Star Trek: Titan: Absent Enemies

by Miller, John Jackson

  —and found itself unable to evade the barrage of torpedoes coming from Titan.

  Titan clawed toward higher orbit as Gor Taboka broke up violently on the turbulent atmosphere below. Had the air over Sanctum Isle been cleaner, Vale knew, there would have been much to see below. Instead, the nearer sky filled with Breen escape pods.

  Not a bad day’s work. No admiral around to admire it, though. Vale sat back in her chair. The red alert was still flashing, and the ship had taken some damage while in pursuit mode. “Status?”

  “The remaining Breen lander has taken position above Sanctum Isle,” the tactical officer said. “They are not responding to our hails offering a cease-fire.”

  Like we would know what they’re saying. “Are they moving to threaten the city?” Vale asked.

  “No. The lander is stationary, accepting the arriving escape pods. Their aft photon torpedo tubes have been reoriented to face the ground, but they are not charged.”

  “Clever. They want us to know that if we move against them, they can fire on the city. We’ve got them overmatched—can we take them out before they retaliate?”

  “Uncertain,” Dakal piped in. “And if we did succeed, the Breen ship might well crash into a populated area.”

  Another standoff, Vale thought. But it was also an opening. “Transporter room,” she said. “Mister Keru, is your team ready?”

  “Affirmative,” the security chief responded. “The nearest beam-in point to the Lyceum Garadius is half a kilometer away.” The communication went silent for a second. “It’ll be a fight.”

  Vale knew that was an understatement. Titan’s latest scans showed that that section of the island was crawling with Baladonians, all of whom were now certainly on the alert. But there was no shuttling anyone in, not with all the artillery pieces still on Sanctum Isle. The transporter room was the only way.

  * * *

  “Calm down, calm down,” Jakoh said to the squawking Breen envoy. Riker could tell as soon as he and his companions entered the room that Thot Roje was sincerely agitated about something. “Shayla!” the Baladonian overlord yelled, so loudly that his bodyguards flinched. “What the blazes is this guy upset about?”

  Shayla touched her translator earpiece and listened as the Breen continued to chatter. Riker saw her eyes widen. “Titan has engaged with Thot Roje’s escort ships,” she said. “Only Pell Togah remains.”

  Troi and Modan looked at Riker. He smiled, cannily. “So much for backing the strongest horse.”

  Shayla’s head snapped back. “What’s a—” she started to say. “Never mind.” She turned and grabbed Riker by his uniform. “They can’t do anything to us while we have him,” she said to Roje.

  But Roje wasn’t looking at her. Instead, the Breen was staring to the right—to an empty spot on the floor. Puzzled, Shayla followed his gaze. Something was flickering in midair, dancing on the shadows cast by the overlord’s smoking brazier. “What . . . what is that?”

  * * *

  Pain! La Forge and Ro had experienced plenty of it when they returned from their phased states to reality. Bombarded with anyons, their chronitized molecules had righted themselves, returning to their natural states. But the process was far from instantaneous—and was totally agonizing. It was as if nature itself, angry over its preferences having been so easily thwarted, had taken out its fury on their mortal forms. Reality charged a toll upon reentry.

  Tuvok and Orica had felt every moment of it. Clutching the device attached to her arm, he had been enveloped by the effect too. An effect coming from . . . where? He didn’t know—and indeed, he found logical thought impossible as the torment worsened. He had trained himself in several disciplines that would allow him to ignore pain, yet these were totally useless now. There were only his bones, seemingly afire—and the madhouse images around him.

  There was Orica, of course. Unlike Tuvok, she’d had no idea what was about to happen—and her face seemed frozen in a horrific, infinite scream.

  There, behind her—through her?—were the Ekorr guards, melting through the walls, their disruptors drawn. They stared, stunned, unknowing what to do.

  There, as Tuvok writhed, were the phantom faces of Jakoh and Thot Roje, now joined by Shayla. All looking at him—past him? Through him?

  There again was Zorrayn, having followed his forces in. He was braying once more, trying to get his guards to shoot, regardless of Orica’s safety.

  And there was Admiral Riker, standing beside Commander Troi and looking directly at Tuvok. It was a look of recognition—and of determination.

  That brought Tuvok back to his senses. It reminded him, despite the pain, of where he was and what he was doing. And of the thing that he had to do, the first instant he could.

  * * *

  “What?” Jakoh snarled, pawing at his bandages and turning this way and that in his chair. “What is it? Someone say something!”

  No one did. Shayla and the other Baladonians were spellbound at the sight of two glowing figures, half appearing, half not, in their midst. This was no familiar transporter effect. Shayla gawked—even as the Breen envoy started to move.

  Riker and Troi looked at each other. But only once. They had seen it before. They knew!

  Thot Roje did too—and he raised his disruptor. But not before Riker surprised his captor by diving forward, just as the spectral figures faded out for a moment. Seizing the Breen’s arm, Riker heaved. The weapon discharged right into the side of Jakoh’s would-be throne.

  “Gahhh!” The Baladonian overlord called out, tumbling off—unharmed but definitely shocked. His bodyguards dashed to his side. Riker’s jailer started moving too, lunging to recapture him. Troi and Modan grabbed their own captors’ wrists, throwing them to the floor and slowing their attempts to join the fracas.

  Wrestling with the Breen, Riker felt mighty hands grabbing at him from behind: his Baladonian captor, trying to get hold of him. Riker couldn’t snatch the Breen’s weapon away; the armored warrior had it in too tight a grip. But this wasn’t about escape, Riker knew—it was about buying a moment. A moment for . . .

  * * *

  Tuvok took a real breath.

  Orica was still half wrapped around him—a dead weight, dazed, bewildered. He pushed her free and rose from a crouch, looking around.

  Shayla, helping Jakoh.

  The guards, struggling with Troi and Modan.

  The admiral, lost in a pile of flesh and armor as Jakoh’s bodyguards joined the scrum.

  Tuvok unholstered the Ekorr disruptor, pointed it at the tall silver fixture behind the fallen throne, and fired. A shower of sparks erupted from it.

  Grappling with her jailer, Troi yanked the pouch he was carrying—and squeezed. Inside, the combadge the guard had purloined from Riker clicked once.

  “Titan!” Troi yelled. “Inhibitors are down!”

  * * *

  Aboard Titan, Dakal called out: “The transport inhibitor is down!”

  “Change of plan,” Vale said, suddenly brightening. “Transporter room, can you get a lock on the away team?”

  “Too much interference. We can’t pick them out—”

  “Fine. You’re going there!”

  * * *

  Orica looked around and blinked. She grabbed at Tuvok’s shoulder. “What did you do?” she yelled. “I’m here with them!”

  Tuvok didn’t answer. He was searching for a target. He’d known to go for the transport inhibitor immediately. The next move was more complicated. Shayla had her disruptor out, and Riker was still struggling with the Breen and the Baladonians. Still more guards poured into the library. But their attention immediately went to Orica, the hated Ekorr in their presence. Remembering her disruptor, Orica began firing wildly at them.

  “Get down!” Troi yelled, grasping at Modan. The Selenean was still struggling with her own captor as weapons fire ripped through
the air above them.

  “What in blazes is going on?” Tuvok heard Jakoh yell. The Vulcan had chosen his path by now—holstering his phaser and grabbing at the back of the topmost Baladonian on the pile atop his admiral. He heaved. Riker strained in vain to squirm free, still refusing to release Thot Roje’s wrist and his disruptor—

  “Everybody freeze!”

  It was a new voice, from a side of the room that had been relatively empty of chaos. Ranul Keru stood there now, with a squad of security officers, phasers drawn.

  As the astounded Baladonians looked back, Tuvok yanked the last body from atop the still-struggling admiral and Thot Roje. Seeing himself overmatched, the Breen released the disruptor and rolled to his side. Scrambling to his feet, the armored figure ran for a nearby doorway.

  Riker fought for breath as Keru reached his side. “We’ve got our away team!” he said to his combadge. “Repeat—we’ve got them! Get us out of here, Titan!”

  “No!”

  Tuvok looked back to see Orica, wild eyed and terrified and being disarmed by the security team. “Don’t leave me here!” she said. The emotion in her voice was clear even to Tuvok: She had no interest in being the only Ekorr on a planet of Baladonians.

  “One extra, Mister Keru,” Tuvok said. He turned back to the fallen Riker and offered his hand. “I’m sorry to have been away, Admiral. But I have an explanation.”

  “I’m . . . sure . . . you do.” Beleaguered and bruised, Riker shook his head. “I’m sure you do.”

  Twelve

  * * *

  Tuvok looked sharp, as usual, when he entered the observation room. Vale glanced back at him. “I can’t exactly mark you as away without official leave, Mister Tuvok, since you were never really gone.”

  “Your attempt at levity is noted,” Tuvok said, finding his chair.

  “You’re no fun.” Vale smiled at him and looked back at the other end of the table. Riker had foregone a change of uniform—which he desperately desired—because of the urgency of the situation. Pell Togah was still hovering five thousand meters above Sanctum Isle, waiting for something. But what?

  “Tuvok, does the Ekorr woman know anything?” Riker asked, rubbing his jaw.

  “Very little, Admiral,” he said. “She is appreciative of us for removing her from the Baladonians’ midst, but Ekorr society is highly compartmentalized. Her legion’s charge was to round up Ekorr for transport into the phased realm—and to find the stragglers who had not yet been phased.” He thought for a moment. “She does not trust Zorrayn, but she believes in the Ekorr cause—and in the wisdom of separating from the Baladonians on the battlefield.”

  Riker snorted. “Since when has the Ekorr cause been to avoid battle?”

  “Since they discovered the writings of Commander La Forge seventeen years ago, I believe,” Tuvok said. “They tried to develop the technology on their own for espionage—and began to see then the prospects in it for separation from the Baladonians. They developed the grand scheme, then—”

  “And then the Breen stuck their snouts in,” Vale said.

  “That appears to be the case, yes.” Xin Ra-Havreii looked up from his study of Geordi La Forge’s stolen padd, which had made the journey back to reality in Tuvok’s uniform. “It appears that two years ago, a copy of this document was transmitted to a Breen courier. The record of the transaction is in the padd’s registry. It was evidently the first part of an exchange that led to that.”

  The engineer pointed to the center of the table, where the metal Ekorr armband with the blue button sat. “It is the second part of a two-part system,” Xin continued. “As Orica confirmed, the Ekorr have several interphase generators secreted around their former territory for phasing objects—either directly, in the case of supplies; or remotely, through the catalyst of the small wristbands. The larger armlets are different. They make the return trip possible.”

  Vale blinked. “Wasn’t it anyons from our world that unphased La Forge and Ro?”

  “Yes,” Xin said, taking the armlet in his pale hands. “And it’s the same here. There’s a large anyon emitter somewhere on the island. The Ekorr armlets send out a large chroniton burst from the phased world with a particular signature that the real-world emitter can recognize, just as Mister Data once recognized Ro and La Forge. The emitter then bombards the signaler with anyons.” He nodded to Tuvok. “As you experienced.”

  “I would not choose to again,” Tuvok said.

  Vale marveled that Tuvok would express the extent of the discomfort that he’d felt because of the event. It must have been awful.

  Tuvok steepled his hands together. “I have confirmed with orbital scans that the anyon emitter is hidden in the apparatus attached to the top of the lyceum’s dome. It was the logical place to look, as it is close to where the Ekorr are living now.”

  The door opened, and Troi entered. She took her seat next to Riker. “Natasha was afraid we had disappeared too,” she said.

  “No, just the Ekorr,” Riker said. He looked at Tuvok. “They were really trying to tell you they did this in the name of peace?”

  “Voyager encountered a species in the Delta Quadrant known as the Voth,” Tuvok said. “They had a cloaking technology that stepped matter out of phase with the observable universe. They seemed to be able to move in and out efficiently, and without the pain I experienced.” He looked down at the table. “We have, many of us, encountered life-forms that exist in dimensions parallel to ours. It seemed to me for a moment that, if the Ekorr had technology like the Voth’s, then they might well have struck upon a way for rival groups to literally coexist.” He shook his head. “I think this form of phasing may be something different. But the hope was there.”

  “Well,” Riker said, rocking back in his chair, “I don’t believe it was ever about peace, or even escape. The Ekorr would have happily condemned the Baladonians to the phased realm, if they could have. They just didn’t have the muscle—or the way to exile all of their enemies at once.”

  Tuvok looked up. “I concur, Admiral. I confess I thought you were exaggerating about the two peoples here. They are exceedingly difficult to work with.”

  “Sometimes the caricatures fit,” Troi said. “Sadly.”

  Riker stood and began to pace. “That’s why I’m sure they’re doing something else. Commander, you said they were bringing stockpiles of supplies into the phased world. How much material?”

  “As much as any expedition would take on a planetary excursion,” Tuvok said.

  “That’s not enough,” Riker said flatly. “You said it yourself: Nothing exists over there. This isn’t the same as going camping. Anything they want to reach out and touch has to be converted. And you’d better believe the Ekorr know the difference. Zorrayn once harassed me for planning a holographic replica of his blessed anvil for the holodeck. He wanted actual matter.”

  “He did want the anvil to have form,” Tuvok said, “although I suspect there was something else to it. And there is another point: Every Ekorr I saw had a ‘return’ armlet. Why would they, if they never intended to return to our reality?”

  “I’d sure want an escape route,” Vale said. “But it sounds like they were all planning to come back. But to do what?”

  “Something involving the Breen.” Riker turned and looked out the window at Pell Togah, hanging below Titan’s orbit over Garadius IV. “They’re the cause of all this. You said the Ekorr weren’t concerned about Thot Roje advising the Baladonians?”

  “Not at all,” Tuvok replied. “According to Orica, Zorrayn said Roje was staying with the Baladonians while waiting for the Breen to arrive. Perhaps the Ekorr had promised to ally with the Breen in some sneak attack. But I cannot see the Breen entering what might be a costly ground campaign.”

  Riker shook his head. “I’ve thought about it. The Ekorr do have something planned—but so do the Breen. I think they’ve figured out
a win-win-win situation for themselves.”

  Xin rubbed his neck. “Yes, I think I have an idea of what the Ekorr might have in mind. It would explain some of the odd readings my teams got—and it would make sense, given the situation.”

  Vale clapped her hands together. “All right, then. The Baladonians are turning their city upside down right now. If there’s something to find, we’d better get there first. All eyes on the city.”

  Xin nodded. He looked over the table to the first officer. “Tuvok, I think I have a possible answer to your question of how gravity works in the phased realm,” he said, eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Gravity operates on a macroscopic scale, not the microscopic scale on which quantum mechanics holds sway. It could be that the quantum effects of phasing are enough to eliminate the classical mechanical forces as phased and unphased objects interact—the contact force, for example. But gravity, among the fundamental forces, may still apply.”

  Tuvok’s left eyebrow shot up. “Intriguing. And I have been forming a hypothesis as to the solidity of the ground. Extremely large real-world masses perpendicular to the direction of gravity may exhibit a kind of surface tension, for want of a better term, in the phased world. Thus a phased hand may pass with effort through the top of a chair, but not a phased person who attempts to sit in it, nor an item placed upon unphased ground—”

  Riker slapped his hands on the table, asking, “Can we save the symposium for after we’ve settled the interstellar crisis?”

  “Of course, Admiral,” Vale said. “You all have assignments. Dismissed.”

  The officers rose and filed out. Vale grinned as Riker walked past. “Good call, canceling the science class.”

  “Rank has its privileges,” Riker replied. He rolled his eyes. “I’ve got to get something out of this job!”