Текст книги "Summon the Thunder"

Автор книги: Dayton Ward

Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

16

Anna Sandesjo entered her private workspace, aware that she at best had five minutes before Ambassador Jetanien returned to the offices of Starbase 47’s Federation Embassy but knowing also that she could not afford to waste this opportunity.

A pity I cannot enjoy the peace and quiet even for a moment.

While it was true that she often found it nearly impossible to tolerate the effusive diplomat’s lecturing, ostentatious personality, the fact of the matter was that the Chelon ambassador’s political prowess was formidable. That much had become evident in the short time since his assignment to Vanguard and the legion of diplomatic obstacles he had been entrusted to navigate as a consequence of the Federation’s recent and pronounced movements into the Taurus Reach. Despite the uncertain and currently tumultuous nature of the political relations that seemed to characterize this region of space, Jetanien had risen to the challenge with tenacity, quickly forging ties with the diplomatic envoys from both the Klingon Empire and the Tholian Assembly, both of whom had been provided embassy space aboard the station.

Of course, having such a gifted ambassador on hand also made Sandesjo’s job that much easier.

Closing the door behind her, she engaged the lock before moving behind the small, functional desk that faced the front of the room and was the office’s dominating piece of furniture. She ignored the clutter of papers, data slates, and other administrative detritus which characterized her very legitimate responsibilities as Jetanien’s senior attaché. Indeed, it was all of little importance, save for its single redeeming quality in that it supported the role she played here. Her position within the Chelon ambassador’s organization naturally provided her with access to a wealth of information which might have been all but impossible to access via other avenues.

Like now.

Reaching beneath her desk, Sandesjo retrieved the thin, unassuming metal briefcase she kept there and laid it atop her desk. She entered a combination—one of two the case’s lock would accept but the only one known solely to her—and opened the unit, releasing the false panel set inside and revealing the miniaturized subspace transceiver hidden within. It took a moment for the device to activate before she could key in the string of coded commands that would send an encrypted hail to her contact, Turag. After a moment, the transceiver’s compact display screen coalesced into an image of the Klingon, staring out at her with his usual expression of annoyed boredom.

Once the protocol for establishing identities and the security of their covert transmission was complete, Turag offered a brusque nod. “ You were not expected to submit a report at this time.”

He was right, of course. Like other long-term intelligence operatives scattered throughout the Federation and Starfleet, her primary consideration when undertaking any action was maintaining her cover. Stealth and virtual invisibility were her watchwords and her lifeline while spying on this most formidable enemy of the empire. Getting to this point had been a trying and time-consuming process, requiring her to remain dormant as she carried on in her assumed role as a member of the Federation Diplomatic Corps. That task had proven to be even more trying than enduring the demeaning process of having her Klingon countenance surgically altered to appear human, which she had done more than ten Earth-standard years earlier. Only after that much time had passed had the opportunity to serve on Jetanien’s staff presented itself, allowing her to be activated as a fully operational intelligence agent.

Part of the ongoing and even greater need to maintain her secrecy also meant adhering to the strict protocol regarding communications with her contacts. Turag, acting as her handler in addition to his own covert role as a member of Vanguard’s Klingon delegation, had enacted a schedule for her to submit reports on an irregular basis so as to assume the minimum amount of risk against detection. Naturally, there were measures in place for emergencies, which Sandesjo felt justified in employing now.

Nodding in response to Turag’s blunt introductory statement, she said, “I know, but I’ve just received new information that needs to be delivered to our superiors. A Tholian vessel has been destroyed, and the Tholians believe a Klingon ship may be responsible.”

His brow furrowed in suspicion. “ We have not heard of any such action. How do you know this is true?”

“Jetanien,” Sandesjo replied. “He had an unscheduled, private meeting with the Tholian ambassador early this morning. While I’ve not been briefed as to the full details of the entire conversation, he did inform me about this incident. A ship on patrol near the outer boundary of the Taurus Reach bordering Tholian territory was attacked by a vessel of unknown origin, and destroyed before its commander could make a thorough report. No description of the ship was offered, only that it registered no familiar weapons or propulsion signatures, and appeared capable of evading sensors.”

Assuming the action was not one sanctioned by the Klingon High Council, it was possible if not probable that Klingon intelligence operatives might soon learn of the incident. However, that Jetanien had learned of it only thanks to a private conversation held with the Tholian ambassador suggested to her that the Tholians were—for the moment, at least—keeping such knowledge classified. With this in mind, Sandesjo had decided the value of the information gleaned from Jetanien was more than worth the risk of offering an impromptu report to Turag.

Leaning forward in her chair, she added, “I was unaware that the empire possessed any ships with such abilities.”

“ That is of no concern to you, Lurqal,”Turag replied, addressing her by her Klingon name. “ Do you believe the Tholians may be planning a reprisal?”

Sandesjo shook her head. “I don’t know, and neither does Jetanien. Of course, if they were planning such action, they would not inform a Federation ambassador of their intentions.”

“ Is it possible the Federation is responsible?”Turag asked.

If not for the Klingon’s serious expression, Sandesjo might have laughed at the notion he offered. “You are as much aware of Federation policies on aggressive action as I am. They do not attack without provocation, nor are they in the habit of concealing their actions when they are forced to defend themselves. Besides, the Tholian commander said that the vessel presented no indications that it was from any familiar power.”

“ The Federation is notoriously reluctant to construct weapons for purely offensive military purposes,”Turag said, “ despite the conflicts in which they’ve found themselves over the years. Perhaps someone in their Starfleet– someone withnaghs– has finally learned the lessons imparted by their history and chosen to shoulder that burden.”

Pausing to consider that theory, Sandesjo decided it an unlikely scenario. Still, to appease her handler and keep this conversation moving, she nodded in agreement. “Even if that’s the case, it’s unlikely anyone assigned to this station would be aware of such a vessel’s existence, with the potential exception of Commodore Reyes.”

“ A logical conclusion,”Turag replied, making no effort to suppress the sneer that curled the corners of his mouth. “ Perhaps all the time spent with that Vulcan has influenced you in more ways than one.”

Despite her formidable self-control, Sandesjo still felt her blood warm in response to the other Klingon’s unvoiced yet undisguised accusation. “Explain yourself,” she demanded.

Shrugging, Turag offered a lascivious smile as he replied, “ Rumors, naturally. According to ‘unnamed sources,’ you and the Vulcan have been observed in situations that– shall we say– appear to be something other than purely professional.”

Sandesjo schooled her features and her voice to remain impassive as she regarded Turag over the comm link, at the same time relishing the image of the handler’s severed head impaled upon the point of her mek’lethas she sang a song of triumph and enjoyed a hearty mug of deliciously aged bloodwine. What did this filthy petaQ’puknow? Had he somehow become privy to the more intimate moments she shared with T’Prynn?

No, she decided. While Sandesjo expected that Turag would have her under constant surveillance, T’Prynn, being a seasoned intelligence operative in her own right, would almost certainly have taken steps to ensure she was protected from covert scrutiny.

Maintaining her neutral tone and demeanor, Sandesjo asked, “Do you wish to hear the rest of my report, Turag, or continue this clumsy attempt to fuel your fantasies? I don’t believe I have sufficient time to assist you in rousing that pathetic excuse for a loD-machyou claim to wield.”

His jaw clenching in response to her rebuke, Turag’s head bobbed in a curt nod. “ Continue.”

Satisfied for the moment, Sandesjo said, “According to a subspace communication I was able to intercept and decrypt, the U.S.S. Endeavourwas attacked near Erilon and sustained several casualties, including its captain. The ship is making its return to the station now.”

“ Who is responsible?”Turag asked. While his own inflection was measured, Sandesjo could see that he still was stinging from her admonishment.

Sandesjo shook her head. “Unknown. From what I have been able to learn, the ship was attacked by a planet-based weapon of considerable power, enough to drive them from orbit. It’s not Tholian, and based on the Endeavour’s report as well as information gathered since the station became operational, there may be other repositories of such technologies scattered throughout the Taurus Reach.”

Shrugging, Turag said, “ Planetary defense systems are nothing new, Lurqal.”

Sandesjo braced against the sudden rise in anger at hearing her given name again. “I’ve told you not to call me that.” She had no desire to be reminded that her Klingon heritage had been buried beneath a façade. “The technology itself is not the issue. Personnel on the planet’s surface were also attacked, by an unknown alien life-form. Details on that are sketchy, no doubt due to security protocols, but I was able to gather that this development is of paramount concern to Commodore Reyes.”

“ How so?”Turag asked.

Shaking her head, Sandesjo replied, “There’s no way to know, based on the limited amount of information that was shared over the communications channel. I’ll pass on more information as soon as possible.” Of course, she had no idea at this point how she might accomplish that, given the apparent secrecy that seemed to enshroud much of the activity taking place among the station’s most senior officers and civilian advisors.

On her transceiver’s display screen, Turag nodded. “ See that you do.Qapla’.”

The communication was severed without even offering Sandesjo a chance to return the traditional farewell. Absentmindedly, she reached out and pressed the control that deactivated the unit and returned it to its hiding place inside her briefcase’s concealed compartment. Once more, her cover was back in place.

Reviewing the information she had gathered and reported, Sandesjo found herself with as many new questions as Turag had posed. Who had destroyed the Tholian vessel? The Klingons? If so, why?

She realized that the commander of a Klingon battle cruiser in the middle of barely charted space did not need any compelling reason to unleash his weapons—on anything or anyone. Still, most officers in such positions of responsibility still tended to exercise a modicum of restraint, even in this age when personal honor and discipline seemed to be out of favor with many Klingon warriors. After all, Sandesjo knew of no officers so bold that they would risk the wrath of the chancellor of the High Council, who had expressly forbidden any vessel operating in the Taurus Reach from taking aggressive action against Federation or Tholian interests in the region unless acting in self-defense. It was an uncharacteristic position for the chancellor to take, suggesting to her that there indeed was more occurring in this area of space than met the eye.

What that might be, of course, was the question which now taunted Sandesjo.

17

Once again, the call rang out through the Conduit. Once more, the Shedai Wanderer answered.

Doing so was difficult. Many of the channels, which long ago had allowed for limitless movement of information as well as the ability to oversee everything and everyone the Shedai once had ruled, now possessed only a fraction of their former capabilities. Navigation was problematic, with only a few scattered interface points available for reference. While transiting the Conduits had at one time been as effortless as drawing breath into one’s own body, their current lack of power and cohesion now presented a hazard to anyone who might now choose to navigate them. It was a distinct possibility that one of the few remaining thought-strands might fail.

Traveling to this world also had involved an additional risk, given that the Wanderer had left behind the shell she had worn on the frozen world. She had no way of knowing what awaited her at her destination, and should the channel falter while she was in transit before she could acquire a new host, there would be nothing to prevent her being extinguished from existence.

Regardless of the risk, the song cannot be ignored.

As before on the cold, barren world she had left behind, the Wanderer found that the call had been uttered as a consequence of the clumsy actions of Telinaruulattempting to understand that which was far beyond their comprehension. She recalled that this planet—which possessed vast potential perfectly suited to the needs of the Shedai in their quest to regain what once had been theirs—also was home to what once had been a primitive and inferior species that nevertheless held great promise. From what the Wanderer could remember from the time before the long darkness had laid claim to her, these life-forms had only just begun to display the most basic levels of sentience.

There had been fierce debates about how best to proceed with these beings, but ultimately they were left to develop at their own pace and without external interference. In doing so, it was believed, these life-forms might eventually be of some use when the time finally came for the Shedai to ascend once more to their rightful place as rulers of their vast empire.

Arriving on this world in response to the song resonating through the Conduit, the Wanderer was surprised to discover that a different species of sentient life—more advanced though still hopelessly primeval when compared with the Shedai—now was present on this planet. These new life-forms—nothing more than the lowest form of Telinaruulever to plague the rule of the Shedai—apparently had come and asserted their will over the native inhabitants. They had found the temple as well as the support structures that housed and protected the anchor point for the Conduit on this world.

Their vessel, now hanging in orbit, was a conventional if archaic mode of transportation, at least according to the Wanderer’s scans. Like the conveyance she had engaged above the frozen world, it appeared to rely upon a crude method of controlled matter-antimatter annihilation in order to achieve a form of hyperspatial warping, which allowed it to reach the velocities necessary for interstellar travel. The ship’s capabilities were interesting, but she suspected it too would be no match against the weaponry she might bring to bear against it. Such was the primitive nature of the craft—to say nothing of the Telinaruulwho crewed it—that the Wanderer was curious as to how such unevolved beings could even have survived the harsh, unforgiving environs of space.

Still, despite their obvious limitations, the newcomers had learned enough about the ancient Shedai technology to activate a portion of the structure’s intricate network of control mechanisms, a chance accomplishment which had signaled the Wanderer to this latest incursion and allowed her to travel to the violated site.

Perhaps they possess abilities I have overlooked or underestimated.

That concern had weighed upon the Wanderer even as she willed the activation of other power sources and control systems, breathing new life into that which had lain dormant for uncounted generations. She at first was apprehensive that the long-neglected temple and its complex arrangement of command and oversight systems would not be up to the tasks she had set for it, to say nothing of the rest of the control network spread out across the planet. That anxiety had been short-lived, however, when she determined that the ancient structures and the technology they housed had been remarkably well preserved, a much different state of affairs when compared to the frozen, lifeless world from which the Wanderer had transited. Even in their aged and compromised state, the assets at her command were more than enough for her immediate needs.

Feeling her way along the Conduit’s thought channels, she discerned that the fractional progress made by the primitives had in fact been in the restoration of power to a key control facility inside one of the temple’s ancillary structures. Judging from their actions, the usurpers did not seem to grasp the purpose of the technology they had plundered; that they had chanced into a monitoring station for part of the planetary defense network still escaped their knowledge. Still, the Wanderer realized it was possible that—if left unchecked—they might discern the technology’s purpose and perhaps even seize it for their own use.

That cannot be allowed.

18

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Reyes said as he sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to stave off the headache he already felt bearing down on him. “We’ve gone from the Tholians and the Klingons being upset with us, to having the Tholians and Klingons angry with each other, and Starfleet Command is now angry with us. Have I missed anything?”

From where he stood behind the pair of chairs situated before the commodore’s desk, neither of which was capable of supporting his oversized and stiff-backed figure, Ambassador Jetanien rolled his shoulders in an elliptical manner that Reyes had learned was the Chelon equivalent of a shrug. “No. I believe that to be a succinct and accurate appraisal of the situation.” As if punctuating his observation, the ambassador emitted a series of intermittent clicks from his blunt beaklike mouth.

“Thanks for the clarification,” Reyes deadpanned, shooting the ambassador a tired scowl. Rising from his chair, he made his way around his desk and moved to where T’Prynn stood before the viewscreen set into the wall on the left side of his office. She turned at his approach, stepping aside to give Reyes an unobstructed view of the screen and the information displayed upon it.

“While we know there has been a pronounced increase in both Tholian and Klingon ship activity during the past month,” T’Prynn said, “the past three days have brought the most alarming developments. According to data received by our network of long-range sensor arrays, there have been at least four skirmishes between Tholian and Klingon vessels. Each incident was an isolated, one-on-one encounter. To the best of our knowledge, no ships have been lost as all of the engagements were ended when the Tholian ships retreated.”

Four incidents in three days. Reyes repeated the statistic over and over in his mind as he studied the star chart showing a cross section of the Taurus Reach, upon which T’Prynn had highlighted four locations where the clashes had taken place.

As for the rest of the chart, the commodore was struck once again by just how much of it remained without detail. Despite numerous mapping missions conducted by automated sensor probes as well as the charting conducted by the crews of the Endeavour,the Sagittarius,and even the Bombaybefore its tragic loss, much of the Taurus Reach was still unknown.

In more ways than one,Reyes reminded himself.

“Is there anything to suggest that either the Tholians or the Klingons know why we’re here?” he asked, not turning from the viewscreen. “Are they simply maneuvering in response to our expansion into the region, or are they carrying out their own exploration and survey missions?”

“The Klingons are conducting planetary surveys,” T’Prynn replied, “but it appears to be consistent with normal expeditions to locate resources, such as dilithium deposits, for example. There are no indications they suspect our true motives.”

Reyes nodded. He knew at least two different star systems in the region had been claimed by the empire due to the presence of vast quantities of dilithium. The Klingons had wasted no time planting their flag, though thankfully those worlds had turned out to be uninhabited. Such was not the case with other systems in that sector, though Reyes knew there was nothing to be done about that at the present time.

Hopefully, we can correct that injustice one day soon, before it’s too late.

“What about the Tholians?” he asked. “Are they offering up any weak explanations for their actions like they did with the Bombay?”

“With regards to your first question,” Jetanien replied, “only the Tholians know what they believe about our presence here. As for their actions against the Klingons, this is different than the earlier tussles we’ve heard about.” He turned away from the Starfleet officers so that he might pace the width of the office. Waving his right hand in the air before him, he added, “The Tholians admit to launching offensive action against those Klingon vessels. While we know full well they’re not afraid to instigate hostilities, they are usually more methodical in their actions than what we’re seeing in these cases.”

“It’s retaliation,” Reyes replied. “They blame the Klingons for the destruction of their ship earlier in the week. Given how fast and aggressively the Klingons are moving into the region, it’s easy to see how the Tholians might draw such a conclusion.”

Turning from the viewscreen, T’Prynn clasped her hands behind her back. “There is no evidence to suggest Klingon complicity in that action. Further, based on what information the Tholians have elected to share with us, the way in which their vessel was destroyed is decidedly out of character for the Klingons.”

“While it is true that residual energy readings taken at the scene indicate the presence of weapons of unfamiliar design,” Jetanien said as he halted his pacing, “that itself does not rule out Klingon involvement.” Looking to Reyes, he added, “However, I must agree with the commander that the reports of the incident are not consistent with Klingon behavior.”

Feeling the dull ache behind his eyes beginning to assert itself with authority, Reyes frowned as he held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. Klingons aren’t subtle in their battle tactics. They don’t sneak around, they don’t cower in the shadows, and they’re never afraid to take credit for a victory. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve had some experience with them.”

“I did not mean to imply otherwise, Commodore,” T’Prynn replied, her manner and expression unchanged. “However, given your own knowledge of how Klingons typically conduct themselves, surely you would agree that for them to be responsible for that action in a manner consistent with the Tholians’ accusations seems unlikely?”

Reyes waved away the suggestion. “What seems unlikely is me taking anything a Klingon does or doesn’t do at face value.” He indicated the star chart with a nod. “Besides, if not them, who diddestroy that ship?” Looking to Jetanien, he asked, “They don’t think we—?”

“There were initial rumblings to that effect, of course,” the ambassador said, interrupting Reyes’s question. “However, their own long-range sensor data confirms that no Federation vessels were detected anywhere near that location before or after the incident occurred.” Shaking his head, the Chelon added, “Naturally, that did not halt the initial barrage of invective, but cooler heads did indeed prevail.”

“Small wonder,” Reyes replied, feeling both fatigue and relief wrapping around the words as they left his mouth. Barely a month had passed since the Bombayincident, which still lingered like an open wound in the political relations between the Tholians and the Federation, refusing to heal no matter how much care and attention it was given. The Tholians had been expecting some form of reprisal despite promises from Jetanien and other Federation diplomats that no such action would be forthcoming. Even with those assurances, Reyes knew that everyone was watching and waiting for the precarious truce to disintegrate into full-blown hostilities.

That can’t happen, regardless of the cost.

“So,” he said after a moment, “if it wasn’t the Klingons and it wasn’t us, who the hell was it?”

T’Prynn shook her head. “We do not yet know, sir. As has already been indicated, the weapons employed were of a type unknown either to the Tholians or to us. I have run an extensive search of Starfleet’s weapons identification banks and found nothing resembling the energy traces detected by the Tholian sensors.”

Turning his attention once more to the viewscreen, Reyes folded his arms across his chest and said nothing as he rubbed his chin with his right hand. He was surprised to note the presence of beard stubble along his neck and jaw line. What the hell time was it, anyway? How long had he been on duty today?

Maybe that’s why you’re so damned tired.

Ignoring the question, he instead concentrated on the chart. A two-dimensional representation of this area of the Alpha Quadrant, the display outlined the gap of space sandwiched between Tholian and Klingon territory. The Federation border was to his left, while nothing on the right rimward side of the image was labeled, signifying the area as unexplored.

Had someone from that section of uncharted space come calling for their own purposes? Perhaps the explanation was even simpler, with a species indigenous to the Taurus Reach acting out against what they perceived as aggressive action. If that were the case, would such people make distinctions between Klingon, Tholian, or Starfleet ships? Were Federation colonists in danger from a known enemy, or instead a foe that had yet to make itself known?

Considering what had happened to Captain Zhao and the others on Erilon, Reyes knew these were not unreasonable questions. Every piece of new information regarding the Taurus Reach begged another question: If a new player is moving into the neighborhood, is it in any way connected with the meta-genome? If so, how might that affect the tenuous political situation already permeating the region?

We’ll be in the front row of the biggest conflict we’ve seen in more than a century.

“What are the Tholians planning?” Reyes asked, his attention remaining focused on the viewscreen. “So far, the attacks—if that’s what you want to call them—that have been carried out on Klingon ships don’t seem to amount to a whole hell of a lot. Why aren’t they attacking in force? They didn’t seem to have a problem going after the Bombay,so what’s stopping them now?”

“Lack of resources, I suspect,” Jetanien replied, moving across the office to stand next to Reyes. “So far, Tholian attacks on Klingon vessels have been scattered, and they’ve been forced to employ fewer vessels than they’re accustomed to using. As a result, their tactics have been largely ineffective and they’ve been forced to retreat. Likewise, the Klingons lack the ships, personnel, and matériel to truly escalate matters on their own, though I suspect that is a temporary handicap that both sides will remedy in short order, provided the situation is allowed to continue along its present path.”

Cocking his head in the Chelon’s direction, Reyes eyed his friend warily. “Do they teach you to talk like that in ambassador school?”

“Absolutely,” Jetanien answered without hesitation. “It’s a required course of study, you know.”

Reyes shrugged as he turned to move back behind his desk. “I can see how it comes in handy when you’re negotiating,” he said as he lowered himself into his seat. “You just bore everyone to the point they’ll do anything just to make you shut up.”

Bowing formally, the ambassador held his rather large right manus to his chest. “Yet another veil pulled back from the shroud that protects the grand secrets of diplomacy.”

“Gentlemen,” T’Prynn said tersely, as Reyes noted that despite her typical measure of self-control the intelligence officer was becoming perturbed at the casual banter. “If I may point out, Ambassador Jetanien made a valid observation regarding the likely heightening of tensions between the Tholians and Klingons. At least, it was valid at the time he first offered it. Since then, it is possible that circumstances may already have worsened past the point of no return.”

Despite himself, and the personal and professional stresses he had shouldered during the past month, Reyes chuckled at the Vulcan’s perfectly delivered, straight-faced observation.

Remind me never to play poker with her.

“Don’t tell me,” he said as he regarded the commander, “you’ve got a plan to make this all go away.” In the short time since she had been serving aboard Vanguard, T’Prynn had demonstrated an uncanny knack for resolving or disarming volatile issues with the easy, calm assuredness of a seasoned professional.

Her right eyebrow rising in a distinct arch, T’Prynn’s posture seemed to adopt an even more pronounced stiffness than she already had been demonstrating. “While I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Commodore, I feel that the ambassador is perhaps better qualified to address this situation.”

“Humility? That’s a first for me,” Reyes said. He could not readily recall T’Prynn, or any Vulcan for that matter, ever admitting that they were incapable of carrying out a task, whatever it might be.