Both combadges emitted more static. Whatever reply Titan might be trying to make was being drowned out utterly. Vale strode to the quarter of the perhaps five-meter-wide enclosure where Dakal and Evesh still labored to finish setting up the transceiver.
“I need that comm up and running, ASAP!” she said.
“Almost there, Commander,” Dakal said, pausing momentarily in his labors. Evesh continued working as she muttered something that sounded profane. Vale showed no sign of having heard it.
Vale tapped her combadge hard, her frustration evident. She smiled in pleased surprise when the next burst of static carried with it a recognizable and moderately intelligible human voice. “Titan here, Chris—good to hear y—r voice ag—”
Another voice sounded, this one coming from the much larger speakers of the subspace transceiver. Troi recognized the voice as belonging to Lieutenant Rager; it was faint, in the bridge comm system’s background. “I’m try—g to—stablish a signal lock, Cap—”
“Good,” Will said, his voice equally faint against the backdrop of static. “—shields back up the mom—th—way team’s on board.”
“Ay—” Rager said.
Considering the end that the away team had just narrowly avoided, Troi sincerely hoped that Will wouldn’t have to leave Titan’s shields down a moment more than was absolutely necessary.
“—ander Vale,” Will said. “—ive me a sit rep.”
“I’m afraid I had to ram the Gorn ship, Captain,” said Vale.
“I can see that. The Gorn ves—was destroyed, along wi—erbecke. Right now—e’re tryin—lock on an—eam you up.”
With a relieved grin, Vale said, “An outstanding plan, Captain. I second the motion.”
Troi could feel her husband’s good humor and relief mix together and come close to overflowing into his words. “—meantime, I suggest you keep an eye peeled—or any uninvit—guests. If you—d time to execute a last-second bailout—aybe—few of the Gorn troop—on that ship did as well.”
“Transporter lock established, sir,” Rager said from the progressively less intelligible background. The static underlying every word being spoken aboard Titan’s bridge was growing in intensity, like a wave front building slowly to tsunami strength.
“Captain—icking up—ncoming bogey.” This was another background voice; though it was highly distorted, Troi recognized it as belonging to Lieutenant Lavena.
“Confirm—the Ssevarrh again, Capt—.” This time the speaker was Tuvok. “And—closing fas—”
“Transceiver is online, Commander,” Dakal said. “It’s locked on the combadge frequency. Should be able to clean up some of the static.”
Elbowing the two technicians aside, Vale knelt in front of the squat portable comm unit and began adjusting the controls with methodical yet quick motions.
Troi heard Rager’s voice surface once again through the froth of whistling, popping interference. “—lost Commander Vale’s comm signal. Probably more Gorn jamming.”
Will’s voice reappeared: “What about the transporter lock?”
Rager again: “I need just a little more time, given all the atmospheric effects down there.”
“Keep trying,” Will said. “Hail Krassrr—tell him we—ust trying to recov—”
“Incoming fire,” Tuvok said.
The connection broke up.
“Away team to Titan!” Vale said. “Titan, come in.” She repeated the hail three more times before stalking away from the comm unit in frustration. Troi could sense that it had taken every particle of will the exec possessed to resist the impulse to deal the transceiver a spinning Jeet-Kune-Do kick.
Wearing a grave expression, Vale approached Troi. “I sure as hell hope Will got those shields back up before the fireworks started.”
Troi felt her body tensing involuntarily as a jolt of unpleasant surprise shot up and down her spine. Something was very, very wrong. “I think we may have a more immediate problem, Chris.”
Vale’s combadge spoke up once again, this time without the static that had plagued it before. “Sortollo to Vale.”
“Vale here, Lieutenant. How’s the perimeter sweep going?”
“Something’s following me, Commander,” the big security officer said, sounding out of breath. “I think it may be a Gorn landing party. I’ve made my way into a pretty vegetation-intensive area of the hillside for cover, so I haven’t got a clear look at ’em yet. But I recommend that you and the rest of the team break out the phasers. Hunker down and stay out of sight until—”
The channel suddenly went dead.
“Lieutenant?” Vale said. “Lieutenant?”
After ordering Ensign Dakal to start distributing the phasers, the exec flashed a silent, inquisitive look at Troi, whose only response was a small shrug and a shake of the head. While Troi was certain that Lieutenant Sortollo was no longer transmitting, she could not yet say precisely why.
A sudden wave of unfamiliar fear and anger, paired with the frantic rustling she could hear in the vines behind her, told her that this was about to change rather abruptly.
U.S.S. TITAN
Riker sat in his command chair, silently studying the long, angular vessel that hung in apparent motionlessness near the center of the bridge’s forward viewer. It was definitely Krassrr’s flagship.
“Our shields are holding,” reported Tuvok. “However, numerous EPS relays throughout the primary hull overloaded during the Gorn vessel’s initial salvo.”
An initial salvo that had turned out to be the other ship’s only salvo—at least so far.
“We’ve switched to backups,” Rager said. “Commander Ra-Havreii reports repair teams dispatched.”
“Phasers, photon torpedoes, and quantum torpedoes are ready for return fire,” Tuvok said.
“Thank you, Mister Tuvok. Stand by. And keep those shields up.” The away team on the planet’s surface was simply going to have to fend for itself, at least for the time being. “Lieutenant Rager, hail Captain Krassrr one more time. Tell him I want to talk to him.”
Once again, the Gorn vessel made no acknowledgment of the hail. But it also made no further aggressive moves. Riker found it immensely puzzling. The Gorn warriors he had encountered during the political crisis on their home-world had been both ruthless and relentless. They weren’t prone to indecision and didn’t tend to spend all that much time engaging in what Riker considered minimally prudent tactical planning. When they received an order to attack, they would do so with a single-minded ferocity that he’d seen matched only by the Dominion’s Jem’Hadar soldiers. They never considered casualties, or personal survival, and would fight to the last trooper without any hesitation. When they went into battle, considerations such as whether or not the odds favored them never seemed to enter their minds. They displayed no fear toward their enemies, no aversion, no emotion of any kind other than implacable hostility.
Riker heard the turbolift doors hiss open, and he turned his head in time to see S’syrixx step onto the bridge, flanked by Commander Keru and Lieutenant Qontallium.
“Thank you for agreeing to come to the bridge,” Riker said.
Despite S’syrixx’s evident discomfiture at the close proximity of so many non-reptiloids, Riker was impressed by the Gorn’s new-found composure. “I am pleased to help you in any way I can, Captain Rry’kurr.”
“After its initial attack, Krassrr’s ship is just . . . sitting there,” Riker said. “That doesn’t match any Gorn M.O. I’m familiar with. I’d like an appraisal.”
“We might interpret Captain Krassrr’s lack of action presently as a sign of his extreme confidence in the outcome of any protracted battle between his vessel and Titan,” Tuvok said.
Keru nodded, stroking his chin with one large hand. “I suppose the fact that he has five other vessels to watch his back may make him feel fairly sure of himself.”
“Four vessels,” S’syrixx corrected.
Keru nodded. “All right, then, four vessels. That still represen
ts enough firepower to outgun Titan by a considerable margin. And that fact begs the obvious question: why aren’t those four other ships here right now, ganging up on us?”
“Captain Krassrr may believe that the reason for Tietan’s presence,” S’syrixx said, “is to draw his ships away from their primary mission of protecting, repairing, and activating the ecosculptor. He may be biding his time, waiting for Tie-tan to make a tactical error, or to reveal the location of other hidden Federrazsh’n ships.”
“I’m detecting sensor beams radiating from the forward section of the Gorn vessel, Captain,” Lieutenant Lavena said. “Some are making contact with Titan. Others appear to be directed toward the remnants of the debris cloud.”
“Confirmed,” said Rager.
“So he must know by now that one of his ships got blown to Kingdom Come, half a world away from his precious terraforming artifact,” Riker said, resting his bearded chin on one fist as he continued to study the image of the Gorn ship. “Maybe he’s actually taking the time to find out just how mad he ought to be at us.”
“Captain Krassrr is hailing us now,” Rager said. “And I’m getting a visual signal this time.”
Another surprise—so far Krassrr had studiously avoided visual communications, as though the sight of humans repulsed him. He doubted that Krassrr found mammalian life-forms any less repellent now than he ever did, and wondered if his willingness to do so now was a display of military theatrics, perhaps a move designed to strike fear into his adversary and to impress his own subordinates with a display of personal courage.
It was becoming crystal clear to Riker that he had badly underestimated the sophistication of the Gorn military mind by generalizing from the lockstep, robotic characteristics of the typical Gorn foot soldier.
“If Krassrr has scanned this ship,” S’syrixx said as he stepped into the command well at the bridge’s center, “then he knows that I am aboard.”
“Maybe that’s why he wants visual communications this time,” Riker said, looking up at the slender yet still fearsome-looking reptile that towered over the right side of his command chair. “He wants to look you in the eye before he tries to kill you again. Maybe you ought to get out of sight until aft—”
“No,” S’syrixx said. “I will no longer allow war-caster bullies to rule my life.” Though the Gorn technician was clearly afraid, Riker could see that he was determined to stand his ground anyway.
“All right. Mister Tuvok, prepare to initiate Tactical Plan Archer One, on my signal. I’ve already sent the heading data to your console and the helm. Make sure Commander Ra-Havreii is ready to do his part.”
“Aye, Captain,” Tuvok said. Despite his Vulcan equanimity, he looked almost impressed as his hands hastened to enter the relevant commands.
“Interesting,” Lavena said over her shoulder a moment after she displayed the same data on her flight control console. “It might even work.”
Grinning at his pilot, Riker said. “Sometimes there’s just no substitute for the classics.” He gestured toward the screen. “Lieutenant Rager, Captain Krassrr is a busy man. Let’s not waste any more of his time.”
The image of Krassrr’s ship rippled for a fraction of a second, and was replaced almost instantaneously by the enraged visage of Krassrr, who was standing before the thronelike command chair that formed the nucleus of his vessel’s bustling bridge.
“Rry’kurr!” rumbled the Gorn captain, his barely contained rage challenging the limits of the universal translator’s capabilities. “It is clear now that you cannot be bargained with in a civilized fashion. I hesitate to destroy you outright only because my legal counsel requires me first to take a thorough and accurate inventory of Tie-tan’s many crimes to enable the Gorn Hegemony to seek reparations against your Federrazsh’n.”
At last Riker thought he was beginning to understand the method behind Krassrr’s madness. He hadn’t necessarily misjudged the Gorn military mind; he may have instead failed to place it in its proper context within the larger whole of Gorn society.
Sometimes the lawyer caste trumps the military caste, he thought, suppressing an ironic grin. And maybe more frequently than just sometimes. He wondered if the Gorn Hegemony’s present transition from an independent power to a member of a galactic confederation had triggered a hitherto-unnoticed power struggle between the military and legal castes.
Unfortunately Krassrr didn’t appear to be in the mood to shed any light on the matter. “I hold you personally responsible for the destruction of the Gorn Hegemony reconnaissance vessel Zzrorss, and for the deaths of its crew.
Riker shook his head in disbelief. “Captain, it was your ship that attacked my shuttlecraft. My people acted in self-defense. If anyone has committed any crimes of aggression here, it’s the captain of that vessel and you.”
After roaring something that utterly defeated the UT, Krassrr said, “Our attack on your auxiliary vessel was precipitated by your insistence upon returning to this planet after we had warned you to leave on two previous occasions. Or do you claim not to have understood our unambiguous warnings?”
“We understood you well enough, Krassrr. We just don’t recognize your authority to arbitrarily chase us away. Titan has as much right to be here as your vessels do.”
“This system is a territorial annex of the Gorn Hegemony, Rry’kurr. A Typhon Pact fleet will arrive shortly to enforce that lawful claim.”
Riker reflected yet again that this entire mess would have to be resolved before then, one way or the other.
“And by harboring that creature,” Krassrr continued, stabbing a lethal-looking claw in S’syrixx’s direction, “you have committed a crime of sedition against the Gorn Hegemony. He is a legally condemned saboteur whose execution has been duly ordered.”
Not to mention royally botched, Riker thought. Aloud, he said, “Mister S’syrixx is under the protection of the United Federation of Planets. I must regard any attempt to remove him or deprive him of his rights and liberties under Federation law as an act of war.”
Krassrr flashed a startling array of teeth in what might have been a grin intended to convey a bring-it-on sentiment.
“Lastly,” the Gorn commander said, continuing as though Riker hadn’t even spoken, “you stand accused of stealing vitally needed food and other supplies from a Gorn Hegemony military vessel. No doubt you relied on the assistance of our condemned saboteur to undertake that vile act of theft.”
Riker’s mouth fell open involuntarily; a charge of petty theft was the last thing he expected to hear. “Frankly, Captain, I’m not at all sure what to say to that one.”
“Captain Riker, if I may?” Tuvok said.
Riker turned toward the starboard tactical station, behind which the Vulcan stood. Gesturing toward the main viewer, he said, “By all means, Commander.” When all else fails, why not apply a little pure logic?
Tuvok stepped around his station and into the command well, coming to a stop at Riker’s immediate right.
“Captain Krassrr, according to our most up-to-date intelligence about your people, the Gorn warrior’s diet consists entirely of live, non-humanoid-compatible food.”
Krassrr growled. “Intelligence that you no doubt reviewed with your new Gorn saboteur-in-residence.”
Though he raised an eyebrow, Tuvok avoided addressing the comment directly. “Be that as it may, was my assumption regarding Gorn dietary requirements in error?”
“No, mammal. You are correct.”
Riker wasn’t sure how Krassrr could be so certain about the dietary requirements of humanoids. But he could guess. He had heard the rumors over the years, scuttlebutt that had circulated quietly in Starfleet’s cadet and junior-officer circles for over a century, that some of the casualties of the first Starfleet-Gorn encounters hadn’t been neatly vaporized by Gorn weaponry as James Kirk’s logs had reported. It wasn’t that anybody believed that Kirk or anyone else had falsified their reports. But the stories suggested that some of the officers involved may
have mistaken the effects of an unfamiliar type of transporter beam for those of a long-range disintegration weapon.
According to one of the stories, a pair of Enterprise tactical officers—their names were Lang and O’Herlihy, if Riker could trust his memory—had become the prisoners and lab rats of Gorn experimentalists after apparently dying by disintegration on Cestus III. The Gorn had kept the two men alive for years, or perhaps even for decades, maintaining a perpetual suicide watch as the Gorn clinicians cold-bloodedly learned everything they could about humanity and its vulnerabilities through a seemingly endless series of painful and torturous experiments.
If there was any truth at all to the stories, Riker fervently hoped that Lang and O’Herlihy’s torments had been brief.
Tuvok slowly paced across the front of the command well, like an attorney deliberately constructing his case before a fair-minded, disinterested jury. “Captain Krassrr,” he said, “if any of Titan’s personnel had wished to deplete your stores of live food, then why would the guilty parties not simply have killed the food animals and left them behind? Why would we incur the additional cost of stealing such supplies, or anything else that we know to be useless to us?”
“You are being disingenuous, Vulcan-mammal, which is curious. Your people are said to be incapable of lying.”
Tuvok again raised an eyebrow. “How have I been untruthful with you?”
“You have conveniently failed to mention the many non-humanoids that serve aboard your vessel. Some reptiloids number among these.” Krassrr pointed a claw toward Lieutenant Qontallium, who stood near the turbolift, ready to react should S’syrixx make any attempt to reprise his sickbay hostage standoff here on the bridge.
“All right,” Riker said, rising from his command chair. “My chief medical officer is a reptiloid. A Pahkwa-thanh, to be precise. He’s probably at least as big a carnivore as you are. Do you seriously believe I’d commit an act of piracy—arguably an act of war against the Gorn Hegemony—just to get Doctor Ree some extra calories?”
“I came here to level charges against you, Rry’kurr, not to try your case,” Krassrr said. “Your guilt is a certainty. I have every confidence that the law-casters will vindicate me—after I have blown you out of Hranrar’s sky.”
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Seize the Fire Page 26