Star Trek: The Original Series: Rihannsu, Book 5: The Empty Chair

by Diane Duane

  “Affirmative,” Spock said, “within twenty-three million, six hundred eighty thousand, five hundred twenty-three point six six kilometers or so.”

  “‘Or…so,’” Jim said.

  Spock did not rise to the bait. “Once again, Captain, the ships in-system have divided their forces.”

  Jim shook his head grimly. “They’re slow learners, Mr. Spock. I think we may have to speed up their learning curve a little bit. Tyrava?”

  “Captain,” Veilt said. “We seem to find them very poorly disposed.”

  “You’ve got that in one,” Kirk said. “I’d still like to know where those other forty ships are.”

  “You would not be alone,” Veilt said. “Nonetheless, we cannot wait to see if they arrive.”

  “Agreed,” Kirk said. “This disposition closely matches—” He glanced off to one side at the screen. “—variation two-c of our joint plan.”

  “It does,” Veilt said.

  “Let’s implement, then. And for everything’s sake, Tyrava, watch out for any sign of the hexicyclic wave we saw on Artaleirh.”

  “Agreed,” Veilt said. “Out.”

  They swept in toward the closer of the two planets, tagged as Thanith, the one around which orbited the smaller of the two Grand Fleet supply facilities. From it, a little swarm of ships fled outward to meet them; the larger capital ships hung back. “They know what’s coming,” Kirk said, settling back into the center seat. “Fleet A, this is Kirk.” He glanced at Uhura to make sure the message was going out. She nodded. “Engage to plan. Go, go, go!”

  In the tank, he could see many of the smaller ships, led and protected by two of the captured Romulan vessels, arcing outward in a great formation like an opening flower. It could have been mistaken for a standard englobement, but it was no such thing. Under cover of the Free Rihannsu capital ships, the smaller vessels were arcing around behind the investing capital ships, making their way to where they could start the routines that had subordinated and rendered helpless the present Free Rihannsu vessels. The investing ships might not have been clear about what exactly the smaller ships intended to do; but they fired at them regardless.

  This did them little good. As Kirk had anticipated, the sheer numbers and the nimbleness of the smaller ships, especially in intersystem combat like this, made them difficult for the big ships to handle. He also knew that a significant proportion of them, perhaps seven to ten percent of them, would be lost in the attack. But he knew, and Veilt had agreed, that in a situation like this, there were definitely acceptable levels of loss. The small ships would buy time and create a distraction for the still smaller, more stealthy ones that would be fastening themselves to the big capital ships, suborning their systems, and taking them offline. If they could be reduced without being destroyed, that would be useful, but right now the large-scale situation of destroying them, and denying them to Grand Fleet, had become as valuable a goal as keeping them. Either way, the main priority was to render them useless for command-and-control.

  Most important of all, now, was to take out the biggest of the supercapital vessels, the ones that were acting as C&C for the capital ships. Rigorous and rigid as Rihannsu command structure could be, Jim knew that the planetside C&C facilities would not easily share power with the capital ships suddenly wished on them by Grand Fleet from afar. Neither would the Grand Fleet facilities take kindly to planetside commands telling them what to do with their ships. Jim had been counting on this split; Ael had let him know about the depth of it. The two rival groups would not easily pick up one another’s function, no matter what they’d been threatened with. Pick off all of one side’s C&C, therefore, and both sides get easier to handle.

  Jim watched the biggest capital ships plunge away from the smallships attacking them, like infuriated cattle fleeing a swarm of stinging flies. They were trying to break away from the little ships and come to grips with the larger vessels they saw hanging tantalizingly just out of range. “Tyrava,” Jim said, “now.”

  “As in the choreography, Captain,” Tyrava’s comms officer replied.

  Jim smiled, hearing the sound of Veilt reminding him, at one remove, that he understood the battle plan perfectly well. “Thank you,” Jim said, allowing the amusement to show in his voice just a little. He gazed into the tank, watching Tyrava come coasting in toward the farther planet, a not insignificant bulk even at this distance and scale. Tyrava had been well out into the system; now she had swung in fast from the outer portion of the system, as initially agreed. The enemy capital ships, some ten of them, gave up chasing the small ships and turned to engage.

  It was a mistake, as Jim had intended it to be. Those capital ships that lost their attention on what the small ships were doing swiftly became vulnerable to them, while Tyrava, in a leisurely manner, began carving up the first couple of the capital ships. This, as usual, was the point in whatever engagement he was studying that would normally make Jim nervous: the point where everything seemed to be going according to plan. The dictates of the War Gods were very much on his mind, especially Churchill’s old warning that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy.

  He cast a quick glance over at the other Grand Fleet facility. Its own ships were holding close, not moving out; they were waiting to see what happened. “All right,” Jim said. “Time, I think, to stir things up a little on the other side.”

  “We would appear to have things well in hand over here,” Veilt said, “at least for the moment.”

  “Understood,” Kirk said. “Bloodwing?”

  “Here, Captain,” Ael said. “We have been monitoring. Beginning sequence two-c.”

  “Go,” Kirk said. “And watch out for them.”

  “We will do that,” Ael said.

  The secondary task force led by Bloodwing and the two other Free Rihannsu capital ships flashed toward the second Grand Fleet facility. Its ships immediately leapt out of orbit and toward the attackers, flinging themselves wide in an attempt to keep the same maneuver that had been used on the first facility from being used on them.

  It was all that Jim could’ve hoped for. The other Free Rihannsu capital ships, finding their enemies so obligingly scattered, were able to take them one-on-one. With their augmented weaponry, the battle began quickly to turn in their favor—though, again, they were being careful to disable, not to destroy. The question is, of course, how quickly we’re going to be able to put those ships back into operation, Jim thought, watching it all unfold in the tank. If this fight is conclusive enough, it might actually significantly shorten the final conflict at ch’Rihan. Then again, of course, if it’s not, there’s always the possibility it will provoke an intermediary engagement somewhere between here and there. It was a prospect that had been haunting Jim’s nightmares for some time. Yes, Jim thought, the choreography is going very nicely.

  That was when he saw a cluster of new sparks of light suddenly pop out at the edges of the tank display—far enough out that it resized itself automatically. Jim tried to count them, and realized he couldn’t.

  “Incoming,” Spock said. “Approximately sixty capital ships of various sizes, including many of the new supercapitals.”

  Jim swallowed. Sixty! We are in deep, deep trouble. “Remind me,” he said conversationally to Spock, “not to make the mistake of thinking that anything about this is going to go well.”

  “I will make a note to do so, Captain,” Spock said.

  “No warp signatures on those?”

  Spock was looking down his viewer. “There were no signatures, as they were not in warp.”

  Jim felt a chill. “Cloaked?”

  “The probability is high,” Spock said. “There is nowhere here they could have been hiding, Captain, and no way to approach so quickly on impulse without being detected. I would suggest this is a new cloaking technology that we are seeing for the first time.”

  Jim swallowed again. “At least they still have to decloak to shoot. See if this cloak has some new signature, or whether it’s a
variant of the hexicyclic technology. How many supercapitals, Mr. Spock?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Jim sucked in a breath. Very, very bad. “Tyrava!”

  “Listening, Captain. We see them.”

  “I may have to retask you.”

  “But, Captain,” Veilt said, “I thought you told us most strenuously that retasking so suddenly would break your plan.” He managed to sound slightly amused, even under these increasingly grim circumstances.

  “A broken plan can be fixed,” Kirk said. “A broken fleet is harder. And if you have any other thoughts…”

  “Three-a, Captain.”

  Jim weighed the pros and cons of that. It was not an option he relished. He had been saving it for later in the engagement—much later. “I’ll consider that,” he said. “Five minutes. Meanwhile, go!”

  “Going,” Veilt said.

  The huge ship turned with surprising lightness and speed and made straight for the biggest of the newly appeared capital ships. “All vessels,” Jim said, “engage at will as per protocol two-f.”

  A wave of acknowledgments came in as large and small Free Rihannsu ships flung themselves at the capital ships nearest, with special emphasis on the C&C vessels. “Some success with that strategy already, Captain,” Spock said. “Two C&Cs have gone down, and five capitals. Two have self-destructed.”

  “We need more,” Jim said softly. “Keep a count for me. Update once per minute for the next four.”

  He sat there in the center seat and his hands itched. He wanted to be hammering on his comms button to tell Scotty to give him more speed, dammit, more power to the phasers! But this time it was his part to sit, and watch, and wait, while others bore the brunt. This is hard. Hard. I hate this.

  Tyrava went coasting in among the scattering Rihannsu capital ships, her phasers and disruptors lancing out in all directions. Shields went up, but they were no use against that hyperpowered weaponry. The attacking vessels’ shields overloaded and went down, and the phased disruptors reduced them to slag or plasma within seconds. Jim sat there watching it happen, counting ships in his head. The problem was that more kept popping out of cloak at the edges of the display, and diving in toward the fray. “Spock,” he said.

  “Captain,” Spock said, “this is a phased assault. They are uncloaking in waves. It is impossible to tell how many of them might be out there.”

  “Not many more, I hope,” Jim said, very softly. Even with Tyrava, there was only so much the present force could do.

  “Now ten capitals taken by our side,” Spock said. “Two destroyed by their own vessels. Either Grand Fleet has worked out what was happening at Artaleirh, or they are simply suspicious after so many of their own ships went missing.”

  Jim bit a knuckle and waited, watching Tyrava’s rampage. Anything she turned her weapons on was destroyed, but when thirty or so capital ships of all sizes turned and started attacking her in unison, the outcome began to be of concern. “Tyrava?”

  “Captain,” Veilt said, sounding a little strained, “it may be time for three-a.”

  “Spock!”

  “Fourteen capitals down now and being suborned,” Spock said. “Ten more destroyed by Tyrava. Make that eleven. Thirty-four now attacking her.”

  “Implement one-d,” Kirk said. Immediately all the smallships began attacking the ships that were attacking Tyrava, and that whole part of space started turning into a bright inferno of phasers and disruptors and torpedoes. But Tyrava’s screens were beginning to radiate in the visible spectrum, never a good sign.

  Jim made up his mind. “Three-a.”

  “Implementing,” Veilt said. “Four minutes.”

  But one minute went by, and two, and the fire on Tyrava increased. Jim began to think, Oh, no, I’ve left it too late. No. Please, no. But the War Gods, if they were listening, gave no sign. Tyrava’s screens flared brighter, and Jim said, “Mr. Sulu, we can’t just sit here.”

  “Captain,” Spock said.

  Jim swallowed, and sat still. Tyrava began evasive maneuvers. Some of the capital ships attacking her went after her, but some of them now turned toward Enterprise. “Mr. Sulu,” Jim said, “best evasive.”

  “Aye, aye,” Sulu said.

  The warp engines came to life, and Enterprise peeled away from the conflict, heading up and out of the system, though everything in Jim rebelled to see her do it. This is not the better part of valor, he thought. I don’t care what anybody says.

  “Some pursuit,” Spock said, looking down his viewer. “More attention on Bloodwing, however.”

  “Ael,” Jim said, “get out of there!”

  “I have no leisure for that at the moment!” Ael said. “We need these capital ships; they will be vital, and the smallships need cover.”

  One minute to three-a, Jim thought. “Lure them up this way, Ael. Let us give you a hand!”

  “I do not think that is going to work, Captain,” Ael said. “We can get some cover from Tyrava. Veilt is closer.”

  There was no arguing with her; she was right. Enterprise kept her distance, and Jim sat there in increasing fury and frustration. All he could do was watch the patterns shift as four or five of the capital ships broke away from pursuit of Enterprise and turned back toward Tyrava.

  And suddenly space sunside went dark below Enterprise as another huge shape dropped out of warp hardly a thousand kilometers away and dived downward into the plane of the system. “ID coming through,” Spock said, as the vessels lit up in the tank. “Kaveth Ship-Clan is in the system.”

  Jim let out a long breath as he watched them come. Veilt had told him that Kaveth was even larger than Tyrava. He had found it hard to believe until now. He almost dared to smile: the odds were getting evener. “Hail them and feed them the battle log.”

  Uhura listened for a moment. “They have it, Captain, via Tyrava.” Then her eyes widened. “They say we have more incoming.”

  Jim lost the smile. “Another thirty vessels are uncloaking, Captain,” Spock said. “Rihannsu.”

  Jim went pale. “How many more of those things do they have out there?”

  “Unknown. The new cloak seems to have no signature.”

  That’s something Starfleet would really want, Jim thought, assuming that any of us survive to tell them about it.

  Kaveth was down in the heart of the battle, now, chopping up every Grand Fleet vessel within range. Not many stayed there. Some fled instantly into warp and were gone, making Jim curse under his breath. They’ve seen what they came to see, he thought. Possibly there was no other reason for them to be here at all. They won’t be absolutely sure we don’t have more of the Clan ships, but they’ll have a baseline on what we do have, and what their armament’s like. As he watched, the thirty new ships started an englobement of Tyrava. Some of them began to fire, and the beams that lanced out were hexicyclics. Tyrava’s screens went white hot in places, just keeping the beams out. She turned and twisted away out of engagement, and a few of the new ships pursued her.

  “We have to go in,” Jim said.

  “Captain!” Spock said.

  “Tyrava!”

  “We are boosting shields,” Veilt said. “Sensors show that not all the new incoming have these weapons. But we cannot defend against these and deal with all the capital ships as well.”

  “How can they have all these, Veilt?” Jim said. “Didn’t we adjust for bad data?”

  “And for outright sabotage,” Veilt said, “and disinformation, yes. But there is no way they should have such numbers. They must have killed half the labor on the few shipbuilding worlds to produce this kind of result.”

  Jim took a long, deep breath, counting ships. The balance was now almost sixty—forty in the Romulans’ favor. They were engagement-cutoff odds. No, no, this is all wrong, it’s not supposed to go like this! “All right,” he said. “Four-a.” It was the worst-case scenario: extract forces and run like hell.

  “Incoming,” Spock said.

  Jim wanted to cover his eye
s: but he stared into the tank, watching them come.

  These lights were not green, however. They were white.

  His heart simply stopped.

  “Starfleet IDs,” Spock said. “Ortisei, Speedwell, Hemalat, Lake Pontchartrain, Lake Onondaga, Kilimanjaro, San Diego, Dauntless, al-Burak, Marathon—”

  “Hail Ortisei,” Jim said. He hadn’t dared to hope this would happen, having heard nothing for so long.

  His screen lit up. There was Commodore Danilov, leaning forward and examining his own tactical display. He looked into the screen, and frowned at Jim.

  “Commodore—”

  “Don’t have time to yell at you right now, Captain,” Danilov said, sounding furious. “It’ll have to wait. Hold the flag, and shoot me your log.”

  Jim gestured at Uhura. “Out,” Danilov said, and the screen went dark.

  The wrong end of a court-martial, Jim thought, and shivered. Then he put the thought aside as the Starfleet vessels dived into the fray.

  The confusion became complete as Kaveth started piling into the capital ships and the Starfleet vessels began weaving and diving through the fight, ganging up on Romulan vessels in the confusion. Jim watched it all with ever-increasing frustration, even as it became plain that the arrival of the Federation vessels had turned the tide. Some of the first Romulan vessels to enter the engagement were now breaking off and running for it; some of the Federation ships pursued them into warp. Other Romulan vessels elected to fight. Mostly they found themselves facing into Kaveth’s gunnery. This was always a mistake. The ships with the new hexicyclic gunnery did better, but there seemed to be a problem with their shields. Several of them were destroyed one after another by Ortisei and San Diego. Together the two ships went after one last hexicyclic-gunned Romulan vessel that was fleeing past the second, smaller of the two Grand Fleet installations.

  Another hexicyclic beam lanced up from the installation and caught Ortisei on her undershields. She twisted away, glowing—

  —and blew.

  The breath went out of Jim as if he’d been punched. Kaveth swept over, hovered over that installation, and brought every beam to bear on it at once. It slagged down.