The captain’s frown quickly smoothed itself over, and a wide grin split his face. “Commander, Miz Z’shezhira and I are both lucky that you have such a good eye for detail.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gibruch said.
Embarrassed by the praise, he looked forward, into the main viewer, which showed Hranrar’s rarefied upper atmosphere giving way to the blackness of space. The planet’s deceptively delicate-looking ring system hove swiftly into view, suffused in one spot by a weird, ghostly glow. The bright red emissions of the S’alath’s impulse engines appeared next as Titan began to close with the Gorn vessel rushing headlong toward the ring’s hazy luminescence.
As the ring plane seemed to grow relative to Titan, Brahma-Shiva appeared over the horizon. The artifact shone like an incipient supernova.
That can’t be a good thing, Gibruch thought.
HRANRAR
“Total, absolute annihilation: That’s the kind of danger your world is facing, Honored Speaker,” Troi said, a tone of genuine pleading in her voice.
Vale did not consider that a good sign at all: it told her that the diplomatic officer could sense that she was failing to persuade her audience.
“You don’t need to take our word for it, Honored Speaker,” Vale said, stepping forward while taking care not to alarm the Hranrarii leader’s extremely tense-looking bodyguards. “Look into your own sky.”
She pointed upward at the angry cross of fire that rent the heavens almost directly overhead. The speaker did as she was bid, as did about half of her bodyguards and nearly all of the Hranrarii government functionaries who had accumulated in the tower-top meadow around the planet’s highest-ranking leader.
“If you let this object carry out its function,” Vale said, “then your world as you’ve known it will end forever. I know you possess the power and the technology necessary to destroy or disable that thing.”
Sethne Naq, Speaker for the Great Syndic of the Global Moeity of Hranrar, averted her eyes from the sky and focused her gaze upon Vale. “If the object really is of extra-Hranrarii origin, as you say, then we would prefer to have an opportunity to study it before any destructive energies are directed against it.”
Mumbles of assent circulated among the Speaker’s nest of aides and assistants.
Gods save us from the meek and lowly, and the pure and holy, Vale thought in exasperation.
Aloud, she said, “I’m afraid you don’t have that kind of time, Speaker. This device—this weapon—could go off at any moment, killing everyone on this planet. That includes all of us, by the way.”
“Good, balanced decisions are never made in haste,” Sethne Naq said.
“Sometimes there’s no survivable alternative to haste,” Troi said. “I respectfully submit that this is one of those times.”
“You claim the . . . object . . . is from another world,” the Speaker said, waving her hand airily at the angry omen in the sky. “From another solar system, in fact.”
“Yes,” Vale said.
“According to our histories, a similar object appeared in our skies long ago. Our people demolished it when it failed to answer our initial calls.”
“Your ancestors must have been very wise,” Vale said. It occurred to her then that the Speaker’s story seemed to square neatly with the metal fragments Titan had encountered elsewhere in the Hranrar system.
“We feel now that our forebears may have acted prematurely,” the Speaker said. “We do not wish to repeat their error. We will demonstrate more patience than they did.”
“With respect, Honored Speaker, too much patience will lead to a catastrophe,” said Troi.
“As will an excess of panic. We do not even know for certain as yet that the object in question really is of alien origin. The preponderance of our most prominent Elder Knowers has concluded that intelligent life—life of the kind that Knows and Builds—can exist nowhere but on Hranrar.”
Vale wished vainly that she could access a little of the Speaker’s overabundant patience. “What about us, Speaker?”
Sethne Naq’s froggy eyes blinked in slow perplexity. “I do not understand the question.”
“As one of my people’s great thinkers might have said, ‘Are you gonna believe your planet’s Elder Knowers, or your own lyin’ eyes?’ “
The Speaker’s evident bemusement only deepened as Troi glowered silently in Vale’s direction. All right. Maybe misquoting Groucho Marx during a tense first-contact situation isn’t playing quite according to Hoyle. But I’ve got to find some way to drill through this thick amphibian skull.
“What I mean is this, Honored Speaker,” Vale said. “It’s pretty obvious that neither I nor any of my people are Hranrarii.”
“That much seems clear,” the speaker said.
Vale nodded. “So if non-Hranrarii intelligence really is as impossible as your scientific consensus says it is, then how do you account for us?”
Sethne Naq, Speaker for the Great Syndic of the Global Moeity of Hranrar, lapsed into a troubled silence. Her eyes seemed focused upon her flipperlike feet for what felt like a full minute before she craned her gaze skyward again.
“Perhaps the universe is a larger place than we had imagined,” said the speaker.
Vale hoped that meant she was finally achieving some intellectual traction here. “It’s all waiting out there for you to explore. The universe could be at your fingertips in a matter of months, via technology that you already have. You can venture into it as peacefully as you like. In fact, there’s only one thing the universe won’t let you do.”
“And what is that?”
Vale pointed up at the pyrotechnic apparition burning overhead. “The universe won’t let you get away with ignoring it.”
26
GORN HEGEMONY WARSHIP S’ALATH
To make certain that every critical flight and combat function was at least minimally covered, Gog’resssh had deployed his most able remaining warriors on the command deck, leaving the remaining tech-casters confined in the security area. With the loss of Zegrroz’rh now silently acknowledged by everyone aboard the S’alath—the second myrmidon could no longer enforce discipline merely by virtue of his menacing presence as the first myrmidon’s good right manus—the troopers had already begun to become slack and unruly.
But breaking K’zgarr’s neck, and then twisting his head off, right out on the command deck and in full sight of Great S’Yahazah, had immediately gone a long way toward instilling a renewed sense of order among Gog’resssh’s ragtag ranks.
Gog’resssh was about to ask for a tactical update when the forward viewer told him everything he needed to know: as the S’alath glided toward the relatively small ventral side of the orbiting ecosculptor, using Hranrar’s ring system in an attempt to hide its approach, several starlike lights swooped into view from the ecosculptor’s opposite side.
“Krassrr has prepared a welcome for us,” Gog’resssh rumbled. “Narrzsesh, you fool! You have given away our approach!”
Narrzsesh turned from the helm station to face Gog’resssh, his rad-scarred facial and cranial scales arrayed in a posture of fear/respect/obeisance. “No, First Myrmidon, I promise you!”
Gog’resssh leaped from his thronelike chair and drew the helmrunner into a bone-grinding hold.
Azagrern spoke up from the main sensor console. “Narrzsesh might not be at fault, First Myrmidon. Something else may be responsible.”
“And what would that be?” Gog’resssh said, poised upon the brink of disposing of yet another recalcitrant crewmember.
“Look!” Azagrern cried, pointing at the main viewer, which displayed a greatly magnified image of a small spacecraft that was keeping station near the ecosculptor’s base.
Gog’resssh allowed an ivory forest of serrated teeth to emerge from his mouth, accompanied by an involuntary lacing of saliva. “A mammal spacecraft, launched from Tietan, no doubt.”
“Power readings are minimal,” said Hressh, the armory officer.
Which makes it likelier th
at it was the S’alath that drew Krassrr’s attention, Gog’resssh thought. But this was no time to rehash that.
“Life signs?” he said.
“None aboard,” said Azagrern. “However, I read intermittent, confused bio-signatures coming from inside the ecosculptor.”
Rry’kurr’s mammals. “That small vessel is the escape route for the humans who have boarded the ecosculptor. Arm a torpedo and close off that escape route.”
“At once, First Myrmidon,” said Hressh as his talons clacked against his board. The command deck vibrated, signaling that the forward torpedo tube had disgorged its deadly cargo. Moments later an expanding orb of fire replaced the little mammalship.
“Give me a tactical plot of Krassrr’s fleet!” Gog’resssh bellowed, eager to face larger foes.
The image of the immolated mammalship vanished, replaced by a split screen. On the left side were five moving lights, which already looked more like ships than the distant background stars that lay beyond the ecosculptor’s immensity. The screen’s right side displayed five corresponding red icons that represented Krassrr’s vessels, and a single green one that stood for the S’alath, which approached Krassrr’s fleet head-on; in between these opposing forces was a graphic of the ecosculptor, as unmoving and serene as a mountain on Gornar.
“Will we engage Krassrr’s fleet all at once, First Myrmidon?”
“That depends on how many of his captains are foolish enough to get in our way, Helmrunner,” Gog’resssh said, leaning forward like a predator ready to strike. “Ready the weapons and take us to the ecosculptor’s core. Maximum impulse.”
If anyone is to remake this world for the future of my caste, it will be me, Gog’resssh thought. And I will do it with my own two manus, not by hurling fire from the skies.
A proximity alarm sounded, abruptly snapping the first myrmidon out of his musings. “What?”
“Incoming vessel!” Azagrern roared. “She’s opening fire!”
Then something struck the S’alath’s hull with a ferocity that Gog’resssh imagined might have rivaled the flames that had consumed Sazssgrerrn.
U.S.S. TITAN
“Fire!” Riker said.
Now that Titan was free of the magnetic interference of Hranrar’s northern polar region, Lieutenant Rager’s aim was true. Riker watched as great gouts of hot plasma and vented atmosphere commingled in the sections of the S’alath’s dorsal hull that had taken the brunt of the phaser barrage.
That last one’s for the Gillespie, Riker thought. He was thankful at least that no one appeared to have been aboard the shuttlecraft when Gog’resssh had blown it out of the sky.
“It helps to know precisely where to aim your particle weapons, does it not, Rry’kurr?” Z’shezhira said, displaying her teeth in what Riker charitably interpreted as the Gorn equivalent of a convivial smile. A few paces behind her stood Lieutenant Pava Ek’Noor sh’Aqabaa from security, her Andorian antennae angled vigilantly forward. Nearby stood the huge green Orion, Dennisar, also from security and every bit as vigilant.
“Once again, I am in your debt,” Riker said. Rising from his command chair to take a better look at the ops console, he said, “What’s the status of the S’alath’s weapons?”
“Disabled,” Rager said. “Shields are failing as well. He still has impulse power, but other than that he’s dead in the water.”
“Maintain Red Alert,” Riker cautioned. “And don’t make the mistake of counting Gog’resssh out just yet. He can still do a hell of a lot of damage.”
“Yesss,” Z’shezhira said. “He is committed to destroying the ecosculptor. Nothing short of death will stop him.”
Riker nodded. “I know. Blowing up the platform is a subject he seems to enjoy monologuing about. Trouble is, he doesn’t mean to let our away team finish their business there before he does it.”
“You will stop him, Rry’kurr.” The reptiloid’s yellow, vertically-pupiled eyes grew moist with unshed tears. His compassion took an involuntary leap across phylum boundaries; with his own Imzadi still in harm’s way on the surface of Hranrar—not to mention a second team that he couldn’t beam safely away from Brahma-Shiva under the present circumstances—he realized he understood precisely how Z’shezhira felt.
“It’s my top priority,” he said, managing not to flinch as he placed a hand gently upon her cold, scale-covered shoulder. “Aside from keeping this ship in one piece, that is.”
“Speaking of which,” Lieutenant Lavena said, “it looks like Captain Krassrr is sending his regards. Incoming!”
“Evasive maneuvers, Aili!” Riker cried as the bridge shook and shimmied beneath him yet again.
“Aye, sir.”
“And take us right up to within spitting distance of Brahma-Shiva, no matter what Krassrr or Gog’resssh do next. I want to get a transporter lock on the boarding team, ASAP.”
GORN HEGEMONY WARSHIP S’ALATH
“Weapons systems are down,” said Hressh, the armory officer. “Forward torpedo launchers have taken direct hits.”
No, Gog’resssh thought. I cannot come this close only to be denied.
“There has to be one good tube left aboard this ship!” he roared. “Drag the tech-casters out of confinement and put them to work on the main disruptor array and at least one of the aft launchers. I want you to deploy the torpedoes using your own two manus if you have to.”
“At once, First Myrmidon,” Hressh said. Though his voice resonated with doubt, he wasted no time exiting the command deck.
Gog’resssh reflected that it was good to have troopers who feared their commander more than they feared the wrath of a balky torpedo tube.
“Qontallium and I just set the last of the antimatter charges along the chamber’s perimeter,” Keru said as he approached the circuitry-laden wall where the most technical phase of the mission was being conducted.
“Good work, Commander,” Tuvok said, carefully concealing his relief at hearing that the tactical personnel, at least, had met with some immediate success.
Tuvok heard a growl behind him, and turned to face its source.
“I cannot support any plan to destroy the ecosculptor,” S’syrixx said, his tone low and dangerous. “I came here to help preserve the vessel of the Great Egg Bringer S’Yahazah.”
Tuvok stood his ground. “You agreed to help us prevent this artifact from slaughtering millions of innocent Hranrarii. And we agreed to do everything possible to preserve whatever information is stored here—which may or may not include the essence of your Egg Bringer. If such an entity actually exists, then surely it is beyond the ability of any of us to do it harm.”
S’syrixx stood in silence for a lengthy time, clenching and unclenching his three-fingered hands as he weighed Tuvok’s logic.
“Very well,” he said at length. “For all the millions who would otherwise die to please Krassrr, I will cooperate with this. I can only pray for S’Yahazah’s forgiveness after the fact.”
“Good,” said Commander Ra-Havreii. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can key in the delayed detonation command and beam back to the Gillespie.”
A cloud of dread settled over Tuvok as he contemplated the shuttlecraft, which the away team had left expending only enough energy to maintain a constant relative position about fifty klicks below Brahma-Shiva relative to Hranrar. There it remained, powered down and defenseless as it awaited the team’s return. Tuvok knew that Krassrr’s fleet was unlikely to detect the shuttle’s presence, both because of its darkened power profile and because it was positioned along one of the best stealth-approach, blind-spot trajectories connecting Hranrar to Brahma-Shiva’s base. But if Krassrr had somehow noticed the Gillespie, the team would have lost the option of surviving the destruction of the terraforming device—and whatever information they might retrieve here would be lost as well.
“You can still beam us back to the shuttle . . . right, Commander Keru?” the chief engineer asked, apparently giving voice to Tuvok’s own private misgiving
s.
“Don’t worry,” Keru said. “I just received the regular check-in signal from the Gillespie’s computer about a minute ago.”
Scowling, the engineer tapped his combadge. “Ra-Havreii to the Gillespie. Check transporter lock on away team.”
Silence replaced the reassuringly affect-free voice of the shuttlecraft’s computer. Two more combadge hails, one from Tuvok and another from Keru, met with the same nonresponse.
“Maybe it’s just a temporary glitch,” Keru said.
“And maybe Krassrr found the Gillespie and destroyed her,” said Ra-Havreii.
“There is no logic in speculating,” Tuvok said. “We still have a mission to complete.”
“I am detecting EM pulses from space that are consistent with the firing of certain particle weapons,” Second-Gen White-Blue said.
“That is by no means conclusive evidence of anything,” Tuvok said.
“Except, perhaps, of S’Yahazah’s displeasure,” S’syrixx said.
Ra-Havreii muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse. “We’re dead.”
Keru closed his eyes and rubbed at the spots on his temples as though they were causing him pain. “Let’s all try to stay on topic, just in case the cavalry arrives in time to pick us up after all. Have any of you guys had any luck yet finding a working computer interface?”
Ra-Havreii shrugged. “I hate to have to admit this out loud, but I’m beginning to wonder if we might be out of our depth here.”
“You’re giving up?” Keru asked, incredulous.
“Not at all,” Tuvok said. “However, we cannot minimize the fact that we are dealing with a highly advanced alien technology that appears to be at least half a million years old.”
Ra-Havreii nodded. “And that’s to say nothing about its many humanoid-unfriendly features. How can anyone expect to decipher it in the space of a few minutes?”
“I get it now. You’re trying to manage the team’s expectations,” Keru said, smiling in an apparent display of what humans sometimes described as “gallows humor.”
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