“Right,” the commodore replied. Given his position and security clearance, he knew a great deal more than his wife on this and many other topics. “According to the communiqués Starfleet’s intercepted, the Penemu are rather advanced, technologically speaking. Energy generation and distribution, propulsion, medical and other science applications—they apparently are quite a remarkable people.” He shook his head. “A pity the Klingons got to them before we did.”
“And now they’re being forced to build this new weapon for the Klingons, whatever it is.” As she leaned closer, April’s wife frowned while reading the data displayed on the computer monitor. “Some sort of missile? For ship-to-ship combat?”
April grunted. “If only it were that simple. These missiles are designed to carry warheads containing chemical compounds that, when detonated within the atmosphere of a Class M planet, initiate a fusion reaction that literally burns away oxygen and other gases to create a massive global fireball.”
Neither April said anything for a moment, the only sound in the captain’s quarters being the faint, omnipresent thrum of Indomitable’s massive warp engines. Despite himself, the commodore paused as he pondered the mental image of a world cast aflame as a result of such an attack.
“Dear Lord,” Sarah finally said, her voice barely a whisper. “If those savages build an arsenal of those things, the Empire could be doomed.”
April nodded, knowing that the Empire’s position of power in the galaxy was not as absolute as the propaganda broadcasts might lead citizens to believe. It was true that the Imperial Starfleet was unmatched and had been so for more than a century, thanks to the mysterious and timely acquisition of the U.S.S. Defiant, the starship from the future and the so-called “alternate universe.”
Regardless of its origin, there had been no denying the vessel’s tactical superiority, which Sato I had commandeered and used to solidify her ascent to power. Later, she would use the advanced ship to put down the rebellion plaguing the Empire at that time and ensuring its supremacy for decades to come. That accomplished, Sato had assembled a team of experts to study the Defiant so that its technology could be replicated, giving rise to a fleet of warships whose supremacy in the quadrant remained unquestioned.
However, as far as April was concerned, the Empire had rested on its laurels in recent years rather than continuing to press its advantage, while the Klingons, as well as other races that had refused Imperial rule, had been marshaling their resources and closing the technological gap. There was no way to be sure when the Empire might face all-out war with adversaries on multiple fronts, but April was certain that day was coming.
And with a weapon such as that created by the Penemu, that day may be sooner than anyone thinks.
April used the controls on the front of the computer workstation to page through the most recent entries of Captain Thorpe’s personal log. “According to this, Thorpe followed Klingon vessels to the Donatu system and observed the detonation of a prototype missile on the system’s fifth planet. Indomitable’s sensors recorded most of the atmosphere being torn away, though it did not ignite as originally intended.”
“So, it performed below expectations?” Sarah frowned. “Still enough to decimate a planet’s population, though. What do we do?”
“Our orders are to capture the weapon, along with all available data and materials.”
He felt Sarah’s fingers tracing a path along his bare arm. “Imagine such weapons at our disposal. There would be no questioning the Empire’s rule throughout the known galaxy.” When he did not answer, she leaned closer, whispering into his ear, “Better yet, imagine the power you could command with those weapons under your personal control.”
Seeing the lusty smile on Sarah’s face, April smiled back, if for nothing else than to temporarily sate her desire to know what he was thinking. While the prospect of acquiring the Penemu technology for his own purposes was tempting, April knew he would not be alone in recognizing what it could offer toward shaping history from this point forward.
“For now,” he said, “we’ll follow our orders and learn everything we can about this weapon, but we certainly won’t squander any other opportunities that may present themselves.”
Though her smile remained fixed, April noted a slight yet familiar narrowing of her eyes, as though she remained unconvinced. “I trust that we won’t.”
No sooner did Constellation enter the Donatu system than April knew something was wrong.
“Commodore,” said Commander Lorna Simon from the science station, without turning from the hooded viewer that was the console’s prominent feature. Pale blue light played across her face and caused her salt-and-pepper hair to appear even grayer beyond her nearly seventy years. “Your information specified the fifth planet as our destination?”
“That’s right,” April replied. “Why?”
Turning from the viewer, Simon settled into her chair. “According to our star charts, Donatu V is Class M, but my sensors say otherwise.” She eyed him with a withering gaze. “Bob, what the hell kind of weapon do the Klingons have?”
For a moment, April smiled at the slip in protocol. Easily the oldest officer on his staff, Simon also was one of the few people who could get away with addressing him in such an informal manner. She had long ago earned such latitude and was one of his most trusted confidants.
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” he said, seeing the genuine concern in Simon’s eyes. Though she and the rest of the crew were aware that they had been ordered to investigate a possible new Klingon weapon, they did not yet know specifics. Therefore, he knew that their sense of shock would only increase in the coming minutes. “Maintain sensor sweeps, Commander.”
He said nothing more as the Constellation continued its approach, a sense of dread beginning to take hold of him as the starship entered orbit. The planet now dominated the bridge’s main viewer, its distinct lack of cloud cover, swirling gases, or any discernible contrast within its atmosphere making it appear barren. Nothing in Thorpe’s logs had prepared him for the sight of the bleak, dying world now displayed on the screen before him.
Simon’s voice broke the silence hanging over the bridge. “The planet’s atmosphere is being deconstructed at a molecular level, Commodore. Oxygen levels are at seventeen percent of normal for a Class M planet and declining, while levels of ammonia, argon, and sulfur are on the rise. What vegetation hasn’t been scrubbed away by wind and rain is being baked by unfiltered solar radiation.” April glanced toward her as she stepped away from her console and looked to him. “I’m also picking up traces of other chemical compounds that I don’t recognize. Whatever the Klingons have, it pretty much set fire to the atmosphere. And you’re telling me this was a failed experiment?”
“Partially successful experiment, Commander,” April countered, offering the dry rebuttal before returning his attention to the viewscreen. The stark, ruddy pallor of the planet’s defoliated landmasses matched that of a fresh bruise, and he likened the sight before him to a hapless living being, one beaten and bleeding and left for dead. He imagined he could hear the mortally wounded world attempting to cry for help yet silenced by the unmatched agony inflicted upon it, its suffering made all the worse by why it had happened.
From a purely tactical viewpoint, the results were staggering. Wars, the fates of entire civilizations, the history of the very galaxy, might well be decided in seconds if a key imperial world were targeted with just one weapon such as that unleashed upon Donatu V. This planet had been subjected to its fate at the whim of those hungry for power much greater than they ever should be allowed to control.
Does that apply to the Empire as well?
“Any signs of life?” April asked, pushing away the unwelcome questions.
Pausing to consult her sensor readings, Simon replied, “Here and there. Pockets of survivors in many of the major cities. Most of them are underground, probably inside survival shelters or other subterranean structures. Based on the population figures I could dig
out of the computer, I’d estimate less than three percent survived whatever the hell happened, and they won’t be lasting much longer, either.”
April said nothing at first, before realizing that most of the bridge crew had turned from their stations to look at him. He noted their varying expressions of puzzlement and uncertainty, perhaps not so much because of what had happened to Donatu V but rather his own obvious reaction to it. Did they sense his unease at what they had found here? Though he never had wavered in carrying out his duty to the Empire, he also had prided himself on avoiding the use of violence for its own sake in order to do so. He had conducted himself with integrity in that regard, well above most other starship commanders and Starfleet officers, including, admittedly, his own wife. Still, that he might be perceived as weakening in the face of what they now were witnessing, particularly when it involved a relatively insignificant alien species, did not sit well with him.
“The Klingons have a weapon that’s responsible for this,” he said, his voice loud and forceful enough to echo across the bridge. “What you’re seeing doesn’t even represent this new weapon’s full potential.” He waved toward the viewer. “Forget this irrelevant ball of baked mud and the parasites who once called it home. Our focus is the weapon that caused their extinction. Only one force in this galaxy is worthy to wield such power, and that force is the Terran Empire. The Klingons cannot possess it, and Empress Sato has charged me with ensuring that does not happen.”
“Speaking of Klingons,” Simon said, “I’m picking up Klingon life signs down on the planet. They’re coming from an underground structure beneath one of the larger population centers. The area looks to be protected by a force field, and the energy signature is definitely Klingon.”
“A hidden base?” April asked.
Simon shrugged. “That, or maybe an outpost to observe the effects of the test detonation.” She shook her head. “Hell of a way to gather data, but I suppose they could have been left behind after Indomitable came calling.”
Leaving the command well, April moved to stand next to Simon at her console. “Can our sensors penetrate the field?”
“A bit,” the science officer replied, “but not enough to get any kind of conclusive look inside the structure. If we channel additional power from the warp engines to the transporter circuits, we might be able to beam through.” She said nothing else, allowing the suggestion to hang in the air between them.
Intrigued by the notion of seeing firsthand the effects of the experimental weapon, as well as getting an early look at any equipment or research data that might be contained within the Klingon outpost, April nodded in agreement with his friend’s idea. “Meet me in the transporter room in ten minutes, along with a security detail,” he said before turning to the communications station. “Lieutenant Copowycz, notify Indomitable of our status and that they are to maintain course and speed.”
Despite his presence to provide new motivation to Indomitable’s engineering crew, repairs to the starship’s antimatter inducer had proven more difficult and time-consuming than he had hoped. With time an issue, and rather than push the ailing vessel beyond its limits—thereby finishing the job of sacrificing Indomitable that the late Nathan Thorpe’s ineptitude had initiated—April had ordered Captain Stone to trail Constellation at its fastest yet safest possible speed.
A moment later, the dark-haired communications officer replied, “Indomitable acknowledges, sir, and estimates her arrival in one hour and seventeen minutes.”
April nodded at the report. “And have my wife join us in the transporter room.” To Simon, he added, “If we do find a Klingon or two down there, her particular talents will prove rather useful.”
As he headed toward the turbolift at the rear of the bridge, April could not help stopping for one final look at the image of Donatu V displayed on the main viewer. Watching the dying world rotate slowly beneath Constellation, he sensed dread brewing deep within him.
Will this godforsaken planet be remembered for what happened here or only that it happened here first?
“All clear, Commodore.”
Gripping his phaser, April entered the corridor and saw that his security detail had cleared it of Klingons—there was no way to tell how many they might have disintegrated during their advance—and now were moving farther up the passageway. He waved for the rest of the landing party to follow him as he set off down the hall. Simon and Sarah, shadowing his movements, each drew their own weapons.
“Commodore,” Simon said, pointing up the corridor with her tricorder, “the concentration of life signs is twenty meters in that direction.”
Ahead of him, the security team leader, Lieutenant Elizabeth Ryckert, held up her hand, signaling a halt. The tall, leggy woman then turned and ran back to April’s side, sweat already matting her closely cropped blond hair to her head.
“They’re holed up in what looks like a lab,” Ryckert reported. “What’s left of them, anyway.”
“Take the lab,” April ordered, “but leave at least one of them alive for interrogation.”
Ryckert nodded in acknowledgment before returning to lead the security team up the corridor. Reaching a closed door at the end of the passageway, she aimed her phaser at it and fired. The harsh blue beam lanced out, opening a hole in the door’s thick metal. She kept her finger on the weapon’s firing stud, widening the gap within seconds to a size large enough to allow entry. Ryckert plunged ahead, leading the way for her team to follow as the three of them rushed into the room beyond.
Charging after them, April entered the lab in time to see one of his personal guards, a well-muscled and dark-skinned man named Malhotra, slammed into a nearby bulkhead by an attacking Klingon. The savage had shunned his disruptor in favor of the massive knife in his right hand, which he plunged into Malhotra’s chest. The security guard cried in pain and shock as the blade sank into his heart, his screams growing louder as the Klingon twisted the knife within the ghastly wound. April, incensed by the brutality of the attack, aimed his phaser and fired, its burst washing over Malhotra and the Klingon. Both warriors writhed in momentary agony before they dissolved into nothingness.
A beam of ruby-tinted energy flashed from the lab’s opposite corner, missing him by a wide margin to strike a nearby computer console. Sparks and the tinge of ozone filled the air as a second disruptor burst gouged another gaping hole in an adjacent bank of electronic equipment. April saw another Klingon—this one wearing what to him looked like a lab coat—and ducked for cover, suddenly realizing that he was not at all the target.
“Stop him!” he shouted. “He’s destroying the computers!”
With practiced ease, Ryckert drew a dagger from the sheath in her left boot and hurled it in the direction of the disruptor fire. The expert throw buried the blade in the Klingon’s shoulder, and he growled in pain as he dropped his disruptor, reaching for the knife embedded in his body.
Without waiting for orders, Ryckert and the remaining guard, Pearson, rushed to subdue the Klingon. April turned to see the rest of the landing party enter the room, which looked to him as though it might have been an emergency shelter commandeered by the Klingons as a place from which to observe the test of their deadly new missile.
Stepping past him, Sarah looked around the room before crossing the floor on her way to an adjoining chamber. Stopping in the doorway, she turned back to him, indicating the other room with a nod of her head. “You’ll want to see this.”
April followed her into what resembled a makeshift hospital ward, including the patients it now housed. On a dozen beds rested unmoving forms, natives of Donatu, he presumed, all of whom appeared to have been burned almost beyond recognition. Taking in the scene, April was struck by how the room seemed more like a hospice than a place of healing.
Moving to stand beside one of the beds, he looked down at the patient. It was a female, were he to hazard a guess, struggling to draw even the faintest of breaths. Her dark hair lay plastered onto a bloodied scalp, while her fa
ce, neck, and other exposed areas of skin were mottled with radiation lesions. Studying her cracked, dry lips, April found himself running a tongue across his own.
He heard movement and turned to see Sarah strolling past the beds on the opposite side of the aisle, her expression one of clinical dispassion as she regarded the ward’s hapless patients.
“There’s nothing to be done for any of them,” she said. “Their lungs are seared from the superheated air, and several dermal layers suffered acute sunburn.” She shook her head. “Why they’re fighting the inevitable, I’ll never know.”
Despite himself, April could not help feeling some measure of compassion for these beings and their plight, and his wife’s words of casual dismissal gave him a chill. It was an odd sensation, one to which he was not accustomed and yet could not deny. Millions of their friends and relatives already had succumbed to conditions on the planet above, and uncounted billions across the galaxy might well follow them should the Klingons be allowed to proceed unchecked.
Them, he reminded himself, or anyone else.
Sarah was examining a nearby desktop computer terminal, and April noticed the frown darkening her features. “What?”
“There’s more to these patients’ injuries than simple exposure to the weapon’s effects,” she replied. “It’s almost like…a secondary experiment.”
April was puzzled. “What kind of experiment?”
She waved one hand toward the rear of the room. “There’s a decompression chamber installed back there. I think the Klingons were monitoring the effects of various levels of atmospheric exposure.”
Scowling, April asked, “Why? Surely the weapon’s effects are obvious?”
“If you really want answers, we should go to the source.” Sarah offered a small, sly smile as she strode past him and back to the front room.
The balance of the landing party was there, and April saw that Ryckert now stood next to the bound and seated Klingon. Pale pink blood streamed from the wound in his shoulder, as well as from a long gash on his head, just to the left of the prominent ridges enhancing the crown of his skull.
Star Trek®: Mirror Universe: Shards and Shadows Page 5