Accompanied by a short tone, a tiny point of light flashed on the sensor display. It pulsed once and vanished. Sulu initiated the transporter’s targeting lock, but the sensor contact had already faded. It could have been anything—a burst of radiation from a distant star, the ionization of interstellar gas—but Sulu believed otherwise, having seen firsthand the readings of a dispersion of a navigational deflector. Trent’s duplicity had paid yet another dividend, in addition to having lured Tomed into the area of the Bonneville Flats, where its crew had witnessed the destruction of Universe and thus set these events in motion.
She worked the controls, narrowing the search area considerably, centering it on the brief reading she had just seen. With a smaller volume of space to scan, she would increase the effectiveness of the sensors, and thereby increase the chances of locating the dispersion.
The point of flight flared again on the display, another tone signaling the sensor acquisition. As the light began to fade, Sulu quickly focused her scans even more. The point pulsed twice and then steadied. She followed the signal to its source and executed a scan for life signs. She found three, all human.
Once more, Sulu activated the targeting sensors. In only seconds, the transporter had locked on to the three life signs. She reached forward on the console and pulled a trio of slide buttons toward her. The whine of the transporter filled the room, and white motes of light formed above the platform. When the sound and lights faded, Captain Harriman, Commander Gravenor, and Lieutenant Vaughn had materialized. Both Gravenor and Vaughn wore Romulan uniforms, and Vaughn had one arm in a sling and bandages wrapped around one hand.
Despite whatever misgivings she might feel about Harriman’s plan, Sulu could not prevent herself from smiling widely. “Welcome back, Captain,” she said.
“It’s good to be back,” he said, stepping down onto the deck. “I wasn’t sure they’d send you and Enterprise, but I thought they might.” Sulu understood the veiled reference; Harriman’s expectation of her involvement in the mission had come from his mentioning Iron Mike Paris to her twice. The captain hadn’t been able to reveal the highly classified details of the mission—or even its existence—to her, but he’d obviously hoped that she would come to discover it on her own. “What’s the situation?”
“The Tomed is heading for the outpost, its containment field failing,” Sulu said. “It should happen any time now.”
Harriman gestured toward the transporter console, toward the center section that housed the sensor controls. “Let’s take a look,” he said.
Sulu operated the panel at once, bringing up the sensor readings of Foxtrot XIII. Harriman walked around the console to stand beside her, and Gravenor and Vaughn descended from the platform and joined them. They had to wait less than a minute before the readings changed dramatically, numbers and measurements spelling out the unleashing of the singularity at warp, and the subsequent destruction of the outpost. Even knowing that nobody had died in the maelstrom, the vastness and speed of the destruction chilled Sulu.
She looked from Harriman to Gravenor to Vaughn. Whatever satisfaction each of them felt must have been muted by their obvious exhaustion. Noticing again Vaughn’s sling and bandages, she asked him, “Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m fine,” Vaughn said, although he did not sound particularly convinced of his own answer.
“The lieutenant probably does need a doctor,” Harriman said, “but we’ll have to treat him ourselves right now. Have you got quarters ready for us?”
“Yes,” Sulu told him. “There are three adjoining guest cabins on deck seven, all secured. I can beam the three of you there, unless you’d like me to beam you to your own quarters, Captain.”
Harriman offered a wan smile. “Much as I’d like you to, the three of us need to talk.” He walked out from behind the console and mounted the transporter platform again, followed by Gravenor and Vaughn. Sulu reset the transporter with the new coordinates. “Once we’ve beamed into guest quarters,” Harriman said, tapping at a small device attached to his belt, “we’ll reactivate our sensor veils.” As far as the Enterprise crew were concerned, Captain Harriman was still aboard the Romulan space station, and that would have to continue to be the case. “I’m sure you know what comes next,” Harriman said.
“Yes, sir,” Sulu replied. Admiral Mentir had provided all the details of the actions she would need to take at this point.
“Then I’ll see you at Algeron, Demora,” Harriman said. “Energize.”
Sulu nodded, then reached across the console and pushed the slide buttons forward. In seconds, she stood alone in the transporter room once more. She inhaled deeply, not sure how she would get through the next few hours, the next few days. She had trained for many situations during her years in Starfleet, but not for something like this. She had trained for the reality, and not for the artifice. Still, even if only she and Captain Harriman and a handful of others knew the truth, at least nobody had actually died in the destruction of the Foxtrot Sector.
She erased the logs of two transports she had just performed. Then, knowing that she now had to finish this, Sulu steeled herself and headed back to the bridge.
Stillness filled the Enterprise bridge. Seated in the command chair, Linojj could not seem to tear her gaze from the image on the main viewscreen. In front of the ship, which now held station outside the Foxtrot Sector, space had been transformed. No, not transformed, she thought. Devastated. Ruined.
Space looked like a rumpled black cloth, tattered and frayed. It seemed somehow to have holes in it, with a strange blue-gray tone visible in clumps through them. Sensors provided evidence that the space-time continuum had been both misshapen and torn. Pockets of subspace emerged through the tears, rendering warp travel impossible in the region. Linojj doubted that any type of space travel would be feasible.
Her emotions swung like a pendulum, from profound sorrow to unspeakable rage. The unprovoked attack on Foxtrot XIII—on all the outposts—recalled for her the initial invasion of her homeworld thirty-five years ago. And while she had lived a childhood in which the death of the innocent had been commonplace, the mass murder of four thousand people still seemed unthinkable.
“Ramesh,” Linojj said, “open a channel.”
“Commander,” Kanchumurthi responded quietly, the terrible destruction they’d just witnessed clearly affecting him. “To whom?”
Linojj heard the turbolift doors open, but she did not look over, instead keeping her eyes on the viewer, on the twisted remains of space-time. “To Starfleet Command and all Starfleet vessels in the vicinity of the Neutral Zone,” she told Kanchumurthi. “Transmit the following message. For reasons surpassing rational comprehension, the Romulan flagship Tomed has launched a wanton attack on all Federation outposts in the Foxtrot Sector. All outposts—repeat, all outposts—have been destroyed with all hands.” She hesitated, wondering if her level of authority would permit her to say what she had thought to say. Right now, she told herself, you command the Enterprise. By leaving her in charge of the ship, Sulu had given her the authority to take action. “The Romulan Empire has committed a heinous and cowardly act of war. All available Starfleet vessels, proceed to the Neutral Zone.” Linojj knew that a segment of the fleet traveled with battle plans specifically designed for the outbreak of war with the Romulans, including in circumstances such as an unexpected attack. “Lieutenant Commander Xintal Linojj, in command of the U.S.S. Enterprise.”
“Belay that,” a voice said. Now Linojj peered over to the turbolift doors and saw that Commander Sulu had entered the bridge, returned from her obviously unsuccessful attempt to transport Tomed’s singularity off of the ship. “Lieutenant,” Sulu said to Kanchumurthi, “broadcast the message not only to Starfleet vessels, but on all Klingon and Romulan frequencies as well.”
“Romulan?” Kanchumurthi asked.
“Yes,” Linojj said, standing from the command chair. “Unlike the Romulans, the Federation does not launch sneak attacks.”
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p; Sulu walked over to the command chair, looking aft toward the tactical-and-communications console. “The message is from Commander Demora Sulu, in command of the U.S.S. Enterprise.”
“Yes, Captain,” Kanchumurthi said, working his panel.
Sulu turned to Linojj. “Take us to the edge of the Neutral Zone,” she said. “Maximum warp.”
“Aye,” Linojj said, and she relieved Ensign Verant at the helm. She waited for Tolek to plot their course, then took the ship to warp. On the main viewscreen, she saw the mutilated space of Foxtrot Sector sweep away to port as Enterprise headed for the Romulan Neutral Zone. After all of the political tensions of the past years, and amid all the desperate hopes for peace, war had finally arrived.
Beneath the red glare of alert lighting, Sulu stood beside Tenger and peered over his shoulder at the tactical display on his panel. Icons representing a sizable assemblage of Starfleet vessels extended along a red ribbon denoting the Neutral Zone. As she watched, another icon—the thirty-seventh—appeared and maneuvered to the flank of the battle group. Enterprise, the first ship to arrive, had taken point.
On the other side of the Neutral Zone, an even greater number of Romulan ships—forty-eight at last count—had taken position.
“We are being hailed again,” Kanchumurthi said from his console. “It’s the Aspire.”
“On screen,” Sulu said. She had been communicating with the fleet for most of the day, ever since she had transmitted word of Tomed’s attack. She made her way down to the lower section of the bridge and stood beside the navigation station. On the main viewscreen, the starscape disappeared, replaced by the image of a long, wide bridge, at least half again as large as that of Enterprise. Alert lighting flashed red there as well.
In the center of the scene, in a command chair with a high, tapered back, sat an officer Sulu did not recognize. He had thick brown hair, and his heavy eyebrows, mustache, and beard covered a great deal of his face. Sulu could not see his mouth, but his flat, circular nose, wide and upturned, along with his deep-set eyes, identified him as a Tellarite.
“Commander Sulu,” the man said. “I am Captain Renk of the U.S.S. Aspire. We received your message regarding the attack on Foxtrot Sector.” He hesitated and glanced around his bridge. Many of the officers there, Sulu now noticed, had their eyes cast downward. “My crew,” Renk said. “We are…” He could not seem to find the proper word to describe what he wanted to say, but his meaning was clear.
“I understand, Captain,” Sulu said. “The crew of the Enterprise feels the same way.”
Renk nodded, accepting the sentiment. “Have you heard yet from Starfleet Command?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said, “but we anticipate a response soon.” Any orders from Starfleet would come from the officer responsible for operations in this and the neighboring sectors: Admiral Mentir. Sulu actually hoped not to hear from him. If the Starfleet vessels amassed along the Neutral Zone received either the command to advance or to retreat, then it would mean that Captain Harriman’s plan had failed to provide the outcome he had expected—the outcome for which he had risked so much.
“I’m sure you’ll keep us informed,” Renk said.
“I will, Captain,” she said. “In the meantime, maintain battle stations.” As the commander of the Starfleet flagship, Sulu also functioned now as the de facto leader of the battle group. Renk nodded once to Sulu, and then to an officer on the Aspire bridge. The transmission ended, the starscape appearing once more on the viewscreen.
“Captain,” Tenger said, “sensors are picking up movement along the Klingon-Romulan border, not far from Federation space.” Sulu moved back up to the raised outer section of the bridge and over to where Tenger worked his panel. She studied the display he had configured, and now saw not only Federation and Romulan space, but Klingon territory as well; the lines of confluence of all three powers hung in space not far from Foxtrot Sector. Several more Klingon vessels had moved into the area, bringing the total to twenty-one. As she’d expected, her transmission to the fleet and the subsequent gathering of Starfleet forces along the Federation side of the Neutral Zone had not gone unnoticed by either the Romulans or the Klingons.
Shortly after Enterprise’s arrival here, an Ivarix-class vessel had appeared in nearby Romulan space. They had made no attempt to contact Enterprise, and Sulu had not tried to contact them. In the intervening hours between then and now, more and more ships on both sides had moved into position along the Neutral Zone, and in the last few hours, Klingon vessels had also begun arriving in the region abutting both Federation and Romulan space.
Sulu looked up from the tactical display and over at the main viewscreen. She considered the massive amounts of weaponry now aimed in each direction, and wondered how long she would have to wait. Captain Harriman’s entire plan had been predicated on how this military buildup would end. As long as Chancellor Azetbur remained in power—and Starfleet Intelligence did not believe she faced any imminent threat of removal—Harriman believed strongly that he knew precisely what would happen. He had, in fact, believed so strongly that he had been willing to endanger his own life and the lives of others, and to cause anguish throughout the Federation and the Romulan Empire—anguish that would not soon be forgotten by either side.
Sulu stepped away from Lieutenant Tenger and began walking the perimeter of the bridge. She paced past the engineering stations and the starboard turbolift, and then past the main viewscreen. As she neared the sciences station, Ensign Fenn peered up at her, a stony expression on her face. Sulu noticed the bandage still on her finger. “How are you feeling?” she asked, motioning toward Fenn’s hand. In the next couple of months, she knew that the young woman would have to take a leave of absence from Starfleet, so that she could return home to undergo the Shift.
Fenn lifted her arm from her console and looked at her finger. “My pain seems inconsequential right now,” she said.
“I know, Borona,” Sulu said, putting a reassuring hand on Fenn’s shoulder. “I know.” And she thought: This has to work. The sense of loss engendered by the supposed attack on the Foxtrot outposts would be far too high a price to pay for this not to work. She understood Captain Harriman’s belief that the reality of peace, and of the saving of billions of lives, would be worth that pain, and she even agreed. But she didn’t know if she agreed that merely the possibility of peace was worth it. For if war could not now be averted—
“Captain, we are being hailed,” Kanchumurthi said again. “By a Klingon vessel.”
Sulu felt her eyebrows rise on her forehead, not in surprise, but in hope. It took an effort for her to remain calm. “Put them on screen,” she said.
As she headed back toward the command chair, the image of a multitiered Klingon bridge appeared on the viewer, the dark atmosphere almost brooding. Atop a raised, thronelike chair sat a large, thickset man, the silver metal torso of his uniform appearing to strain along its seams. Pulled back against his head, his hair might have been long or short, she could not tell which. His dark beard and mustache were well defined, even against his swarthy complexion. “I am General Kaarg,” he said, “of the I.K.S. NuH Bey’.”
“Commander Sulu, of the Enterprise,” she said, standing before her command chair.
“We have monitored your transmissions,” Kaarg said. “As I’m sure you intended us to do.”
“Yes, General, we did,” Sulu admitted freely. “We wanted everybody to know what happened, and to know that we know what happened.”
“Indeed, everybody does,” Kaarg said. “Four Klingon warships, on patrols near our borders, registered the Romulan vessel on long-range sensors. They witnessed the attack.”
“The cowardly attack,” Sulu said pointedly, and then thought that she shouldn’t have. She did not need to over-play her hand.
“I must admit that I do not always share the opinions of Federation citizens when it comes to matters of cowardice or honor,” Kaarg said. “But in this case, I have no choice but to agree.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, General,” Sulu said.
“I would imagine that you are. And as I’m sure you know, Chancellor Azetbur has been quite clear in stating the Klingon position regarding hostilities between the Federation and the Romulans.”
“I do know that,” she said.
“Good,” Kaarg told her. “Then I will not now have to explain myself.” He looked to his side and barked an order, and the image of the Klingon bridge vanished from the screen, replaced by the starscape.
“Captain,” Tenger said at once, “I’m reading movement along the Klingon border.”
“Give me a tactical display, Lieutenant,” Sulu said. “On screen.”
The readout Sulu had viewed at Tenger’s station now appeared on the main viewer. The red sweep of the Neutral Zone still flowed through the center of the display, Federation territory marked on one side and Romulan territory on the other. At one end of the Neutral Zone, the expanse of Klingon space began, and there, the phalanx of ships had begun to move, advancing toward the area where the three territories intersected.
And then they turned, traveling directly toward the Starfleet battle group.
“We’re being hailed by several—make that many—Starfleet ships,” Kanchumurthi reported.
“Open a general channel,” she ordered.
“Channel open.”
“This is Commander Sulu of the Enterprise,” she said. “All Starfleet vessels, maintain position and hold your fire.” Then, wanting to be sure, she said, “Tenger, sensors. Are the Klingons arming weapons?”
“Scanning,” Tenger said. She waited, staring at the viewscreen as though she could see all that was transpiring across the vast distances of space. Finally, Tenger said, “Negative.”
After a few minutes, Kanchumurthi said, “Several of the Klingon vessels are entering visual range…including NuH Bey’.”
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