The Bloodwing Voyages

by Diane Duane

  “Unilateral declarations of independence,” Jim said softly.

  “Yes, Captain. The rebellious factions have correctly assessed the central government’s position. It is now too busy handling internal problems closer to home, similar rebellions and disaffections, and most lately the matter of the commander and the lost Sword, to effectively crack down on the worlds farthest away. According to the news which Lieutenant Commander Haleakala-LoBrutto has been given to pass on to us, these more distant colony worlds have become themselves disaffected over recent years by the Rihannsu government’s decision to withdraw its protection from them while continuing to demand ever higher taxes and conscription. And on some of the most distant worlds, where the families who settled were those of the engineers and pilots of the old-generation ships, the disaffection is strongest and is now erupting into the open. On those worlds, so the lieutenant commander says she has been told, the leaders of the movement—if that is the word for it, its organization being loose—have spent years amassing the capital, resources, and manpower to secretly begin building great ships again.”

  “Secretly?” Jim said. “That must take some doing, with their bureaucracy. But what kind of ‘great ships’?”

  McCoy was already shaking his head. “Knowing those people,” he said, “knowing what I heard about the Ship-clans while I was there—they won’t just be generation ships, this time. They’ll be multipurpose…”

  “Warships, then,” Jim said.

  Spock nodded. “The outworlds are now intent on their freedom. Their people would largely prefer to remain Rihannsu. But as such, they are also pragmatists, and they know the present government will not let them go without a fight. They are preparing to fight for their worlds’ freedom, and if they cannot achieve this, they intend to lead their people out into the long night again, and never return.”

  Jim swallowed. It was nothing less than the beginning of the disintegration of an empire that Spock was discussing so calmly, but Jim knew all too well from history that where one empire fell, another would rush in to fill the vacuum unless something happened to stop the process.

  “Several of the great ships are complete already, apparently,” Spock said. “They have been built in orbit and concealed in the asteroid belts of several of the colony worlds where the Rihannsu government’s surveillance is poorest. Several more will be ready soon. And meanwhile, as a result of this—for the leading minds in the movement have seen to it that the news has seeped out—thousands of Rihannsu have begun demonstrating in the cities of the outworlds. And there has been considerable civil disorder associated with the demonstrations, along with destruction or theft of government property. This is information which has apparently been suppressed by the authorities on ch’Rihan until now. Lieutenant Commander Haleakala-LoBrutto says that they have had less success suppressing the larger-scale demonstrations on ch’Havran, but the government continues to attempt to deny what is going on, or to pretend that it is unimportant. Some of the Praetorate know the truth, and have spoken it, but they are not popular.”

  Jim thought of the great bear of a man who had towered over him, looking at him so curiously, so speculatively. He wondered if he now understood something of the reason why. “Spock,” he said, “doesn’t Gurrhim tr’Siedhri have Ship-clan connections?”

  “Indeed he does, Captain. Normally someone with such close ties would not survive long in the Praetorate, but his hereditary rights to the title cannot be denied, and he wields considerable power because of extensive land holdings on both ch’Rihan and ch’Havran, but more so on the latter world, which also has Ship-clan ties of its own which ch’Rihan does not. He would be seen by the other Praetors, particularly by the ‘ruling’ three, as at least potentially subversive, and a danger to them, but so far they have not found a way to reduce his ‘dangerousness.’”

  “Short of killing him,” McCoy said, “which is something that does happen to you sometimes in Rihannsu politics.” He folded his arms, leaned back. “I’d watch how I drank, if I were him, and who poured it out of what bottle.”

  “And Ael…” Jim said.

  “Ael,” Spock said. “There are apparently many among the Ship-clans who see her as someone they can use as a banner, a rallying point.”

  “Knowing the commander,” McCoy said, “I’m not sure who would be using whom, exactly.”

  “She would certainly be willing to use this kind of force if it was offered to her in alliance,” Jim said. “But is it really enough, do they really have the resources, to unseat an empire? Spock?”

  “The lieutenant commander’s data has numerous lacunae,” Spock said. “The data apparently came to her in some haste, and she passed it on the same way to her superiors in Starfleet Intelligence—whom it will only now be reaching. But the kind of uprising presently taking place is unprecedented in the history of the Imperium. Whatever the final outcome, the Romulan Star Empire as we have known it is about to change forever.”

  “This is news we’ve got to get to Ambassador Fox,” Jim said, getting up. “He would get it from intel himself, anyway, but not as quickly. Talk about timely…”

  “It is,” McCoy said. “In the case of the first set of information, of course, the timeliness is obviously planned.”

  “Yes. Now we’ve got to figure out which way they think we’re going to jump as a result of it.” He headed out. “Spock? Let’s go see if the ambassador’s available.”

  He wasn’t, but this hardly came as a surprise to Jim, considering what the events of the next day were going to entail. All they could do was leave a copy of the information and a précis with Fox’s assistant at his office aboard Speedwell, and head back to Enterprise to wait for the proceedings to commence. Jim went to bed and dreamed uneasily of things exploding in the darkness, and of the light of the nearby star suddenly beginning to balloon out at him in the unnerving way it had at 15 Tri.

  He was up earlier than necessary and found Spock already on the bridge. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Jim said.

  “No more than need required,” Spock said, rather absently, as he was looking down his scanner at the moment. “There have been other matters in need of my attention.”

  Jim sat down at the helm and rubbed his face. “Anything interesting?”

  Spock straightened up and stepped down toward the center seat, where he stood looking at the viewscreen. It was showing Mascrar and not much else, which was no particular surprise, considering the thing’s size. “The Romulan vessels,” he said, “have been evincing a considerable amount of scan activity since they arrived.”

  Jim made a face. “Looking for Ael, I bet.”

  “It would seem a logical conclusion,” Spock said. “Though one might reasonably expect them to be more circumspect about it.”

  Sulu looked over his shoulder. “Maybe they think there’s no point in trying to hide it at all,” he said, “since the level of surveillance around them is going to be so high anyway, and also it’s what everyone would expect them to be doing.”

  Spock let out what would have sounded like a sigh of mild frustration in a human. “It can often be difficult to tell what a Romulan is thinking,” he said, “even in mind-meld. Or rather, what he means by what he is thinking.” He kept gazing at Mascrar as if attempting to see through it into the Romulan ships and possibly into their crews’ brains.

  “Well, keep an eye on them,” Jim said and stretched. Behind him the turbolift doors opened, and Uhura came in. “You’re on shift early, Commander.”

  She gave him a smile that suggested she knew his reason for having jumped his own on-shift time by an hour or so. “If I’ve got to be on tenterhooks about what’s going on over there, sir,” Uhura said, “I may as well be that way up here as at breakfast. And up here I won’t drink so much coffee.”

  Jim gave her an ironic look as Spock went back up to his station. “Well, let me give you something to do besides contemplate your blood caffeine level, then. Spock, those new comm ciphers are i
n place, aren’t they?”

  “The ones for use at the present time,” Spock said, “yes, Captain.”

  “Good. Uhura, are you certain that they’re properly implemented?”

  “I ran them through a full test cycle last night,” Uhura said. “Everything seemed fine.”

  “Good. Then hail Ortisei for me, would you? I wouldn’t mind a word with Captain Gutierrez.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Jim sat and watched Mascrar rotating gently for a few moments. It’s not like we wouldn’t have suspected they’d be looking for her, he thought. They obviously want advance notice of her coming into range. The only question is, What use of that information are they preparing to make? They wouldn’t dare try to attack her under all our noses. They’re seriously outgunned…

  …aren’t they?

  “Ortisei is answering, Captain,” said Uhura.

  “On screen,” Jim said.

  Mascrar disappeared, to be replaced by the bridge of another starship of Enterprise’s class. In its center seat sat a big, broad-shouldered man with broad, open features and very cool eyes; longish auburn hair was neatly bound back while he was in uniform. “Afterburner,” Jim said, “how are things?”

  Captain Harold Gutierrez sat back in the center seat, stretched his arms out in front of him with the fingers interlaced, and cracked his knuckles. “Dead quiet at the moment,” he said, “but in this neighborhood you’d expect that. How’re things closer in to the primary?”

  “Heating up,” Jim said. “I won’t spoil any surprises for you, but you should expect a package from Fox and the team this morning. Some interesting reading in there.”

  “I just bet.” Gutierrez made a slightly sour face, and Jim controlled the urge to smile. This was another of the commanders in Starfleet who had acquired something of a reputation for quick action in a crisis, and a gift for finding a crisis to exploit, so much so that Jim could entirely understand why Fleet hadn’t wanted him here on site with both Helgasdottir and Danilov: fighting would have broken out spontaneously, as unavoidable as the results when you mix nitric acid and glycerin. “So when do the fireworks start?”

  “They’ve already started, I’m told. Major formal ‘representations’ will be made shortly, but both sides already know what these are, apparently. What we’re going to be expecting is reactions to the representations. Which is why I thought I’d call.”

  “So I suspected. No, everything’s fine here, Jim,” Gutierrez said. “All’s quiet on Bloodwing. I spoke to Commander t’Rllaillieu about half an hour ago, in fact.”

  “And?”

  “No problems,” Gutierrez said, “except that I think she’d dearly love to present herself right in front of her people’s noses to see how far out of joint they get.”

  “I can imagine. Well, don’t let it happen without Danilov saying the word,” Jim said, “or we’re all going to be in the soup together. Meanwhile, how’s the new baby?” Ortisei was Harry’s second command; Raksha had been decommissioned out from under him because of advancing age and a warp engine that kept malfunctioning when no one could figure out why.

  “She’s a honey,” Harry said. “The rough edges are pretty much sanded off now. My chief engineer thinks we can start doing some customizing now.”

  “Uh-oh,” Jim said. “Keep a close eye on her. You never know what they’re going to install down there when you’re not looking.”

  Harry snorted. “As if I get a say. But she and the commander were swapping busted-engine stories, and—”

  Jim shook his head, smiling. “Trouble already. Well, look, Harry, while you’re keeping an eye on the two of them, don’t neglect your sensors to the outward. My science officer tells me that certain ships not a million kilometers from here are doing a lot of scanning.”

  “Theoretically we should be well out of range,” Harry said, “but I’ll have Mr. Mitchelson peel a few extra of his eyes and see if he notices anything unusual. It’s not like there haven’t been occasional breakthroughs in scanning technology in the last five or ten years.”

  “Good. Call and let us know if you find anything of interest. And give my best to the commander when you speak.”

  “Will do, Jim. Ortisei out.”

  The screen flickered, then went back to its view of Mascrar.

  Uhura had one hand to the transdator in her ear. She turned toward Jim and said, “Captain, the formal opening proceedings are about to start. Mr. Freeman has rigged the big holo display down in rec for viewing, but I imagine there’ll be a lot of off-duty people watching down there, and it might get crowded. Shall I put it up on the screen for you here?”

  “Nothing else to watch but the scenery,” Jim said. “Please do.”

  The room to which the viewscreen cut was another of those with floorto-ceiling windows, all looking out into space—another room in the “city hall” spire of Mascrar—but this one contained nothing else but the biggest circular table Jim had ever seen, easily thirty meters across. More properly, it was not a circle, but a ring, empty in the center so that assistants could come and go with padds and paperwork and so forth. On one side of it were the Rihannsu, nearly fifty of them all told, the last of them seating themselves now. Opposite them the Federation delegation sat, nearly as many—if not exactly as many, Jim thought. He let his eyes slide around to the background of the view that the Lalairu camera was giving them and caught a glimpse of Sam Cogley back there, and not too far from him, though well separated from him by an empty “neutral” space, a slender, handsome woman now dressed in dark clothes much less formal than the ones she had been wearing the previous evening. Arrhae i-Khellian. He was very glad to see her there, looking untroubled—though, heaven knew, appearances could be deceiving. At least she seemed to be in no immediate trouble with the dark-featured intelligence operative whom McCoy had reported was watching her. Let’s hope it stays that way.

  The opening comments from both sides went on for half an hour or so, from Ambassador Fox on the Federation side and Gurrhim tr’Siedhri on the other, before things started to heat up, and Jim watched it all, becoming increasingly concerned. The atmosphere in the room looked leisurely enough as the two elder statesmen went on in turn about mutual respect and past misunderstandings. But Jim could feel the tension as plainly as if he were sitting there in the middle of those people, all so busy looking statesmanlike, when Hloal t’Illialhlae stood up to read the official Rihannsu position paper. They already know they’re going to get an answer they won’t like, Jim thought, and they’re beginning to consider just what they’re going to do about it.

  Hloal t’Illialhlae was reading the position paper from a padd on the table in front of her. Why she was reading it standing wasn’t entirely clear to Jim. Just that the gesture itself is threatening? Or because she looks more impressive that way? Or is there some other cultural thing? But she was wearing just a shade of a smile, and the look of it troubled Jim obscurely. “We desire, as you do,” she was saying now, “to bring an end to the unfortunate conflicts between our peoples which have troubled the tranquillity of our spaces and yours for a number of years, distracting all our attention from matters of more importance. The final resolution of these conflicts may most swiftly be brought about by the acknowledgment and implementation of the following four points. First: the abolition of the so-called Neutral Zone and the declaration by the Federation of what is true and known to be true, that these spaces have been, are, and will remain in perpetuity the territory of the Rihannsu Star Empire, and the surrender to our authority of all the surveillance facilities, known as monitoring outposts, in that zone of space. Second: the public acknowledgment by the Federation of previous thefts of vital technology and intellectual property from our territory, vessels, and citizens, including the cloaking device stolen from the vessel ChR 1675 Memenda, and certain research materials formerly located at Levaeri V before the unprovoked attack on and looting of that facility, and a public apology for those thefts, accompanied by an undertaking
never to use or develop the technologies or materials acquired in those thefts. Third: the immediate return for trial of the woman Ael i-Mhiessan t’Rllaillieu, formerly a commander-general in the Space Forces of the Rihannsu Star Empire, and self-acknowledged traitor to the Empire, though our government has chosen to relinquish any claim on the antiquated vessel that she stole, and has graciously chosen to commute to perpetual banishment the sentence of death passed on her crew, personages who have proved themselves unfit for further service in our military services by reason of allowing themselves to be duped by the aforesaid t’Rllaillieu and made accomplices in her crimes against the Empire. And fourth: the immediate return of the cultural artifact which the aforesaid t’Rllaillieu stole, variously known as the Fifth Sword of S’harien, the Sword of S’task, or the Sword in the Empty Chair.”

  She sat down again, looking most poisonously demure. Jim sat there listening to the little rustle of reaction going through the room, and for his own part was amazed by the tone of calm threat and absolute insolence. You’d think they already had a big force sitting on the moon, dictating terms, while they got ready to drop something large and nasty on the Earth. “Huh,” said McCoy’s voice, ironic, from behind the center seat.

  Jim glanced over his shoulder. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Nope. I see, though,” Bones said, “that a couple of the pawns have been knocked off the board already.”

  Jim nodded. There had been no mention of the return of Bloodwing or her crew. “Somehow, though,” Jim said, “I don’t think Starfleet is going to agree to hand the Neutral Zone over to them.”