Star Trek Discovery- Fear Itself

by James Swallow

  “Fire on that ship,” ordered the captain. “Give them something else to think about.”

  Shenzhou’s phasers sent out a barrage, but at this range the Tholian cruiser shrugged it off and kept on pummeling the Peliar warship. Burnham saw the survivability numbers spiraling down and down on her readout as the carrier’s hull integrity dropped by the second. “They’re not going to make it,” she breathed.

  “Captain.” Saru’s image was wavering in and out, but his voice was still clear. “We are bringing the freighter closer. Can you distract the cruiser’s attention and give us cover fire?”

  “I thought I gave you an order to stay out of trouble, Lieutenant,” said Georgiou.

  “Respectfully, Captain, the vessel I am aboard is under Commander Nathal’s authority, not yours.”

  “Done,” said the captain, unwilling to argue the point. “Try not to get yourself killed, Saru.”

  “That is my intention every day of my life,” said Saru, slightly confused by the statement. “Good luck.” His image faded away again and Burnham looked up, catching Ensign Troke’s eye.

  “Scanners are picking up energy fluctuations in the star-freighter’s systems,” said the Tulian. “They’re diverting power to their transporter grid.”

  “Saru’s going to try to beam the survivors off the carrier,” said Burnham.

  “He’d better hurry,” snapped ch’Theloh. “Their warp core is destabilizing.”

  “Let’s give the lieutenant what he needs,” Georgiou broke in. “Detmer, put us on an attack course with the Tholian cruiser. We’re going to pick a fight with the bigger kid.”

  • • •

  The Shenzhou flashed past on the command deck’s main monitor, and Saru shared a fearful silence with Weeton and Yashae as the three of them watched their ship race into danger.

  Saru felt strangely abstracted from events. Part of him felt like he should be over there, on the bridge with Captain Georgiou. He had a sudden, terrible vision of the Shenzhou battered by enemy fire, her hull raked by beam weapons as a rain of escape pods jetted away.

  Two of Ejah’s hands clasped around his wrist, and he had to pull himself away from the viewscreen to look at her. “Not today,” she told him with a weak smile. “Not if we follow the path.”

  “Yes.” He shook off the frightening mental image and concentrated on the controls. “Hekan, Kijoh. Can we activate the transporters in a single sweep?”

  The Peliar and the Gorlan exchanged a wary look. “There will be a risk to those we beam up,” said Hekan.

  Kijoh nodded. “A staged-phase transport would be better.”

  “How much longer would it take?” Saru asked.

  “Lieutenant, I can compensate for any phase drift!” Ensign Weeton broke into the conversation. “I’ve tied us into the computer core on board the Yang, see, the shuttlecraft’s duotronic matrix can process twice as fast as this ship’s—”

  “Do it!” Saru interrupted.

  “We need to be close,” said Nathal.

  Saru nodded, manipulating the helm controls. “One pass over the length of the carrier . . . I hope it will be enough.” He was going to say more, but a flurry of brilliant lances cut through the darkness on the main screen, briefly silencing him as the Shenzhou and the Tholian cruiser traded fire.

  “The Starfleet ship has drawn their attention,” said Madoh with a frown. “I suggest we not waste the opportunity.”

  “Together,” breathed Ejah. “We can succeed together.”

  “I’m taking us in.” Saru applied power to the star-freighter’s impulse engines and the big ship barreled toward the mauled carrier, vectoring into an approach that would pass within hundreds of meters of the warship’s splintered, battered hull.

  “Locking on to life signs,” said Madoh. Despite the tension, he still maintained the same calm focus as before. The hub’s centering influence remained firm. “Ready to transport.”

  “Signal from Adjutant Craea,” called Yashae. “His crew are ready to evacuate.”

  Another flare of silent detonation flashed off in the distance, a miniature star glittering as a photon torpedo struck the Tholian cruiser. Blinding spars of light crackled back and the Shenzhou veered into them, taking hits that could have struck the other vessels.

  Once again, Saru forced himself to look away from the unfolding melee, and he threw Nathal a sharp nod. “Ready, Commander.”

  “Hekan . . .” Nathal gestured to her second. “Bring them aboard!”

  “Energizing,” said the other Peliar, turning a pair of virtual dials to their maximum range as the freighter made its pass. Every system on the command tier briefly lost power as the energy shunt took place, lights fading, then returning.

  “We’ve got them!” Weeton broke out in a grin as a train of blue indicator lights illuminated across his screen. “Transporter cycle is active, pattern buffers holding!”

  “Shunt the survivors into the cargo modules along with the Gorlan refugees,” ordered Nathal. “The wounded will be safer there.”

  “I don’t think any of Tauh’s crew were expecting to end their day being rescued by us,” noted Kijoh.

  “Lieutenant, the adjutant wants to be beamed directly to the command deck.” Yashae shot Saru a look.

  “Ensign Weeton?” Saru looked to the other officer, who nodded back at him.

  “Diverting his pattern . . . now.”

  A column of emerald light formed on a pad in the far corner of the compartment as the freighter completed its run and moved away into open space. On a secondary screen, Saru saw the view aft as the damaged carrier fell away behind them. Orange fire glowed in the wounded vessel’s thruster grids, and it began to move of its own accord.

  Saru turned back as the hum of the transporter effect faded and saw the Peliar officer Craea standing on the deck. His ornate headdress was gone, and the fine tailoring of his uniform was marred by burn marks and ragged tears along one arm. Coughing, the adjutant stepped forward, patting himself as if to check that his body was still intact.

  Craea looked up and met Nathal’s questioning gaze. Saru saw the look that passed between them and watched the commander’s face fall. “My father . . . ? The admiral . . . ?”

  “He chose another path,” the adjutant said sadly, coming forward to put a hand on Nathal’s shoulder. “Rather than return to Peliar Zel in disgrace, he chose service.” He nodded toward the screen, where the carrier was gathering momentum for an attack run.

  “No!” Nathal took a half step away from her station, then halted, turning rigid.

  Saru felt a stab of empathy for her. She was in command, and she had a responsibility to her crew and everyone on board her ship. But she was also Tauh’s daughter, and despite his behavior, it was clear she still cared deeply for him.

  “I warned her,” whispered Ejah.

  In that instant, Saru glimpsed a fraction of the burden that Nathal was carrying. The price of being a captain, he told himself. It was a sobering thought.

  “Do we have all the remaining survivors?” said Nathal, her voice almost catching.

  Weeton gave a nod. “Confirmed.”

  “Then we must give the admiral the fighting room he needs,” she replied, turning to look toward Saru. Her moment of fragility was gone.

  Saru accepted the order with a solemn nod and vectored the star-freighter onto a new course, putting distance between them and the engagement.

  On the screen, the crescent-shaped carrier fell into a wall of fire spitting from the Tholian cruiser’s cannons.

  • • •

  “He’s still coming!” shouted Januzzi. “Captain, the Peliars mean to ram them!”

  “Kayla, get us clear!” Georgiou gave the order, but Detmer was already doing it, putting the Shenzhou into a climbing impulse turn that sent them out of the Tholian cruiser’s fire corridor.

  Burnham’s hand went to her mouth in shock. She couldn’t look away as the Peliar carrier threw itself headlong into the heaviest concentr
ation of energy bolts and began to crumple. She blinked away the smoke issuing from the bridge’s overloaded EPS conduits, ignored the wail of the starship’s alert sirens, and watched the carrier meet its end.

  The two warships collided with a flash of uncontrolled discharge, and the claws of the Tholian cruiser seemed to close around the arc of the Peliar carrier’s hull. Then Tauh’s ship was breaking apart into two great severed chunks of burning metal, flaring and combusting against the blackness.

  The metallic-crystalline form of the Tholian ship skidded through space, unable to absorb the full force of the collision. The cruiser’s deflectors collapsed in a flash of radiation, and cascading shock damage became visible all along the dorsal and ventral surfaces. But still, the vessel’s weapons glowed with their fierce, diamond-sharp fire. The warship’s sacrifice had been a body blow, that much was certain, but it was not enough to end the fight.

  “There’s still another operable spinner out there,” said Ensign Troke, as if he was reading Burnham’s thoughts. “And that one we hit earlier.”

  “Captain, the Tholian cruiser’s shields are down across the board,” reported Gant. “They’re defenseless.”

  “We can end this right now,” said ch’Theloh, rounding on Georgiou. “Hit them with everything we have before they get their systems back up.” The Andorian’s antennae reeled back across his scalp. “We can send the Tholian Assembly a message they won’t soon forget.”

  “Lieutenant Gant, charge all forward phasers and load photon torpedo tubes.” Georgiou drew herself up, her manner becoming cold and clinical.

  “Captain?” The word slipped from Burnham’s lips. This wasn’t what she expected from the woman she considered her mentor. Even in the face of such naked aggression from the Tholians, the thought of landing a killing blow here and now struck Burnham as a step too far.

  Georgiou held up a hand to silence her. “Michael . . . when you pull a weapon, you have to be ready to use it.” She looked toward Ensign Fan’s station. “Mary, give me ship to ship. I think they’ll listen to us now.”

  Fan gave a nod. “You’re on, Captain.”

  “Attention, Tholian vessels, this is Captain Georgiou aboard the Federation Starship Shenzhou. You were warned not to turn this into a fight, but you ignored us. You violated nonaligned space with military intent. You deliberately provoked this situation by sabotaging a Federation monitor buoy, assaulting a Gorlan colony world, and firing on Peliar Zel starships. There is no doubt in my mind that you have done this in order to justify the expansion of your borders, and sow chaos among your neighbors. This will not go unanswered.” She glanced at Gant. “Lieutenant, lock all weapons on the Tholian cruiser and prepare to fire.”

  Burnham’s breath caught in her throat. She’s actually going to do it.

  And then Georgiou caught her eye, and there was something there that said otherwise. “I give you notice,” continued the captain. “The colonies of the Gorlan and the people of the Peliar Zel Cohort have the protection of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, whether they ask for it or not, whether they are members or not. Unwarranted attacks on them will not be permitted.” She took a step forward, knowing that her image was being projected directly onto the bridge of the Tholian craft. “If you don’t back off, then you will be fully responsible for what happens next. This skirmish can end here . . . or the next shots fired will be the first salvo in a Tholian-Federation war. The decision is yours.” Georgiou made a throat-cutting gesture, and Fan closed the channel.

  Every voice on the Shenzhou’s bridge was stilled. Only the steady bleating of the red alert continued to sound, marking out the seconds as they passed. Finally, ch’Theloh spoke. “Burnham, you’re the xenoanthropologist. Tell me, how well do Tholians respond to threats?”

  “In all honesty, Commander?” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Good,” said the captain, “then this will be educational for everyone.”

  A chime sounded from the communications console. “They’re hailing us,” said Fan.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  The ensign touched a control on her panel, and a faceted shape appeared, projected in midair over the deck. The Tholian’s strange, gemlike form studied them with a withering, fiery glare. “Your ship crossed our borders in order to reach this location. That is a violation of treaty agreement.” The screeching voice was like nails dragged across a blackboard.

  “You broke the rules first,” noted ch’Theloh. “And we are on a rescue mission. What’s your excuse?”

  The Tholian concentrated its attention on the captain. “We do not desire open war. But we will aggressively defend our borders. We will discourage all those who seek to encroach upon the Assembly’s territories.” The alien paused, and Burnham sensed it was holding back a more belligerent response. “Know this. If our sovereignty is violated again by Federation vessels, or those of any other species, those craft and all aboard them will be considered prisoners of the Tholian Assembly. If you test this resolve, then it shall be war.”

  There was no wait for a reply. The hologram winked out as the Tholian’s grating warning rang around the bridge.

  “Detecting power spikes in their engine core,” said Troke. “The cruiser is moving off, back toward the border.”

  “Confirming that,” noted Detmer. “Looks like that other spinner is tractoring the damaged one out as well.”

  “Give them some space,” said the captain, and then she blew out a breath. “But . . . let’s just keep a bead on them until they’re out of weapons range.”

  Georgiou looked back, and Burnham met her gaze. “Would you have done it?” she asked quietly as the bridge crew got back to work. “Crossed that line?”

  Burnham’s mentor was quiet before she found her reply. “Michael, I am very glad that is a question I did not have to answer today. I hope I can reach the end of my career and never have to find out.”

  • • •

  Yashae was waiting for Saru at the foot of the ladder leading up to the airlock in the ceiling, where the shuttle Yang was still docked. Weeton’s head peeked out from the open hatch and he gave a nod, before retreating back inside.

  “Everyone’s accounted for, sir,” she told him. “Zoxom beamed back to the Shenzhou with Lieutenant Commander Johar and the other casualties. Subin is already on board.”

  Saru nodded, and hesitated. Now that the time had come for him to leave, it felt hard to let go. The Kelpien had the unpleasant sensation that when he departed, the delicate peace he had helped to create would start to crumble.

  “We will take it from here,” said Nathal, standing a few meters away, picking up on his reluctance. “Thank you, Lieutenant Saru, for all you have done.” The commander’s hard-edged manner had been blunted by her recent experiences and her losses. She was still finding her way back, he realized, and once more Saru was struck by the sense of what she had to be feeling.

  Too often we think our leaders have all the answers, that nothing can affect them, he reflected. But Saru had been thrust into that role over the past few days, and he had learned the hard way how untrue that was. I knew it would be challenging, but not like this.

  “Our people thank you also.” At Nathal’s side, Ejah stood with the Gorlan engineer Kijoh, and the hub inclined her head to him. “You should know that Madoh has promised to surrender himself to the Cohort’s authorities. He will take full responsibility for his actions against the Peliar Zel and accept their justice. His crimes were fueled by desperation, but they were not the deeds of all Gorlans.” Ejah glanced at Nathal. “I hope we can take steps to heal the divide between our species, Commander.”

  “We have each transgressed against the other,” Nathal said with a rueful nod. “No more.”

  “The Federation will be glad to offer any help it can, to both your peoples,” said Saru. He managed a brief smile. “In the meantime, I have some actions of my own to take responsibility for.” He took a step toward the shuttle, but that
reluctance to leave pulled hard on him and he halted again. “Forgive me,” he began again, “but I cannot depart in good conscience without saying something.”

  Saru drew himself up and took a breath, surveying the faces of the Gorlans and the Peliar. All of them were so unlike one another, not just by nature of their outward appearance but by their cultures, their upbringing, and their beliefs. The idea of such disparate beings putting aside these things to find common cause seemed like an unclimbable mountain, at best an alliance of convenience that would fall apart once the threat that forced it into existence was gone. He had to show them that there was more at stake.

  “These facts are undeniable. The galaxy is a dangerous place, and there are threats out there that you cannot anticipate. The next time, your enemies will not simply turn around and leave.” Saru blinked, seeing dismay on their faces. He pressed on. “The Tholians endure. The Assembly continues to test its limits, as the Gorlan colony learned, and you must have no doubt that the moons of Peliar Zel are in their sights.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “Don’t allow yourselves to be driven by fear. Fear of them, fear of us, fear of each other.” Saru gestured at the group. “I have lived a life of dread and I have learned that it cannot be dispelled if you are alone. Unity brings light. And light pushes back the dark.”

  He turned away and moved to follow Yashae up the ladder, but once more Saru felt that now-familiar tug on his sleeve and the ghostly presence of Ejah’s aura pressing at his senses.

  “Saru,” she said, speaking quietly so no one else could hear her. “I want to tell you something, before you go.”

  He halted. “Yes?”

  All four of her hands clasped around his, and her gentle serenity washed over him. “Don’t struggle so,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Don’t push so hard against what you are. Embrace it.”