“No. They design them so they can be fired into hot nebulae. That casing’s duranium and tritanium.”
“Ingenious. What do they make chains out of?”
“Neither of those, probably.”
“Ah,” Xaatix said, as creepily calm as she’d been from the start. “I suppose if the chain gives out, the timer becomes irrelevant.”
“Timer?” It was the first Kyzak had heard of it. “Um, Xaatix, were you going to mention that sooner?”
“It does not appear to be activated. But before you ask, I am neither aware of how to remove it nor in a position to do so.” She went silent for a moment. “Can we deactivate the fortress’s shield generator? Get Titan to beam the torpedo out of here? Or us?”
“The Sentries never showed us where the generator was.” Kyzak didn’t want to spend the last moments of his life running around looking for something that might be buried in a subbasement somewhere. He knew the shield began its protection several hundred meters above the surface, with a generous opening to the south, in the direction of the causeway.
Thinking of it, Kyzak remembered how he’d arrived on H’atoria—and an idea dawned. He tapped his combadge. “Ensign Bolaji, I need the shuttle over here, right away!”
• • •
Valandris watched the Breen shuttle lift off, carrying the Breen and Kinshaya with it. None of the occupants had been targeted by Kruge; she had simply let them board and depart. But she was at a loss as what to do next.
Staring up at the fortress, she saw that Beroc and Bardoc, the hulking twin brothers she’d known on Thane, had left their post at either side of the great doors. As they descended the stairs toward her, she could read the bewilderment in their eyes.
“What do we do?” Beroc asked when he reached the foot of the stone steps. “They’re not going inside.”
“Should we force them in? Or close the doors?” added Bardoc.
The torpedo timer’s countdown was supposed to start at the closing of the doors, yet at the moment the damnable Kersh stood in the doorway, visibly hectoring Riker. Whatever was to have happened here, the conference appeared to have fallen apart.
That changed nothing. Seeing the general—spawn of the vile nobles who had condemned her people—ranting at her Federation lackey in the place where she intended to betray her people to the Romulans outraged Valandris. And there was the old Romulan female beside Kersh, amused with all of them. Her kind won wherever chaos reigned. What duplicities had she devised in her long life?
Valandris decided she was tired of deception. She was going to make sure her enemies knew what she thought in no uncertain terms.
• • •
Riker was searching for a swear word in Klingon with which to respond to General Kersh when Troi appeared in the doorway and yanked his arm. “There’s a bomb,” she said.
“Don’t even joke right now.”
“No, Admiral, there is,” she said. Her eyes were wide. “I just hailed Titan. They’re standing by to evacuate.”
Ambassador Tocatra recoiled. “A bomb? In there?” The gray-haired Romulan moved quickly from the doorway to the edge of the terrace where the stairs down to the causeway began.
Finding the impulse sensible, the others did the same—and as they descended the steps, both Kersh and Riker opened channels on their communications devices.
The admiral was in the middle of a report from Vale when a Klingon voice he hadn’t heard before shouted. “General Kersh!”
Riker and Kersh looked at each other. The voice came not from their communicators, but from one of the wide intermediate landings below, the one closest to the start of the causeway. The woman he’d thought to be the captain of the guard stood there, flanked by the two Sentries who’d been standing by the doors. With one hand she ripped her mask away and bared her teeth, while with the other she lifted her bat’leth high.
“I am Valandris of the Unsung, the people your family condemned at birth. I declare myself to you, General Kersh—and now I will have my revenge!”
Twenty-six
Riker stood his ground, processing the new information. “I take it you’re not the captain of the guard.”
“I killed him,” Valandris said. “We killed them all. You are next.” To either side of her, the two young Klingons who’d guarded the entrance discarded their bat’leths and drew disruptors from their vests. Behind them, many of the guards who’d been stationed on the causeway approached, similarly armed and ready to support her. Back up the stairs was no escape: Riker could see the Sentries who’d remained on the northern end of the island working their way across the rocky slope on either side of the stairs. They did not look friendly.
The Unsung had replaced all the Sentries.
Kersh looked at them—and then glowered at Valandris. “You slew our honorable guardians in their sleep, no doubt—as befits a discommendated worm.”
“They died on their feet. But I have announced our presence now,” Valandris said. She pounded her chest with her free hand, as if to declare she thought that was good enough.
Riker glanced at Troi, who was helping Tocatra stand. The aged Romulan’s defiance seemed to have abandoned her. “The rest of us are unarmed,” the ambassador said to Valandris. “I have done nothing to you. My government will reward you if you free me.”
“That’s not happening.”
“By Kahless, I’ve had enough!” Kersh yelled. She drew her d’k tahg. A ceremonial addition to her uniform, but deadly. She walked down the few remaining steps to the landing. “I owe you for my grandfather—for my whole house!”
“Yes,” Valandris said. “You owe us.” She stepped forward, gripping the bat’leth with both hands, evidently welcoming the engagement. “Beroc, Bardoc, tell the others. Whether she falls or I, finish the rest off. And then the fortress.”
Riker spoke up. “Can I say a word first?”
Squaring off, Kersh and Valandris both looked at him. At the same time, they asked in aggravation, “What?”
He touched his combadge. “Aphrodite.”
U.S.S. TITAN
ORBITING H’ATORIA
The Unsung were below. Sensors showed waves of Klingons approaching where the northern body of the island met the causeway. The admiral and the diplomats were still underneath the fortress’s force field; there was no way to transport them up.
And there was the small matter of Lieutenant Kyzak’s bomb.
One thing at a time, Vale told herself. While Titan’s crew was hundreds of kilometers above the action, Ensign Bolaji was much nearer, lifting off from the southern landing zone in shuttlecraft Handy—appropriately named, that was.
And other help was even closer.
“Admiral has given the word,” Sariel Rager reported from ops. “Commander Keru’s team confirms receipt and is in motion.”
“Red alert. Arm phasers,” she ordered. “Watch for aerial response.” If the Unsung were on the surface, their birds-of-prey had to be close by.
SPIRITS’ FORGE
H’ATORIA, KLINGON EMPIRE
It was Ranul Keru’s wild card, as they would have said at the poker table. Admiral Riker had approved of the audacious plan immediately upon learning of it earlier, despite the fact that he had agreed that the Klingons alone would handle security on H’atoria.
As the Unsung closed in, Riker’s eyes darted past them to the ocean. Dozens of meters from the island’s shore, past the zone where the lava flows heated the water, a helmeted head broke the surf. Then another. And another. One of the Unsung gave a cry, and the others looked behind them. On either side of the causeway and surrounding the northern cape, Titan security officers in environmental suits rose from the surf like the Aphrodite of Greek myth.
And yet unlike her, as Keru and his crewmates broke the water entirely, carried aloft by antigravs. An hour earlier, Titan had transported them underwater to locations beyond the reach of the fortress’s shield and the causeway’s transporter inhibitors. Beneath the surface, they ha
d watched and waited.
Additionally, Aphrodite had not been armed with phaser rifles. “Drop your weapons,” Keru’s amplified voice ordered. “Now!”
Vale had told Riker all was ready earlier, but Kersh, who knew nothing of the plan, looked stunned. Kersh’s opponent Valandris appeared even more flummoxed. Riker heard her start to say something—but if she had any control over the Unsung forces, it disappeared as they pointed their disruptors outward at their new foes hovering over the sea. Keru’s people, ready, began firing.
“Let’s go!” Riker yelled. Keeping his head down, he saw that Troi was helping Ambassador Tocatra back up the long, winding series of steps toward the fortress. The Ferengi envoy was already far ahead. Kersh, apparently realizing melee with Valandris wasn’t worth getting shot in the crossfire, chased up the stairs after Riker.
“You weren’t allowed to bring security to the island!” Kersh yelled as they reached an intermediate landing a quarter of the way up the steps.
“They’re not on the island, General,” Riker replied.
PHANTOM WING VESSEL CHU’CHARQ
ABOVE H’ATORIA
“What the hell?”
Aboard Chu’charq’s bridge, Raneer looked back at Cross. “Excuse me, Lord Kruge?”
The break in character couldn’t be helped. Even after they had moved closer to the action, it had been difficult for Cross to make sense of what was happening on the island. Yes, a problem had broken up the conference before it could start, thwarting plans to bomb the fortress, but the faux Sentries should then have massacred Kersh’s and Riker’s entourages.
Valandris had unmasked, blowing that plan. That had brought their forces out of hiding, turning an ambush into a standoff. Then the Starfleeters had surfaced, and all reason had ended.
“I detect a lift-off of a shuttle from the southern peninsula,” Hemtara reported. “It is one of Titan’s. The Klingon support ships are powering up.”
Standing by Cross’s command chair, Shift offered, “None of them can be allowed to reach the fortress. Until Kersh is killed, the mission cannot end.”
“Wise counsel from the sage N’Keera,” Cross said. “Order Bregit and Kradge to destroy the shuttles.”
“My lord, they will be revealed,” Hemtara said.
“Their brothers and sisters fight valiantly below. Carry out my orders, now!”
Cross had thought to suggest the other birds-of-prey fire on the crowd at the northern end of the causeway directly, but with the Unsung from Chu’charq down there, he was reluctant to order it. It was better to save confrontations with his dupes for when there wasn’t as much enemy hardware in orbit overhead.
U.S.S. TITAN
ORBITING H’ATORIA
“Captain,” Tuvok said, “I detect an explosion on the surface.”
“The bomb?” Vale asked.
Tuvok looked up from the tactical display. “No, on the southern cape. One of General Kersh’s parked shuttles was destroyed. Readings indicate it was struck by a ten-megawatt disruptor burst—equivalent to the yield of a bird-of-prey’s secondary cannon. That was the same weapon the Phantom Wing used at Gamaral against the Enterprise.”
Word came from ops. “Sensors detect no vessels present, Captain.”
“They’re cloaked. Make sure General Kersh’s forces on Gur’rok know,” Vale said. “Tuvok, the next time you detect disruptors, fire a series of phaser bursts randomly distributed within a hundred meters of the source—so long as it’s clear of any friendlies.”
“Aye.”
To Vale’s right, Sarai stiffened. “Captain, I again remind you of the guidelines provided for the conference by Lord Korgh.” The first officer had already balked earlier at Keru’s plan, to no avail. “We are not authorized to fire at targets on the planet.”
“We’re not firing at a target. We’re firing at nothing.” Vale smirked. “And besides, I think the Khitomer Accords trump Lord Korgh’s guidelines.”
No matter what the man himself might want to think.
Twenty-seven
THE GREAT HALL
QO’NOS
For the thirtieth time today, Korgh longed to be at Ketorix, monitoring things from Odrok’s secret command center. So much was going on at Spirits’ Forge, and while everything up until this morning had gone according to plan, at least according to Cross, he thirsted for knowledge.
Instead, like all the other High Councilors, he stood in the Great Hall’s command center and listened to the dispatches coming from the vessels orbiting H’atoria. In a case of marvelous timing, Chancellor Martok was absent, away on some inspection tour; Korgh seized the chance to rail against the Unsung and a timid chancellor who once was respected but was now out of his depth.
And, of course, he spoke against the Accords. The Federation’s blunders had once again brought harm inside the Empire. Wasn’t it time to look at where the interests of the Empire really lay?
“Someone has destroyed another of our shuttles on the surface,” came the audio report from the observer aboard Gur’rok. Korgh tut-tutted and prepared to speak, knowing exactly what he planned to say.
He wished he knew how the day would end. It would tell him which version of his speech to give.
SPIRITS’ FORGE
H’ATORIA, KLINGON EMPIRE
Breathless as he swiftly ascended the staircases to the fortress, Riker risked a quick look behind him. The carnage at the southern spur could not be missed, even with a firefight going on in the foreground and volcanic fog in between.
A disruptor blast from nowhere resulted in another island-shaking explosion, and a titanic pillar of flame climbed over the southern cape. The fury from Kersh, racing beside him, was almost as hot. “They are trying to destroy ships before they can launch!”
And doing a fine job of it, Riker thought. That made for at least one bird-of-prey in the area. He hoped that was all.
He was about to turn back and resume scaling the stairs when he spied another flash—followed by a blinding sequence of searing bolts from the sky above. One of the shots from orbit struck something, and for a split second Riker thought he saw a cloaked object partially appearing.
“They’ve hit pay dirt,” Riker said. “Wonder if that shot came from my ship or yours?”
“I don’t care.” Kersh clenched her fist in triumph. “So long as they keep firing!”
Suddenly a ship that was definitely Starfleet’s streaked from the fog. Riker and Kersh saw shuttlecraft Handy racing out across the ocean, weaving as disruptor bolts came from an invisible attacker. Piloted by Ensign Bolaji, Handy rolled over, under, and looped back. Then it streaked toward the southern cape, attracting more fire from the cloaked vessel.
The strange chase attracted the attention of some of the combatants on the ground when Handy returned for a long, low pass, cutting across the causeway diagonally. Unsung warriors on the land bridge fired their disruptors upward. A blazing flash of ionized air filled the sky as another series of orbital phaser blasts rained down.
The barrage struck the invisible predator directly, and the unseen vessel slammed into the causeway, causing an eruption of stone and debris. Riker goggled as a Klingon bird-of-prey, jerked into the visible realm by the impact of its left wing, pinwheeled crazily across the ocean before exploding violently a kilometer away.
The conflagration prompted a pause in the melee further down the slope—but it was short-lived, as the Unsung renewed their counterattack with vigor. Riker and Kersh turned and headed up the remaining stairs—only to hear the scream of engines as the belly of Handy flashed dangerously close overhead. Rocketing just meters off the ground to pass beneath the fortress’s defensive shield, the vessel continued northward.
Riker quickened his pace, hopeful Handy was there to evacuate them. When the vessel curled around the fortress and disappeared behind it, he wondered what was going on.
Kersh had a guess. “There is a clearing between the northern exit and the petrified forest. I will get you through the
fortress and on board.”
“You will?”
“You are my house’s guest—no matter how badly this has gone.” Kersh’s face went dark. “It seems Starfleet is not alone when it comes to failing at security.”
• • •
From her position behind a boulder, Valandris lowered her disruptor and gaped in horror at the blazing mass out to sea to the east. She found the small combadge inside her sentry uniform. “Chu’charq, are you there?”
She waited long seconds for the answer. Then Hemtara answered, “That was Kradge.”
Who was aboard? she wanted to ask. But phaser fire was in the air, and the list would have been too long to bear. Fully one-twelfth of the community, people she had known all her life, were aboard the Kradge.
The flames still reflecting in her eyes, she turned her fire on the Starfleet officers. Riker and Kersh had not deserved her warning. She would chase them to hell.
PHANTOM WING VESSEL CHU’CHARQ
ABOVE H’ATORIA
That could have been me, Cross thought as he looked out on the sinking wreckage of Kradge.
The Phantom Wing vessels were heavily stocked with ordnance brought from Thane—too stocked. Once Kradge went in hard, one explosion led to another. He doubted there would be any evidence for the Empire and Federation to discover.
The Unsung on the bridge eyed him intently, sure that their Lord Kruge would order Chu’charq into the fray. They expected he would lead them into battle, throwing the ship at the island and blowing away Kersh and anyone who had sought to protect her, heedless of any threat.
And on the Blackstone, hovering invisibly five hundred meters off Chu’charq’s bow, Gaw and the other truthcrafters would be chewing off their fingernails in hopes he would think of something else.
“We will have our revenge,” he finally said. “Open our secure channel to Zokar and the others. Have them make sure whatever ship fired on Kradge never does so again.”
And then, dear heaven, let them help us escape. I’ve had my fill of playing Kruge.
U.S.S. TITAN
ORBITING H’ATORIA
“Captain, I have detected something,” Tuvok said. “Just above the planet’s surface, in the region of the island group. Energy being directed between two points which sensors report are unoccupied.” His brow furrowed, and he got a faraway look. There is something oddly familiar about it.
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