Anaza had been injured in that struggle, plucked into the sky by a Terebellan giant corvid and barely able to teleport away in time to escape a lethal plummet. It had been an ignominious defeat, but it had all been part of the Lords’ plan to trick Starfleet and the Medusans into gathering the quarry in one place where they could be taken out with a single blow. Anaza had admired the intricate elegance of their scheme.
But now he realized that the targets he and his orbital team were about to destroy with the array of dimension-stone satellites included the vast majority of the hunters. And those hunters’ Lords had just fled from this miniature universe, leaving them defenseless.
Anaza hated being toyed with.
“It doesn’t matter,” Chiranaso th’Miruch said from his own ship. The white-armored Andorian had always been the most extreme of the hunters, a member of a fringe sect that glorified their people’s warrior past and despised the pacifism of the Aenar subspecies. Right now, he was swooping past the Enterprise on another strafing run, eating away at the last of its deflectors. “They’ve played their part. It’s the duty of warriors to lay down their lives for victory.”
“But why were they even there at all?” Anaza challenged. “Our enemies below could not have stopped us. The Lords themselves are holding the Medusans at bay in our own universe.”
“So?”
“So they were sent down there to die! Our fellow hunters! Who’s to say we aren’t next?”
“We’re the best of the best. The most ruthless, the most effective. That’s why we got this job. If you don’t want to be discarded with the rest, then prove your worth. Activate the last satellite. Win the war.”
Within him, Anaza felt the Lord pressing him to obey, firing up his fury and hate toward the enemy below. All it did was intensify his hate for superiors who jerked him around.
He brought his ship about, accelerated toward th’Miruch, and unleashed a full-power barrage on his ship as it began its final strafing run on the defenseless Enterprise. The Lord within him protested, but he could feel that it was under mental pressure from outside forces—a pressure that had increased now that the Lords on the surface had fled, so that the effect had become more concentrated on the few remaining. Thus, Anaza was able to resist the Lord’s demands and continue firing on th’Miruch’s ship until its core breached and vaporized the ship and its pilot. He sensed that the Andorian’s Lord had been equally paralyzed by the outside attack, unable to abandon th’Miruch’s body before its immolation. Good, he thought.
He reoriented his fighter and began firing on the nearest satellite, using the Lords’ weapons to cripple their device. As he headed for the next one, he noted that the other two remaining hunter ships were in conflict. One was also attacking the satellites, attempting to save their fellows on the surface as he was, while the second was firing on the first, attempting to defend the orbiting weapons. He could sense that hunter transmitting the activation codes, hoping that the incomplete grid would be sufficient to destroy the telepaths’ settlement and every living person on the planet.
As he flew toward that ship and diverted more power to his weapons, Anaza sent a transmission to the Enterprise informing it of a phaser frequency that would disrupt the regenerative ability of the satellites’ armor and allow them to be disabled if the fire were held long enough. He doubted the Federation lackeys aboard that ship would understand the honor that compelled him to turn to his enemy to save his sibling hunters, but he knew they would act on it nonetheless, for it would serve them as well.
Then he issued a challenge to the remaining enemy hunter. “I won’t be a pawn in anyone else’s game anymore,” he cried as the enemy’s fire began pounding his ship’s armor. He laughed as he charged directly into the fire, returning it in kind and gambling that his drive to win was stronger.
“I will decide my own fate!”
Medusan space, home universe
“It’s over, Yamasaki,” Captain Terrell declared over the speaker in the cockpit of Haru Yamasaki’s combat-modified scout ship. “Your masters deceived you. They set your fellow Naazh up to murder each other, and now they’ve abandoned you. Your forces are fighting each other, and their attempt to destroy the New Human settlement has failed. It’s over, Haru. Stand down.”
“Never,” Yamasaki said defiantly. “None of this matters. The actions of the New Humans, the powers they’ve demonstrated, are proof enough that they’re still a threat, just as I always said.”
“But you know the Lords tricked you!” Commander Chekov cried. “Used you! And no doubt still plan to kill you!”
Yamasaki laughed and shook his head. “I’m too valuable to them. Why do you think they assigned me here instead of the planet? And now they need me more than ever.”
“You really don’t care about the lies, the manipulation?” Terrell asked, bewildered. “You don’t feel used, betrayed that they were serving an agenda having nothing to do with your goals and beliefs?”
He chuckled again. “That’s where you’re wrong, Captain. Specifics aside, our goals still align. We both wish the destruction of the same group. As long as we share that enemy, the rest is irrelevant.”
Terrell sighed. “Good grief. Have you ever admitted to being wrong about anything?”
“I’m not wrong about this,” Yamasaki said confidently. “I know I have the faith and full commitment of my Lord. As long as my determination and intellect are focused on our common goal, we will stand together and continue the good fight. The path to victory is—”
He faltered as his armor dematerialized, dropping him a centimeter into his pilot’s seat. A wave of pain and nausea swept over him; when it cleared, the cockpit’s alarms and status displays showed him that the scout ship’s armor and crystal weaponry had disappeared as well—along with the presence of his Lord in his mind. The sudden absence took a moment to register. Once it did, he refused to believe it. There had to be an explanation. He could not have been so wrong.
He just couldn’t.
* * *
When Thelin th’Valrass saw the shields and armor fade from Yamasaki’s ship, he immediately handed the conn of the Charas off to his first officer and ran to the transporter room. At last, he had his chance to get revenge for the slaughtered Aenar—to take on one of their butchers face-to-face and settle with them in a fair fight, with no hyperdimensional tricks to protect them.
True, Yamasaki had not become a Naazh until recently, so he had not been involved with the Aenar massacre. But he had willingly aligned himself with the creatures responsible for that atrocity, and had wholeheartedly joined in the effort to inflict another like it on members of his own species, making him a traitor by blood as well as politics. Such a person was a true monster, deserving no mercy. He would be a fitting target for Thelin’s vengeance.
When Thelin materialized in the cockpit of the drifting scout ship, phaser in hand and set to kill, he found Haru Yamasaki curled up under the pilot’s console, weeping inconsolably. “No! It’s not fair! Don’t leave me! You were the only one who understood me! Tell me it’s not true! Tell me I wasn’t wrong! Please—I’ll do anything you say, just take me back!”
After a few moments, Thelin returned the phaser to his belt, dragged the unresisting, sobbing wreck of a man to his feet, and ordered the Charas to beam both of them back. Yamasaki would have to spend the rest of his life facing who he really was. Surely that was revenge enough.
Twenty-One
Ceto
“So Medusa is safe?”
Miranda/Kollos nodded in answer to Kirk’s question as they, Spock, and McCoy strolled through the town along with Captain Thelin, who had accompanied the last batch of New Humans to Ceto aboard the Potemkin while his own vessel and the Reliant were undergoing repairs back in normal space. Around them, assorted New Humans, Aenar, and the shimmers of disembodied Spectres worked together to clear away debris and repair battle damage with their telekinetic powers. “It seems the prospect of facing a united front of Medusans a
nd fully awakened Spectres was more than the Lords were ready for. Once their attack here failed, they abandoned their assault on the homeworld.”
“So I take it that means Ceto is safe as well,” McCoy said, staring in awe at the feats of reconstruction being performed around them. “Just imagine … this is what they can do when they’ve only been active for days. Once they’re fully trained …” He shuddered. “I’ve said it before—I’m just glad the folks with magic mind powers are on our side for a change.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Miranda/Kollos said, “we should be able to defend Ceto if the Lords try again. But it may not be necessary. The Medusans have already received messages from others in the Spectres’ home domain—dissidents seeking refuge or aid. Apparently the sleepers aren’t the only ones who disagree with the Lords’ rule, not by a long shot.” They smiled. “Who knows? The Lords’ supposedly infallible, unbeatable regime has just suffered a humiliating defeat. That’s bound to weaken their iron grip on their people.”
“You believe there might be a revolution?” Thelin asked.
“Possibly—with a little help.”
Spock appeared skeptical. “From what I was able to sense of the Lords’ domain during my meld with T’Nalae, I do not believe that unseating their power will be a simple matter. It could be the work of a generation or more.”
“Which, on the scale of Spectre lifetimes, could be centuries,” Miranda/Kollos agreed.
Kirk looked around. “Which means, I suppose, that it’s best if the Aenar and New Humans remain here indefinitely.”
McCoy stared at him. “You mean never go home again?”
“I’m fine with that,” Jones said—and Kirk could tell now that she was speaking for herself. “I’ve long felt more at home with the Medusans than I ever did in the Federation. Many of the New Humans I’ve spoken to feel the same. After all, this is a place where Spectres can live freely, without needing corporeal hosts for anchoring or concealment. They can bond with humans and Aenar when they wish, and exist independently the rest of the time. It will let humans, Aenar, and Spectres share a fully equal existence at last. For those of us who’ve embraced our Spectres, it feels ideal.”
“And then there are the rest of us,” came a new voice. Kirk turned to see Marcella DiFalco approaching, along with Chief Onami, who had requested to return with the Enterprise now that the New Humans were safe. According to Onami, she still felt she had much to learn, but Arsène Xiang had persuaded her that she’d be better off applying what she’d learned so far to her own life back home. Kirk was glad to have two more familiar faces aboard, though he regretted that Chekov, Nizhoni, and Kyle had been unable to make it for a reunion with the rest of their old shipmates. Still, it was a relief to see DiFalco alive and well—and with her eyes back to their familiar hue.
Noting the same, McCoy moved to her side solicitously. “You’ve had your Spectre removed?”
“At last, yes,” DiFalco said with a sigh. “The fight’s finally over. My Spectre and its kind are safe, and I wish them well, but I still can’t come to terms with what they imposed on me and my ancestors without our knowledge. I—I just want it to be over.”
“Nearly half of the New Humans have made that same choice, sirs,” Onami told Kirk and Spock. “There should be enough room on the Enterprise and Potemkin for their return.”
“And the Aenar?” Spock asked.
Thelin provided the answer. “Every last one has chosen to remain here, united with their Spectres. I can understand why. Telepathy has been an inherent part of Aenar society for more than a millennium, inseparably woven into their culture. Their new understanding of its origin has not altered that. With so few Aenar left now, preserving their culture and identity is more important than ever.” He looked around at the villagers continuing their telekinetic work. “Who knows? With their transmutation abilities, the Aenar may be able to reverse their reproductive decline and build a thriving population once again. It is only a shame that they will not be able to share such solutions with Andoria.”
“Why the blazes not?” McCoy asked.
“Consider it from their position, Doctor,” Spock said. “They have been persecuted and threatened for centuries, their species driven nearly extinct by multiple forces. The threat from the Lords is in abeyance, but if you had their history, would you be quick to trust that it was ended?”
“Or indeed,” Thelin added, “that no others would ever pose the same threat?”
The doctor grimaced. “I guess you’re right. The Naazh we captured after the battle, after the Lords up and abandoned them, came from all over. Andorians, humans, even a Romulan. And T’Nalae too. I can’t blame the Aenar for feeling the whole galaxy is out to get them.”
“In that case,” Kirk said, “it’s probably best if the Aenar’s survival remains a secret. The galaxy believes they’re extinct, and they’ll be safer if we don’t reveal otherwise.”
Thelin nodded. “A wise choice, Admiral. Perhaps one day, they will be ready to reveal themselves, but it should be on their own schedule.”
“For that matter,” Spock added, “I would recommend classifying the existence of the sleepers. Many would not understand or accept the Spectre refugees’ reasons for concealing themselves within human hosts. And recent events have shown that the Federation is not as free of prejudice and paranoia as we like to believe.”
Kirk stared. “That’s rather cynical of you, Spock. The Naazh were the exceptions, a tiny minority.”
“I agree. But history shows that even a small minority of xenophobes can do disproportionate harm if they organize with violent intent.”
“Even if none of the Spectres stay in our universe, sir,” Onami added, “some people would be afraid that they were still around, still a potential threat. And when the fear of an enemy persists in the absence of a genuine enemy … well, the result is free-floating paranoia that can lock on to any convenient target, deserving or not.”
“All right,” Kirk said, clapping his hands together. “So we’ll report that the Naazh successfully drove the Aenar extinct, and that the New Humans were offered asylum by the Medusans and resettled in parts unknown.” He glanced at DiFalco. “Explaining how half of them lost their powers—or how you came back from the dead, Chief—will take a bit more creativity, though.”
His former navigator sighed. “It’s a shame, though,” she said. “That humans never really had the capacity for telepathy after all. I really thought we were evolving to a new level. Now human telepathy will be gone forever, at least in our universe.”
“Not absolutely,” Spock observed. “I myself am proof that part-human hybrids can inherit telepathy from their nonhuman parents. I do not identify as human, but other hybrids may.”
“It’s not quite the same, Spock,” McCoy said.
“It may be to them, Doctor. Many of my childhood peers considered me a fraud for identifying as Vulcan because I was ‘impure.’ But I choose to live as a Vulcan, and my choice makes it real. Would you object to someone identifying as human by choice merely because they shared the genes of another species?”
The doctor fidgeted. “Well, when you put it that way …”
“Sir,” DiFalco asked Kirk in the ensuing silence, “what about the Naazh? They know the truth about this place, and at least the ones captured on the surface know about the Aenar. So do we just … leave them here?”
“Most of them are Federation citizens,” Kirk said. “As were their victims. We have a duty to bring them back for trial in Federation courts. We can’t deny them the rights they denied their victims. We have to be better.”
“Many of the captive Naazh are repentant,” Spock said. “They were deceived by the Lords as to the true nature of their quarry, told whatever falsehoods would resonate with their own fears and expectations. Like T’Nalae, they feel shame at the atrocities they were party to, and they wish no more harm to the Spectre refugees or their hosts. Many of the rest still believe they were in the right, but resent the Lor
ds for abandoning them to die. They would most likely agree to keep the secret as an act of defiance toward the Lords.”
“As for the rest,” Kirk said, “if we classify these events, they’d face added criminal charges for exposing official secrets.”
“That seems unreliable,” Miranda/Kollos said. “Perhaps we should simply erase their memories of this place.”
Kirk frowned, exchanging an uneasy look with Spock. “That’s a step we’ve taken on occasion when circumstances demanded it. But I’m reluctant to go that far if it can be avoided. The Naazh have had their minds violated enough.”
Thelin stared. “They are hardly the victims here, Admiral!”
“No,” Kirk countered firmly. “But that’s all the more reason I won’t let them drag us down to their level.”
“It is not always possible to cure hate,” Spock observed. “But we cannot allow ourselves to abandon the effort to redeem those who remain redeemable. All our species have conquered the hatreds and irrational fears that were once pervasive, choosing instead to favor openness and cooperation. Through hope, persistence, and positive effort, we have changed minds, one by one, until we changed enough of them to redirect the course of entire societies.”
“That’s right,” McCoy said. “Maybe we humans never really had telepathy. But we never needed it—because we make up for it with good old-fashioned empathy.”
* * *
“So this is goodbye,” Kirk said as he and Miranda walked hand in hand through the Cetonian forest. “For good this time.”
“I’m afraid so,” she said. “The refugees won’t be safe in our universe as long as the Lords rule in theirs. My Spectre needs to stay here—and that means so do I.”
The Higher Frontier Page 31
