by Diane Duane
“One hundred million kilometers from the star,” Sehlk said. “Ninety million…sixty…thirty…” At this speed, Ael thought, amazed, if I blink I’ll miss it…. And indeed, a second later, everything seemed to happen at once. Enterprise and Intrepid dove into the star’s corona together; Intrepid shook hugely as she first hit the star’s bowshock at multiples of the speed of light, then created another of her own, trailing jointly behind her and Enterprise. The ship lurched again, and again, as photon torpedoes and phasers fired. Then a third terrible lurch of heaviness, and stomach-turning lightness, and normal weight again, as the artificial gravity wavered, the ship malfunctioned in trying to compensate for the star’s terrible mass, and slowly went back to normal again.
“Report,” Suvuk said, as calmly as if he did this every day.
“Enterprise reports intact, Captain,” said Sehlk. “Maneuver complete. Helve and Lahai are far behind, not even in the area. Battlequeen is hitting the bowshock of the ion storm now—”
“Force reading, please.”
“Force twelve and escalating.”
“Evidently you were right, Commander,” Suvuk said to Ael. “It is more effective with two starships. They are getting rather worse than they gave us as a distraction.”
“Communication from Bloodwing, Commander t’Rllaillieu,” said the comm officer. “They report they are cutting across our hyperbola to meet us, ahead of the ion storm. Rendezvous in approximately four minutes—”
“Thank you,” Ael said.
“Battlequeen is slowing somewhat, Captain,” said Sehlk. “Possibility that her navigations are going out on her due to the extreme intensity of the storm—”
“Intrepid, this is Enterprise,” said Scotty’s voice.
“This is Intrepid,” Jim said, at a nod from the Vulcan comm officer. “How’s she riding, Scotty?”
“Smooth enough so far,” Scotty said, “but we’d best pour it on a bit. That lad behind us isn’t taking no for an answer; he’s come through the far side of the bowshock and he’s accelerating again. Maintaining warp eleven cruise speed on the eta Trianguli course.”
“Noted, Enterprise, we will match you,” Suvuk said. “Screen on, Sehlk. Deflector shields up; phasers ready. Commander, can Bloodwing maintain a warp eleven cruise?”
“Not for more than a few minutes, Captain,” she said. Her hands had been sweating now for several minutes over just that issue.
“Very well. Enterprise, Bloodwing cannot match warp eleven. I suggest we maneuver close enough together to allow a joint warpfield, and take her into it.”
“Captain Suvuk,” Scotty said, sounding very distressed, “with all due respect, that’s extraordinarily dangerous for two ships of the same model, let alone ones with different engine specs—”
“—which we now have,” Suvuk said. “Granted, Mr. Scott, but we cannot leave Bloodwing behind, either. Do you wish to speak to your captain?”
“Not now,” Scotty said, “but I will later…. Implementing, sir. Scott out.”
Suvuk looked at Jim with calm approval. “Sir, have you ever noticed that while we run our ships, our engineers own them?…”
Ael watched the slow smile cross Jim’s face. He said nothing, only turned back to the screen.
“Rear view,” Sehlk said. And there was Enterprise, great and shining, all white fire and stark black shadows from the Levaeri primary, and growing dimmer as they fled the system. She was getting quite close…pulling up alongside the Intrepid now, the two of them streaking along much closer together than any two ships traveling at warpspeed had any right to be. “Coming up on Bloodwing’s position.” Sehlk said. “She is accelerating to warp eleven to meet us. —Warpfield match with Enterprise—”
Intrepid lurched again, a violent motion that made the earlier shaking seem very mild. “Warpfield match with Bloodwing,” Sehlk said—and this time even a few of the Vulcans went flying about the bridge.
Not Suvuk; he might as well have been glued into his center seat. “Match complete,” he said. “Lieutenant T’Khia, head for the Zone, eta Trianguli course—”
“Battlequeen gaining on us again, Captain,” Sehlk said. “Warp twelve…warp thirteen…”
“We cannot long maintain our lead,” Suvuk said, looking over at Jim and Ael, “not while they pursue at warp thirteen.”
“Fourteen now,” said Sehlk. Spock looked across the bridge at Jim and shook his head, ever so slightly.
“Recommendations, Captain? Commander?” Suvuk said.
“Not to be taken, sir.” Jim said.
“Commander?”
“I agree.”
“My ship has such orders already,” Jim said.
Suvuk nodded.
“Battlequeen is once more at one light-minute,” Sehlk said. “One-half light-minute—”
“Captain,” Suvuk said, “by the way—though thanks are said by some to be illogical—thank you for another three hours of life.”
Jim bowed where he sat, straightened again. “My only regret is that I could not return you to your ship before this,” Suvuk said quietly. “Or you to yours, Commander.”
“The fortunes of war, sir,” she said.
“If fortune exists,” Suvuk said. “And if this is war. At any rate, I thank you also, Commander. It has been an unexpected—gratification—to discover that our cousins may also be our brothers.”
Ael bowed her head too.
“One-tenth light-minute,” Sehlk said into the great quiet of the bridge.
“Enterprise,” Jim said.
“Aye,” Scotty’s voice came back—and that was all he said.
“Bloodwing,” Ael said.
“Commander—”
“Wait for it,” Ael said softly. “We shall meet shortly.”
“Four light-seconds,” said Sehlk.
Ael saw Jim look across the bridge at Spock, a long glance, then another one, up at McCoy. And then at the screen, toward the empty space ahead of them, toward the border of the Zone, that they would never reach.
“One light-second,” Sehlk said. “She’s firing—”
The ship rocked. And rocked again, but not with the same sort of response. Someone was firing phasers near their warpfield, distorting it from the leading side.
“Contacts—” Sehlk cried. “ID’s—”
But Ael sat up in her seat with a cry. There was no identifying them by shape, those white streaks that fled past them, lancing the starry night with fire; but she knew what they were. “Constellation,” Mr. Sehlk said, “and behind it, Inaieu—”
Ael turned and stared at Jim in astonishment. He was still staring at the screen, as if turning might change what had been. “They’re firing,” said Sehlk. “Battlequeen is turning to engage Constellation. Firing at her—”
He flicked a switch, reversed the screen. Behind them a sudden great flare and violence of light appeared, spreading outward and outward. Very slowly, Sehlk sat down at his station.
“Inaieu fired at Battlequeen point blank en passant,” he said, “Battlequeen is destroyed.”
“What about Inaieu?” Jim said, not looking away from the screen.
“Intrepid,” said the ’com. “This is Inaieu. Suvuk, you old villain, where have you been? Shirking again?”
“Without a doubt, Nhauris,” said Suvuk. “Just as at Organia.”
“Nhauris,” Jim said, “nice job.”
“I keep my appointments,” the Denebian said, and laughed her bubbly laugh. “Let’s get across the Zone, gentlemen, before more of the Romulans notice that the silver is missing. Inaieu out.”
“Reduce speed, T’Khia” said Suvuk, “and set a course.”
“Aye, sir.”
Ael got free of her seat and went over to Jim, unable to stand it anymore. He looked away from the screen and regarded her with a truly insufferable smile.
“How did you do that?” she cried. “You called it to the minute, to the second, in all these light-years of space? How?”
He did n
ot answer her but McCoy, who was looking at him in an astonishment as great as hers, but quieter. “You did tell me,” Jim said mildly, “that I should have more confidence in my game….”
Chapter Nineteen
CAPTAIN’SLOG, Stardate 7516.3:
“According to our patrol orders, we are continuing Neutral Zone patrol until such time as the starships Potemkin and Hood arrive to relieve the task force.
“The Zone has been unusually quiet since we left Romulan space. Captain Rihaul has speculated that this had to do with our possession not only of the pirated Vulcan genetic material (which the Romulans may fear we will use against them) but the Sunseed ion-storm generation program, very obviously worked out in their own programming languages and protocols, on their media, and with much documentation concerning the Romulan High Command’s complicity with the Senate and Praetorate in the alteration of the weather hereabouts. We suspect we will not be hearing much out of the Zone for a while, as the Empire becomes busy shaking itself up.
“I am entering requests for special commendations for the following personnel: First Officer Spock, Montgomery Scott, Lieutenant Commander Harb Tanzer, Lieutenant Commander Nyota Uhura, Lieutenant Commander Hikaru Sulu, Lieutenant Pavel Chekov. There are many, many others on the general commendations list (see attached).
“Meanwhile, the crew of Bloodwing (formerly ChR Bloodwing) are preparing to depart. If it were possible to request a commendation for their commander, Ael t’Rllaillieu, I would do so. She has at all times exhibited an integrity and courage which give the lie to many of our cherished old myths about Romulans.”
…And there he stopped, apparently unsure what to say next, or whether to say anything. He clicked the viewer off. “Ael,” Jim said, “where are you headed?”
She turned to him from studying the medical scanner over one of the beds in sickbay, where they had been taking care of the worst injured of her people with McCoy. “There is a lot of space,” she said, “that neither Federation nor Empire owns; a lot of planets where a trim ship can make its own way, hiring out as a mercenary ship, a free trader…perhaps a pirate….”
“Ael!…”
“Oh come,” she said. “You know me better than that by now. Or you should.”
He swung back and forth gently in the chair. “Space hereabouts will not be safe for us,” Ael said, looking up at the scanner again. “We have exposed the mind-researches and Sunseed, and destroyed a great deal of supposedly indestructible Romulan material. Very embarrassing. They will not dare to strike at you in revenge—even if they find themselves able to get at you. Rihannsu have no luck with Enterprise, that’s certain….”
“The Vulcans would be glad to have you,” Jim said. “If Spock’s and Suvuk’s word weren’t enough—and I assure you they are—you’ve done more for that species—”
“I did not do it for them,” Ael said. “I did it for my Empire, and my oaths. I will not take coincidental thanks, or gratitude that is offered me for the wrong reasons.”
Her eyes rested on the door to the other room, where McCoy was working. “What about him?” Jim said quietly.
“He will not live,” Ael said, her back turned. “My doing.”
Jim looked at the table. “You can’t blame yourself—”
“It is not a question of blame.” Her voice was calm enough, but oh, the bitterness buried in it. “It’s merely the way the universe is, the way the Elements are. Become careless with Fire, and sure enough, Fire will burn you. Do treachery, and treachery will be done you. Kill, and be punished with death. All these I’ve done. Now I pay the price, in my own flesh and blood. And more: for I’ll die far from home, unless I dare the ban in my old age, and walk on ch’Rihan again, to be killed by the first person who recognizes me. And there will be no child or friend to hang up the name-flag for me before I die; no family, no one but my faithful crew who go into exile with me. Family…but not the same. Never the same.” She looked at him, almost in pity now. “And I would do it again, all of it. You still don’t understand….”
Jim looked up at her sorrowfully, again unable to find anything useful to say. “When will you be leaving?” he said at last.
“Ten or fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll meet you in the transporter room.”
Jim went out.
It was a relief, like a weight lifted, when he was gone. But the worse weight came right down on her as McCoy came out of the next room, and looked at her, and shook his head slightly.
“His brainstem and spine were severely damaged,” McCoy said. “Nonregenerable. He’ll die if he’s taken off support.”
“And if he is not?”
“A few days of pain. A few hours, if he’s lucky.”
“But the same result.”
“Yes.” McCoy’s voice was quiet, and very sad.
Ael bowed her head and went in.
There he lay, looking waxen already; and the pulled-up blanket only accentuated the place where his right arm had been. She stood by the bed a long time before speaking.
She could not see him as he was, close to death. All she could see was ten years ago, twenty years, forty: a child waving a toy sword and saying he would be like his mother. So he had been; and this was where the likeness had led him.
“You saw my writings,” Tafv said, a thread of voice, thinned to breaking.
Ael nodded. His room’s computer had been full of them. Years he had been planning this revenge for his beloved cousin. Oaths did not stand in his way when his opportunity arose, any more than they had stood in Ael’s way when she saw her chance to betray Levaeri V, and Cuirass, and all the others. He had been preparing for that opportunity for a long time, suborning the newer members of her crew with money and the promise of power; and the delivery of Enterprise into his hands had seemed to Tafv to be a gift from the Elements. What he would have done with it, and with her, that Ael knew from his writings too. He would have become rich, and famous, and powerful in Command. She would have been swiftly a prisoner, and then a corpse. He had never forgiven her for falling silent before the Senate, for ceasing to try to save his cousin, the young commander, though the attempt might have killed her, and Ael too.
“I did what I had to do,” he said. “I would do it again. It was mnhei’sahe.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Now you must also do what mnhei’sahe requires,” he said. And the effort exhausted him, so that he lay gasping.
She stood a long time before she could agree. And then she did what she had to; for treachery had no payment but death.
When she went out again, McCoy stood aside for her, not moving, not speaking. She paused long enough to trade a long glance with him.
“Thank you,” she said, and left.
And then there was only one more barrier: the transporter room, where Jim waited. At least there was no one else there.
“Spock asked me to make his farewells for him,” Jim said.
“He is a prize, that one,” she said. “All the Elements walk beside you in him. Take all care of him—and thank him well for me.”
“I will.”
She turned toward the platform. Jim made a small abortive motion that somehow made Ael stop.
“You never did tell me what ‘Jim’ meant,” he said.
Ael looked at the closed door, and at the intercom to see that it was off, and she told him.
He started to laugh—very hard, as might have been expected—and to her own great surprise, Ael started to laugh with him. “Oh,” Jim said after several minutes, “Oh, oh, no wonder….”
“Yes.”
He stood there with his arms folded—a gesture left over from the way he had been hugging himself while he laughed; seemingly to keep from hurting his stomach, or because it already hurt. This man…
“Now let me tell you what ‘Ael’ means,” she said, glancing again at the closed door. She told him. She told him what the second name meant, and the third. And then—very quietly—the fourth.
Ael stepped up onto the transporter platform, and waited for him to step around to the controls. The singing whine scaled up and up in the little room. And bright fire began to dissolve them; the overdone little room in the great white ship, and the man who had no fourth name to give her in return.
But no, she thought. He has a fourth. And he gave me not just the name—but what it names. Her…whole and entire.
To her relief, and her anguish, the transporter effect took her away before she could move to match him, daring for daring, with an equal gift.
Chapter Twenty
Jim stood there quietly for a good fifteen minutes, considering the words he had been told, especially the fourth one—considering the nature of the sword that had cut him. Entirely appropriate, he thought, remembering Ael in Spock’s quarters. After all, a sword was a thing of air and fire; and it was almost universally true that, with the best swords, you might not even know you’d been cut until you began to bleed….
He left the transporter room, heading for the bridge: something familiar, something his, something he could control.
Something he had not lost.
It was two months’ work, getting back to Earth this time, and then several days of dull and depressing debriefing on the Levaeri incident.
He put up with it all; it was part of the price of captaincy, after all. But his mind was elsewhere, especially on the last day.
By luck, or something else, the debriefing that day was at Fleet San Francisco, and the Enterprise was right overhead in synchronous orbit. He got out of the offices around five, went out into the fog, and called Spock; then once aboard, went down to his quarters to pick up the small object he was after, and take it right back to the transporter room.
The transporter chief had left—which suited Jim well. He paused only long enough to bring up a visual of Earth on the screen and note with satisfaction that the terminator had crept barely past the California coast; Seattle and San Francisco and Los Angeles were tiny golden spatters against a velvet darkness ever so faintly silvered with moonlight. Perfect, he thought, killing the screen. Jim set the transporter for the coordinates he wanted, checked his belt for his communicator, and set the console for delayed-energize.