STAR TREK: The Lost Era - 2298 - The Sundered

by Michael A. Martin

  Faraerth searched his soul. Whatever misgivings he had developed lately about total war, he could find no fault with Gran Drech’tor Zafir’s decision. We must cling to life any way we can. Even if the cost is the doing of unpalatable things.

  Such had always been the price of Neyel survival. And Faraerth knew that he would never hesitate to pay that price in defense of his people, their Coreworld, Holy Vangar—and the distant, nigh-legendary planet Aerth.

  Faraerth stepped into the gentle breeze of an Oghen afternoon and walked toward the squat buildings of the War Complex. He paused on the skystone steps, ignoring the busy crush of minor functionaries and office workers who stepped briskly past and around him.

  He looked up into the deep blue-and-ocher sky toward where he knew the Riftmouth—and distant Aerth—lay. A faint but definitely visible aurora sparkled and shimmered in the distance. Such things had been occurring with increasing frequency of late, but no one knew for certain why. This particular display might have been a simple interaction between Oghen’s energetic star and the planet’s necessarily powerful magnetic field.

  Or it might be Riftspace closing ever inward on us. A sign that even now the damned Devils are preparing to lower the Riftmouth into the very sky of Oghen and set their fleets upon us before we can react.

  Faraerth recalled a time aboard Slicer when the Efti’el drive had malfunctioned, leaving the ship stranded in a fractured region of space that closely bordered the Riftmouth itself. Fully half his crew had begun to go mad during the half-day it had taken to repair the engines sufficiently to escape the Rift’s pernicious influence.

  [305] Would such a fate eventually befall everyone on Oghen as Riftspace invaded the inner system? He imagined a sacred world transformed into a place fit only for madmen and Devils. The thought made Faraerth shudder.

  Peering beyond the forest of spires that made up the great city’s skyline, Faraerth lowered his gaze to the horizon. Although the sky was still bright, he could see Holy Vangar, the longtime home of all Neyel prior to the historic Oghen Planetfall, as a gleaming pinpoint. Lately he had begun fantasizing about piloting the Great Rock itself out of its current orbit. He vividly imagined attaching a forest of Efti’el nacelles to its surface in order to fly it back to its original place—the womb of Auld Aerth’s stable Elfive Point.

  The recurring fantasy buoyed Faraerth’s spirits. Maybe the unlikely survival of one named after Far Aerth is an augury, he thought as he resumed his steady march toward the War Complex offices.

  Should the Riftmouth set every Devil alive against us, Neyelkind will regain the ancestral homeworld of Aerth.

  PART 9

  RECONCILIATION

  Chapter 27

  “It’s beautiful, is it not?” Jerdahn said, leaning on the railing that overlooked the aft observation deck’s huge window. “Holy Vangar, the Great Rock, never ceases to inspire. For me, it symbolizes both the timelost past and a future in which that past might be regained.”

  Burgess couldn’t help agreeing, and she was glad that Jerdahn had come aboard to view the famous O’Neill habitat with her. Though half an hour of watching the huge object’s stately procession across Oghen’s face had gotten her used to Vanguard’s reality, she still felt like a medieval pilgrim who had just touched an aged sliver of the True Cross.

  Though she was farther away from her birthworld than she had ever been before, she felt, paradoxically, as though she had come home.

  It was time.

  “Commander Rand, please hail Drech’tor Joh’jym,” Sulu said.

  “Aye, Captain.” Rand set about her business in her usual efficient manner.

  A second or so later the image of the Vanguard Colony vanished from the main bridge viewer, to be replaced by the faces of Joh’jym and Oratok.

  [310] “My thanks for allowing Excelsior to visit Oghen, if even for a short time,” Sulu said. He knew it couldn’t have been as simple as “allowing” Excelsior to orbit his homeworld; he had no doubt that Joh’jym must have convinced some very important and powerful people that Excelsior was not a threat or some secret weapon sent by the Tholians. Joh’jym had to be an influential figure within the Neyel power structure.

  Sulu continued: “I regret that we lack the time to visit the surface of your world, and to get to know your people better.” I would have loved to get inside Vanguard, too, he thought wistfully.

  Joh’jym looked grave. At least, Sulu thought he looked graver than usual. “So you remain determined to return to the Devils who would destroy you?”

  “I assure you, there are any number of things I would rather do than fight the Tholians,” Sulu said. “But I’m afraid we can’t stay here any longer. We must return to our own space.”

  He omitted mentioning that far more than the welfare of Excelsior was at stake. As slender as it was, the only hope for averting the bloodbath for which the Neyel were now preparing was to convince the Tholians to sue for peace. And only by meeting Yilskene in truthcombat would he have any chance of broaching the topic with the Tholian political and diplomatic castes.

  Then, a way had to be found to convince the Neyel to call off the dogs of war. But even Joh’jym, as friendly as he had proved to be since Yilskene had trapped Excelsior and Oghen’s Flame, seemed unable to consider any peace that wasn’t preceded by the complete annihilation of the Tholians.

  The current grim situation took him back to his Starfleet Academy days, when he’d taken the no-win Kobayashi Maru test. He had opted then to allow the few hundred personnel aboard the doomed freighter to die rather than risk war with the Klingons.

  [311] Compared to today’s circumstances, that Kobayashi Maru scenario had been a picnic in Golden Gate Park. Even if I manage to save the lives of my crew, war is still just about a foregone conclusion.

  Weariness and despair threatened to engulf him as he considered just how long the odds were, not just for himself, but also for two societies, and maybe even for Earth itself.

  “Would that our invasion fleet was ready to leave this day,” Joh’jym said, snapping Sulu back to full alertness. “You would have aught to fear from the Devils on your way home.”

  “Thank you. But my purpose here is to prevent a war, if at all possible.”

  Joh’jym laughed as though Sulu had just cracked a joke. “I tried to convince my superiors to allow me the use of several warships to escort you safely through the Devil phalanx. I regret that I failed in that attempt. Some of the high drech’tors inside the War Complex distrust your motivations, it seems, in spite of my intercession on your behalf.”

  Sulu nodded sadly, though he counted himself fortunate that the Neyel military hadn’t tried to blow Excelsior out of the sky. “There’s a war on,” he said. “I understand your people’s need for caution. Excelsior will depart as soon as your traffic authorities grant us clearance. In the meantime, we will return Jerdahn to your vessel with our transporter.”

  “That is premature, Hikarusulu. Jerdahn need not return to us until your vessel and mine are ready to part company.”

  Sulu blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “I said I failed to assemble an escort fleet. However, I still command Oghen’s Flame. Thanks in part to the assistance of your engineers, she is now quite spaceworthy.”

  Sulu was incredulous. “We inflicted considerable damage on your ship, Drech’tor Joh’jym.”

  “We Neyel are long accustomed to dealing with far more catastrophic damage. Repairing our most critical systems was not difficult, especially with your Commander Azleya and her [312] crew helping us. Now we are ready. When do we depart for the Riftmouth?”

  “We fired on you, remember?” Sulu said.

  “And we fired on you,” Joh’jym said with a shrug. “But that was before we understood one another so well. You later saved Oghen’s Flame from the Devils’ trap. It is a debt I must repay.”

  Sulu shook his head. “I can’t allow you to put yourself and your crew at risk on our behalf.”

  A
smile spread across Joh’jym’s hard features. “They are my lives to risk, Captain.”

  Sulu wondered for a moment whether the Neyel commander was actually concealing a different, more sinister, agenda. Perhaps his real plan was to have another crack at the Tholian colony that Yilskene’s ships had come to defend.

  Then he decided to take Joh’jym at face value. Peace, after all, had to begin with trust. And if he returned to Yilskene accompanied by a Neyel drech’tor, perhaps Ambassador Burgess could at last find an opening to get a Tholian-Neyel dialogue started after all.

  Hope rising within him, Sulu returned the Neyel commander’s smile. “Thank you, Drech’tor. Take us out of orbit, Mr. Lojur. Lay in a course for the rift.”

  Anxious, Chekov watched the forward sensor displays carefully as Excelsior navigated the gray expanse of interspace. The vessel was nearing the interspatial aperture that opened up deep into Tholian territory.

  “What’s ahead of us, Pavel?” Sulu wanted to know.

  “No sign of any energy webs,” he reported to the captain. Relief washed over him; Yilskene hadn’t barred the door, as it were. And in the absence of the Tholians’ charged filaments, outrunning Yilskene’s small flotilla was going to be easy.

  “I confirm Commander Chekov’s findings,” Tuvok said [313] from sciences. “Unfortunately, I also believe I also can explain them.”

  At the same moment, Chekov’s sensor display explained the situation to him as well. His heart went into freefall.

  Chekov moved toward the bridge railing. “Captain, the reason Yilskene isn’t bothering to lay energy filaments in our path is because he doesn’t need to.”

  Sulu frowned. “Why?”

  “Because it looks like he’s summoned half the Tholian fleet as reinforcements.”

  Chapter 28

  Seconds later, Excelsior and Oghen’s Flame emerged together once again from interspace. Fortunately, Yilskene and his massed reinforcements—Tuvok had counted more than four hundred small but heavily armed Tholian ships, with more apparently on the way—did not immediately open fire.

  Admiral Yilskene’s multifaceted visage was up on the bridge viewer seconds after the arrival of the admiral’s hail. Sulu imagined that if the Tholian’s face could have registered human-perceptible emotions, it would have displayed a look of intense surprise at Excelsior’s sudden reappearance.

  “You escaped our energy web, Captain Sulu. And yet now you have returned. You have one of your minutes to explain yourself, or we will summarily destroy both your ship and the intruder vessel.”

  Sulu looked straight into his adversary’s blank eyespots. “Admiral, I believe that you and I still had an appointment to engage in truthcombat. I have returned to you ready for combat, in order to lawfully win the freedom of my vessel—and that of the Neyel ship.”

  Yilskene’s head moved slightly from side to side. “Very well then, Captain Sulu. Your lawful challenge will stand, as scheduled. You will face your death—and the destruction of [315] both your vessel and the intruder’s—in twenty of your minutes.” The screen abruptly went blank.

  Sulu immediately rose from his command chair and stalked toward the situation room, calling on Chekov, Tuvok, Hopman, and Akaar to follow him. The group quickly entered the chamber, leaving Rand in charge of the bridge.

  As the doors hissed closed, Sulu turned to Akaar and Hopman. “Have you found anything further that will help me gain an advantage in this fight?”

  Hopman shook her head. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’ve already given you and Lieutenant Akaar everything I could dig up. The Tholians haven’t been exactly forthcoming with information about their personal fighting styles. All I can really offer you now is the obvious: Yilskene will be going for the kill. It’s hard to imagine him yielding. You may have no choice other than to kill him.”

  “My intent is to gain Yilskene’s cooperation,” Sulu said. “Even if I have to place him under physical duress to do it. I think the admiral is a pragmatist. He’ll listen to reason if his alternative is dying on an alien’s monoblade.”

  “You’re assuming that you’re going to win,” Chekov said, his voice grave.

  Nodding, Sulu matched his old friend’s grim tone. “If I assume anything else, Pavel, then this mission has already failed.” He trained his gaze next on Akaar. “Lieutenant, what can you tell me about the weaponry I’ll be using?”

  Akaar opened a canister that contained the monoblade used by Mosrene to assassinate Kasrene. He carefully removed the crystalline-hafted weapon, holding it horizontally. The molecule-thin blade would have been invisible but for the elusive glints of light it captured and reflected as it sliced the air.

  “You will be using a weapon very similar to this, only longer,” Akaar said. “Take great care. From what I understand of monoblades, it can cut through your environmental suit, flesh, and bone just as easily as it penetrated Kasrene’s [316] crystalline skin and organs. However, it is also my understanding that duelists are allowed the use of an energy shield capable of repelling a monoblade attack.”

  “That sounds encouraging,” Sulu said.

  Then Akaar’s expression grew even more dour than usual. “Unfortunately, this shield can be activated only a limited number of times before it exhausts its energy reserves and leaves its bearer defenseless.”

  Sulu nodded, thinking it was still better than nothing. Then he turned toward Tuvok, who seemed beside himself with tension. “You have something to add, Lieutenant?”

  Tuvok handed him a padd, and as he spoke, Sulu scrolled through the notes there. “You will be outfitted with a modified environmental suit, which will restrict your movements. While the gravity aboard Yilskene’s ship is approximately one gee, the intense atmospheric pressure will further hamper your mobility. Additionally, if your suit is ruptured and not immediately repaired, your life will be further imperiled by the hot, anoxic atmosphere aboard the Jeb’v Tholis.”

  “Thank you for all the good news, Mr. Tuvok,” Sulu said as he handed back the padd. The science officer hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know.

  Tuvok’s right eyebrow rose. “Captain, I’m not certain you fully appreciate the seriousness of this situation. In my opinion, you are walking to your death in defiance of all logic.”

  “That’s enough, Lieutenant,” Chekov said. It was plain to Sulu that his exec didn’t seem any more enthused about the coming duel than Tuvok was. But Chekov was clearly committed to backing up his captain—at least in front of the junior officers.

  Obviously not yet ready to back down, Tuvok glowered at Chekov. “I am merely attempting to point out that an attempt to outrun the Tholian fleet stands a far better chance of success than does personal combat with Admiral Yilskene.”

  Sulu held up a hand for silence. “Your objection is duly [317] noted, Lieutenant. And you’re right. We could run, and probably elude the Tholian fleet. If their ships were fast enough to catch us at maximum warp, then it wouldn’t have taken them so long to get here in the first place.

  “But running back to Federation space won’t help us make peace with the Tholians. And it won’t do a damned thing to keep the Tholian Assembly and the Neyel Hegemony from trying to wipe each other out.”

  “Suppose Yilskene kills you, Captain,” Tuvok said, clearly still not satisfied. “What then?”

  “If that should happen, Lieutenant, then that will be the time to run.” Sulu met Chekov’s silently reproachful gaze. “If I can’t overcome Yilskene, Pavel, you’re to tell our Neyel friends to turn hard about and go home. Then outrun the Tholians, take Excelsior clear of any jamming by the Tholian fleet, inform Starfleet Command of the situation, and continue back into Federation space.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Chekov said quietly.

  Sulu realized then that very little else remained to be said. “Dismissed.”

  “Are you sure about this, Hikaru?” Chekov asked after everybody else had filed out of the room.

  Sulu had been asking himself t
hat same question for the past several hours. “Of course not, Pavel. On the other hand, the only ones who never have to sweat the outcomes of things are dead people.”

  Chekov chuckled in response to Sulu’s gallows humor. “In that case, let’s hope the outcome of all of this remains as ambiguous as possible—for as long as possible.”

  Lojur sat behind the navigation console on the strangely quiet bridge, contemplating the Tholian ships he saw on the main viewer. They hung ominously in the void, their wedge shapes looking like so many spear-points.

  He hadn’t felt so troubled since the Orions had laid waste [318] to Kotha Village all those years ago. His thoughts went yet again to his dear, dead Shandra. So much blood has been shed already. And so much more is to follow if nothing is done to stop it.

  Some of that blood, Lojur knew, would issue from the veins of Captain Sulu, who would shortly be fighting for his life aboard one of those Tholian vessels out there.

  There had to be a better way. Too many had died already.

  The doors to the situation room hissed open, momentarily drawing Lojur’s attention away from the viewer. He watched as Tuvok, Hopman, and Akaar stepped back onto the bridge, their expressions uniformly serious.

  Lojur’s gaze locked for a moment with that of Akaar as he made his way to the tactical station. Thank you, my friend, for lending me some of your strength in my moment of weakness. Were it not for you, I would have become a murderer.

  Yet again, he considered what he’d nearly done: he’d tried to murder Jerdahn in cold blood, and would have succeeded if not for the Neyel’s exceptionally tough hide. He had no choice other than to accept the bitter truth that he had yet to atone for that most grievous of sins.

  Merely because Akaar hadn’t turned him in.

  I must atone, Lojur thought, recalling the Orion raiders who had died by his hand so long ago, in defiance of every Halkan tradition. Perhaps I can do so in a way that will prevent still more bloodshed.