“Asking for help is not a sign of weakness,” Kirk replied. “It takes strength to admit one’s limitations. And to trust a stranger.” He cocked his head toward the shuttle. “Shall we? I’m sure Mister Arex is eager to get going.”
“I will admit one more thing before we depart,” she said as they walked across the hangar. “That first time The Explorer Beyond exited the far side of the Great Veil, I was not afraid. I was elated. But I am afraid now.”
“You fear that you’ll fail,” Kirk replied, his gaze turning inward. “You fear you will let your people down.”
She gave another deep chuckle and eyed him. “Since when does your species read minds, Kirk?”
“I’m not reading your thoughts, Kaleo. I share them. Those fears . . . they’re a captain’s lot. Comes with the job.”
“But we would never tell our crews that, would we?”
Kirk shook his head. “That’s the other part of the job.” He paused to let her board first, and she gave him a nod of agreement.
He had one foot on the lip of the hatch when the hiss of a door opening made him hesitate and glance over his shoulder. A familiar female figure with a high forehead came running across the landing bay, and she was no longer dressed in her diaphanous silver gown.
“Stand aside,” said Envoy Xuur, breathing hard.
Kirk surveyed her new outfit; it was the kind of nondescript, standard-issue jumpsuit that many noncommissioned crew aboard Enterprise wore as a matter of course. Strangely out of place, Xuur still wore her metallic headband, and the willowy young woman was able to give the clothing a kind of grace. “If I didn’t know better, Envoy, I’d say you were slumming it.”
“I’m coming with you,” she told him firmly. “I’ve authorized ch’Sellor to assume my duties aboard the Enterprise in my absence.”
“And if I refuse?” Kirk stood in the hatchway, barring her from climbing inside the Icarus. “Will I get my name on another disparaging report back at FDC headquarters?”
She held her ground. “I said it before, Captain. You’re not a diplomat. You need me on this mission.”
He wanted to argue otherwise, but the fact was, the Rhaandarite woman was correct. They were about to venture into unknown territory, and Kirk could use all the help he could get. “All right,” he said, after a moment. “But from now on, you follow my orders to the letter. Clear?”
Xuur nodded. “Of course.”
He stepped aside. “Welcome to the landing party.”
“Shuttlecraft Icarus is now ready for takeoff,” called Arex from the cockpit area. “Secure the hatch, please.”
Kirk tapped the control that sealed the door behind him. “Secured. Signal dock control to open up, Lieutenant.” He made his way forward and took the copilot’s station. “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
With a low hum of impulse drives, the shuttlecraft lifted off the deck and drifted away, picking up speed as it passed through the hangar deck’s clamshell doors. The Icarus made a wide, flaring turn that sent it racing past its mothership and away on a parabolic course that rose over the plane of the ecliptic. In short order, the auxiliary craft put distance between itself, the Enterprise, and the constellation of Syhaari vessels orbiting nearby Gadmuur.
At full power, the sled-like shuttle moved like a loosed arrow, straight and true toward the outer reaches of the star system.
After a few hours of flight, the emptiness of interplanetary space gave way to a hulking, ponderous mass that loomed large against the gray backdrop of the inner Veil. Armored in its corposant-flecked atmospheric shroud, the leviathan gradually filled the horizon before the Icarus until it blotted it out completely. Chains of slow lightning snaked along above the planetoid’s pockmarked, craggy surface, discharging into nothing.
Somewhere down there, hidden in the shadows cast by the gargantuan cosmozoan, cold eyes turned to fix on the Icarus and consider its fate. As insignificant as it was, insect-small to the vast body of the leviathan, it was still a potential danger.
And so, goaded onward by those who watched and waited, the slow, instinctive understanding of the great being began to turn toward violent action.
* * *
“Sensors are lighting up,” called Uhura from the seat behind him.
Kirk didn’t look around; instead he reached for the spherical globe on a retracting arm over the control console and pulled it toward him. A repeater display gave him more information. “I see it, Lieutenant. Energy building in the lower atmosphere,” he announced. “Mister Arex, how long until we reach our programmed intercept point?”
“Two minutes, twenty seconds,” reported the Triexian, his three hands simultaneously working the flight controls and the astrogator panel.
“It seems they deem us a threat after all,” muttered Kaleo.
“They’re not hurling lightning bolts at us yet,” said Xuur.
“Let’s not give them the time,” Kirk added. “Uhura? I hope you’re ready to work that translation protocol of yours in reverse.”
The communications officer leaned over the systems console before her, her dark brow furrowed with concentration. “As ready as I’ll ever be, sir. At this range, there’s no way they won’t be able to hear us.” She place the silver comm receiver in her ear and called up the program.
Kirk laid a hand on Arex’s nearest arm. “Reduce speed to dead slow, Lieutenant. We need to fly like we’re harmless.”
“Complying,” said the navigator, his large head bobbing on his thin neck. “I will attempt to project a nonthreatening aspect.”
Kirk looked back at Uhura and gave her a nod.
She took a breath and tapped an activation stud. “Protocol running. Basic linguacode messages are now being broadcast on the deep sigma band using the translator matrix.” Kirk heard a peculiar sound, like the noise of bubbles popping but slowed down a hundred times.
“Are they responding?” said Kaleo, stretching up in her seat to peer out of the shuttle’s forward port.
“You could say that,” said the captain, frowning. Flashes of yellow fire gathered across the curvature of the leviathan’s surface, following the same predischarge pattern he had seen before the Enterprise was attacked.
“Anything?” Xuur watched Lieutenant Uhura work her console.
The communications officer shook her head without looking up.
“Sir, shall I raise the shields?” Arex’s hand hovered over the control pad, and Kirk considered it for a moment before shaking his head. They had to show no signs of aggression, even in a passive sense. The truth was, the Icarus’s shields would do little to slow down the brutal power of the energy discharges. Even a glancing hit would mean the end for them all.
“We wait,” said Kaleo in a low voice, repeating exactly what Kirk was thinking.
“Translation is still transmitting,” reported Uhura, keeping her voice level. “No response on any channel.”
Kirk pushed the monitor globe aside and narrowed his eyes as he peered through the port. Out there in the leviathan’s atmosphere, it was like looking down on the mother of all thunderstorms, a churn of lethal power seconds away from criticality.
His hands gripped the armrests of the copilot’s chair. It’s not going to happen, said a voice in his thoughts. I gambled wrong. He turned to Arex, about to give the order to evade and go for broke.
“Contact!” called Uhura. “I’m getting a return ping on the hailing frequency!”
At the same moment, Arex pointed with his central arm. “The lightning!”
The killing discharge came, just as Kirk had feared it would—but rather than bathing Icarus in its punishing fires, the crackling rope of energy lashed out at nothing and dissipated into the void. The shuttle shivered in the wake of the blast, systems flickering as the ghost of an electromagnetic after-aura washed over it.
“Was t
hat a warning shot?” said Xuur.
“They never gave us one of those last time,” said the captain. “I’ll consider that a step forward.”
Uhura frowned, pressing her receiver to her ear. “Sir, the universal translator is patched into the new program I wrote. We’re getting the first clear message from . . . from whoever they are.”
“On audio,” he ordered.
There was a teeth-gritting skirl of feedback, and then suddenly Kirk heard the breathy, bubble-popping sound again. In mutated into something with a dry, croaking quality that formed into recognizable words. “Your embassy is unwanted,” they began. “Breg’Hel have zero interest in parley with cloud-dwellers. Go on your way and prepare for ending. War comes. Ending follows.”
“Breg’Hel?” Xuur repeated the alien word. “The translator couldn’t parse that term. It must be their name, perhaps their species or some other term of address.”
“They must be referring to my people when they say ‘cloud-dwellers,’” said Kaleo. “They’re talking about the Great Veil.”
“Uhura,” said Kirk, turning to face her. “Transmit this: We come to seek peace. We are a gathering of many from beyond the realm of the . . . the cloud-dwellers. On their behalf, we wish to speak with you before the conflict progresses any further. May we do so?”
The lieutenant sent the reply, and Kirk found Xuur watching him. “Not a bad opening statement,” she offered grudgingly.
“I can be as soft-spoken as anyone,” he replied. “When the situation calls for it.”
“They’re replying,” said Uhura. “No delay this time.”
Kirk held his breath and listened. “Peace is broken,” said the alien voice. “But the Breg’Hel did not shatter it. There is interest. Questions. You will answer them.”
“If we can—” began the captain, but Uhura waved him to silence.
“Communications channel has been closed, sir. They said their piece and then cut us off.”
“I am not the only one who saw a threat in that statement, yes?” said Kaleo.
Kirk was about to reply, but the alert light in the middle of the shuttle’s command console blinked crimson, a warning tone sounding with it. He pulled up the monitor, and what was displayed there made his jaw set. “Arex, do you see this? Sensors are picking up three objects moving away from the leviathan’s dark side. Ships of some sort.”
“Confirmed, sir,” replied the navigator. “Design and configuration unknown, but certain elements are similar to Tholian crystal-grown technology.”
“As we suspected, they were on the surface of that living planetoid all along,” said Xuur. “Remarkable.”
“They’re on an intercept course,” said Kirk. “Engines to the ready, mister. If things get unpleasant, we may have to light out of here in a hurry.”
“Aye, sir.” Arex brought power to the Icarus’s flight systems and eased it into a gentle turn.
“I see them!” said Kaleo. She stood up, hanging from support rails overhead, looking out into the darkness. “There!”
Kirk followed her line of sight and found the trio of Breg’Hel craft. Despite all being of similar mass and basic arrangement, none of the three vessels were alike. Shards of cut glass, each glowing with an inner amber fire, were grasped in fists of dark metallic material. They seemed to roll across space as they moved, sliding back and forth on flashes of energetic discharge. Each was easily as big as a Starfleet Archer-class starship.
“Try hailing those craft directly,” Kirk ordered. “Repeat our earlier messages.”
“Yes, sir,” said Uhura.
“Captain!” Arex stabbed at his controls with long fingers. “Yes, I’m certain of it . . . for a moment I thought the lead craft was making a passive scan, but it’s anything but!”
Disappointment filled Kirk. “They’re targeting us.”
“It may not be an actual prelude to attack,” Xuur said quickly. “We don’t know anything about these beings; it could be a ritual show of force or—”
“Or they could be about to blow us out of space,” Kaleo broke in.
“Back us off,” Kirk ordered. “Raise the shields. Engines at one-third power.”
Icarus began to move, turning to keep the smallest possible aspect pointed toward the Breg’Hel ships, as Arex worked to maintain a minimum separation between the craft. But the invaders were not playing along; one ship surged forward while its two cohorts moved to flanking positions, angling to cut off the shuttle’s potential avenues of escape.
“They’re signaling again!” said Uhura.
“There is interest,” repeated the alien voice. “There are questions. You will answer them.”
And then the nearest Breg’Hel vessel opened fire.
* * *
Spock jerked forward in the captain’s chair before he was fully aware of his own reaction. The motion came from somewhere buried in his subconscious, far down below layers of dense Vulcan control, an echo of a very human thing that faded even as it happened.
“Damn it, no!” Standing at his side, Doctor McCoy’s reaction came from exactly the same place—but as might have been expected, it was much closer to the surface and far more emotionally charged.
On the bridge’s main viewscreen, a long-range display of the shuttlecraft Icarus and its encounter with the leviathan became the shocking view of the auxiliary craft suffering a brutal attack. The imagery was grainy and lacking in fine detail, transmitted from another of the free-floating sensor probes Spock had previously deployed. But it was clear enough for the bridge crew to see the Icarus taking hits from the alien interceptors. The brief, brilliant threads of particle beams connected the shuttle and the asymmetrical alien vessel for an instant, and a tiny flash of firelight blew out from the belly of the Icarus. Spock saw a distinctive tubular section of tritanium spinning away from the damaged shuttle and knew immediately that the attackers—these Breg’Hel—had used pinpoint fire to blast apart one of the Icarus’s engine nacelles.
“Curious,” he said aloud. “They clearly mean to take the captain’s party intact.”
McCoy rounded on him. “Blowing great pieces off them isn’t intact, Spock! They’ll be losing power and atmosphere! We’ve got to get out there, now!”
“We are far beyond transporter range, and the captain’s orders were quite clear.” Spock said the words aloud, but it was a dead, mechanical recitation. Outwardly, the first officer showed not even the smallest flicker of reaction, but inwardly he was being pulled in two directions. Not just for his friend James Kirk and his long-serving crewmate Nyota Uhura, not just for Arex and Xuur and Kaleo—whose lives carried equal weight even if they were not familiar to him—but because it was his training and his moral impetus to rescue the Icarus.
But that would fly in the face of Kirk’s orders and against the oath he had sworn on joining Starfleet. Going after the shuttle would be a supremely illogical reaction. Silencing the warring impulses in his mind, Spock took a breath and looked past McCoy to the main viewer. “Status of Icarus, Mister Sulu?”
The helmsman swallowed hard. “Damaged but still functional, sir. Engines have shut down. Still reading crew life signs. The ship that fired on Icarus has closed to point-blank range.”
From Spock’s usual station at the primary sciences console, Ensign Haines reported the readings she saw through the sensor viewer. “They appear to be deploying a restraining field around the Icarus.” She looked up. “They’re taking it in tow.”
“They want prisoners,” mused Lieutenant Leslie. The young officer had stepped in to handle navigation duties. “That’s a new wrinkle. They didn’t do that with the Syhaari ships.”
“That we are aware of,” Spock corrected.
“The ships are retreating with the shuttle,” said Sulu. “Moving back toward the leviathan.”
“We’re going to lose our sensor traces in the rad
iation backwash from the object,” added Haines, but Spock had already anticipated that eventuality. “We won’t be able to follow them across the dark side.”
The view from the probe’s sensors was reduced to dots of light moving against grayness, then nothing. Spock glanced at Haines. “Ensign, program our nearest probe to leave its current station and make a stealthy approach toward the planetoid. Keep it in low-power mode and inform me when it is within ten thousand kilometers of the object.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied, her expression tightening. “Commander, that will take almost three hours, with the probe traveling on thrusters only.”
“I am aware,” he noted, turning away. “The journey will be approximately two hours, three minutes in duration.”
McCoy grimaced. “And meanwhile, Jim and whoever managed to survive being shot at will be at the mercy of these . . .”
“Breg’Hel.” Spock supplied the name. He, and everyone else on the bridge, had been listening in on the Icarus’s communications. They heard every word that passed between the shuttle and the aliens. “Starfleet has no record of any species, galactic political power, or association identified as such.”
“Confirming that,” offered Lieutenant M’Ress at the communications console.
“We know enough to know they’re damned hostile,” McCoy snapped. “I knew this was a bad call from the start! We should have gone for the gunboat diplomacy approach.”
“Need I remind you, Doctor, that the Enterprise did not fare well in its first encounter with the leviathan? We have no assurance that would differ on a second approach.”
“So we sit here and do nothing?”
If he were to be completely and fully honest with himself, that option did not sit well with the Vulcan, but unlike his human colleague, Spock was able to distance himself from whatever emotive content clouded the issue and concentrate on the most logical course of action. “I am considering every possibility. And once again, I remind you. We have our orders.”
He saw McCoy draw a breath, making ready to continue his invective—even though Spock had made his position clear—but the doctor never got the chance to harry him further.
The Latter Fire Page 14