issued the directive with a confidence she only partially felt herself, hoping her reservations had not been understood by anyone else on the bridge. Glancing to Ineti, she was reassured by her mentor’s gentle nod of approval.

Moments that seemed to stretch into infinity passed in silence. Despite the notable drop in temperature as the bridge cooled thanks to the thinner hull plating separating the bridge from the harsh void of space, Sarith felt perspiration moisten her arms and her back. How much longer? Would there be any warning if the Klingon ship detected them, or would her last sight be of her vessel imploding around her as it fell prey to the power of the larger vessel’s weapons?

“They have moved past us,” N’tovek said after Sarith felt she had aged an eternity. Looking to her once more, he seemed almost too afraid to offer the report for fear that it would trigger some act of fateful retribution. “They are continuing their search pattern, but do not appear to have detected us.”

A collective sigh of relief crossed the bridge at the realization that fate apparently had chosen to smile yet again upon the Bloodied Talon. Still, everyone maintained their silence, each of them looking to Sarith for guidance.

“Are we in any danger if we don’t correct our course?” she asked N’tovek.

The centurion shook his head. “Only if the Klingon vessel backtracks along its search pattern, Commander.” Glancing into the viewfinder again, he added, “They are continuing to move away, along what appears to be their original course before the attack. I suspect they may abandon the search in short order.”

“Sound reasoning,” Ineti replied, offering a paternal pat on the younger man’s shoulder. “Klingon commanders are notoriously ill-tempered and impatient. They want an enemy to reveal itself and announce its desire to do battle. They’re not in the habit of sitting idle and waiting for a ghost to appear.”

“Still, we wait,” Sarith said, now talking in a normal tone of voice that echoed across the otherwise silent bridge. “Once they go to warp, we’ll restore main systems.” She was satisfied that the frantic tactic of disabling primary main power might well have been the one thing which had saved the Talonfrom detection. An appropriate notation would have to be included in her next report back to Romulus. The Science Ministry, which had developed the prototypical cloaking technology more than a century earlier and had spent the interim constantly introducing modifications and improvements, certainly would want to know about the results of the very radical field tests to which the latest model of their creation had just been subjected.

In the meantime, Sarith and the Bloodied Talonhad but one objective: Continue their mission.

“Prepare a course for the Palgrenax system,” she told Ineti. “We need to see what the Klingons find so interesting there.”