“First Navigator. What’s our situation?”
Within moments Th’osh regained his seat, his nose buried in his sensors.
“I believe the worst of the gravimetric backsplash has abated, for the time being. We’ve lost partial power, with most sensors off-line. Shields, however, are holding at fifty percent.”
The taste of smoke tinged the air; intolerable on his ship. “Science, I want full power within five minutes and this cleared immediately.” He jabbed his hand into the air for emphasis.
“Yes, Captain.” Weakness. The voice held terrible weakness, but she had responded. A start.
“First Navigator, where’s the alien ship?”
“She’s still five thousand ris units off our bow. Sir, their dekyon beam has ceased.”
S’linth stiffened. “Get the main screen on.” He nictitated several times, still annoyed with the acrid stench of slightly burned plastic housing. Within moments the screen burst to life, only a slight distortion showing the damage it had sustained. Th’osh magnified the view several times without prompting. Yes, Th’osh would do well indeed.
The alien vessel appeared to be listing. To his trained eye, the vessel had obviously suffered damage as well. Where before the bright stream of energy had cleaved the darkness, now only the ship remained.
“Why did the beam stop, and where did the backsplash originate from?”
“I cannot say, Captain. What I can say is that the dekyon beam appeared to…flounder…almost immediately. They lost their hold on the gravity anchor, which is when the backsplash began. Twenty-eight seconds later, the ship emitted a dekyon beam of a different modulation; one that interacted with subspace in a way I do not understand. A second dekyon stream emitted, then stopped.”
S’linth gazed into the void, wishing his tongue could span the distance and taste the alien air. Feel their emotions. Find what drove them. What had happened? “You said they halted the other beam. Why?”
Behind him, S’linth could hear a rustling of robes and scraping of scales on deck as someone approached close to his command chair. Only one person had the audacity to approach like that; he ignored him. He’d pay the price later.
“I cannot say, Captain.”
“Is the ship dead in the void?”
Lithe, clawed fingers moved smoothly across the console—clenched in frustration. “I’m sorry, Captain, but full power has not yet been restored. Most of our sensors are still off-line.”
S’linth glanced once more at the ship that to all appearances looked dead. Another, very slight gravimetric wave rolled and yawed the Dutiful Burden. Barely enough to notice. The alien vessel, much closer to the original location of the gravity anchor, tossed about more actively.
A silence descended, broken only now and then by the whisper of scales on metal. Reviewing all that had come before, he made a decision. “Ahead, one-quarter impulse.” A rustle of clothing and scales exploded; terror turned to horror on the air, forcing him to snap shut his jaw or choke on the miasma of feelings.
A hand descended to touch his forearm. He could no longer ignore the presence. Turning his head, S’linth brought Third Councilman Sha’a into view. The reddish hues of his polished scales blended almost seamlessly with the carmine robes he wore. The way he carried his neck spoke of power and authority, of one accustomed to being deferred to without question.
Only hours before, S’linth had not only bowed his head, but had nictitated as well. No requirement for such a show of respect, but Councilman Sha’a had been a champion of the captain’s crèche for cycles. But now, too much had come out from under the rock into the harsh afternoon light. He had come to know that his ancestors had built a station within the photon sphere of the black hole called the Demon, and had left political opposition there to rot for all eternity. What’s more, they had kept it from the general populace. The entire Council, along with their hated appointed overseers for every starship, knew this truth. All the years of sending gifts into the Demon’s maw were a subterfuge, a blatant lie.
No. He would incline his head as a dutiful egg of the nest, but respect? He no longer had that for Sha’a.
The councilman snapped his tongue against his nose several times. “Captain S’linth. What are you doing?”
He ignored the rebuke. “The alien vessel appears to be in distress. We will render aid.”
“No, Captain, you will not.”
S’linth’s attempt at not stiffening failed miserably. In the course of events in the last several hours, he’d run up against the brutal truth that he held a figure-head status on his vessel. The real power lay with the Council. However, in the past, the overseers, even the hated Suliss, had managed to couch their orders in suggestions, leaving the captain, and more importantly, his crew, with the illusion he held power on his ship. Without such illusions, only chaos would follow. Now, the truth had bared its fangs and revealed itself to his crew as well.
From the egg, Resaurians were taught to obey the Council; it was almost a genetic imperative. Not even the Klingon occupation of their homeworld had interrupted this devotion. But this? How could he obey this command? When a distress call went out, you responded. A code beaten into every aspirant within the captain’s crèche. The two necessities warred within him.
Sha’a casually turned away and began to move sinuously to where Overseer Suliss had begun to collect himself from the pitiful heap he’d collapsed into.
S’linth looked around the bridge at the crew members who would not meet his gaze, until he found First Navigator Th’osh. He had moved soundlessly to his tail and now stood upright, meeting S’linth’s gaze with a firm one of his own. S’linth tasted the air and felt the conviction of trust. Sha’a would notice any moment; Th’osh bowed his head deeply, nictitating several times to S’linth. Not to the councilman, but to his captain. Only a moment’s more hesitation and S’linth tailed to his full height, radiated an affirmation of reciprocated loyalty, and turned toward the third councilman.
“First Navigator, I said ahead one-quarter impulse.”
Sha’a stopped and slowly turned around; he did so gracefully, considering this may have been the first time in his life someone had directly contradicted one of his orders. Beyond him, Overseer Suliss had begun to shake and hiss; overzealous fury washed the room, and he began to spit.
“How dare you. You cannot—”
“Third Councilman,” S’linth began, ignoring the nictitator, “that ship appears dead in the void. I have a sacred obligation to come to its aid.”
“Don’t ignore me, Captain. You will answer—”
“What’s more, if we do not go to the aid of this vessel, we will ignore what we are. It does not matter that they are aliens. All our codes will mean nothing if we knowingly let the helpless die.”
“You will be—”
“We will be no better than Klingons.”
The last phrase fell like a photon torpedo, detonating and sweeping all other conversation into nothingness. The occupation had ended nearly a millennium ago, but still the Resaurians remembered. S’linth kept his eyes locked on those of Third Councilman Sha’a. He had no need to taste the air to feel the malignant hatred of Overseer Suliss. The tableau held for several heartbeats until Suliss had mastered his emotions enough to once again begin his tirade.
“Treason!” Suliss spat at him. But like a thrown switch, Suliss cut off with a small raised hand from Sha’a.
“Captain, I have always admired you for your truthfulness and integrity. However, those are strong words you speak. And once spoken, they cannot be taken back. Once the fang has punctured, the poison is set, regardless of regrets. I believe I gave you a—”
“Captain,” Th’osh interrupted. Both turned to find out what could possibly have driven him to interrupt a councilman. “The ship, Captain. We have partial sensors back on-line, and she is hurt. Badly. However, she’s attempting to move into the photon sphere.”
“What?” Twin voices echoed.
“
I cannot tell you anything else, but she’s limping down toward the photon sphere.”
“Is it a deliberate move? Or is she falling into the gravity well?”
“I cannot say.”
S’linth turned back to Sha’a, but spoke to Th’osh. “Ahead one-third impulse, and prepare the tractor beam.”
Suliss shook as though preparing to molt into another stage and started to speak, only to be cut off once more.
“By all means, Captain, proceed.” Sha’a’s words might as well have emerged from the Demon for the confusion they caused.
S’linth knew Sha’a had been on the verge of ordering him to remain clear of the alien vessel. What had changed? “Proceed?”
“As you say. You have a moral obligation. A ‘sacred trust,’ I believe you called it.” The councilman smiled. “We’ll save the humans, even from themselves.”
Chapter
5
“Wong, take us in.” Captain Gold couldn’t help the shiver that prickled his skin and left his fingertips tingling. Try as he might, he could not banish the nightmare that had been dogging him before this whole mess had even begun. However, though he liked to pretend he was not superstitious, he could almost hear his beloved wife putting on her rabbi voice to tell him it had nothing to do with superstition at all.
He’d been given a premonition, and shouldn’t he be thankful?
In his nightmare he had been worried about the life of his grandchild. Now, as the photon sphere approached, he knew the premonition had been for himself. Perhaps even for his crew. Or even for the da Vinci. He had to keep reminding himself that other starships had managed to escape the depths of black holes in the past. But with the ghastly mouth of the universe’s most awesomely powerful force ripped wide to savage anyone stupid enough to get caught in its maw…well, he found it difficult indeed not to feel very, very stupid right now.
But there were seven of his people across that fearsome barrier he would not let down.
“Yes, sir. I can only get one-quarter impulse right now, sir.”
“Then that’s what we’ll use.” Gold turned toward Tev and found the Tellarite with his nose buried in his instruments. Considering the devastated look on his face (which meant it had to have been a scream for a human, since Gold couldn’t read his face any better than he could a Vulcan’s) following the failure of Tev’s bootstrapping idea, he found such dedication impressive. Comforting. Even in distress this crew, even the newest member, pulled together.
“Tev, how does it look?”
Without his usual pause, or the need to be asked twice, Tev responded. “The gravity anchor appears to be holding, but I cannot say for how long. However, when I managed to spear it, it had almost reached fifteen Schwarzschild radii.”
Gold shook his head for a moment. “Remind an old man—Schwarzschild radii?”
Tev glanced up, snuffled, and said, “I’m sorry, Captain. One Schwarzschild radius is the size of the event horizon. For a black hole of this size, fifteen RS is four thousand five hundred kilometers.”
For a moment Gold almost didn’t hear what Tev had said as his surprise blocked it out. Tev had apologized. The captain tried to remember if he’d actually heard the Tellarite apologize before. He didn’t think so. Could he be coming around, finally? A member of the crew? Perhaps this hell would have a silver lining.
If they could get the away team home.
“The station?”
“With the loss of our probes during the backsplash, I cannot tell for certain; too many sensors are still off-line. However, I calculate the station is still a safe sixty kilometers above the Demon’s event horizon.”
“Safe!” Gold couldn’t help the guffaw.
“Why, yes, Captain. There is no reason to believe that the shields on the station are not still fully operational. It has held itself against the tidal forces for several centuries now.”
Gold smiled. Leave it to Tev to break up the tension. And do so without even knowing. “I trust your calculations completely, Tev,” he said, cutting the Tellarite off. He ignored those raised eyebrows that reminded him of the hairbrush his sister had used so many years ago.
The ship lurched and stopped, almost spilling him to the floor. He regained his feet quickly. “Wong, that didn’t feel like a gravimetric wave.”
“Captain,” Piotrowski interrupted. Gold turned.
“What?”
“It’s the Resaurians. One moment they’re holding off at a distance, and between one eye blink and another, they’ve closed and have us in their tractor beam.”
Gold was suddenly all business. “Are we certain this time?”
“Yes, sir, and they’ve got us tight.”
“Tev, the tractor beam. Can we break it?” Though Gold noticed a moment’s hesitation as he asked Tev to break his concentration in midstream and fly in a new vector, the Tellarite moved with the flow.
“Not right now, Captain. As I said, most of our systems are still off-line. Even if we could, they’ve a strange tractor configuration I’ve not seen before. If I took some time, I could break it.” He looked up expectedly.
Gold hid his smile. There’s the arrogance we’ve grown to love. “Get working on it, while I see if I can talk to our friendly neighborhood Resaurians.” He turned toward the viewscreen; he noticed peripherally that Ensign Haznedl had come at Tev’s call. “Piotrowski, get me that ship.”
“Hailing frequency open, Captain.”
“Captain S’linth, this is Captain Gold of the da Vinci. I would appreciate knowing why you’ve latched on to my ship with a tractor beam.” He knew full well why the captain had done it, but he remembered Carol Abramowitz’s briefing on the Resaurians’ trouble in trusting other races after being conquered by the Klingons. He tried to moderate his tone, keep it civil.
The viewscreen sputtered and then materialized to show the dim interior of the Dutiful Burden’s bridge. A crewman or two were in view, but Third Councilman Sha’a captivated the attention like a siren song. Regardless of how alien he might be, he’s got chutzpah. Power. Standing in his carmine robe, he had one hand casually resting on the back of the empty captain’s seat.
It took an instant longer for the import to set in. What’s this? Where’s Captain S’linth? The casual way Sha’a touched the captain’s seat could not hide his possessiveness. Gold finally spotted S’linth standing at the back of the bridge, head bowed but back ramrod straight. Gold’s job had just become a lot harder. The one Resaurian he might have been able to reach, one captain to another. Gold shuddered at the idea of a slimy politician seizing control of his own vessel.
“Captain Gold.” Once again Gold felt the revulsion most humans have for snakes. However, this time around, he didn’t feel shame. Not for this particular snake. “Captain S’linth will not be dealing with you directly at this time. However, I’m here to answer any of your questions.”
Politician’s words. “Why have you latched on to my ship with your tractor beam?” Gold didn’t feel like bandying words.
“I told you why. This is our station. Our internal affair. You have no right to interfere, Captain. I sympathize with your plight. You attempted to rescue a station you felt was in need and have crew there now. For such actions I thump my tail. However, I simply cannot allow you to go any farther.”
Gold felt his temper spike even harder. He glanced sidelong at Tev, and then shook his head. “We’ll see about that,” he said.
“We simply don’t have the power to break the tractor beam,” Tev said in a low, frustrated voice at Ensign Haznedl’s continued optimism. The sound of the captain’s voice, raised in anger, a static in the background.
“Okay. What about the dekyon beam? Could it be modulated to splinter the tractor beam? Or weaken it?”
“No, tractor beams don’t work that way. The dekyon would have no effect.” Tev snuffled. What did they teach at the Academy if this was an example of their education?
Then a thought bloomed within Tev, spreading like a viru
s and engulfing his intellect. Quick as firing synapses, he had the solution. “A second dekyon beam! We don’t have sufficient power for the warp drive to attempt a forced break. However, we do have enough energy to create a second dekyon beam, which can be modulated to ensnare a gravimetric wave on its sine toward the black hole.”
Haznedl blinked confusion, but then seemed to catch on. She began to calibrate a second beam.
Tev approved. “Captain,” he called back, and nodded once, decisively.
Gold interrupted the useless argument with the councilman to turn toward Tev. The Tellarite nodded once and Gold smiled. Tev may have been kicked, but now he was kicking back. Gold nodded in return; Tev would be ready.
He turned back toward the councilman. “Third Councilman Sha’a. This is my last warning. Release my ship, or suffer the consequences.”
“Captain, there is no reason to resort to fang-baring. We are both civilized. Nevertheless, you cannot rescue the station. It does not need rescuing.”
Gold didn’t know exactly what to expect, but just in case, he made sure he sat back down and held on. “I think, Councilman, if you asked those on the station, they just might have a different opinion from yours.”
“That is no longer a worry,” Sha’a said.
“But I think it is. Tev, engage.”
A slight keystroke and nothing happened.
If it were possible, Sha’a’s grin grew wider on his reptilian face. “As I said—”
Both ships lurched forward with horrific speed as the hand of the universe smashed them down into its maw.
Chapter
6
Standing inside a crawlspace conduit, Sonya Gomez leaned out from the open maintenance hatch, sweat stinging at the corner of her eyes as she strained to reach the microspanner that lay among a spread of tools on a nearby table. Her fingertips brushed the narrow handle, shoving it a few millimeters farther away. In her other hand she clutched at a pair of power regulator feeds, pinching them together at just the right place, and she dreaded the idea of letting them go now.
The Demon Book 2 Page 3