“If we don’t, it’s the death of a thousand cuts,” replied Riker. “I’ll gamble over poker but not this. No, we need a better option.”
“Report from Lieutenant Hernandez on the Jazari ship,” said Livnah. “Some injuries among our people, but no serious casualties so far. They’ve evacuated the Ochre Dome.”
Vale saw past the wallowing shape of the damaged Jazari vessel, to the hazy fires of the distant plasma storms. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as an idea came to her, the same instinctive reaction she felt whenever she stepped into a holodeck sparring program. “I’ve got something, but you’re not going to like it.”
Riker smiled. “I like all your ideas, Chris.”
“Liar. Sir.”
He showed a thin smile. “Let’s have it.”
“Here.” Her long fingers tapped out a new course on her console, and she mirrored it to Riker’s panel and the officers at conn and ops.
“Ah…” At the helm, Lieutenant Cantua made a worried noise. “Commander, is this correct? You are aware that this heading will take us through the outer nimbus of the plasma tempest and directly into that storm cell?”
“I did say it wasn’t likable.” Vale took a breath. “We make a fast burn at full impulse into the storm, and take the Jazari with us. The Romulans will immediately lose long-range tracking—”
“So will we,” noted Keru.
Vale went on. “But the plasma fields will distort around the mass of their ship, even if it’s cloaked, and we’ll be able to see the effect. Like moving your hand through a cloud of smoke.”
“We track the distortions and we can target them.” Riker ran his fingers over his chin. “The problem is, every minute we’re inside the storm cell, we’ll be taking damage from the ambient radiation.” He blew out a breath. “You’re absolutely right, I don’t like it.”
Vale eyed him. “But we’re doing it?”
“Of course we are.” The captain straightened in his chair and gave out his orders. “Commander Livnah, contact the Jazari and tell them our intentions. Tactical and engineering, I want our shields at full power or as close as you can get them. Helm and navigation, input the XO’s course heading and take us into the storm.”
Vale took a deep breath to steady her racing pulse and drew up. “We’ll make this work,” she said aloud, half to herself and half as an affirmation for all to hear.
“We have to,” said Riker.
* * *
A flood of relief washed over Troi as the reparation capsule eased open and she caught sight of her son. Thad was ashen, but he was awake, and that alone made his mother’s heart soar.
“Mom…?” whispered the boy. “Zeeku.”
“Hello to you too,” she said, holding back her emotions. “Come on, we have to get you out of there.”
“Quickly,” added Qaylan, folding his arms over his chest. “We’ve done enough for you.”
“You do not speak for all Jazari,” said Zade, his temper thinning. “Don’t presume to.”
Qaylan snorted. “You would do well to think on your own position, Zade. While you were away dallying with these outsiders, I have been guiding the grand project. Your actions have put all of that in jeopardy!”
“Zade fulfilled the mission he was given,” said Keret, the technician coming to the other Jazari’s defense. “As each of us is tasked to do.”
Qaylan gave Keret an arch sneer. “Some execute their tasks better than others.”
Thad was on his feet now, and he took a few shaky steps. “Oh,” he gasped. “Woozy. I feel a little weird.”
“Please be careful, Thaddeus. Your body is still adjusting to the repairs.” Two of the orb drones drifted closer to Troi’s son, scanning him with sensor beams.
Thad gave his mother a weak smile. “Hey, Mom, have you met Friend? I was going to get her, to show her to you…” He blinked owlishly. “Shelsa said I made her up, but I didn’t.”
“I see that.” Troi deliberately ignored Qaylan’s glare and dropped down so she was level with her son. “Thad, do you remember what happened? Can you tell me how you got hurt?”
The boy’s face clouded. “I… It’s all fuzzy. There was a bright light…” He trailed off.
“Thaddeus’s short-term memory has been affected by his injury and the resequencing process,” said the drone. “I am afraid he will have lost some recall.”
“You may have your family reunion aboard your own vessel!” snapped Qaylan.
“He’s mean,” muttered Thad, holding close to his mother. “I don’t like him.”
“You need to leave, before—”
Qaylan’s words were drowned out by a grinding, screeching howl of tortured metal, and suddenly the chamber was shuddering. Thad’s grip tightened in panic and Troi pulled her son up into her arms.
“The Romulans…” The closest drone uttered half a sentence, and then without warning, the female voice died off as the walls around them trembled.
“This way!” Keret beckoned them to follow, moving toward the doorway as a shower of fragments fell from the curved overhead above.
Troi saw an ugly fissure erupt at one corner of the chamber and race over their heads. The overhead fractured and began to collapse, ejecting pieces of support structure and severed, spitting cables down into the room.
“Qaylan!” In a furious burst of motion, Zade threw himself across the chamber as a jagged section of the overhead fell in, directly above the quarrelsome Jazari.
In horror, Troi saw Zade shove Qaylan out of the way, saving the elder’s life at the cost of his own. In a shower of choking metallic dust, Zade was crushed beneath the falling debris and lost to sight.
“Move!” Keret shoved Troi forward, with more strength than she had thought he possessed. “You cannot aid him!” As he spoke, more of the overhead crumpled inward, flattening the orb drones caught beneath the collapse.
“Yes, move!” Qaylan stumbled past her, covered in white dust.
Troi pressed her son’s face to her chest, holding him close to protect him, and fled the ruined chamber.
They staggered out into the corridor, and outside, the situation was just as severe. The clean, blue-white lines of the great ship’s interiors she had seen on her way here were now marred by heavy structural damage.
“We can’t leave Zade…” Troi choked on the dust-filled air.
“You brought this on us!” spat Qaylan, staggering past her. “What you want does not matter!”
Troi swallowed a sob, feeling her son’s tears soaking into the front of her uniform tunic. The awful possibility that Qaylan might be right made her feel hollow inside.
Ahead of them, another of Friend’s drones came speeding around the corner of the corridor, and it pulsed with urgent energy. “Follow me,” said the voice. “We have evacuated your people from the Ochre Dome. I will reunite you.”
“And then you can leave and never return,” snarled Qaylan.
THIRTEEN
“Damage report!” Helek coughed out the demand, scowling through the wisps of smoke in the air from a blown-out command panel.
Dasix, the burly Reman engineer, responded immediately. “Minor damage to countermeasures and hull armor in three sectors. Cloaking system, weapons, drives, and life-support remain battle ready.”
“Good.” The major shifted in her chair, glancing in the engineer’s direction.
At first, Helek was disquieted by Medaka’s choice to put a Reman on the warbird’s bridge, flying in the face of the restrictions put in place after many of their kind had been instrumental in the coup led by the traitor clone Shinzon. But Dasix was fiercely competent, and more importantly, she knew her place. The hulking female understood that what little freedom she had was granted only as long as she served the Empire and this ship. Unless she obeyed Helek’s every order, she would be sent back to the mines of Remus, to perish when the star-death came.
Fear is better than loyalty, Helek told herself, and with Medaka in chains, everyone on th
is ship is afraid of me.
She decided to test that hypothesis. “Benem!” Helek barked out the name of the Garidian sensor officer, and she jerked in visible shock. “Status of enemy combatants?”
The long-faced decurion bent over her panel, nodding woodenly. “The… the Federation vessel appears to have abandoned its search for our ion trail. It is moving into the outer edge of the plasma storm zone. The Jazari vessel is on a parallel course with it.”
Helek stiffened. This was an unexpected move for the Terran captain. She had assumed that her earlier challenges would goad Riker into overextending his position and present the Othrys with a clear target. Instead, he had put his ship on a course leading directly into the hazardous storm cell—and the accursed androids were following.
“They are coordinating,” she muttered. “Working together.”
“Just as you said,” offered Lieutenant Maian, eyeing her from the nearby helm station. The old veteran’s tone was without weight, but somehow he still was capable of injecting a note of challenge into his words.
At length, he broke eye contact with Helek. The Reman, the Garidian at sensors, and the rest of the command crew were intelligent enough to understand that they served only as long as the major wished it. Whatever fealty these officers had for Commander Medaka, cold pragmatism and self-preservation now eclipsed it. But if Maian thought he was an exception, he would quickly learn otherwise.
“They cannot hope to escape us inside the storm.” Helek gave voice to her thoughts. “That Jazari barge won’t last a day among those plasma clouds.”
“What are your orders, Major?” said Maian.
She ignored him, concentrating on the warbird’s weapons officer. “Sublieutenant Kort. Lock all active-cycle disruptors on the drives of the Jazari vessel, and ready the primary weapon for firing.”
“That will take a few moments, if we are to maintain the cloak,” Kort said warily.
“Proceed at your discretion,” said Helek.
“Major.” Once again, Maian spoke up to attract her attention. “If we follow them into the storm zone, we put the warbird at risk of detection.”
“I am aware of the situation, Lieutenant,” she replied. “Perhaps your previous commander was reticent to make bold tactical choices, but I assure you, I am not.”
“Bold is often a euphemism for risky,” said Maian. “With respect, it is often more prudent for a starship commander to consider options offered by officers with greater tactical experience.”
Helek showed her teeth. “When I want your opinion, old man, I will call for it. For now, mind your post.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Maian’s craggy face turn stony. “As you wish,” he replied.
“All stations, commit to attack vector,” she ordered, the anticipation building in her. “Decloak and fire when ready.”
* * *
“Warbird on sensors!” Keru shouted out the warning. “Aft port quarter. Coming in hot!”
“On-screen.” Riker leaned forward in his chair, tensing like a sprinter on the starting blocks.
The main viewscreen snapped to an image from the rear of Titan’s primary hull, along down the sweep of the vessel toward its warp nacelles. Far behind it, forming out of nothing, came the Othrys. The malevolent glow from its main weapon glittered like a demonic eye.
“They’re going for the Jazari,” said Livnah. The black lines of her facial tattoos creased in annoyance. “Targeting those unable to fight back is the act of a weakling.”
The ship rocked as a low rumble passed through the Titan’s spaceframe. “We’ve entered the storm nimbus,” reported Westerguard. “The Jazari are right with us. Romulans are still coming.”
The infernal glow of the raging plasma fields lit up the space around the Titan, and it turned the warbird into an ominous black wraith. Riker was reminded of a huge raven; the carrion bird was a fitting match for the incoming attacker.
“Range?” He glanced up at Keru.
“Optimal,” said the Trill. “We won’t get a better chance than this, sir.”
“Shield status?”
Keru indicated the viewscreen, where sparks of energy were already flickering at the edges of Titan’s deflectors. “As good as we are going to get.”
Riker looked to his chief engineer. “Are your people ready?”
McCreedy returned a nod. “Aye, Captain.”
“All right. Execute tactical pattern Vale-Six-Delta.” Riker gave the command, and Titan turned hard, impulse grids flaring crimson as it cut across the path of the oncoming warbird.
The Starfleet ship put itself between the Romulan vessel and the Jazari craft, and at the same moment Keru unleashed a coordinated salvo of phaser bolts and photon torpedoes from the aft launchers.
Caught between the momentum of its headlong attack run and the urge to evade, the Othrys wavered for a heartbeat too long and took glancing hits from the barrage.
“Good strike!” said Livnah. “They will feel that one!”
But they had no time to enjoy the moment, as Commander Vale gave a new warning. “Romulan’s main gun has fired! Plasma bolt inbound!”
Once again, a streak of rippling star fire burst from the warbird’s prow, following an arrow-straight course toward the slower-moving Jazari ship.
“Dorsal shields to maximum, now!” Riker called out the order, and McCreedy set to work. “Helm, put us ahead of it. We’re going to take the hit for them!”
The lights on the bridge dimmed, and the captain felt himself grow lighter as even power from Titan’s internal gravity generators was diverted, reinforcing the deflectors across the upper surface of the starship.
The vessel pitched as Lieutenant Cantua stood the vessel on its port nacelle, relative to the motion of the Jazari generation ship. Titan interposed itself between target and weapon as the searing light of the unleashed plasma bolt closed the distance.
“All hands, brace for impact!” shouted Vale.
And then the blow came. Titan’s shields held for a fraction of a second, dissipating the initial contact energy in a massive flash of white fire, then they collapsed and the ragged remnants of the plasma bolt ripped into the starship’s hull with a force so violent Riker was thrown to the deck.
Power conduits around the bridge blew out in spurts of smoke and fire, and the captain felt his ship moan beneath him, the metal frame howling like a wounded animal.
“Son of a—” Vale bit off the end of the curse and pulled Riker to his feet. She had struck her head on her console and a bruise was already forming along the side of her cheek.
“I’m all right.” He waved her away and swallowed a gasp of air that reeked of burnt polymers. “Report!”
“Othrys has cloaked again.” Keru held on to the tactical station’s curved console like a drowning man clutching a life raft. “Same ploy as before.”
“Only this time, we have an edge,” said Riker. “Find them, Chris, before they can recover.”
“Aye, sir.” Vale dropped back into her chair, and Riker moved to the engineering station.
McCreedy adjusted her glasses and gave him a weak smile. “Bloody hell. Sir, please don’t ask me to do that again.” She worked her console, rerouting functions around damaged systems to bring the Titan back to ready status.
“No promises,” he replied. “Can we still make this work?”
“I can give you half impulse and ten, maybe twenty seconds of sustained phaser fire. After that, we’re down to bad language and throwing stones.”
“That’ll have to do.” He moved back to the midbridge, wincing at a jab of pain from his leg, from where he had fallen. Riker forced himself not to limp. His crew was looking to him for guidance and strength in this moment, and he couldn’t show an iota of weakness.
“I see a ghost…” Vale’s voice was rough from smoke inhalation, but there was steel in it. She stared into her monitor’s screen. “Yeah. There they are.”
“Confirmed. Sensors reading perturbation o
f ambient plasmatic medium at zero-zero-six mark two.” Livnah read off the location. “Likely source is a cloaked vessel. Confidence is high.”
“Tactical, lock phasers on the middle of that motion,” he ordered.
“Phaser lock is inoperative, sir,” said the Trill. “I’ll do it manually.”
“Mister Keru…” Riker jabbed a finger at the air. “Fire!”
* * *
“We hurt them.” Hade-Tah’s odd, toneless voice cut through the quiet on the warbird’s bridge. “They were willing to give their lives to save the Jazari.”
“Save them?” Major Helek echoed the Taurhai navigator’s words with acid, mocking emphasis. “That was just another empty gesture of false heroism. One more performative act of hollow virtue from the Federation.” She leaned back in the command chair, smiling coldly, pleased with her own words. “Mark me well. If Riker and his band of fools desire some meaningless death that pretends at courage, we will give it to them. And when it is over, they will be ashes and we will be victorious.”
“The Starfleet ship is turning toward us,” reported Benem, a rising note of concern in his reedy voice. “Commander… I mean, Major… be advised that we are experiencing a degree of edge-effect disruption to our cloaking field.”
“It’s coming from the plasmatic clouds all around us,” added Maian. “The ambient radiation level is greatly increased.”
“I am fully aware,” Helek snapped. The Tal Shiar operative had spent most of her career dealing with special-activities units on planetside missions, and while the Romulan secret service had trained her to command ships as well as soldiers, she was less experienced with the latter—which was exactly what Lieutenant Maian had been driving at with his earlier comments.
Maian clearly did not think her capable of running the warbird, and if she were honest with herself, Helek was finding the task a test of her patience. She was used to subordinates who jumped when she spoke, and who did not talk back so freely. More evidence of Commander Medaka’s laxity with this crew, she decided. He allowed them too much freedom of expression.
The Dark Veil Page 23