by Peter David
“I will give you one last chance to cooperate,” said Soleta.
“That’s very gracious of you,” Sela replied in a throaty voice. “Ever so gracious. But I don’t need your chances.”
“You may not have as much luck with resisting a mind probe as you think you will,” Soleta warned her. “You are, I understand, half human. That will hamper you.”
“And you are a fool, so that will hamper you.”
Soleta did not rise to the obvious bait. Instead, she nodded her head in Kebron’s direction as she extended her hands in preparation. “I feel it necessary to warn you that if you resist my making physical contact, Lieutenant Kebron will enter this room and hold you down. That will be most uncomfortable for y—”
“Resist? Why? What possible reason would I have? Do you think I’m afraid of you?”
“I am simply…”
Sela was on her feet, and in two quick strides she was directly in front of Soleta. She grabbed Soleta’s wrists and, with that confident grin of hers, said, “Take your best shot.” And she slammed Soleta’s hands onto either side of her own head.
For the briefest of moments, Soleta hesitated, but she knew that way lay utter defeat. So she cast away her doubts and plunged headlong into Sela’s mind.
Sela had not overspoken when she talked of walking on the dark side. Soleta felt completely overwhelmed by darkness. Darkness all around her, impenetrable and chilling. Somewhere deep in the distance, she was sure she heard Sela laughing at her. The contempt irritated Soleta, fired her forward, and she plunged further, further on.
Run while you can, little Vulcan, came the warning, but still Soleta moved forward. All round her reality shifted and twisted, because there was no reality, there was only the subjective aspects of what she was perceiving within Sela…and within herself. For a meld was not simply a one-way connection. She was risking making herself as vulnerable to Sela as Sela was to her…
…except Sela didn’t seem vulnerable at all.
Soleta crashed into something.
It was huge and black and unmoving, and now the laughter was coming in from all around. She pulled back, withdrew her perspective, and she saw it in her mindscape. It was a gigantic image of Sela, a mile high it seemed, her face reflected in some sort of gargantuan mirror. The world twisted and turned back on itself around her, and still the image of Sela loomed over all. The blackness with which she had collided was the gaping maw of Sela’s mouth, wide-open and laughing at her.
There was no delicacy, no finesse to Soleta’s probe. She simply hurled herself with brute force against the image of her opponent. She slammed into it and she felt a painful shudder throughout her body, except of course she had no true body there, the pain was all in her mind and somehow that made it worse. But she could not go back, nor could she go around, she had to go through.
Having problems, Lieutenant? The image of Sela sneered at her, and then added, Here come a few more problems.
Black tendrils seemed to expand from all around, wrapping themselves around Soleta, and she did everything she could to shake them off. For a moment she was free and then once more she crashed into Sela’s massive face, and once more there was the pain of collision, and once more she got nowhere, and this time she was a bit more tired, a bit more frustrated, and even a bit more—
Frightened? Are we having problems, Lieutenant? What’s frightening you? The prospect of failure? Or the prospect of something more? Her voice was everywhere, not just all around her but inside her, inside her head, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape.
Escape? Is that your concern? Why would you want to run away? Is there something you are concerned I’ll learn? Come, come, Soleta, you wanted to find out my secrets. You should be willing to trade some of yours in turn. This is just girl talk, after all…
And the tendrils were back, and this time there was no shaking them off. Sela’s training had been too thorough, and it was more than just training, she burned, she burned with a dark and fearsome intensity that was painful in and of itself. And Soleta tried to pull away, tried, but Sela was everywhere now, penetrating and violating her, and she was thinking of what her mother must have suffered except she didn’t want to think of that because that way lay madness, and there was Sela’s face as huge as a star, filling up everything…
…and suddenly Sela’s face changed. It went from smug triumph to alarm. Soleta didn’t understand at first, but as the tendrils slipped away from her, she saw the first cracks appearing in the mirror image of Sela.
And a voice said, Calmly, Soleta. Calmly. That is what is needed here. Calm and focus.
She did not see the image of Selar next to her, did not perceive her in that way. But she sensed her, sensed the steadying presence.
Sela discerned the cracks that were appearing in her image, and a snarl of animal fury that carried psychic repercussions blasted out from her. Get out! Both of you! Get out while you can!
Are you with me, Selar? Soleta asked.
I am here. My hands are upon your brow. Our minds have merged. Do as you need.
GET OUT! Sela howled, and that howl translated into winds so massive, so deafening, that they threatened to blast Soleta right out of the mindscape.
But she drew strength from Selar’s presence, drew focus. And more, she began to draw upon herself. For she knew that Sela’s heritage was hers too. The fires of fury that burned within Sela raged within her as well. It was that pure, raw, fierce emotion that she drew upon now. Not calm, Selar, she thought, not just calm. You bring the calm…but it’s the calm before the storm.
And she summoned that rage, then, the rage and pure emotion that was part of the Romulan make-up, the rage that she felt over the circumstances of her own birth, the rage from the confusion and frustration and sense of desolation and separation that she had carried with her for year after year. All that she pulled to her, clutching to herself, and then she hurled herself forward straight toward the mirrored image of Sela.
Sela screamed in protest, but it was too late, far too late as Soleta smashed through. The image, the psychic shield that Sela had created, cracked and splintered and fell completely apart. And it poured out, it all poured out, images, awareness, facts, tumbling one over the other, and Sela was desperately trying to prevent the strip-mining of her thoughts; however, not only could she not slow it down, but Soleta was enjoying it with a primal fury that was terrifying to perceive.
Tell me what I want to know! Show me! You have no choice!
GET OUT!
Tell me, you Romulan bitch!
And it was there, everywhere, the Thallonian and the plan and the location and she just needed a few more details to help it all fit together and then she saw a horrible, horrible landscape, bodies, bodies piled up in mountains stretching so high that they blotted out the sun hanging in the sky, except it wasn’t the sun, it was something glistening and metal…
And then the world crashed in around Soleta.
Her body collapsed, and the only thing that stopped her from hitting the ground was Selar. It wasn’t that Selar caught her; Selar also collapsed, but as it turned out, Soleta fell on top of her so that her fall was slightly cushioned.
There was nothing to prevent Sela from hitting the ground, though, which she did with all the elegance of a sack of rocks.
Shelby and Riker were through the door in a heartbeat, Riker helping up Selar while Shelby attended to Soleta. “Soleta…are you all right?” she called to her.
Soleta stared at her, trying to focus her eyes. “You don’t have to shout, Commander. I’m right here.”
“Oh, thank God. I…I heard this shriek…and…” Shelby turned to Riker. “Did you hear it, too…?”
He nodded. “In my head. Nothing spoken.”
“Psychic backlash,” Selar now spoke up. Riker was helping her to her feet. “Even those who have no telepathic leanings can sense such an event.”
“What happened to her?” Although Shelby was propping up Soleta, she w
as now looking at Sela. The Romulan was lying flat on her back, staring up at nothing. Her eyes were glazed over. “Doctor…?”
The doctor was already tapping her comm badge. “Selar to sickbay.”
“Sickbay,” came Maxwell’s quick response.
“We need a team up to the brig, immediately.” She was checking Sela over briskly even as she was speaking to Maxwell. “Blood pressure, vital signs all appear minimal but within safety limits…”
“What’s happened to her?” demanded Riker.
“Brain fried,” Soleta said tonelessly. They all looked at her, and she noticed that Selar was nodding. She continued, “To put it in human terms…we strip-mined her. Forced our way in, took what we needed. She fought…valiantly…but realized that she was losing the fight. So she…burned herself out.”
“You mean deliberately?” said Shelby, appalled.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. It wasn’t that difficult, really. Everything that she was turning outward for the purpose of resisting us…she turned inward instead. Like burning the crops so that the attacking forces can’t use the food.”
“Will she recover?”
“I…don’t know,” Soleta said. “I’ve never actually seen this technique used. I’ve heard whispers about it, stories of people who had done it to themselves as a sort of mental suicide out of extreme depression…but I’ve never witnessed it myself. I have absolutely no idea of what to expect in terms of her recovery.”
“And as long as she’s like this…we can’t find out anything from her?” asked Riker.
Selar shook her head. “It would be like trying to read a book with blank pages. She has done to herself what her people did to us: She has crashed her computer.”
“Which leaves us right back where we started.”
“No, Commander Shelby,” Soleta said. “Not quite. I…learned some things. Some terrible things. Saw visions of what’s to come…saw those involved, or at least some of them…”
“Do you know where they are? Where to find them?” asked Riker.
She nodded, but then added, “What I don’t know…is whether we can do a thing about it.”
XVII.
CALHOUN STARED OUT at empty space and tried to figure out what in the world it was that he was supposed to see.
In his freighter, he had arrived at the designated coordinates at the same time as General Thul, who was piloting his own vessel, a sleek mini-cruiser that looked as if it was more than capable of handling itself in most combat situations. Truth to tell, Calhoun had been concerned if, once he was out in space, he might be subject to some sort of sneak attack or ambush arranged by Thul or his minions. That was why he was somewhat relieved that Vara Syndra was with him.
She was wearing something a bit more substantial than body paint this time, but the clothes were still extremely tight and rather revealing. She positioned herself in the co-pilot chair in such a way that he wondered if he would ever be able to look at anyone else sitting there in quite the same way.
“Why are we sitting here?” Calhoun said after a brief time. “There’s nothing out here. What’s the point?”
“Oh, you’ll see. The General likes to be mysterious,” and she said the word ‘mysterious’ in a deliberately dramatic manner. “That’s just his way. You know,” and she leaned forward, displaying her ample cleavage, “instead of simply complaining, I can think of ways in which we could pass the time.”
He looked at her, regarded her thoughtfully. He’d had a lot of time to think about her. When he had woken up in the middle of the night, she had been lying on his shoulder, snoring softly. He had studied her for some time, giving matters a good deal of consideration. He knew himself. He knew what others were capable of. And he had come to some rather interesting conclusions.
“Pheromones,” he said.
He got precisely the reaction he was hoping he would get: startled. He’d said something that she had not remotely anticipated. “Wh-what?”
“Pheromones. You generate them in such a way that I, and any other male, couldn’t help but be affected by them. You can regulate it however you wish, ‘turn on the charm,’ as it were. You can crank it up to high heat, which is what you did with me, depending upon what it is that Thul wants you to do. Problem is, you did too good a job on me. You made it so that I couldn’t think straight. Except I can always think straight.”
“I…don’t know what you’re talking—”
“Yes, you do.” When he interrupted her, he did so with no rancor. Indeed, he sounded a bit sad. “I don’t know whether you come by it naturally, or if it’s somehow been implanted into you. Don’t know, don’t care, really. The most depressing aspect of all is, I have absolutely no idea whether I would have been attracted to you just because of you yourself, or whether you need something like being able to artificially stimulate male hormones in order to function. If I had to guess, that’s probably a bit depressing for you, too. Not to know, I mean. Considering the way you look, it’s somewhat sad to think that you would have to depend on something chemical. Or…do you really look that way…?”
She turned away from him, then. “Here’s my back,” she said with far more anger than he would have thought she was possible of generating. “Just stick a knife into it and be done with it.”
“Vara,” he said softly, “listen—”
“No,” she snapped, looking back at him. “God, you’re all the same. The surface is all that matters to you. And you know what? I thought you were different. I thought you’d know me. That you, of all people, would know me. But you don’t know anything. You know what I wanted to do after you fell asleep last night? Leave. That’s what I usually do. But not with you, no. With you, I stayed. I totally, totally let down my guard with you…”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I thought I could. Because I thought we had connected on a deeper level than simply the physical. Because…” A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. “It doesn’t matter,” she said finally. “None of it does, I guess.”
“Why are you hooked up with General Thul?” he asked. “Look what he’s doing to you. He uses you.”
She stared at him with eyes that were glistening. “And I use him. Everyone uses everybody else, Mackenzie. And anyone who says otherwise is probably one of the biggest users of all.”
“Vara…”
Suddenly Calhoun’s ship-to-ship comm channel flared to life. “Calhoun. Are you still with us?” Thul sounded particularly jovial.
“I’m here, yes. Although I’m wondering why, exactly. Is there some deep, hidden meaning to the fact that we’re sitting here?”
“Just being cautious. I generally like to do a detailed scan of the area before going home, just to make sure that there’s no one about who shouldn’t be here. But I’m pleased to report that the area is clear.”
“It’s certainly clear of anything that could possibly be called ‘home,’” Calhoun observed.
“You should not always believe what your eyes tell you, Calhoun. First appearances do not necessarily mean anything.”
“Yes, I think I’ve heard that occasionally,” he said with a sidelong glance at Vara. She was looking resolutely away from him.
“Welcome to my home, Calhoun.”
Calhoun still had absolutely no clue what Thul could possibly be talking about.
And then, in the near distance, space began to ripple. At first Calhoun thought it was something dropping out of warp space, but then he realized it was a ship dissolving its cloaking field. His immediate instinct was to prepare for battle, for when Romulan vessels dropped their cloak, it meant that they were about to open fire.
Then he realized that the dissolution field was too wide. It wasn’t just one ship, it was a fleet of ships. A huge fleet…but…there was no space between the ships…it was one, big, solid, wavering mass…
“Grozit,” whispered Calhoun.
It was a gigantic sphere, massive beyond belief. The thing could
have contained the entirety of Starfleet within itself and had room left over for the Klingon fleet and a few others as well. It blotted out everything. Calhoun had his viewscreen on maximum reverse magnification, and he still couldn’t make out the whole thing. He prodded the freighter into reverse.
“Don’t run away, Calhoun, it won’t bite,” came Thul’s voice.
“I’m not running away,” said Calhoun, “I’m just trying to get a better view of the thing.”
Within moments he’d backed up far enough away so that he could see it in its entirety. “It’s a Dyson Sphere,” he said.
“I believe that is what terran technology refers to such a structure as, yes. Call it what you will. As I mentioned, I call it home.”
“But it’s impossible! Cloaked? How can you possibly cloak something that big?”
“I’ve been working with the Romulan empire for some time now, Calhoun. You would truly be amazed what a few people with determination, resources, and sufficient hatred for the Federation can accomplish. Follow me, if you please.”
Thul’s ship moved toward the sphere, and Calhoun fell in behind him. The closer he got, the bigger it got. His instrumentation gave him readings as to the size, but knowing it intellectually and seeing it up close were two entirely different things. “How did he build it?” he asked Vara. “How long did it take? How—?”
“You can ask him,” Vara Syndra replied. “I’m just here for my looks.”
Calhoun rather wisely decided not to press the point.
They moved through the massive entrance bay, passing through to the interior of the sphere itself. It was, to all intents and purposes, hollow. This hardly meant that it was empty, however. For starters, there were dozens, perhaps hundreds of ships, parked within. Furthermore, the walls of the sphere itself were lined with walkways, residences, work areas. Toward the top and bottom of the spheres, Calhoun spotted hydroponics growing fields where fresh food was being cultivated. And straight down the middle of the sphere was a huge, pulsing device that Calhoun immediately recognized as an infinitely larger version of a Romulan cloaking device. He saw that it was feeding off a core that was a modified version of a warp core. The Dyson sphere had no means of propulsion, however. It simply utilized the combination of matter and anti-matter explosions to feed its energy needs. He also saw workers casually walking vertically along the outside of the core, getting from one point to the other, and he realized that the sphere was creating an artificial gravity by the simple expedient of rotating on an axis.