Destiny: The Complete Saga: Gods of Night, Mere Mortals, and Lost Souls

by David Mack

  A dead relic, preserved forever. Just like me.

  With her hand pressed against cold stone where life had once flourished, she felt a deepening grief. The tree would stand here, unchanging but unfeeling, impenetrable but isolated, unbowed but alone. Once I might have cried, she realized. Now I don’t know if I remember how.

  The glassy bark felt like ice, and she recalled the fates of traitors in Dante’s Inferno. Those found guilty of betrayal weren’t condemned to an eternity of fire and brimstone; they were cast down to Hell’s lowest level, the Ninth Circle, and sealed into Cocytus, a frozen lake where all human feelings and memory died. The few who cried went blind as their tears froze and sealed their eyes shut forever.

  Hernandez wanted to weep, but she didn’t dare. She had lost the way to her grief, and she was certain that the only way to find it again was to return home.

  It would be another seventy-three years before she caught up to her own history. Then time’s shape would no longer be in jeopardy, and she would feel free to plan whatever rebellion she could manage.

  Seventy-three years. A few grains of sand through the neck of the glass. A blink in the stare of eternity.

  She could wait.

  She had time.

  2381

  16

  Tuvok worked quickly, manipulating the tricorder’s settings into a decidedly nonstandard configuration. There was little time to spare; Ensign Torvig was waiting for his signal, and it was imperative that they act before the Caeliar realized what was happening. He heard the shallow breathing of Lieutenant Sortollo and Chief Dennisar, who stood behind him keeping watch for any sign of the Caeliar or Erika Hernandez.

  Keeping the plan a secret from the ever-attentive Caeliar had demanded a personal sacrifice on Tuvok’s part. He had mind-melded with Commander Vale to devise the plan, and then with Lieutenant Commander Keru to refine its details.

  Vale’s mind had been a tumult of contradictory impulses. Despite her professional demeanor, Tuvok now understood that she was driven by powerful inner conflicts. Keru’s psyche, on the other hand, was remarkably disciplined and focused. Tuvok was duly impressed at the Trill man’s emotional equanimity, given the tragedies of his past.

  Remain focused, Tuvok reminded himself. Timing is critical.

  Their captors had confiscated the away team’s weapons but allowed its members to retain their tricorders, on the condition that they not be used against the Caeliar. The Titan personnel were about to violate the letter and spirit of that agreement. Tuvok had made a detailed analysis of the structure and composition of a helically twisted tower of smoky glass and immaculate titanium, half a kilometer from his position, on the far side of an open and unoccupied plaza.

  He evaluated the results of a rudimentary simulation he had just conducted, and he judged it adequate for his purpose. A tap of his thumb sent an encrypted signal to Keru’s tricorder, several kilometers away. A moment later he received Keru’s confirmation. The second team was in position and ready to proceed. From his tricorder, he transmitted a hypersonic oscillation that was calibrated specifically to induce a resonance wave inside the spiral-shaped tower, which would then amplify it by several orders of magnitude.

  It would take a few seconds to build up to full power. While he waited, Tuvok appreciated a breath of warm, dry air and admired the powerful heat of the sun, high overhead. The city of Axion was cruising over a stretch of deep desert, and for a moment it made Tuvok nostalgic for the serenity of his home on Vulcan. Then a shiver traveled through the ground under his feet, and he heard a growing buzz of quaking metal and glass.

  Watching the reflections of the cityscape quiver on the disturbed glass of the spiral tower, Tuvok tapped his combadge. “Tuvok to Ensign Torvig. Acknowledge, please.”

  “Torvig here, sir. Go ahead.”

  The buzzing became a bright, metallic ringing. Then it turned to thunder, and every pane of dark-gray crystal on the tower exploded outward, pelting its neighboring buildings and the plaza below with jagged shards of glassy shrapnel.

  “Proceed,” Tuvok said.

  * * *

  Torvig had known his part of the away team’s escape plan for exactly sixty seconds. His friend, Lieutenant Commander Keru, had revealed it when he’d tapped Torvig’s flank, offered him a tricorder, and said, “Hey, Vig. Take a look at this.”

  On the tricorder’s screen was a miniaturized replica of the operations control panel of the shuttlecraft Mance. Somehow, Keru had reprogrammed the handheld device into a remote control for the shuttlecraft’s command systems. The small vessel’s one-person emergency transporter had been powered up and readied for a beam-up sequence, and it was targeted on Keru himself.

  “Not until it’s time,” Keru said.

  The young Choblik engineer clutched the tricorder in both bionic hands as he looked up at the burly Trill. “How will I know when it’s time?”

  “You’ll know,” said Keru.

  They stood together atop a rampart at the city’s edge, directly across the hundred meters of empty space separating them from the Mance and its platform, which were being towed on an invisible tether behind Axion. Dunes the color of nutmeg and cinnamon stretched across the landscape to the horizon in every direction. Torvig saw no vegetation or animals in the parched land; if not for the dull roar of hot, moving air, there would have been only the silence of a wasteland.

  Then came a voice, tinny from being filtered through his combadge: “Tuvok to Ensign Torvig. Acknowledge, please.”

  “Torvig here, sir. Go ahead.”

  A distant boom echoed through the metallic canyons of Axion, and Torvig hoped that it was part of the plan and not a sign that something had just gone terribly wrong.

  “Proceed,” Tuvok said, and Keru nodded in confirmation.

  Torvig initiated the transporter’s dematerialization sequence. A mellifluous drone filled the air. Keru was enveloped in a cocoon of shimmering particles. In seconds, the Trill officer was gone from sight. According to the tricorder, he had rematerialized safely aboard the Mance.

  Then all that Torvig could do was turn off the tricorder and wait to see what the next step of the plan was.

  * * *

  Keru had called it a stupid plan from the beginning, but it was the only real option available to them, and risking their lives on a desperate scheme had seemed preferable to surrendering.

  As soon as the transporter’s confinement beam released him, he bounded off the lone pad and sprinted to the cockpit. The air inside the shuttlecraft was stuffy from having been sealed off for more than two days. He planted himself in the commander’s seat, next to the pilot’s station, and powered up the craft’s sensors and communications suite.

  His first task was to verify their position, relative to the gap in the planet’s shell through which they had entered. Then he checked to see if the passageway was still open. It wasn’t. He began a sensor sweep of the observable surface of the shell, looking for another egress point. There were none.

  So much for flying out, he grumped in silence. Can’t get a signal out, either. Time to explore tactical options. He reached forward to raise the shuttlecraft’s shields—and every console in the ship went dark. His shoulders slumped. That’s not good.

  A tingling sensation raised the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. The darkened companels reflected a magenta glow that was emanating from behind him. Keru swiveled his chair to see Inyx hunched over, his tall form awkwardly confined in the tight quarters of the Mance. “Fancy meeting you here,” Keru quipped.

  “I must confess, I’m impressed by the versatility of your equipment,” Inyx said. “It’s a vast improvement over that of your recent predecessors.” He paused, apparently expecting a reply, which Keru didn’t give him. “I have to take you back, Ranul.” He opened the shuttlecraft’s side hatch with a wave of his arm and motioned for Keru to step out.

  Keru walked to the open hatchway and looked out at the silver disk waiting at the end of its extended ramp. “I f
eel like I’m walking the plank,” he said. He looked at the doubled-over Caeliar, and said, “After you.”

  “Gladly,” Inyx said, squeezing his gangly limbs through the exit. As soon as he was over the threshold, he straightened to his full height and seemed to be a great deal more relaxed. He walked onto the silver disk and beckoned Keru forward. “Your chariot awaits,” he said.

  Stepping down the ramp, Keru said with guarded interest, “Did Erika teach you that phrase?”

  Inyx seemed immediately self-conscious. “Yes, she did,” he replied. “Did I use it correctly?”

  “Yup,” Keru said, wondering just how close Hernandez’s bond with Inyx really was. He boarded the disk and moved behind Inyx. “I suppose we’re all facing some kind of punishment now.”

  “No,” Inyx said. “A degree of rebellion is expected. In time, you will grow out of such behavior—as Erika did.”

  * * *

  Troi felt as if a balloon filled with acid had just burst inside her stomach. Hot bile was being pushed up her throat, the pressure in her head was dizzying, and a rush of fever alternated with waves of chilling cold. Determined to hide her symptoms, she steadied herself with one hand on the terrace railing and funneled all her pain into a steely glare at Hernandez. “This is unacceptable, Erika.”

  “It’s done,” Hernandez said. “Inyx warned you not to use your scanners for hostile action, but you did anyway.”

  Another bloom of toxic pain stirred inside Troi’s belly, and she turned her grimace of pain into a scowl. “We need those tricorders,” she said, “and you disintegrated them.”

  “I did no such thing,” Hernandez said.

  “Fine,” Troi replied. “The Caeliar destroyed them.”

  Hernandez nodded. “Yes, in self-defense.”

  “But they destroyed the medical tricorder,” Troi said.

  “If you require medical attention, the Caeliar are fully equipped to provide—”

  “We don’t want their help,” Troi snapped. For a moment, her anger was stronger than her pain, and it felt good.

  Her remark seemed to provoke a melancholy reaction from Hernandez, who looked away from Troi, out past the cityscape to the desolate beauty of a violet sunset over desert canyons. In a soft voice, she said, “I used to feel as you do. My first officer was especially vocal on the subject. She used to tell me that accepting the Caeliar’s help was like sanctioning what they did to us. And maybe she was right. There have been times when I feel like I betrayed her by letting the Caeliar change me. But it’s not as if the Caeliar forced any of this on anyone. No one made us visit their homeworlds. It’s just bad luck we invaded their privacy, that’s all.” With a sad smile, she looked at Troi. “They’re not evil, Deanna. They just want to help.”

  Troi felt the sincerity of Hernandez’s words. She didn’t have to ask if Hernandez believed what she said; it was obvious that she did. “You identify with them, don’t you?”

  That caught Hernandez off guard. “What? No, of course not.”

  “It’s perfectly understandable, Erika,” Troi said, affecting her most sympathetic tone. “In a situation such as yours, it’s a normal defense response to seek an emotional connection with the most powerful figure, for protection. It’s what infants do naturally.”

  Looking offended, Hernandez replied, “I’m not an infant.”

  “No, you’re a prisoner,” Troi said. “And you wouldn’t be the first person to succumb to Stockholm syndrome. Is that why you gave up trying to escape, or to contact Earth?”

  Hernandez turned sullen. “I gave up because there’s no way out. You can’t outsmart them. They’re always a step ahead.”

  “Really? Even with your abilities?” Noting the apprehensive glance her question provoked, Troi continued, “I know you were at a disadvantage facing them alone, first without powers, and then without your ship. But we have a ship in orbit, and our technology’s come a long way since your time.”

  Shaking her head, Hernandez mumbled, “It won’t be enough.”

  “How do you know until you try?” She grabbed Hernandez’s sleeve and made her turn to face her. “You’ve been slapped down so many times by the Caeliar that you’ve gotten used to defeat.”

  The look on the other woman’s face became one of pity. “It’ll happen to you, too. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Time is what we don’t have, Erika. Earth is in grave danger, and so are hundreds of other worlds.”

  At the mention of Earth, Troi sensed a profound surge of emotion from Hernandez, who replied, “In danger? From what?”

  “Something worse than I can describe. We came here because we thought it might help us save Earth. Now we have to escape for exactly the same reason.” Watching doubt and hope struggle against each other in Hernandez’s eyes, Troi added, “If you won’t take a risk to help us, take one to help Earth.”

  Conflicting emotions played across Hernandez’s face, and for a moment Troi thought that she might have reignited some dormant spark of fighting spirit in the youthful-looking woman. Then Hernandez levitated up and over the terrace’s railing. “I need to think,” she said, drifting down and away.

  “Earth needs you,” Troi replied.

  Hernandez was silent as she descended into the gathering darkness. As she vanished into the shadows, Christine Vale stepped out onto the terrace with Troi and peeked over the railing. “Nice try,” she said to Troi. “But I don’t think we can count on her.”

  “Maybe not,” Troi said. “But I get the feeling we shouldn’t count her out, either.”

  17

  Dax watched the blurred rings of light on the main viewer as the Aventine neared the end of its tenth journey through a subspace tunnel in forty-eight hours.

  After unlocking several subspatial apertures each, the crews of the Aventine and the Enterprise had detected patterns that helped accelerate the decoding process. At their current rate, Dax figured, they were less than half a day from finding the Borg’s staging area and launching the allied counterattack.

  From the conn, Ensign Erin Constantino called out, “Clearing aperture twenty-one alpha in three … two … one.”

  A slight lurch accompanied the ship’s return to the Azure Nebula. As a flicker of electrical discharge lit up the roiling blue cloud, Dax saw the shadows of many starships, most of them holding position in tight formations. A few cruised in patrol patterns behind opaque swells of dense, semiliquid gases.

  Bowers said, “Lieutenant Nak, report.”

  Gaff chim Nak, the beta-shift operations officer, reviewed a cascade of data on his console and replied, “All systems nominal, sir.” A signal beeped on the Tellarite’s panel, and he silenced it with a tap. “Enterprise is hailing us.”

  “On-screen,” Dax said.

  Nak patched in the signal, and the image of the nebula was replaced by the aquiline visage of Captain Picard, on the bridge of the Enterprise. “Welcome back,” he said. “Any luck?”

  “Negative,” Dax said. “Passage twenty-one leads to the inter-galactic void, roughly nine hundred eighty-two thousand light-years from NGC 5078.” She added, “I see we have a few more friends than when I left.”

  “Yes,” Picard said. “Unfortunately, this group of vessels represents the last of Starfleet’s battle forces in this sector. Everything else is being held back to defend the core systems.”

  Dax frowned. “It’ll have to do. How long until the Cardassian fleet arrives?”

  “Twelve hours,” Picard said.

  “Time enough to run a few more sorties,” Dax said.

  Picard nodded. “Perhaps more. If we go through together, our computers can share the work of unlocking the return aperture and reduce our round-trip time by a third.”

  She signaled her approval with a smile. “Sounds like a plan, Captain.” Pointing upward, she added in jest, “Will our reinforcements be able to hold the line with both of us gone?”

  “There are only three hundred forty-two ships here, but I think they’ll mu
ddle through.” His serious demeanor returned. “In fact, I’ve ordered five pairs of ships to help us open and scout the remaining passageways. We’re also taking additional precautions: We’ve sent all our data about the subspace tunnels, and what we found on our scouting runs, to Starfleet Command and the Klingon High Command.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “The Klingon High Command?”

  “President Bacco’s orders,” Picard said. “We’ve also been directed to share all Borg-related tactical data with the Klingon Defense Force.”

  “Understood,” Dax said. She looked to Bowers, who nodded and moved off to delegate the necessary tasks. “We’ll start transmitting our logs now. As soon as we’re done, we’ll be ready for the next jaunt.”

  Picard replied, “We’ve already unlocked aperture twenty-two alpha. Enterprise is standing by to proceed, on your signal.”

  “Acknowledged,” Dax said. “Aventine out.”

  Nak cut the channel, restoring the nebula to the main viewer. Klingon and Romulan battle cruisers moved in and out of the turbulent sapphire mists, like predators of the deep circling before the kill.

  Bowers returned to his chair and sat beside Dax. He muffled a quiet chortle and shook his head as he looked at his feet.

  Dax had seen that reaction from him before, and she knew that it wasn’t good. “Something wrong, Sam?”

  “Twenty-one passages checked, six to go,” he said. “It reminds me of a famous Earth game.”

  Eyebrows lifted with curiosity, she asked, “Hide-and-seek?”

  “No. Russian roulette.”

  * * *

  The trip through subspace passage twenty-two was shorter than Captain Picard had expected, but only because its end came with no warning. Instead of the circle of darkness that he and his crew had seen on their previous jaunts, this time there was only light—followed by the deafening thunder of impact.

  “Shields collapsing!” declared Choudhury, whose hands moved quickly over the security companel. “Hull temperature forty-two hundred Kelvin and rising fast!”