Kobayashi Maru ste-12

by Andy Mangels

  Sigma Iotia. The primary star of the world the Horizonhad just departed.

  Paul Mayweather turned and saw Rianna Mayweather standing by his side. He could see from the haunted look in his mothers brown eyes that engine control was a lost cause. There was no point in asking whether a warp-core jettison was even possible. Besides, the din of the engines had become so loud as to make conversation essentially impossible except in the form of top-of-the-lungs shouts. He took both of her hands between his own as he looked at the forward viewer.

  The dazzling golden-orange brilliance of Sigma Iotia overwhelmed the screen, prompting the automatic imaging system to damp the light down to a tolerable level. Paul imagined he could already feel the searing heat of the photosphere toward which the Horizonwas falling at multiwarp speed. Time seemed to stretch, and he truly didnt want to know precisely how many seconds remained to him and his crew.

  His family. Paul Mayweather gently put his arm around his mothers shoulders. She had brought him into the world. Protected him from the occasional teasing of his older brother Travis. Taught him how to fly a ship. Comforted him after Jaliye had left him for another pilot.

  And now she would die beside him.

  He suppressed a morbid laugh as he drew some comfort from a final absurd thought: At least I wont have to fess up to her about giving away that damned book.

  NINE

  Day Thirty-one, Month of KriBrax The Hall of State, Dartha, Romulus

  A DMIRAL V ALDORE FROWNED, his face creasing sharply.

  “What do you mean, you believethat it was destroyed? he asked, displeasure fairly dripping from his lips as he spoke.

  The holographic image of Commander TVoras didnt blink, though Nijil did note that he cast a sidelong glancepresumably at some unlucky guilty party, or his corpsebefore he answered. “It seemed prudent to destroy any elements that might relate to this attack. The log buoy was following the same general trajectory of the Coalition ship when we sent it into the sun. But unlike the ship itself, we were unable to ascertain either its destruction or its safety.

  Nijil cleared his throat slightly, and glanced over at Valdore. They had worked together for so long on and off over the years that most gestures between them were unspoken, though Nijil was always aware of the need to appear appropriately obsequious before the admiral in the presence of lower-ranking officers.

  “Were the klivamsensors unable to target the buoy effectively? Nijil asked. “I was under the impression, from your reports, that their ships sensor systems were rather similar to those of our own vessels.

  The holographic TVoras turned slightly to favor Nijil with his answer. “There is significant spatial debris obscuring close scans of the systems sun. Once the Coalition ship entered the photosphere, we could not easily locate a device as small as a log buoy.

  Valdore put his knuckles to his forehead, clearly vexed. “So, what youre saying now is that the buoy mighthave been sent on an unknown independent trajectory, or it might possibly have dropped into the sun?

  Now, TVoras looked a bit more nervous. “YesThe orders wereI was unclear on protocol, sir. In all of our previous attacks on theklivam vessels, we specifically jammed their communications and prevented them from sending out messages. It wasIt seemed prudent to do the same here. And, if I may remind you, Admiral, everyother aspect of this operation was a complete success.

  Valdore leaned forward, sighing. “ Youdo not need to remind me of anything, Commander. Nor do I authorize you to punish anyof your crew for thislapse in judgment. But to be clear, Commander, we undertook all our previous attacks on klivamships for two reasons: to test the arrenhehwiuatelecapture system, and to seize some of their battle cruisers, bothfor technological study and covert sabotage.

  “ Youwere engaged in both a technological test andan act of covert sabotage. The log buoy of the Coalition ship you destroyed would have furnished our adversaries with positive proofof Klingon aggression. It might even have been enough to spark a war between the Klingon Empire and this Coalition of Planets. Instead, we are left with no proof of any Klingon attack.

  “But the test of our tactical system on the Coalition ship went flawlessly, Admiral,TVoras said. Nijil imagined he could see beads of sweat appear on the commanders heavily ridged brow.

  “That is the reason you do not face disciplinary action, Commander, Valdore said, standing. “Yet, he added, his voice lowering to a near growl. “The next mission you undertake will answer whether or not you have a future withwell, lets just leave it at that.

  As Valdore stabbed his finger down upon a button on the desk-mounted com system, the holographic TVoras saluted nervously, but the salute wasnt even finished before the image winked out of existence.

  “I dont believe that Commander TVorass error in judgment will create any lasting repercussions for your plans, sir, Nijil said, hoping to soothe Valdore, whose head was bowed and shadowed.

  Valdore lifted his face, smiling. “Neither do I, Nijil. We still have other tests to conduct, and there will be more than enough time and opportunity to implicate the Klingons or, conversely, to convince the Klingons that the Coalition has destroyed one of theirships. But Commander TVoras had gotten a bit too cocky after our last several triumphs; I needed to remind him that he is fallible, and can be replaced.

  Nijil nodded, smiling at Valdores cunning. Although he had designs on furthering his own standing in the power structure of Romulus, for now, Valdore was the right man to back. Of all the officers in the Romulan military, Valdore appeared to be the one who was most adaptable to changing technologies, and to the myriad possibilities of the future.

  Despite Valdores failure with the initial telepresence drone-ship remote-control units, which had required telepathic Aenar to operate them, the concept had led to this latest technological breakthrough. Nijil had been ecstatic when hed been moved from the mostly stalled project charged with the creation of a functional large-scale cloaking devicea unit capable, in theory, of rendering even large war vessels effectively invisible to an adversaryto his present post. Despite the best efforts of some of the finest minds on Romulus, the power needed to cloak a large ship still invariably resulted in a complete loss of fuel containmentand therefore the utter destruction of both a test ship and a hugely expensive cloaking-device prototype. By contrast, the prospect of overcoming an enemy by using direct subspace contact to remotely seize his own consoles and control computers had proved to be a much more fruitful area of research.

  Nijil now felt extremely confident that the recent telecapture breakthroughs over which he had presided for the past couple of khaidoahad proven to Valdore that he had decided to back not only the right technology for the next war, but also the right technologist to bring the Praetors dreams to fruition.

  Now, after the convenient death of Ehrehinat the hands of Nijils own agents, though no one seemed to have discovered this inconvenient fact as of yetand the success of the arrenhehwiuatelecapture system, Nijil was all but certain that a place of honor in the annals of Romulan scientific and military history awaited him.

  Once his ideas had been thoroughly tested and properly deployed, of course.

  As had often been the case during the last few months he had spent both on and off Romulus, Trip Tucker was feeling exceedingly ill at ease. Playing his public role of the junior engineer named Cunaehr, he was attending the funeral services for Ehrehin iRamnau trAvrak. Trip had discovered only today that the old man had no surviving relatives; his five sons and one daughter had all been killed in action during various Romulan military incursions. This revelation certainly made Ehrehins having balked at completing his warp-drive project easier to understand.

  As he stood beneath the midday shadows cast by one of the great stone archways of Darthas ancient mausoleum district, Trip found he had little to do other than to concentrate on not making a public spectacle of himself. After all, none of his pre-mission intelligence cramming, or any of his other studies to date, had brought him up to speed on Romulan funer
ary customs, a fact that was especially unfortunate given that his covert persona was supposed to be quitefamiliar with allRomulan customs. Whenever he hadnt been working alongside Ehrehin, Trip had spent a great deal of his time poring over Romulan texts, which he absorbed as quickly as he could translate them. He had even gone so far as to improvise a text-scanning-and-conversion device, which read to him aloud in standard English through the translation units the Adigeons had mounted inside his ears.

  Lucky for me there arent too many people here,Trip thought. Less than a dozen others had come to the crypt, and most of these were fellow scientists or lab assistants with whom Tucker was already familiar, having worked alongside them fairly closely for the past few months. A few uniformed centurions and other military officers were present as well, the most conspicuous of which was a tall, broad-shouldered brute who seemed to be scrutinizing all the mourners very carefully as they came and went.

  Trip recognized the man as the same brusque centurion who had been in charge of the security team that had come to Ehrehins lab after the Ejhoi Ormiinassassins had attacked. He had taken the lone surviving assassin away, promising to interrogate her. So whats he doing here, giving the stink-eye to all ofus? Trip wondered, his hackles rising.

  Trip watched as the others began to approach the raised granite bier upon which stood the half-meter-high ceramic tibulecvessel that contained Ehrehins mortal remains; per Romulan custom, the scientist had been cremated within an eisaea single revolution of the imperial homeworldafter his death. Each person who approached the urn performed an intricate series of hand movements while simultaneously murmuring words that Trip interpreted as some sort of ancient prayer. He couldnt see exactly what the other visitors were doing, or hear their words precisely, but the whole business strongly resembled the burial ritual he had learned a few months earlier, when he and TPol had interred the body of their infant daughter Elizabeth at the TKarath Sanctuary on Vulcan.

  I should be able to fake my way through this easily enough,Trip thought, his confidence rising as his turn neared to mount the few narrow steps that led up to the highly decorated, tubular vessel. Despite his covert mission, he still had every reason to pay his heartfelt personal respects to Ehrehinthe man had saved his life and taken him under his wing even after discovering that Trip was actually a non-Romulan spyand he needed to do whatever he could to send his fondest, most positive thoughts toward whatever afterlife Ehrehin might have anticipated. As he approached the raised bier, prepared to make a quickbut not tooquickrun-through of the gestures and murmurs hed seen the other mourners make, he redoubled his concentration on remaining as inconspicuous as possible.

  As he moved forward, Trip caught a flash of movement to his left, and his newly acquired confidence sank like a stone dropped into a canyon.

  “Please, feel free, Ehrehins young laboratory assistant said, making an “after you gesture.

  Centurion Terix studied the young man again carefully, just as he had done earlier in todays animaurolhao,the Ceremony of Respect. Something seemed out of place with the man, and he couldnt quite put his finger on it. The dead scientists assistant seemed nervous; perhaps the loss of his colleague was the sole reason for his apparent discomfiture, or maybe it was something else, something less than seemly.

  “No, you were closest to Technologist Ehrehin, Terix said. “You may perform the rite of pizanris.

  The young man seemed to swallow hard before he nodded and walked up the small steps that led to the tibulecof his slain mentor. His back angled away from Terix, he began to speak, his voice low, and his hands moving in the time-honored manner. Finally he quit speaking and touched his index finger and pinkie to the base of the tibulec.

  The gesture brought a rush of insight to Terix, as well as certainty about what he had to do next.

  As the assistant turned away and descended from the bier, he pulled up the hood on his mourning cloak. Terix looked over to Sweba, the uhlanwho stood guard at the rear of the mausoleum districts ceremonial arena; Terix jerked his chin up sharply, directing the uhlans attention toward the departing young man.

  After seeing Swebas curt nod of acknowledgment, Terix turned back to the tibulecand concluded the ceremony swiftly, using a fusing device and a military seal to specify that this vessel contained the physical essence of one who had given his life in service to the Romulan Star Empire and Praetor Dderidex. Although Technologist Ehrehin had a checkered pastlike so many of the greatest scientific and military leaders of Romulushis work and service had nevertheless furthered both the strategic and the tactical goals of the Empire, and the Praetor who personified her. And as hed learned yesterday, the murder of the scientist had been far larger than the simple act of burglary that appeared to have precipitated it. Terix felt certain that Doctor Ehrehin had been a martyr to a conspiracy whose existence was known, as yet, to perhaps no more than a handful of others.

  Stalking away, Terix saw that Sweba had properly detained the assistanta man whom Terix believed was notwho he pretended to be.

  “And what makes you so certain that this Cunaehr is a Vulcanspy? Valdore asked, squinting up at Terix from behind his vast desk, atop which sat numerous reports and other paper documents. On the wall behind the admiral was mounted the datheanofv-senthe Honor Bladethat usually hung at the admirals side.

  “During Doctor Ehrehins animaurolhao,he performed several movements that I know to be specific to Vulcantradition, rather than ours, Terix said. He had hoped that Valdore would have received the news of this discovery a bit more favorably.

  “I had no idea you were so well versed in Vulcan traditions, Centurion, the admiral said, lofting an eyebrow.

  The admirals stare made Terix feel like a bug in a jar. “I performed two covert intelligence missions there right out of the Academy.

  “And you find this mansVulcan movement to be proof that Cunaehr is a Vulcan? Have you interrogated him? Tested his blood?

  Terix nodded. “We haveinterrogated him, sir, though not as thoroughly as we might without authorization from your office. Our admittedly cursory medical tests on him revealed that he has a very unusual mutative blood type, with traits common to both Vulcan and Romulan genetics.

  Valdore held up a hand, palm outward. “Do not force further interrogation on the prisoner yet. Yourallegation may require further investigation first. Doctor Ehrehin was working on a veryimportant project for the Praetors fleet when he died, a project whose ultimate goal remains unfulfilled. This Cunaehr may hold the key to reaching that goal. If you damage him, or do anything to make his mental state morefragile than it may be already, you may seriously jeopardize that prospect.

  “Then do you wish me to release him? Terix asked. He had hoped for permission to use every tool at his disposal to extract the truth from the scientist, but it appeared that Valdore wasnt about to grant him that.

  “Not yet, Valdore said, looking thoughtful. “Let me think on this for a night. Keep Cunaehr in custody for now, but keep him sequestered away from Ehrehins assassin. I must consider all of my options. But if I dont find a way to make him usefulor if we find hard evidence that he really is somehow involved with the Vulcansthen you,Centurion, will be allowed to choose the method of execution.

  Terix saluted and favored his superior with a rare smile.

  TEN

  Wednesday, July 16, 2155 EnterpriseNX-01

  TP OL WASHED HER HANDS CAREFULLY, looking in the mirror as she did so. It was something she rarely didwhatever her many failings might be in following Suraks teachings, she did not number vanity among thembut she could see in her reflection that she looked tired.

  She hoped that none of her colleagues on the bridge had noticed this, or any fatigue-related errors she might have made. She regarded the chance of the latter as relatively minuscule, given that she generally triple-checked her work; on the other hand, she had been up for most of the last forty-eight hours, applying her off-shift hours to her ongoing surreptitious search for more information about Sopek, emphasizing a
nything that might connect him with the Romulans.

  She moved through the open secondary hatchway inside the sanitary facility the humans referred to as “the head, entering the tiny interior chamber in which puffs of aerosolized sanitizer attacked any bacteria or other dirt that might be present, on either bodies or uniforms. Some of the crew occasionally joked about the heads “decontamination chamber, but TPolwith her heightened sense of smellwas grateful for it.

  Exiting the head, she found herself immediately disoriented. Instead of being back on the bridge, she now stood in a corridor whose walls and floor and ceiling exuded an almost painfully brilliant white light. To her right, TPol saw that only a few meters down the corridor the light ended, dropping abruptly off into the inky, star-strewn vastness of space.

  TPol turned her head and saw two figures, both of them far enough away to appear somewhat indistinct. One seemed to be slumped on the floor, while the other stood above the first in a threatening stance. The standing figure leaned over and picked up the slumping one by grabbing a handful of its dark hair and dragging the body to which it was attached to a nearly upright position.

  Running toward them, TPol wasnt sure if she should announce her presence to the aggressor or not. She chose to stay silent, at least until she knew what she might be facing. But the distance between her and the pair seemed to elongate as she moved, even as the taller figure began to beat on its prey.

  TPol heard a roar behind her, a cacophony louder than anything shed ever heard before. Despite its unnatural volume, she recognized it instantly, just a split second before the blast of wind struck her. The sound and fury of massive decompression spurred her on, and she barely glanced back to see the white corridor breaking apart behind her, the vacuum of space seeming to hurtle toward her in a headlong, predatory rush.

  “Stop! she shouted, throwing caution to the grasping winds around her as she forced herself nearer to the two figures, perhaps relying on the power of her will alone. The aggressor turned and roared at her, its Vulcan features distorted and angry. With flattened ears and sharpened teeth, it resembled one of the Frislen mutants that she had battled some two decades ago.