Star Trek - [Mirror Universe 003]

by Shards

  McHenry...

  Yes, Soleta?

  Are you within the area?

  No, Soleta. When the Alliance ship showed up, Kalinda had me put some distance between us and them.

  Yet I can still communicate with you?

  We're not having a conversation via subspace, Soleta. Distances have no relevance. Our minds are linked. You can summon me wherever you are. Pause. You've almost completed work on the bomb, haven't you?

  Yes, McHenry, that's correct. And I've been considering all the ways that this could possibly turn out, and keep coming around to the same conclusion: We're going to wind up fighting, and we're going to need you here when it happens. How quickly can you get here if we need you?

  Minutes. Less. Even Kalinda doesn't realize how quickly I can move if I have to.

  Good. And McHenry...don't let me down.

  I would never let you down, Soleta. Not ever. I will fight for you. I would die for you.

  Pause.

  McHenry...what are you saying?

  I believe you know what I am saying. Call me, and I will come, and your enemies will die, or I will in their place.

  Let's...aspire to the former, okay?

  Pause.

  As you wish, Soleta. As you wish.

  Hiren rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he approached his private study. He could have had Mac and his people moved to a lab, but he decided that was too public for the nature of the weapon they were assembling. So he had them remain exactly where they had been and working on Project Parity.

  Parity. Well, that was a joke now, wasn't it? The Alliance had outmaneuvered him. They'd shown up earlier than expected, and their presence now hung over the entire business. He had lost the advantage of surprise, lost the advantage of everything.

  Damn them and their timing.

  Hiren had provided M'k'n'zy of Calhoun and his people the detailed plans for the assembling of the bomb, and had spent many hours watching them meticulously and laboriously putting the damned thing together. But Hiren was not young anymore, and eventually, he had run up against a wall of exhaustion. Mac's people seemed tireless, but Hiren eventually retired with explicit instructions that he was to be informed as soon as the project was completed.

  The summons had now come.

  When he arrived at the door to the private study, Tome Ari and Krone, along with their omnipresent guards, were arriving from the other direction. He cursed inwardly. Who the hell had told them? He had a leak among his own people. That was precisely the sort of aggravation that he didn't need. Now he was going to have to go through his personal staff one at a time, root out who had informed the Alliance representatives, and kill whoever it was. Some days the job of Praetor was simply not all it was cracked up to be.

  "After you, Praetor," Tome Ari said, bowing deeply and mockingly. Krone just glared at him.

  The Praetor nodded in response, while picturing his hands around Tome Ari's neck and squeezing very, very hard until the Cardassian's eyes popped and his throat collapsed beneath Hiren's fingers like a brittle bouquet of flowers. He entered the study, the others following close behind.

  Project Parity was completed.

  The bomb stood two meters high. It was triangular in shape but wasn't a solid pyramid; instead, it was a series of interlocking tubes, with a sphere in the middle that contained the C-170. Hiren had long known the design, could envision it in his head, but seeing it now, here, completed and gleaming in the dim light...it was beautiful.

  "Well?" said Krone. "Will it work?"

  Soleta wiped sweat from her brow. She looked exhausted. She had been the primary driving force in constructing the bomb, although Mac and the woman introduced to him as Thue had done as much as they could to help. "Yes," she said. "It will."

  "It will release Thalaron radiation in a single burst?" Krone looked skeptical. "And how will that destroy a planet? It makes no sense."

  "That's because you're thinking too small," said Soleta. "Everyone in the vicinity of the bomb will die immediately, yes. But that's just the beginning. Once detonated, the device will transform all natural ambient gamma radiation currently existing on the selected planet into Thalaron radiation. Within a week, anyone who survived the initial detonation will be dead."

  There was silence for a moment, and then Tome Ari nodded approvingly. "Praetor Hiren," he said, "I owe you an apology, on behalf of both myself and my associate...and also on behalf of the Alliance. Many among us had doubts that you would come through on your promises. But this achievement is monumental enough to still the wagging tongues of any critics. We thank you for your endeavors. Now that the bomb has been assembled, we will return with it to our vessel, run scans on it so that we will have all the details of its construction, and then, of course, test it."

  "Really. And where are you planning to do that?"

  "Here on Romulus."

  The Praetor blinked in confusion and then laughed.

  "Praetor," Soleta said, "I don't think he's joking."

  Tome Ari said gravely, "Of course not. Why would I joke about impending genocide? That would be in exceptionally poor taste."

  Abruptly, the squadron of guards had their weapons up and leveled at the Praetor. It was at that point that the Praetor realized the gravity of the situation.

  "Young woman," said Tome Ari to Soleta, "bring the device out here, please. We have a schedule to keep to and a planet to destroy. We can't just stand around, now, can we?"

  At which time Hiren laughed.

  His reaction was not at all what the Alliance representatives expected. The Klingon, Krone, scowled even more fiercely. Tome Ari merely looked politely puzzled. The rest of the troops exchanged confused looks.

  Then the Praetor walked straight up to Tome Ari and practically snarled in his face. "Do you truly believe that I would not have foreseen this possibility and allowed for it?"

  "Really. And how, precisely, would you have allowed for it, Praetor?" said Tome Ari with his exceeding politeness. "Considering that I see no armed troops around to present any sort of-"

  The Romulan soldiers appeared from everywhere.

  Walls that had appeared solid in the great hall outside the study suddenly swiveled, and Romulan troops stepped out, heavily armed and encircling the Alliance forces.

  The Alliance forces didn't hesitate. They aimed every weapon they had at the Praetor.

  "Tell them to lower their weapons," said Krone, "or you will be the first to die, Praetor."

  The Praetor's eyes narrowed. "As opposed to what? Should you detonate the device here, I will die regardless."

  "We've no intention of detonating it here," said Tome Ari easily. "We'll be bringing it to another part of the planet, far enough away that you, Praetor, and those close to you will be able to escape before the full potency of the weapon is reached. Think of it as a gesture of consideration."

  "And I can think of several gestures to offer in return," said the Praetor.

  "How dare you-!" snarled Krone.

  Tome Ari didn't appear the least insulted. He actually seemed amused. "I appreciate your fiery resolve, Praetor. Just as I'm sure that you appreciate the Alliance's technology and resources. For instance, there's Maneuver Ten."

  "Maneuver Ten?" said Hiren. "What would that be?"

  The answer came immediately as the Romulan troops promptly shimmered out of sight and the whine of transporter rays filled the great hall.

  Hiren made a distinct choking sound as he witnessed his men disappear, and Tome Ari chuckled at his reaction. "That, dear Praetor, was Maneuver Ten. I've had an open channel to the Blackmorn the entire time." He tapped his right ear. "A handy implant. I can hear communications from my ship, and they can hear my voice. It's a bit more subtle than open comm devices, don't you think?"

  "Return my men this instant!"

  "That would be a problem," said Tome Ari with mock sadness, "since their molecules were already given the widest possible dispersement in space. Reassembling them would be beyond even
our prowess. And that fate awaits you and your associates unless you cooperate every step of the way. Now," he said, turning to Soleta, "bring the device out here. We will beam up with it to the Blackmorn and-"

  "No," said Soleta. "I don't believe you will."

  She glanced toward Mac, and he nodded with what appeared to be approval. It was as if they were reading each other's mind.

  Tome Ari seemed as amused by Soleta as he had been by the Praetor. "Oh? And on what do you base your opinion?"

  "You're going to find out in about five seconds."

  "My dear woman," said Tome Ari, "that sounds like a threat. And you shouldn't be doing such things unless you-"

  Then he stopped talking. From the way he was reacting, Hiren could see that he was being told something by his ship that wasn't meeting with his approval.

  "Can back it up?" inquired Soleta. "Is that what you were going to say?"

  Tome Ari turned and said with mounting fury to Krone, "They can't beam us out! They have their shields up because they're under attack!"

  "From whom? Who would dare!"

  "The Excalibur!"

  "Calhoun's ship! That son of a whore! That-"

  And suddenly, something appeared to click in Krone's mind. He spun on the balls of his feet to face Mac and bellowed, "You! It's you! That's where I knew you from! I've seen images of you, taken during your assaults on our interests! You're M'k'n'zy of Calhoun!"

  "Pleasure to meet you," said Mac, and he yanked his blaster from concealment and fired at Krone.

  The blast struck the Klingon squarely in the chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing into several of his men. They went down in a heap.

  The sane, rational thing for Mac to have done at that point would have been to fall back.

  Mac did the exact opposite. He charged forward as if he outnumbered them, firing his blaster furiously in a sweeping arc that took down half a dozen men before any of them knew what was happening.

  The troops quickly rallied, swinging their weapons around and bringing them to bear on the fast-moving Mac. As one, they opened fire.

  Mac leaped high and backward, clear of the assault, and his attackers' blasts slammed into each other. The semicircle cut itself to pieces as Alliance troops went down under the withering assault of their own compatriots.

  The others fell back, regrouping, and Mac was ready to attack once more when Soleta suddenly grabbed him by the arm and shouted, "No! Come on!" He tried to pull away, furious. This was the sort of situation that he lived for, thrived on. The heat of battle was the only time he was able to shed the veneer of civilization he wore in order to command the Excalibur and become the person he truly believed himself to be. But Soleta's grip was firm, and she pulled him into the study. Hiren was next to her, and the moment Soleta had Mac inside, Hiren secured the door.

  "You've trapped us!" said Mac angrily.

  "She did as I told her to," said Hiren. "You may not wish to accord me any respect, Muck, but being the Praetor of the Romulans still counts for something." He pulled aside a hidden panel and touched a flat panel within. Immediately, a far wall slid aside, revealing a passageway. "Grab the device. Let's go," he said.

  Seconds later, the door to the study exploded inward. A livid Krone, followed by an equally fuming Tome Ari and the remainder of their troops poured into the study, only to find it empty.

  "A hidden escape route!" shouted Krone. "That has to be it! Tear the place apart until you find it! You," and he pointed at the nearest Cardassian. "Grab your tricorder, and come with me! You, too, Tome Ari!"

  Mac, Soleta, and Selar, meanwhile, were making their way through the narrow passage within the walls of the palace. It was designed to be used by one person at a time, so it was slow going as they made their way in single file. Nor was it easy maneuvering with the bomb, which Soleta was carrying as carefully as she could. Suddenly, she stopped, so abruptly that Selar banged into her.

  "Excalibur is in trouble," she said. "McHenry says the Blackmorn is pounding them. We're doing some damage but not enough."

  "You heard her. My ship is strong and maneuverable," Mac told Hiren, "but it's not going to be able to stand up to the Blackmorn. You have an entire fleet up there in orbit."

  "Yes, and they are most certainly doing nothing at the moment. Their standing orders are to remain neutral should they witness an Alliance ship under assault."

  "This is no time for them to remain neutral. If they aid the Excalibur..."

  "Then we'll have crossed a line we can never uncross. You're asking me to take the Romulans and put them against the Alliance, the exact thing I've been trying to avoid."

  "You can't, Praetor," said Mac. "Not anymore." His voice became more fervent, more insistent. "I don't know what happened to you over the years, but the man I first met years ago-the man who took me away from the father who despised me, the man who first exposed me to philosophy and strategic thought and everything that made me what I am-that man wouldn't back down from the Alliance."

  "But I did," said Hiren. "Even then I did, all for the good of my people."

  Soleta stepped forward and said angrily, "It wasn't for the good of the people, you selfish bastard. It was for your good. That's all you cared about. What was right for you in terms of being able to hold on to whatever power the Alliance let you have. The only question left now is whether you're too stupid to realize that power that others let you have is worthless. If you want power, you have to seize it and hold on to it with both hands and never, ever let go until someone pries it away from you."

  Mac waited for the Praetor to scream at her or bellow at her or tell her she didn't know what she was talking about and how dare she say such things.

  Instead, the Praetor stared at her for a long moment and said, "How much like your father you are. I think I did our people a disservice by suspecting him of treasonous thoughts."

  "Is that what you think? Should I feel gratitude for that?"

  "No. You should feel gratitude for this."

  The Praetor reached into his belt buckle and removed a communications device. He activated it and spoke slowly and gravely. "Attention to all fleet commanders within the sound of my voice. This is the Praetor, priority identification code zero three zero five. As you are doubtless aware, there is an Alliance vessel currently locked in combat with a rebel vessel, the Excalibur." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if he were preparing to jump off a very great height. "It is my order that you join forces with the rebel ship and attack the Alliance vessel. Blow them to hell. Repeat, blow them to-"

  The wall next to them blew open.

  The impact knocked them back, and debris from the crumbling wall came raining down on them. It was all Mac could do to avoid a concussion. As the smoke cleared, he saw the snarling face of Krone glaring in at him. His disruptor, which he had doubtless used to blow apart the wall, was pointed straight at Mac.

  "This time," Krone said, obviously unable to resist extending his moment of triumph, "you die."

  It turned out to be a calamitous indulgence, as far as Krone was concerned.

  As he said "this," Mac's fingers were wrapping around a piece of debris. When he said "time," Mac was cocking his arm. By the time he got to the word "die," Mac was whipping his arm around and flinging the chunk of debris as hard as he could.