by Peter David
She knew the Priatians. Knew they had their legends and beliefs about a race referred to as “the Wanderers” who supposedly once dominated the Thallonian region. That new and emerging civilizations in Thallonian space—including, naturally, the Thallonians—had taken over worlds previously inhabited by the ancestors of modern Priatians. In so doing, they had effectively marginalized the Priatians, leaving the descendants of the once planet-spawning race to lick their wounds. The Priatians were left to complain that, eventually, the Wanderers would show up and restore Thallonian space to its proper balance. In some ways, they reminded her a bit of the Redeemers…except they weren’t especially dangerous. Just…eccentric.
Still, if they had done something to attract the Excalibur’s attention, then there was every possibility that they were more dangerous than Soleta had previously credited them with being. After all, it had been some time since she’d been assigned to Thallonian space, and it wasn’t as if she’d been making huge endeavors to remain up-to-date.
“I wonder if it has anything to do with the war,” she said thoughtfully. Although they had been fairly isolated, they’d intercepted random unguarded broadcasts that had enabled her to keep abreast of current conditions. She knew that the new Thallonian Protectorate had fallen into disarray, people choosing up sides in an all-consuming battle between the House of Cwan and the House of Fhermus and their respective allies.
“I suppose it is possible,” the tribune said. He regarded her askance. “Do you still blame yourself for it? For the war?”
“I never ‘blamed’ myself, Tribune,” she corrected him. “What I said at one point was that I wondered if I wasn’t partly responsible. From what we understand, the entire mess is somehow related to Kalinda, sister of Si Cwan, and her lover, Tiraud, son of Fhermus. And I was the one who informed Xyon, Kalinda’s former paramour, that she and Tiraud were to be wed. Xyon acted as if that news meant nothing to him, but now I’m wondering what chain of events he may have triggered.”
“From what we’re hearing, Legate, Tiraud is dead. Killed on his wedding night by Kalinda herself.”
“Yes, I know, but I don’t believe that,” said Soleta, shaking her head firmly. “It makes no sense at all. What does make sense to me…”
“Is that Xyon killed him?”
Now Soleta nodded. “Yes. Exactly. I think Xyon killed him, Kalinda is covering for him, and Xyon’s father, Mackenzie Calhoun, is rushing in with the Excalibur to try and salvage the situation.”
“But what does any of that have to do with Priatia?”
Soleta opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. She scratched her chin thoughtfully, and then said, “I have absolutely no idea.” She paused and then looked puckishly at Lucius. “Perhaps we should try to find out?”
“Are you suggesting, Legate, that we head out after the Excalibur and see precisely what they are up to?”
“I see little point to sitting here and accomplishing nothing. Perhaps the Excalibur is involved in something that could affect Romulan interests.”
The tribune did not reply immediately. She waited for him to respond, and when he did not, she prompted him with “Is there something on your mind, Tribune?”
“The Excalibur was your former assignment, before you joined the Romulan Empire,” said Lucius. “So it is natural to wonder—”
“Whether I’m motivated less by my loyalty to the Romulan Empire, and more by some leftover sense of being beholden to Captain Calhoun?”
“It had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “I should point out, Legate, that my personal musings are merely that and no more, and will not impact in the slightest upon my obedience.”
“Ah, but will it impact on your ever-valuable opinion of me?”
He shrugged, feigning indifference. Or perhaps it was no feint, and he simply didn’t give a damn.
“The ultimate purpose of this vessel, Tribune, is as a spy vessel. It is not a ‘sit around and await orders’ vessel. So…we might as well find something to spy on. And Captain Calhoun is as good a something as any.”
“Shall we set course for Priatia, then?”
“I think we shall.”
He bowed and saluted. “As you command, Legate, so shall it be done.”
She watched as he walked toward the door. “And Tribune…you are aware I was just joking about having sex. Right?”
“As with matters of respect, Legate…I could never be lovers with someone if I did not think they could kill me.”
She stared at him. “You’re a very twisted individual, Tribune.”
“I simply have my standards, Legate,” he replied, and headed off to the bridge to carry out his commanding officer’s orders.
ii.
(“Captain!” Kebron shouted. “Sensor readings indicate massive tachyon surge directly to starboard!”
“On screen!”
They had a clear view of something gargantuan swirling in space, like a massive whirlpool of energy. Energy crackled as if the very ether itself had come to life, and then it spit out a huge vessel the likes of which Calhoun had never seen.
“That’s it!” Xyon shouted, pointing at the screen. “That’s the ship that came after me! The one that took Kalinda!”
“Doesn’t look like any mirage to me,” said Calhoun. “Red alert! Morgan, shields up! Kebron, full phaser batteries online!”
The new arrival swatted them.
That was what it felt like, at least. Something, some sort of energy barrage, slammed into them just as their shields came up. The shields withstood the impact, preventing the Excalibur from being shredded, but they weren’t sufficient to stop the ship from spiraling out of control, as if the far larger vessel had simply reached through space and knocked them aside.
Throughout the ship, crew members were hurled this way and that, slammed into walls, ceilings. No one knew which way was up or down.
The whirlpool of energy coruscated on the screen directly in front of them, and Tania Tobias was shrieking, and Morgan was calling out, “We’re out of control!” as if that needed to be said, and Xyon was shouting Kalinda’s name, and that was when a tumbling Calhoun struck his head on a railing. The world began to spiral into blackness from the impact, and the last thing he heard before blackness claimed him was the apologetic voice of Keesala saying over the still active com link, “Please understand that we have nothing but the highest regard for you. Unfortunately, it appears you’ve gotten in the way.” And then came another voice, at the last possible moment, also filtered, shouting his name, and it sounded like Soleta of all people, but she was gone, long gone, another failure of which this new incident was only his latest and possibly his last…
And then the world went dark and he was gone.
Seconds later, so was the Excalibur…)
Soleta was on the bridge of the Spectre when they drew within range of the Excalibur. The starship had fallen into orbit around Priatia. Her gaze riveted to the viewscreen, she felt a curious tugging at her heart that was not remotely in keeping with the sort of attitude she felt she should have toward her former vessel. The bridge of the Spectre was remarkably cramped in comparison with a Federation starship bridge. Instead of the commander’s chair being in the center of it, Soleta’s chair was on a raised structure in the back, enabling her to look down upon the entire bridge in one sweeping view.
“Keep your distance, Centurion,” she told her helmsman, an extremely capable young pilot named Aquila who possessed a brashness Soleta found surprisingly refreshing.
“I hope you’re not concerned about detection, Commander,” said Praefect Vitus from the tactical station. Gruff and aggressive, he was all for throwing the Spectre into any manner of challenges, confident in the ability of his ship to prevail. “The stealth capability of this ship is second to none in the galaxy.”
“That’s as may be, Vitus,” replied Soleta. “But I can tell you from personal experience that Mackenzie Calhoun has almost a sixth sense for danger that borders on the s
upernatural. I have absolutely no interest in doing anything that could possibly trigger it.” She turned to the com officer. “Maurus…are they talking to the planet’s surface?”
“Yes, Commander,” said Centurion Maurus. “But it’s scrambled. It’ll take me a few minutes to punch through and tap into the frequency.”
“Keep at it,” she said. “I want to know what they’re saying.”
“You used to be the science officer on that vessel, Commander,” pointed out Lucius. “Perhaps you have some insight that can expedite the process…”
Soleta shook her head. “The frequencies are stacked on a random-oscillation variable,” she told him. “Makes it harder to listen in. And since it’s random, your guess is, quite frankly, as good as mine. It’ll be as much luck as anything else if Maurus is able to listen in.”
“I don’t need luck, Commander,” Maurus said confidently. “My skill will suffice.”
“Your confidence is appreciated, Centurion,” she replied. “Make certain to—”
“Commander!” It was Vitus who had called out to her. He was far too veteran an officer to show fear or even be disconcerted. But the concern in his voice was obvious. “I’m detecting a tachyon spike…”
Soleta was immediately out of her seat and at Vitus’s side. She had too much of the old science officer instincts in her to just sit about while someone else did the analysis. If it irritated Vitus, he gave no indication. She studied the readings, feeling—not for the first time—that Starfleet equipment was superior to what the Romulans had to offer. Still, this was sufficient.
“Something’s forming out there,” she said after a few moments. She looked up at the screen. “Something big. Helm, bring us back another five thousand klicks. Maurus, forget about trying to eavesdrop. Open up a direct channel to the Excalibur.”
It was a frozen moment on the bridge as all eyes turned to Soleta. “Commander,” said Lucius slowly, “are you suggesting we drop stealth…?”
“I am suggesting nothing, Tribune. I am ordering a direct channel to the Excalibur. Centurion Maurus, why don’t I have it yet?”
“Hailing the Excalibur, Commander,” Maurus said stiffly.
Soleta turned and was surprised to see that Lucius was standing right there, barely half a foot away from her. In a low tone that suggested burning anger and suspicion, he said, “With all respect, Commander, this is a breach of proto—”
She cut him off. “If something happens to the Excalibur, I want to find out who the hell they were talking to. I want to know what’s going on, and if that means—”
That was when the sounds of chaos came over the com unit. Maurus made no attempt to hide his surprised reaction as a cacophony of barely controlled pandemonium filtered through the Spectre.
She heard a woman screaming, and shouted reports coming from all over the bridge. Voices that she knew, although it was as if she were recognizing them from a lifetime ago. Before she could focus on it, try to discern what everyone was saying, Praefect Vitus was calling out with a measure of alarm that matched what was happening on the Excalibur bridge. “Commander, tachyon readings off the scale! Something’s forming in front of us…something huge. It’s…a vessel, Commander!”
“On screen!” called out Soleta, but it was already appearing on the monitor even as she ordered it. Her eyes widened as she said, “It’s too big. Reduce image size so I can see it more clearly!”
“That is with image size reduced,” Vitus said. At helm, Aquila audibly gulped.
“Back us up another ten thousand klicks, Aquila,” Soleta said evenly.
The Spectre promptly moved even farther away from the debacle that was unfolding before it, and Soleta was finally able to get a clearer view of what they were dealing with.
The design was completely asymmetrical, which made it look like no other vessel Soleta had ever seen. It was almost as if the various parts of it had been stuck together haphazardly, a series of tubes affixed to pulsing globes. It resembled the model of a gigantic molecule.
It loomed before the Excalibur, looking ten times as big. Energy was crackling around it, and suddenly something huge, swirling rippled into existence in front of the embattled starship. They were clearly trying to hold their position, but some sort of monstrous forces were exerting themselves upon the ship, dragging it forward despite its best efforts.
“Calhoun!” Soleta shouted, the name bursting from her almost against her volition. The outburst prompted glances from her bridge crew, and she could see the suspicion in Vitus’s eyes, but she ignored them.
It was hard for her to discern whether what she was seeing was genuine, or some bizarre trick of light, a distortion unrelated to reality. But it seemed to her that the Excalibur was actually twisting back upon itself, bending around as if it were made from rubber. Unimaginable energies had taken hold of it, swirling around the ship like some sort of cosmic sinkhole. It bore a resemblance to transwarp conduits such as she had seen the Borg use, but it was different, and the energy readings she saw on Vitus’s board didn’t match up precisely either. This was something different, with molecular-contortion capabilities that were unlike anything she’d seen.
It was no doubt a trick of perspective, but the Excalibur appeared to get smaller, smaller. It seemed to take an excruciatingly long time instead of the seconds it truly required, and then the energy wheel—for such did it look like to Soleta—spun in and upon itself and vanished. She thought she saw a brief little burst of energy that might have been the Excalibur right before it disappeared, but she couldn’t say for sure.
And then it was gone.
“What in the name of the Praetor is that thing?” whispered Aquila.
“I don’t know,” said Soleta. “But I’d very much appreciate, Vitus, some hard information so we can answer Aquila’s very reasonable question.”
“It’s not there,” said Vitus.
“What?” She turned to him, her face a question. “Are you saying it’s a mirage?”
“I’m saying that whatever’s there, our sensors aren’t picking it up,” Vitus told her. “All I’ve got is the residue of the tachyon emissions, but that was likely generated by whatever that rip in space was. I’m telling you, Commander, that thing…it’s almost as if it’s fake. An illusion.”
“Care to bet our lives on it?” asked Soleta.
He met her gaze without wavering. “Absolutely.”
“All right. Arm weapons. Drop cloak. Prepare to fire.”
“Aye, Commander.”
Lucius approached her and stepped in close. “With all respect, Commander, what’s the point of this exercise? We’re designed for observation, not for battle…”
“If that thing is truly what it appears to be, then it poses a threat to the Romulan Empire…to say nothing of everyone else I can think of,” Soleta said. “Determining the nature of potential threats falls well within our purview. Wouldn’t you agree, Tribune?”
Lucius nodded. “A valid point, Commander.”
“Thank you. Vitus…?”
“We’ve decloaked and are awaiting your order to fire, Commander. But without sensor lock, I don’t have a confirmed target.”
“Praefect, it’s only slightly smaller than a planet. Do you need me to come over and aim for you?”
“No, Commander,” he said stiffly.
“Excellent. Best guess, then. And…fire!”
The Spectre’s weaponry cut loose, torpedoes lancing through space and hurtling directly at the ship. Soleta watched intently, waiting to see if they would pass through the ship harmlessly, as would be expected if it was truly just a gigantic illusion.
The torpedoes struck hard against the vessel and then dissipated.
“All right. We have a problem,” said Soleta.
“Commander,” Aquila said, clearly working hard to control the concern in his voice. “I…think we’ve gotten their attention.”
“Now we have an even bigger problem.”
Aquila was right. The g
argantuan vessel had simply been stationary in space, but now it was turning on some vast, unseen axis and was starting slowly but determinedly toward the Spectre.
“Helm, plot us a course toward the Neutral Zone. Go to cloak, Vitus,” said Soleta, feeling that that moment wasn’t the best time to throw Vitus’s misplaced confidence back in his face. “Run us silent.”
Vitus nodded, cloaking the ship and engaging the ion glide so that the Spectre—like the ghostly images its name suggested—would be undetectable by any measure known to modern science.
Seconds later the Spectre angled away, cloaked in invisibility and silence. The vast ship started to dwindle in their sights, and then…
“Commander! They’ve opened fire on us—!” Vitus shouted.
He barely had enough time to get the warning out before the ship was struck by twin energy blasts that had ripped out from the underside of the much larger ship. Soleta could not remember a time when she’d been in a ship that had been hit that hard, and that counted attacks from the Borg. The Spectre spun around, completely out of control, tumbling through space. Soleta’s feet left the floor as she was sent sailing through the air, crashing hard against her command chair. Those who had been seated managed to remain where they were, but just barely. Something slammed into Soleta, and it took her a moment to realize it was Lucius. He muttered an apology and pulled himself off her.
Alarm klaxons went off all over the ship, and damage reports flooded in from all sections. “Vitus! Shields?” Soleta called.
“Holding, but just barely!”
“Engines?”
“Still online!”
“Full warp speed—!”
“Commander, if we drop ion glide and go to full warp, they’ll be able to detect us—”
“Use your eyes, Praefect! They found us just fine even with the silent drive! Now do as I say!”
“Yes, Commander!”
Still cloaked, the Spectre’s warp engines came online. Time and space bent around it as the Spectre threw itself into warp in a desperate attempt to put some distance between itself and its menacing attacker.