by Various
“Empress,” Talas said, “as you can see, we still face considerable opposition. Now is not the…” As she spoke, Hoshi saw her right hand move ever so slightly toward the holster on her hip.
Hoshi fired.
The phaser whined and its energy beam reached out for Talas, enveloping her in a cocoon of blue-white energy that pulsed for an instant before it and the admiral faded from existence.
“She’s even worse than Shran,” Hoshi said, shaking her head. Moving toward the command well, she looked to where Madden was kneeling beside the still forms of Captain Mayweather and Major Reed. “Are they all right?”
The corporal nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. They’ve only been stunned.”
Though she schooled her features to betray no reaction, Hoshi nevertheless was relieved at the report. Mayweather was a loyal officer, and while Reed was a career-minded opportunist on the best of days, the truth was that he had become the closest thing to an expert with Defiant’s tactical systems. Assuming he could be controlled, he would make a valuable resource—in the short term, at least. “I need them conscious.”
Another blast rocked the ship, and Hoshi fell against the railing near the command chair. The effects were more pronounced this time, she sensed. “Route power from all nonessential systems to shields and weapons!”
She looked to the four aliens—three Andorians and an Orion woman—who manned other stations around the bridge, her expression cold and unwavering. “I have no more time for this foolishness. Swear loyalty to me now and live, or remain silent and die. Choose now.” When she received a chorus of four pledges, Hoshi nodded in satisfaction, though she still turned to Sergeant Hayes. “Kill them all the instant any of them tries anything.”
The ensign working at the science console turned to Hoshi. “Your Majesty, several rebel ships are altering course to converge on us. Others are setting off in pursuit of Imperator.”
Moving to sit in the captain’s chair, the Empress nodded at the report as she turned to Ensign Zona, seated at the helm. “Continue the bombardment. I want every trace of rebel scum erased from that planet.”
15
S omewhere above T’Pol another muffled explosion reverberated through the cavern. She pushed herself away from a stack of cargo crates as the topmost container teetered above her before falling from its perch and crashing to the cave floor.
Crouching near the cave wall, T’Pol knew that the attacks would only become more ferocious. If whatever remained of the Defiant’s strike force truly was back under Sato’s command, the bombardments would continue until no trace of the rebel headquarters remained.
It does not matter.
The thought screamed in her mind, forcing away all other considerations. Unmoving and holding her breath, she strained to listen over the sounds of the ongoing attack as well as the sirens and the shouts of alarm. She ignored everything, searching instead for some clue as to…
There.
Faint footfalls to her right, the sounds of leather against rock. T’Pol waited no longer, pushing off from the wall and gripping the edge of a nearby cargo container to pull herself around until she saw T’Pau, facing away with her disruptor aimed ahead of her. Obviously hearing her approach, the minister turned with only enough time to set herself, answering T’Pol’s unspoken challenge.
They smashed into one another, the impact jarring T’Pau’s disruptor from her hand. The next seconds were but a blur in T’Pol’s vision as bone slammed against bone or cartilage, muscle strained against muscle. Dust rose from the cave floor, stirred by the skirmish. Every fiber of T’Pol’s being protested at the abuse being inflicted upon it, but she ignored it all. Anger seethed with each passing heartbeat, her blood flowing with rage as she unleashed a lifetime of willfully suppressed emotions on the enemy before her.
With a fierce howl she lashed out a final time, the flat of her hand connecting with T’Pau’s jaw and sending the other Vulcan staggering backward to collapse to the ground. Her lungs screaming for oxygen in the dirt-choked air of the cavern, T’Pol pushed herself away, lurching along the uneven floor until the toe of her boot caught on the edge of a flat rock and she stumbled before falling in an exhausted heap against the nearby wall. Gasping for breath, she tried to push herself to a sitting position but failed, the sour taste of blood filling her mouth.
Another strike, this time a series of blasts, echoed through the cavern, and T’Pol heard the sounds of rock cracking overhead. Chunks of the ceiling fell between her and T’Pau, pushing new clouds of dust into the cave’s already choked air.
“You will…die here,” she heard T’Pau say. “The entrance…collapsed.” T’Pol looked up to see the minister glaring at her through pain-racked eyes, her expression hard as she too struggled and failed to regain her feet. As with T’Pol herself, green blood oozed from cuts and scrapes on her face and hands.
T’Pol winced as pain lanced through her midsection, perhaps the result of a fractured rib. She felt the fine shower of dust on her exposed skin, mixing with perspiration and sticking to her body. “I will not be alone,” she replied, the words almost a growl in her throat. While she was prepared for death, it could come only after she had achieved her goal. She glimpsed T’Pau’s dropped disruptor a few meters to her left, and surmised that even if she could pull herself up, the rebel leader was in a better position to retrieve the weapon.
“Why?” was all she could muster as she locked eyes with her adversary.
Her eyes closed as she fought back her own pain, T’Pau replied, “Though she joined the resistance, your mother clung to the pacifist ways that have doomed us to subjugation by the humans for generations.”
T’Pol regarded the minister with a skeptical look. “I do not understand.”
“Had T’Les been successful, she would have betrayed us all,” T’Pau said, “notifying Starfleet of our base locations and our supply routes. She claimed she was working toward a resolution that would end the war without further bloodshed, but she underestimated the previous Emperor. He would have used that information to slaughter us all, as well as anyone who aided us. I had no choice.”
A wave of relief swept over T’Pol, easing her mounting pain and fatigue. Her mother—as she had done all her life—had honored the teachings of Surak to the best of her abilities and to her dying breath, working for peace for all of Vulcan even in the face of bitter Imperial oppression.
I should never have doubted you, Mother.
The revelation about T’Les’s actions also gave T’Pol hope, reinforcing her belief that the action she had taken—freeing Sato and affording her the chance to regain the throne of the Terran Empire—was correct. If everything went according to plan, the rebellion could end today and with minimal further bloodshed.
Her mother might well have approved.
Another quake shook the cavern, the tremors longer and more intense this time, and T’Pol pulled herself along the craggy floor toward the wall, seeking any sort of protection from the new avalanche of rock falling from the ceiling. She heard a scream of agony and turned to see that a sizable piece of stone had landed on T’Pau’s legs, crushing them and pinning her to the ground. Green blood streamed from the corner of her mouth, and her features were contorted in renewed suffering. Still more fragments of the cavern were falling, and T’Pol pressed herself against the wall, covering her head with her hands. She was helpless to do anything but watch as two larger hunks of rock dropped from the roof and T’Pau disappeared from view forever.
Then T’Pol felt the familiar tingle of a transporter beam, and the sounds of the cavern’s collapse faded as her vision filled with a shower of golden energy.
“Transporter room to Bridge. T’Pol is aboard, Your Majesty.”
“Shields up,” Hoshi ordered. “Helm, bring us about.”
At the science station, Major Reed looked over his shoulder. “Imperator is showing damage to its hull plating. Four cruisers are converging on its position. Dauntless has lost warp power. Intercept
or is engaging two Orion marauders.”
His report came just as Defiant was rocked by yet another attack. Hoshi felt her stomach lurch, and she gripped the arms of the command chair as the deck shifted beneath her feet. All around the bridge, crew members struggled to remain at their posts as workstations and the overhead lighting flickered yet again in response to the starship’s overburdened power systems.
“Route emergency power to tactical and navigation,” Mayweather shouted over the new alarms. Hoshi watched as the captain, his shoulders hunched with effort, fought the helm for control of the vessel. “Controls are sluggish,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder. “I’m losing maneuverability.”
Sato gritted her teeth as she took in the steadily worsening reports. On the main viewscreen, a trio of Vulcan ships loomed before them, each a deadly wedge seemingly suspended within an immense outer ring that pulsated with power.
“Two more Vulcan ships are approaching aft,” Reed reported. “It’s a standard enveloping maneuver.”
Though the major did not say anything else, Hoshi comprehended the unspoken addendum. Defiant would be caught in a crossfire designed to overload its already stressed deflector shields. Despite the starship’s superior weaponry as well as the modifications her escort ships had received, the task force was outnumbered and outgunned. Further, the rebels had finally decided to concentrate their attacks on the two ships posing the greatest threat, Defiant and Imperator, and the lopsided battle was finally beginning to take its toll.
“Empress,” said the young male human manning the communications station, “we’re being hailed by one of the Vulcan ships.”
“Really,” Hoshi said, her eyebrows rising in mild surprise.
Turning from the helm, Mayweather said, “It makes sense. They’d probably rather capture Defiant than destroy it. Think of the advantage it gives the rebellion.”
“We’ll destroy it first,” Hoshi countered, her voice hard. “Open the channel.”
On the viewscreen, the image of the three rebel ships was replaced with that of a lean, older Vulcan male, seated in a high-backed chair. Dressed in a stark gray uniform with no visible insignia, he possessed a full head of graying hair, and a long, thin mustache drooped to either side of his mouth.
“I am Vanik, captain of the Ti’Mur and leader of this assault force. Deactivate your weapons and lower your shields. Surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded.”
“Any attempt to board this vessel will result in its destruction,” Hoshi countered, rising from her seat. She reached into the folds of her gown, extracted the communicator T’Pol had given her, and flipped open the unit’s cover. Placing her other hand on her hip, she affected what she hoped was an appearance of confidence in her mastery of the current situation. “Stand down, Captain, or be destroyed.”
Vanik was unconvinced. “Perhaps your sensors are malfunctioning, Empress, but you are surrounded. My fleet is merely waiting for my order to finish you.”
“They’ll be waiting quite a while,” Hoshi countered before pressing the control blinking on the face of the communicator.
The effect of her action was immediate. On the viewscreen, she saw the lights on the bridge of the Ti’Mur flicker before dying out altogether, and she caught a fleeting look of shock on Vanik’s face before the communication frequency itself was severed.
“What the hell just happened?” Mayweather asked, turning from the helm with an expression of utter confusion.
“They’ve lost primary power,” Reed replied, once more bent over the science station’s sensor viewer. “All of the rebel ships are powering down. Weapons, shields, even life support.” He looked up from his console. “They’re completely immobilized. I don’t understand.”
Hoshi held up the communicator. “T’Pol. She provided me with the override codes for every ship in the fleet.” Following the Vulcan’s instructions, she had delivered the communicator and the codes to Commander Tucker, who had programmed the device to transmit the override information to every rebel ship within range. T’Pol had used her temporary position as captain of the Ni’Var to avail herself of the tightly guarded information, obviously planning for the betrayal she suspected would be visited upon her by resistance leaders.
Loyal, after all, Hoshi mused.
“Your Majesty,” said the communications officer a moment later, “I’m picking up weak distress calls transmitting from several of the rebel ships. They’re probably being sent on battery backup systems.”
“They are completely at our mercy,” Reed added. “Shall we destroy them?”
Hearing the anticipation in the major’s voice, Hoshi was tempted to allow him to follow through and finish the battle in a decisive fashion. It would take only moments for Defiant to obliterate the now-helpless rebel fleet, and would almost certainly signal to any remaining resistance cells once and for all the folly of defying the Empire.
Or, it might only serve to strengthen their resolve, thereby dragging the rebellion on for months, even years, until both sides suffered irreplaceable losses and uncounted innocents died as the two warring parties carved destruction wherever their conflicts took them. While Hoshi aspired to rule over an Empire, she preferred a vibrant, thriving civilization to the shattered remnants that surely awaited her if the war was allowed to continue.
“Empress,” she heard a voice say, and looked up to see Captain Mayweather regarding her from the helm, his features a mask of uncertainty.
No, she decided.
There was another option.
16
G eneral,” the guard said from where he stood at the threshold to Shran’s office, “the Defiant task force has dropped out of warp and is entering Earth orbit.”
From where he stood next to the general’s desk, Doctor Soong released a relieved sigh. “That is wonderful news.”
Rising from his desk, Shran nodded in acknowledgment, though even that simple gesture was laced with irritation. “Notify Captain Mayweather to report to me immediately.”
In the two days that had passed since the battle at Aldus Prime, the reports he had been given by Captain Mayweather remained unsatisfying. The general naturally was suspicious upon hearing of the death of Admiral Talas, an apparent casualty of the conflict. Mayweather’s report of the incident was thorough, but it somehow rang hollow, and Shran vowed he would learn the full truth behind what happened, even if he had to rip it from the young captain’s body with his own bare hands.
Still, Shran was pleased to learn about the destruction of the planet that had served as the base for a key resistance cell. Though there naturally would be a large degree of outcry when the public learned that their Empress was included among those lost, at least now the general could show proof that he had done everything in his power to rescue her, including sacrificing two starships in a pitched battle against enemy forces. It would do much to ease the expected formidable anxiety when he named the heir to Sato’s crown, the as yet unnamed child still immersed in the gestation chamber in Doctor Soong’s lab. Such worry no doubt would be heightened when the people of Earth learned that Shran himself would act in the new Emperor’s stead until such time as he was of age to assume his responsibilities, and that his staff would “assist” those personnel in key imperial positions to ensure a smooth transition and period of rebuilding in the aftermath of the prolonged rebellion.
A faint whine echoed across the office, and Shran felt a slight tingle on his exposed skin as he turned to see five columns of energy coalesce into existence, rapidly expanding into the shapes of humanoid figures. The transporter beams solidified, and the general recognized the face of Major Malcolm Reed, along with two MACOs, a Vulcan woman he thought looked familiar, and Hoshi Sato.
The transporter beams faded, and Shran saw that all five of the new arrivals were armed, and aiming their weapons at him.
“Hello, my dear husband,” Sato said, her expression one of complete confidence.
“Your Majesty,” Shran replied,
feeling his throat constrict as he uttered the words. Holding his hands out, he stepped toward her. “You have no idea how pleased I am to—”
He stopped as Sato raised her phaser to point directly at his head. Looking to where Shran knew Soong still stood next to the desk, she asked. “Professor, how is my child?”
Shran turned to see the professor nod rapidly, his eyes wide with mounting fear. “Wonderful, Your Majesty. Everything is proceeding without any complications or concerns. My staff oversees him every hour of every day. He will be a healthy, beautiful child.”
“Thank you, Professor. You’ve done well,” Sato replied, before moving her arm until the phaser aimed at Soong and without another word fired the weapon. Shran flinched at the burst of howling energy as the phaser struck Soong and he was enveloped in a burst of blue energy. Despite himself, Shran’s eyes widened in fear as he watched the professor’s body dissolved by the phaser’s restrained fury. His pulse pounded in his ears, and it required physical effort to keep his breathing under control as Sato moved the phaser back to point once more at him.
Muffled footsteps sounded in the corridor outside his office, but Reed and his MACOs were ready when the door opened and a pair of Andorian security guards burst into the room, weapons at the ready. Both MACOs fired their pulse rifles, each catching one of the guards with the force of their energy bursts and dropping them to the office’s tiled floor.
As the echo from the fleeting skirmish faded, Sato said, “I have returned from my ‘temporary exile,’ General.” One thin eyebrow arched as she regarded him. “Isn’t that how you described it? If I remember correctly, this is the part where you rededicate your life to my service.”
The tone of her voice, the way she held her stance as she scrutinized him down the length of the phaser in her hand, told Shran that no matter what he said, he would die here, today. She would not kill him outright, of course; the Empress had far too many reasons to prolong his execution and to ensure that any time spent leading up to that event would be anything but pleasant for him. Drawing a deep breath, he pulled himself to his full height, adopting a confident posture of his own in an attempt to match Sato’s. He looked to the Vulcan woman, who until this point had remained silent, standing slightly behind Sato’s right shoulder and brandishing a phaser of her own. “Am I to understand that you’ve forged some sort of alliance with this Vulcan? Your people are supposed to be smarter than this.” Frowning, he realized that he in fact did know the woman accompanying the Empress. “You’re the traitor, from Captain Forrest’s ship, the one who sabotaged his vessel as well as the Defiant.”