Headlong Flight

by Dayton Ward

  Am I being punished?

  “Status report,” she said, more to alleviate her boredom than in the hopes of hearing anything that might deviate from the responses she had received to her last six identical queries.

  Standing at the bridge’s weapons control console—one of four workstations arrayed around the control hub at the center of the room—N’tovek turned to face her. Like the other centurions manning stations on the bridge, he wore the gold helmet that was the normal uniform accessory denoting a low-ranking subordinate.

  “There has been no change in any of our scan readings, Commander. We are continuing our observations.”

  Of course you are. What else are you going to do?

  “Are you certain the sensors are functioning normally?” Sarith already knew the answer to her query, but this exchange, useless as it was, helped to occupy another few brief moments.

  N’tovek nodded. “I have verified complete functionality, Commander, as well as confirmed that our cloaking field is not interfering with scanner effectiveness.” As he always did when addressing her, he stood at ramrod attention, offering his responses in crisp, formal fashion. Though every member of her crew paid her the proper respect due her rank and station, N’tovek always added another layer to such interactions. “I can repeat the inspection if you wish.”

  You could certainly use the practice.

  Sarith almost gave voice to the cross thought, catching herself only at the last moment. Chastising him in such a manner before his peers would only embarrass him, and she considered such tactics poor leadership. It was not the centurion’s fault that nothing had materialized on the ship’s sensors. As with everyone else aboard the Bloodied Talon, he was at the mercy of whatever forces were at play here. With respect to any perceived shortcomings in N’tovek’s ability to carry out his responsibilities as both a weapons and a sensor control officer, Sarith had already discussed the matter with his immediate superior. She was confident that with proper training and supervision coupled with the centurion’s genuine, demonstrated desire to excel at his duties, N’tovek had the potential to become an acceptable if not noteworthy officer.

  There was also the indisputable fact that he had proven himself useful and talented in other areas, precisely none of which had any bearing on his effectiveness as an officer of the Romulan military. Indeed, there were those, her senior staff and other officers included, who would take great exception to her having engaged a subordinate in a personal relationship. Discretion had been key in that regard, and N’tovek understood that the time they shared in private would offer no influence or protection for him should he fall short in any of his duties. At least, he seemed to understand this, even after the discussions regarding his professional deficiencies. If anything, the counseling session had served only to make him even more eager to please her away from the bridge.

  This could be dangerous.

  She realized she had not yet responded to N’tovek, and that she instead was staring at him. Forcing away the thoughts that had distracted her, Sarith motioned toward him.

  “That will not be necessary, Centurion. Attend your station.”

  N’tovek offered the expected salute before turning back to his controls, allowing Sarith to continue her circuit of the Talon’s bridge. She stepped to the sensor control station, and the centurion manning that post moved aside in order to afford her a better look at one of the console’s compact display screens. Studying the image of the blue-green nebula displayed upon it, she released a small sigh.

  “All things being equal, it is rather striking.” She glanced to the centurion as she spoke the words, and the younger officer, Darjil, nodded.

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Have you learned anything new about it?”

  Darjil shook his head. “No, Commander. Though its gas concentrations do have a destabilizing effect on our sensors, the nebula appears to contain no special properties that present a danger to the ship.”

  Reaching for the console, Sarith activated the control that allowed her access to the volumes of data collected by the Talon’s sensor array and stored within the memory banks of the ship’s computer. It took her only a moment to call up the directory of files pertaining to the mysterious object they had found hiding within the nebula’s dense gases.

  “What of the automated probe?”

  “Our research is ongoing, Commander. Despite all our efforts to date, we are still unable to determine the device’s origin, or access its internal systems. We have analyzed the communication signal it continues to broadcast, but it is unlike anything we have encountered before.”

  Sarith knew from the status reports she received that Darjil had taken a keen interest in the device since its initial discovery by ship’s sensors nearly two weeks ago. That find had come just days after the Talon’s first encounter with the odd rogue planet that seemed to also be hiding within the nebula. Studying the planet and the probe had commanded all of the centurion’s waking hours regardless of whether he was on duty. Though Sarith only understood some of the dense information packed into the detailed reports, it was obvious that Darjil comprehended the scope of what they had stumbled upon and was doing his level best to convey the importance of the discovery to anyone who would listen.

  “The communication signal,” said Sarith. “You’ve been able to confirm that it is broadcasting beyond our dimensional plane?”

  As though uncertain of his own answers, Darjil replied, “Based on the available data and following a series of calculations using the ship’s computer, that is my best hypothesis at this time. I apologize for our lack of progress, Commander.”

  “Your effort has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated, Centurion,” said a new voice, and both Sarith and Darjil looked to see Subcommander Ineti.

  The Talon’s second-in-command had entered the bridge through the service corridor at the rear, pausing at the threshold as was his habit while taking in the scene around him. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, the older officer missed nothing as he subjected the bridge to his scrutiny. His blue eyes radiated an intensity that seemed to bore through everything they saw. Deep lines on his face and white hair cut in a typical male officer’s style marked him as a Romulan of distinction, bearing mute testimony to a long career spent in uniform.

  Every centurion on duty seemed to focus even greater attention on their instruments, each making an obvious effort to avoid the subcommander’s withering gaze. Sarith suppressed an urge to smile as Ineti, apparently satisfied that his subordinates were carrying out their duties per his expectations, finally turned and made his way around the bridge’s central control hub toward her. For his part, Darjil seemed to have frozen in place, staring straight ahead and saying nothing at Ineti’s approach.

  “Your reports have made for fascinating reading, Centurion,” said the subcommander. “There can be no doubt that they are the result of many hours of dedicated research. That you were able to make them understandable for a battered old soldier such as myself is also to be commended. It is good to see you devoting your off-duty time to such constructive pursuits.”

  Sarith forced herself not to chuckle at Ineti’s last comment. As her second-in-command, it fell to him to oversee the crew’s conduct, as well as their training. It was a responsibility for which Ineti was perfectly suited, given the even-tempered, almost paternal demeanor in which he comported himself. Though he could and would apply discipline with all the force and conviction that was required for a given situation, he preferred the role of mentor, constantly overseeing those under his command and teaching them how to improve themselves not just as soldiers of the Empire but also Romulans. He almost never raised his voice when issuing instructions or orders, tending instead to speak in deliberate, thoughtful tones, which did more to instill obedience and even fear in his subordinates than any overt displays of emotion. However, it was the misguided soul who co
nfused Ineti’s measured approach to leadership as weakness. Sarith had observed that phenomenon more than once, and it almost always required her to exit herself from the immediate area lest he or his unwitting subordinate hear her laughing.

  As for Darjil, Ineti had taken a greater interest in the centurion’s activities of late, as part of a larger initiative aimed at redirecting the focus of the crew’s younger members toward beneficial endeavors, rather than some of the more wasteful activities that seemed to occupy their off-duty hours. Darjil in particular had become something of a personal reclamation project for the subcommander. Rather than taint the centurion’s service record with unflattering entries pertaining to disciplinary action, reductions in rank, or other penalties, Ineti instead had counseled the young Romulan on his deficiencies as well as establishing guidelines and a schedule for improving his performance.

  Knowing Ineti as she did, Sarith was certain her second-­in-command saw great potential in Darjil, provided he was guided at this early, influential time in his budding career. Other officers might have been satisfied to level punishments on wayward subordinates, but not Ineti. He favored teaching and perhaps salvaging what had already been a significant commitment of time and resources on the part of the Romulan Empire to train and prepare new centurions for military service, and see a return on that investment.

  “What else have you learned?” asked Sarith, deciding to provide Darjil with a respite from Ineti’s unrelenting gaze.

  The centurion replied, “I believe the drone device is in communication with the planet and that the transmission is a means of maintaining a connection between the two points. It is possible that whatever causes the shift somehow uses the transmission as a tether. That might explain the consistency in the odd energy fluctuations we are so far unable to identify.”

  “If that’s true,” said Ineti, “then perhaps the planet’s arrival and departure can be predicted somehow.”

  “That is my belief, Subcommander. If these events can be forecast, then it would give us the advantage we have been seeking.”

  Sarith nodded in approval. Such a revelation and their ability to capitalize upon it would be just the opportunity she had been seeking since receiving this assignment. Her mission here was a simple task, at least in theory. After an unmanned reconnaissance probe had discovered the planet drifting within the Lirostahl Nebula, the Bloodied Talon—accompanied by a pair of escort vessels, the N’minecci and the Jarax, to provide any necessary additional personnel and other support—had been instructed to monitor the region and learn all that was possible about the mysterious planet that seemed to disappear and reappear at random intervals for no discernible reason. This had hampered her ability to achieve her other objective: making contact with the life-forms that had been detected on the planet, learn the nature of the planet’s odd qualities, and seize control of the installation and any equipment or other technology that might be causing the phenomenon to occur.

  So far, there were no indications that anyone on the surface had detected the Talon or the escorts, thanks to each ship’s cloaking device. Following an examination of their initial sensor readings of the planet, Sarith had been prepared to send down a scouting party from one of the escort vessels, but that notion was halted when the planet disappeared before her eyes. Unless and until the duration and frequency of the world’s movements could be predicted, she was unwilling to risk members of her crew or the other two ships.

  “What about the people?” she asked. “Have you learned anything about them?”

  Darjil shook his head. “No, Commander. The planet itself does not correspond to anything in our stellar cartography database. As we believe it to be nomadic in nature, with no links to any star system in this region, that makes identification most difficult. As for the life-forms recorded by our sensors, they do not correspond to any known species. The energy readings we detected coming from the subterranean complex are also unfamiliar.”

  “A most interesting puzzle for us to solve,” said Ineti.

  Scowling, Sarith replied, “The praetor does not care about puzzles, or games, or whatever other childish pursuits to which this might be compared. He wants answers to his questions, and he has tasked me with providing them. I do not expect his patience to be long-­lasting in this regard.”

  More than anything, it was the planet’s technology that had so enamored Praetor Vrax. The elder Romulan leader had been so intrigued by the mystery Sarith presented him in her constant stream of reports that he had taken the unusual step of contacting her directly, rather than sending instructions via intermediaries as was normal. Given the sheer number of links in the chain of command that separated Vrax from her, the contact was unprecedented. Sarith wondered if the praetor’s interest and his willingness to break with protocol was because her mother, Toqel, who currently served as a proconsul to the Romulan Senate, was an advisor charged with ensuring Vrax and the other members of the ruling elite were provided with all manner of military advice and perspective. Sarith hoped that was not the case. There already were an intolerable number of rumors in circulation, implying that she had obtained her command of the Bloodied Talon through familial connections and favoritism rather than her own merits. She had expended a great deal of energy fighting such unsubstantiated tripe and taken great steps to prevent even the merest hint of impropriety.

  The hushed allegations had followed her from the beginning of her career, intensifying as she continued to advance in rank and position. The Talon’s original first officer had at least possessed the fortitude to confront her with such accusations face-to-face, offering Sarith the unparalleled opportunity to have him removed from the ship’s crew and replaced with an officer she trusted with her life, Ineti. She had known the subcommander since childhood, when he had served with her father. Like Praetor Vrax’s, Ineti’s career and accomplishments dated back to the war against Earth and its allies, before those adversaries had come together to forge a new alliance as the United Federation of Planets. Ineti, her most trusted confidant, had never questioned her abilities or her achievements, and she knew he would serve at her side until death took either or both of them. It was Ineti who had advised her on more than one occasion to ignore the rumors, for they were the blathering of lesser officers unworthy of her notice or respect. Instead, she should take the energy she otherwise might spend worrying about the hearsay that was beyond her sphere of influence and concentrate instead on serving the Empire to the best of her ability.

  You know why you are here, and you have been given a task. Complete it.

  “I would prefer my next report for Fleet Command to contain something more than an update about our continuing efforts and lack of progress,” she said. “If this technology does allow for transfer between dimensions, then the value to the Empire would be immeasurable. Think of the resources available to the wielder of such technology, unreachable by our enemies.”

  “Indeed, Commander,” replied Ineti. “The implications are staggering. We would be a power without equal in the galaxy. Given our present circumstances, that is a most desirable goal.”

  Sarith offered a grim smile. “That is putting it in the mildest possible terms, my old friend.”

  Though there existed no formal declaration of hostilities with the Federation, both sides knew that the truce between the two powers, forged out of the conflict fought against Earth and its own coalition of ­sympathizers—the Vulcans, the Andorians, and the ­Tellarites—was fragile. Since the end of that war, the involved parties had seemed content to remain on their own side of the thin ribbon of space separating the territories. That was but a line on an interstellar map, and Sarith knew that there were those within the halls of government and military power who seethed at the restrictions placed upon all Romulans by a demonstrably lesser people. Even Vrax, as calculating and patient a leader as anyone who ever had held the title of praetor, had long ago begun to chafe at the Federation’s unbridle
d arrogance as it continued its expansion efforts. Their ships ventured to the very brink of violating the so-called “Neutral Zone” at the edges of Romulan space, as though daring a wayward ship commander to violate the tenets of the peace treaty. A string of observation stations, arrayed along that border, maintained constant vigil as they stalked Romulan ship movements with unrestrained glee. Such insult was only exacerbated by the knowledge that their observers performed these acts of voyeurism from territory that had been surrendered as part of the treaty stipulations to which the Empire had agreed in order to end the Great War.

  No longer content to be the object of such unchecked curiosity and aware that the other concerns far from the Empire may be requiring the Federation to focus attention elsewhere, Vrax had agreed to a bold proposal presented by members of the senate. The objective was straightforward: Probe the Federation’s borders in order to assess their current level of technological prowess and determine their strengths and weaknesses. Did an opportunity exist to reclaim valuable territory ceded to the humans and their collaborators as a consequence of the war? There was only one way to find out.

  The first such test had already taken place, with another vessel dispatched to the border. That ship, according to the reports to which Sarith had been privy, had been successful in determining the Federation Starfleet’s current capabilities. Further triumph had come in the form of destroying three of the Starfleet observation outposts, as well as one of their premier battle cruisers after its commander had demonstrated the temerity to follow the Romulan ship into the Neutral Zone. From the reports Sarith had read, what had followed was a remarkable battle of tactical acumen and sheer will as the two vessels faced off against each other, before the Empire’s ship emerged victorious. Even now, Federation diplomats were falling over themselves in their haste to make amends, assuring Praetor Vrax and the Romulan Senate that the incident was isolated, the result of a rogue commander who had disobeyed orders and taken it upon himself to violate the treaty. Anxious to avoid war, they were promising a full accounting of the incident. Sarith suspected such humility would be short-lived, with the Federation now awakened to the reality that the Romulan Empire had neither forgiven nor forgotten past transgressions.