Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Seize the Fire

by Michael A. Martin

  “I’m merely trying to put my latest technological miracle into its proper context,” Ra-Havreii said.

  “Our technological miracle,” S’syrixx said in an uncanny approximation of the engineer’s voice. The Gorn pointed a single sharp claw at one particular segment of the raised, metallic techno-hieroglyphs on the chamber wall. “Based on our best analysis and White-Blue’s scans, this should be our interface.”

  “ ‘Should be?’” Keru asked. “You still aren’t sure? A little while ago you gave us the impression that you knew this place inside and out.”

  “And so I do,” S’syrixx said, his voice returning to its regular register while also conveying a mild timbre of warning. “But I am . . . I was. . . merely one member of a team of technologists. No one member of the team could know every aspect of a thing such as this.”

  “Do you believe it is safe to proceed, Commander?” Tuvok said, addressing Ra-Havreii.

  The engineer smiled crookedly. “What do we have to lose by trying?”

  27

  GORN HEGEMONY WARSHIP S’ALATH

  “One disruptor emitter and one torpedo tube are now restored to operation,” Hressh reported over the intraship comm.

  The ecosculptor, the very symbol of the dominion of the old warrior-caste, loomed on the main viewer, almost close enough to reach out and touch.

  Determined to do a good deal more than that, Gog’resssh grinned broadly.

  “Open fire.”

  GORN HEGEMONY RECONNAISSANCE VESSEL SSEVARRH

  “The warship S’alath is ignoring our hails,” said Grezzsz, Krassrr’s Second.

  Missing for longer than a suncircuit, only to return piloted by ghosts, Captain Krassrr thought unhappily as he watched the ship’s approach on his command deck’s central viewer. Or by pirates.

  He was loath to fire upon a ship of the line of the Gorn Hegemony. But this was a restricted volume of space, and the S’alath had transmitted no clearance codes of any kind.

  And she continued drawing ever nearer to the eco-sculptor.

  “Lock disruptors on target,” Krassrr said.

  “The S’alath is locking weapons on the ecosculptor!”

  Krassrr released a growl born of deep frustration. He had worked hard to restore the ecosculptor to operational status; realizing its abundant promise, both for his own caste and career and for the Hegemony in general, had been Krassrr’s responsibility.

  Now he could only watch helplessly while that promise was forever snatched away.

  “Sir!” the science tech-caster Trr’reriss roared. “Another vessel approaches the ecosculptor as well, at high impulse.”

  Within the span of heartbeats, the second ship became discernible on the viewer. A moment later, as it interposed itself between the S’alath and the ecocaster, it became recognizable.

  Krassrr’s heavy lower jaw swung slackly over his sternum. The mammals, he thought.

  “Tie-tan,” he said as the Federrazsh’n vessel’s bright blue particle beams raked the S’alath even as the latter ship fired a torpedo at the ecosculptor.

  “Target both vessels!” Krassrr snarled.

  The Vulcan tactical officer knelt briefly as he removed a newly fabricated custom ODN cable from the team’s portable industrial replicator. After he rose and handed one end of the cable to the engineer, Tuvok plugged the cable into a high-capacity data module while Ra-Havreii affixed his end into the ancient slot whose location S’syrixx was pointing out with his claw. SecondGen White-Blue hovered quietly nearby, apparently content merely to observe.

  “No explosions,” Keru said. “So far, so good.”

  Tuvok watched the displays on the data module for several uneventful seconds. Nothing appeared to be happening as the time stretched. Tuvok knew that the team probably couldn’t spare the time to make many more attempts at this. With or without an escape route, either for the team or for the data stored inside this ancient construct, the antimatter charges would have to be detonated soon to ensure the safety of Hranrar.

  The data module suddenly came to life. Alien symbols raced across the displays, each appearing for a minuscule duration, like images of playing cards being shuffled with impossible speed.

  “The data module is definitely recording data of some kind,” Tuvok said as he continued studying the external display.

  S’syrixx approached closely, drawing near enough to make Tuvok wary of a religiously motivated attack. But he immediately noted that the Gorn was only watching the ultraquick spooling of alien data.

  “The immortal essence of Egg Bringer S’Yahazah,” the Gorn said in a reverent whisper that sent a chill up the Vulcan’s back, as though he were once again studying with the Kolinahr Masters on the Plains of Gol; he hadn’t thought a cold-blooded being like S’syrixx capable of such an impassioned expression of devotion.

  Suddenly the floor beneath Tuvok’s boots shook violently. The lights overhead flickered and dimmed, and sparks flew from the data module, which slipped out of his grasp.

  As the module plummeted toward the hard floor, the Vulcan noted that S’Yahazah’s immortal essence seemed to have gone abruptly dark.

  GORN HEGEMONY WARSHIP S’ALATH

  Gog’resssh watched incredulously as Tie-tan raced toward the ecosculptor on what at first appeared to be a ramming trajectory. Then the mammal vessel came about, the weapons arrays on its dorsal hull glowing nearly as brightly as the gigantic artifact that now lay behind it.

  “Torpedo away,” said Azagrern as twin beams of cobalt-colored force lanced out from Tie-tan, smashing into the S’alath nearly hard enough to loosen some of Gog’resssh’s back teeth. The lights dimmed as instruments overhead and behind sprayed sparks, fire, and acrid smoke. Flakes of hot metal seared his neck scales, but he ignored the pain.

  He watched as the torpedo Hressh had just launched arced toward the ecosculptor. With a little luck, Rry’kurr would fail to lock his own weapons on the missile before—

  Contact.

  A nimbus of fire erupted at the impact point, almost dead center at the ecosculptor’s base—which was, incidentally, the source of the bio readings of Tie-tan’s boarding party. Gog’resssh continued watching as the conflagration dissipated.

  And left behind no evidence of a weapon strike of any kind. A full charge of contraterrene matter had expended itself against the ecosculptor’s weirdly glowing hull, to no apparent effect.

  That glow, Gog’resssh thought. Perhaps it is the soul of the Egg Bringer.

  Whatever it was, he could afford to treat it as nothing less than a force that was determined to thwart his will.

  “Ship status!” Gog’resssh demanded.

  “We cannot take another such hit,” Narrzsesh reported from the helmrunner’s console. “Weapons systems have failed again. The torpedo bay Hressh was running manually has depressurized.”

  “Tie-tan is hailing us, Captain,” Narrzsesh said.

  Azagrern sounded alarmed. “The Federrazsh’n vessel is powering up weapons for another salvo.”

  Gog’resssh considered his options for a moment. He decided that only one remained.

  “Narrzsesh, set a course for the base of the ecosculptor,” he said. “Ramming speed.”

  Tuvok handed the singed, acrid-smelling piece of equipment to Ra-Havreii and braced himself for the bad news. Brahma-Shiva’s interior lighting remained dimmed and reddened.

  “I’m afraid the data module is completely fried, Commander,” the chief engineer said with an unhappy shake of his head.

  “We must find another option,” S’syrixx said.

  “Our tricorders aren’t anything like those big modules in terms of storage capacity,” Keru said. “Looks like we don’t have a lot of options available to us.”

  Something moving at about eye level in Tuvok’s peripheral vision attracted his attention. “Perhaps we have an alternative that none of you has considered as yet,” said Second-Gen White-Blue a moment after coming to a hovering stop in the midst of the team.
/>   “What do you have in mind?”

  “I have a substantial data storage capacity,” the little AI said. “I would estimate it as at least two orders of magnitude greater than your largest data module.”

  Ra-Havreii raised his hands in a gesture of apparent impatience. “Wait a minute. Isn’t most of that capacity in use at the moment, occupied with the business of . . . well, of being White-Blue?”

  “I am capable of executing extreme data-compression regimes when necessary,” White-Blue said. Bobbing in Tuvok’s direction in a gesture that strongly resembled a humanoid’s nod, the AI added, “Besides, there is too much at stake here to allow me to forgo whatever personal risk my plan might entail. For the millions on Hranrar whose survival is in doubt, and the billions across your Federation who stand to benefit, I ask you to plug me in to the dataport.”

  Tuvok raised an eyebrow, profoundly impressed. Still, he needed to make certain that this creature, artificial though its intelligence might be, was fully cognizant of the risks it was choosing to face. “You may cease to exist as a consequence of this action,” he said.

  “I understand, Commander Tuvok,” White-Blue said. “But it is the only rational choice under the present circumstances.”

  “Good,” Ra-Havreii said. “Let’s do it. We don’t have a lot of better alternatives. Or time, for that matter.”

  Although he wasn’t entirely convinced, Tuvok nodded and reached for a fresh length of ODN cable.

  28

  U.S.S. TITAN

  “The S’alath is just . . . waiting out there,” Rager said.

  “Gog’resssh must have seen for himself just how much effect his weapons had on Brahma-Shiva,” Riker said, sitting on the edge of his command chair.

  “Well, as far as I can tell, he won’t get another chance to fire,” Lavena said. “It looks as though his weapons systems have finally gasped their last. Same with his shields.”

  We thought he was down and out before, Riker thought. And he still managed to surprise us. He was determined not to let that happen again if he could help it.

  Still standing on the bridge under the watchful eyes of both Lieutenant sh’Aqabaa and Chief Dennisar, Z’shezhira said, “Gog’resssh should never be underestimated.”

  “That ship-class is supposed to have some pretty tough weaponry,” Rager said. “I sure hope that Brahma-Shiva was taking good care of the boarding team when the S’alath’s torpedo hit it.”

  “Until we can raise the team on the comm, all we can do is hope,” Riker said.

  Gibruch, who was now running one of the tactical stations, spoke up. “There’s something here I don’t understand, Captain.”

  “What’s that, Commander?”

  “According to the telemetry signals from the Gillespie, the boarding team beamed aboard Brahma-Shiva from about fifty kilometers away without any trouble,” Gibruch said in tones that reminded Riker of an orchestral woodwind section. “But an ordinary comm signal is a lot less complex than a transporter beam. You’d think we wouldn’t have any trouble raising them at such relatively short range.”

  Riker nodded. Gesturing toward the main viewer’s depiction of the steadily intensifying blue glow of the terraforming platform, he said, “My guess is that they beamed inside just before that happened.”

  “Maybe their beam-in woke something up,” Lavena said.

  Rager made a weary face. “If that’s true, let’s hope it’s not grumpy first thing in the morning.” Turning toward Riker, she said, “Phasers are still charged and ready, sir.”

  “Stand down from Red Alert, Lieutenant. But keep the phasers warm. I don’t want to kill Gog’resssh or destroy his ship unless he forces me to. I’d rather see Krassrr arrest him.”

  Even as he voiced the wish he knew it had precious little chance of becoming reality; however distinguished his military record might have been before the Sazssgrerrn catastrophe unhinged him, Gog’resssh was now no longer the sort of person who would bend willingly to authority.

  He could feel in his bones that the rogue Gorn would never permit himself to be taken alive.

  Just as he knew he couldn’t content himself with waiting any longer to take action to pull the boarding team back from the terraforming platform, regardless of any mysterious forces that might be protecting it at the moment.

  “Lieutenant Lavena, nudge us to within ten klicks of Brahma-Shiva’s base,” he said. “Mister Gibruch, ready the transporter, and hail the boarding team. I’m gambling that we can get some kind of signal through if we get close enough. We’ll press our ears up against their windows if we have to.”

  “Aye, sir,” his officers chorused.

  No sooner had he felt the subtle but unmistakable “velocity-change tell” of the deck beneath his boots than an amber light began flashing on Rager’s console.

  “Krassrr’s hailing us, Captain. His rant appears to be already in progress.”

  Riker sighed. “What a delight. Put him on audio, Lieutenant.”

  “—eem to have acted to protect the ecosculptor, Rry’kurr, which is the only reason I have chosen not to blow your vessel to quarks,” said the commander of the Gorn terraforming fleet.

  “I thank you, Captain Krassrr,” Riker said. “Now what can I do for you?”

  “Withdraw from this world and this system, Rry’kurr. Your only alternative is destruction.”

  Riker made a throat-slashing gesture, prompting Rager to mute the comm system’s pickup. “Mister Gibruch, any luck contacting the boarding team?”

  The Chandir shook his head sadly, causing his cranial tails to sway from side to side. As they moved, the tails made a noise that reminded Riker of an Australian aborigine’s didgeridoo. “Nothing yet, sir. And that . . . energy field surrounding Brahma-Shiva is thoroughly confusing the transporter scanners. I’m going to try boosting the gain.”

  “Lieutenant Rager, what do you suppose Krassrr concluded from Gog’resssh’s attack on Brahma-Shiva?” Riker asked.

  “One of two things, sir,” Rager said. “He either thinks that Brahma-Shiva is invulnerable now, or else he’s assumed that Gog’resssh’s torpedo somehow misfired before it reached its target.”

  Riker nodded. “My thoughts exactly. In my experience, Gorn warriors tend to be fairly conservative creatures. So I’m going to bet on choice number two—that Krassrr won’t risk taking a shot that might hit his ecosculptor.

  “Take us in closer, Lieutenant. A lot closer.”

  “Keep speaking to us as the download proceeds,” Tuvok said to the quietly hovering SecondGen White-Blue as Ra-Havreii, Keru, Qontallium, and S’syrixx looked on. “That may enable us to disconnect you in time to prevent irreparable damage should anything go wrong.”

  “I shall comply,” White-Blue said. “Download process is initiating. Copying incoming datastream to central storage core. Working. Working.”

  As the AI droned on, floating all the while at the end of an ODN-cable tether, White-Blue reminded Tuvok of a walk he had taken in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park during his most recent tenure as an instructor at Starfleet Academy. He had passed a human family who had been out enjoying the clear, warm spring day; one of the children had held a length of string pulled taut by an airborne polymer bladder filled nearly to bursting with a lighter-than-air gas, presumably helium. Attached to whatever ancient knowledge (or consciousness?) might yet dwell within the information systems of this ancient artifact, White-Blue now bore an absurd resemblance to that children’s toy.

  “Working,” White-Blue said as the seconds slowly passed. “Working. Working. Work—” A coruscating nimbus of electric energy engulfed the AI, bringing its constant but repetitive commentary to an instantaneous halt.

  White-Blue plummeted toward the floor, so much dead weight now. Keru dived to catch the AI as Tuvok grabbed the ODN cable and disconnected it from Brahma-Shiva’s interface with a single hard tug.

  Keru set White-Blue down gently on the hard metal floor while Ra-Havreii scanned the AI with his
tricorder.

  “Did he just fry like the data module?” Keru asked.

  Ra-Havreii shook his head, a gesture that made his snowy mane and his long white mustachios wag from side to side. “I don’t think so. My guess is he’s gone into some sort of ‘safe’ mode. He seems to be using nearly all of his resources to perform self-diagnostic and self-repair subroutines.”

  “Then we’re out of options, at least as far as salvaging anything here goes,” Keru said. “I know you’re in charge of this mission, Tuvok, but I would strongly advise you to cut bait at this point—we really should start the countdown on the antimatter charges and get away from here.”

  Once again, Tuvok wasn’t entirely sure. “Perhaps,” he said.

  “S’Yahazah may not permit that,” S’syrrix said. “Any more than she has permitted you to record her most unfathomable, unknowable thoughts.”

  “I’d prefer to concentrate on the practical issues,” Ra-Havreii said. “Such as finding out for sure whether or not we can get out of here.”

  “Logical,” Tuvok said. Tapping his combadge, he once again hailed the Gillespie, although he strongly suspected the shuttlecraft’s computer wouldn’t be able to answer.

  Exactly as before, he received only silence and static in response.

  So it has come down, at last, to this, Tuvok thought. The lives of the boarding party against the millions who will die should Captain Krassrr release Brahma-Shiva’s energies on the surface of Hranrar.

  His combadge chirruped, startling him so much that he almost jumped in a decidedly non-Vulcan manner. “—itan to boarding tea—Boarding team, d—you read?”

  Despite the wash of static that competed with the comm signal, Captain Riker’s voice was clearly recognizable. Tuvok maintained his studied air of Vulcan sobriety only with the greatest effort as he replied.

  “Commander Tuvok here, Captain. The boarding team is safe. Can you establish a transporter lock?”

  An uncomfortably static-filled interval passed before the answer arrived. “—firmative, Commande—”