“I am who I am, sir,” he said, and suddenly, the words just came out of his mouth faster than he could think them. “That’s my role. It’s the only one I’m capable of playing. It’s not defined by circumstance or the opinions of others—I define it myself. I’m Renao and a lieutenant in Starfleet. I am my own home. I am myself.”
Spock remained silent for a while. He seemed pensive and almost a little sad. Finally, he nodded. “Well said, Lieutenant ak Namur. I hope that you will hold on to this insight… and that you will find opportunities to build on this foundation. I say this from one wanderer between worlds to another.”
Again, Jassat had the feeling that he only recognized a fraction of the meaning in Spock’s words. But he sensed that this fraction would have to be sufficient. At least for now.
“A second question, Lieutenant. As Renao and as a member of Starfleet: does an end justify its means?”
Jassat blinked. “I’m sorry, sir?”
“An end,” repeated Spock. “Do you think that a noble end under certain circumstances justifies the means by which you reach it?”
Still, the Renao didn’t understand. “A noble end is worth any means, sir.” He had learned that lesson in the ethics seminars at the Starfleet Academy over and over. Now, he cited it mainly because he had no other answer.
Spock looked at him, nodding. “Because the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Am I correct?”
“Of… of course,” Jassat replied hesitantly. “Personal interests are far less important than those of the community. The common good always comes first.” That was also taught at the Academy, but did Spock—the legendary Spock of all people—want to hear truisms from him?
“Interesting you should say that,” the Vulcan muttered. He turned around again. Bending over the sleeping Renao woman on the bed, he spread his fingers.
Jassat was taken aback.
“Sir? What… what are you doing?”
“I am getting my hands dirty, Lieutenant,” Spock answered quietly and without looking at him. “I am putting the needs of the many above the need of one person. I believe that the current circumstances demand that.”
“I don’t understand,” Jassat said.
Spock’s hands moved closer to the woman’s temples. “The spirit of your fellow Renao seems to be in an uproar. When they were brought aboard, they were hardly responsive. Doctor Barai’s instruments detected utter chaos in their brainwave patterns. He was unable to offer an explanation for that. Thus it seems that the task at hand—to find the urgently required answers—falls to me. But I can guarantee you, I do not take pleasure in doing so.”
As soon as the Vulcan’s fingertips touched the Renao woman’s temples, she woke. Horror flashed in her dark eyes, but it quickly turned to fury.
“Please forgive me,” Spock said quietly, his attention completely focused on the woman. “I deeply regret this, but I sincerely hope that I can help you, if you let me.”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened. Suddenly, he understood what Spock intended to do, and he was shocked.
“My mind to your mind,” Spock mumbled, closing his eyes. “My thoughts to yours.”
The Renao woman whined. Her face distorted to a grotesque mask of fury. Rage burned in her eyes, and her hands that had been secured to the side of the bed convulsed.
“My mind to your mind,” Spock repeated quietly, his voice fading. His face showed the terrible exertion required to do this. His fingers held the woman’s temples, cheeks and jawbones as if they would never let go again. “My thoughts to yours.”
Jassat had never witnessed a Vulcan mind meld, but he knew that Spock’s father’s species was capable of this telepathic feat. Such a mind meld required concentration, training, and mental discipline from the executing person. Two conscious minds were briefly combined into one during the process. If unskilled people attempted the procedure it could lead to irreversible damage to both involved. For generations, the ethical and moral implications of this intrusion into the private sphere of another sentient being had been fervently discussed at Starfleet Academy.
He realized that that was what Spock had been talking about when he mentioned the ends justifying the means. He had wanted to know whether Jassat agreed with his approach. Spock obviously didn’t condone it, but he was equally convinced that they had no other choice in the matter.
Jassat heard a faint whimper in the otherwise quiet room, and gasped when he realized that it came from both Spock’s mouth and that of the Renao woman at the same time.
The woman stared at the ceiling; her eyes showed no expression. Spock also seemed to have passed out, but Jassat saw his fingers trembling slightly. He also noticed the strain in his body language and sensed his determination.
Finally, it happened. “The eyes…” whispered the woman, and Spock whispered it with her. “The red eyes in the darkness… The Son of the Ancient Reds…”
Shivers ran down Jassat’s spine. Helpless, he observed the terrifying scene, wondering if he should intervene or call someone—a doctor, a security officer, both. But as much as he was unsettled by the events unfolding in front of his eyes, he understood why Spock employed these drastic means. The survivors of the terrorist cell that the Bortas and the Prometheus had uncovered on Onferin had fled into the unknown, taking most of the mystery with them. Instead of answers, Captain Adams and Captain Kromm were faced with new questions. Jassat was convinced that he wasn’t the only one who felt that these questions were even bigger than the previous ones. And the threat that the Purifying Flame posed hadn’t decreased at all, despite all the best efforts of both ships’ crews.
Something needed to be done. Urgently. And the two ships didn’t have too many options to choose from, especially since Ev and Moas had committed suicide, according to Captain Kromm. Commander Roaas had given Jassat the bad news. The young lieutenant was equally tormented, ashamed, and horrified by this information.
“The son,” Spock and the Renao whispered again. It sounded extremely important, like a secret from ancient times. “The Son of the Ancient Reds.”
A sound behind him made Jassat jump. Afraid and feeling somewhat caught, he whirled around. The door to the room hissed open, and Captain Richard Adams appeared in the doorway.
Perplexed, Adams looked at him. “Lieutenant?”
“Sir, I… we…”
“The situation is much worse than we had anticipated,” Spock’s voice announced—only Spock’s voice—behind the stammering lieutenant’s back. “Unfortunately, my suspicion was correct.”
Jassat looked over his shoulder again. The scene by the bed had changed considerably. Spock had stood up again, and he had removed his hands from the woman’s face. The mind meld was finished. The Renao breathed heavily with exhaustion and stared into the distance, while the experienced Vulcan had better control over himself. He looked as if nothing had happened.
Spock nodded a greeting toward Captain Adams, folding his hands in front of his stomach. “The assessments from Starfleet Intelligence were not incorrect,” he reported. “The Renao are not a threat to us. That is to say, the threat does not originate from the Home Spheres or from their government.”
“But from whom?” asked Adams.
Without a word he studied the unconscious Kumaah and the woman who was slowly calming down. Both of them were in physically good condition, at least according to the monitors above their beds.
“Captain, this woman is not acting of her own accord,” Spock said. “I could see it in her mind, sense it in her thoughts. She thinks she’s acting in accordance with the beliefs of her culture regarding the spheres. But she’s barely aware of the fact that her deeds exceed what her people deem appropriate. And that awareness is rapidly fading away completely. Captain, she is under mind control. I cannot tell you for certain who is responsible, but it would seem to be an entity or a group that she calls the Son of the Ancient Reds. It is possible that most of the extremist Renao are under the same influence—perhaps e
ven the entire nation.”
“The entire nation?” Adams gasped. “Spock, if that were true…”
The Vulcan nodded. “I know. But it does fit the evidence. My conclusion is only logical.”
“But how is that possible? Think of Himad ak Genos and all the other government representatives we encountered these past few days. They may not have been sympathetic toward us, but they weren’t openly hostile, either. Where’s your mind control there?”
Spock glanced at Kumaah and the Renao woman. “That I cannot tell you, Captain. My knowledge is currently just as limited as yours.”
“And what about if you had to speculate, Ambassador?”
Spock took a deep breath. “Perhaps the influence comes in waves. Perhaps it stops at geographical borders. Perhaps certain individuals among the Renao are immune, due to unknown biological reasons, for example…” He shook his head. “Captain, I cannot tell you more than I know. Only one thing is certain: the mind of this poor woman is unhinged. She no longer has control over her life. She believes she is doing the right thing—but she is no longer able to ascertain the difference between right and wrong.”
Jassat didn’t believe his ears. A strange power, manipulating his people? Was it possible that a strange force manipulated his people and drove the Renao to violence? It would explain why so many of his childhood friends were acting so odd. But he couldn’t imagine how something like that could be possible.
Adams frowned. “So we know more than we did—but we’re just as helpless as we were before we came to the Lembatta Cluster. The rage and religious madness might have come from the outside and they were probably forced upon the Renao. But that would make matters even worse because we don’t know whether this crisis can be solved with diplomacy and reason. We need to unravel this mystery in order to put a stop to this threat.”
“Agreed.” Spock stood next to him. “But I believe I have learned one thing during the mind meld: We are on the right path. The truth might be greater than we initially anticipated, but it is hidden somewhere in the Lembatta Cluster.”
They fell silent, and all three men seemed to dwell on their thoughts.
Finally, Captain Adams said, “All right. Let’s go on a wild goose chase.” He sighed deeply. “Admiral Akaar will be delighted when he reads my report…”
* * *
“I’ve got good news and bad, Dick.”
Richard Adams sat at his desk in his ready room, staring at the computer monitor. It displayed an eyes-only subspace message from Admiral Akaar.
“The bad news first. I have spoken to Starfleet Intelligence and Starfleet Security about your report on the situation on Onferin. We also can’t offer an explanation for your discoveries regarding the madness of the Renao and their peculiar propulsion system, and we share your concern. What’s going on in that cluster right now is disconcerting. And we’re dreading the moment when it will claim more casualties—from us or the Renao.”
“I know the feeling,” Adams mumbled.
“The good news is that we’re giving you the task to unravel this mystery. I assume you didn’t expect anything less. Travel deeper into the Lembatta Cluster, Dick. Find the survivors of that terrorist cell that you have flushed out. Find whoever is behind the Purifying Flame. And find this ominous Son of the Ancient Red, if he even exists. Get to the bottom of this, once and for all, for our welfare and that of your hosts. The safety of the galaxy might depend on that.”
Adams nodded silently. The Renao wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about that but there was too much at stake, and they could ill afford to defer to their sensitivities at this point.
“We will try to clear the way for you diplomatically as best we can, given the distance,” the Capellan continued. “But I’m afraid that the majority of these efforts will remain on your shoulders. The cluster is not too keen on talks with outsiders. Therefore, Ambassadors Spock and Rozhenko will stay to support you. Spock’s expertise is unmatched, Dick. Make good use of it.”
That’s something, at least, the captain thought. Suddenly, he felt old. Old and tired. He thought of Karen, of Nanietta Bacco, of the Borg, the Dominion and the Typhon Pact. He wondered when all this would come to an end. Whether it would come to an end, or if they would continue to be hamsters in a wheel of violence, slaving away day in and day out without making any progress, because the game they were playing didn’t have fair rules.
You mustn’t think like that, he admonished himself. Anyone who thinks like that has already lost. And they’ve lost more than just their ideals.
The Prometheus was in the Lembatta Cluster to help. It was meant to carry the metaphorical torch into the darkness to bring light. They were supposed to save lives, and to minimize dangers. That was all that mattered. That was their mission, and nothing had changed.
“Qo’noS has ordered the Bortas to stay with you also,” the fleet admiral continued. “I’ve heard that the High Council is pleasantly surprised with Captain Kromm’s commitment, and they are hoping for further accomplishments. I dare say that this is the Council speaking and not the chancellor. Martok has remained silent.”
Adams nodded, knowingly. Kromm’s straightforward, ruthless behavior stood in contrast to the chancellor, who sympathized with the Federation. If it was down to Martok, another ship would be out here with the Prometheus; a ship with a more agreeable commanding officer than Kromm. And if it were down to the council, the entire fleet would be present in the cluster. The Bortas seemed to serve as a compromise.
“Look after yourself, Dick. You’re far from home and our protective hand doesn’t reach far into the Lembatta Cluster. But I’m afraid you’re exactly where we need you—urgently. Good luck, Prometheus. Akaar out.”
The monitor went black briefly, replaced by the Federation emblem.
Exactly where we need you. Sighing, Adams rose, switched the monitor off, and left the ready room.
The bridge greeted him with its usual hustle and bustle. Ak Namur sat at conn, Carson at ops. Winter briefly looked up from his communications station, and Roaas left the chair in the center of the bridge, as soon as Adams walked through the doorway.
“Report, Commander.”
“Nothing to report, sir,” the Caitian announced. “According to your orders we have calculated and set a course for the inner Lembatta Cluster, but we’re still waiting for the green light from Fleet Headquarters before we proceed. What did the admiral say?”
Adams looked at the main screen. The bottom half was filled with the northern hemisphere of Onferin. Above it, he saw the strange view of the red nebulas and glowing stars of the Lembatta Cluster.
“Mr. Winter, put me through to the Bortas.”
“Aye, sir.” A few seconds passed before the young German spoke again. “Link established, sir.”
“On screen.”
Onferin and space vanished and were replaced by the Bortas’s bridge. Adams saw Captain Kromm in his command chair. The Klingon leaned forward, propped his hands on his thighs and displayed a triumphant grin on his face. To his right stood Ambassador Alexander Rozhenko. His almost stoic calmness stood in vast contrast to the captain.
“Adams,” Kromm said. “The ambassador and I have been expecting you. So? What’s the news from Earth? The High Council has already given us the order to continue the journey, and to hunt down these cowardly petaQ until we’re standing before their bleeding corpses. What about you?”
“Starfleet is far less keen on bloodshed,” Adams said dryly. “But their mission for us is just as clearly stated as yours, Captain: We will accompany you into the cluster. For the good of all, this mystery about the Renao needs to be unraveled before there are more casualties to lament.”
Kromm threw his head back and laughed. “That’s the way I like you, Adams. So, the prey has been flushed out, our blades are sharp. Are we going on a hunt?”
Adams settled in his chair, his eyes fixed on the screen. He sensed his crew around him, heard the familiar humming of the engines in Jenna�
��s engine room and the quiet signals of the various bridge stations. And suddenly he knew that Akaar was wrong. He wasn’t far away from home. He had his home with him.
“Go ahead, Captain Kromm,” said Richard Adams, nodding at his counterpart. “The Prometheus is right behind you.”
The Klingon battle cruiser and the Federation battleship left Onferin’s orbit, gathering speed. Ahead of them in the stellar nebula glowed the red suns of the Lembatta Cluster. Somewhere out there was the answer to the question what was happening to the Renao. Adams had to find it—as soon as possible—or the galaxy would face another war.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A novel cannot be written in a vacuum—metaphorically or literally. Many people have contributed to this book, and the authors would like to take the opportunity to thank them.
Markus Rohde and Andreas Mergenthaler from Cross Cult shared our dream to write German Star Trek novels for the very first time, and they tirelessly worked toward making this dream come true. Julia Courmont from CPLG— Copyright Promotions paved our way to the USA, and John Van Citters from CBS gave our project his blessing. For that, we are very grateful. We would also like to thank Tobias Richter, the digital wizard, who not only created a CGI model of the Prometheus for this trilogy but also embedded it into three marvelous cover motifs. We’re also grateful to Anika Klüver, our editor, who picked up the small deficiencies that our manuscript contained at first with sharp eyes and pointed them out to us with gentle words.
Furthermore, we deeply appreciate all the creative Star Trek minds beyond the Pond for the fantastic stories they created. Naming all those who inspired us would go too far. We would, however, like to mention John Jackson Miller, who took the time to link his Prey trilogy with our Prometheus trilogy. He did so very subtly, but every reference will help to tie our novels into the Trek literary tapestry.
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