by Peter David
“Good.”
“Of course,” she continued, “if they are proceeding in some sort of search pattern, then they could change course without the slightest warning and be practically down our throats in no time.”
“Good. Thanks for expanding on that, Morgan.”
“Just trying to be thorough.”
Still, for the time being, it looked as if the ship was indeed continuing on its nonthreatening course. Calhoun didn’t allow himself to become tense, but relief was still flooding through him as the larger ship moved farther away from them…
Then he sat forward, snapping to alert. “Uh-oh.”
“Yes, confirmed,” Morgan told him. “It’s changed course.”
“Toward us?”
“So it appears.”
Before Calhoun could determine what to do, Dr. Selar’s voice suddenly came over the com. “Sickbay to captain.”
“Calhoun here, and this isn’t the best time, Doctor,” he told her.
“I have an update on Lieutenant Tobias.”
“Captain,” warned Morgan, “it’s definitely turning toward us.”
“Lieutenant Tobias,” Selar continued, “is still nonresponsive, but—”
“Doctor,” said Calhoun with mounting impatience, trying to keep his attention on the screen and the impending danger. “I really have to ask you to wait for a later time, presuming there is one.”
“I simply thought you should know that she said three words very abruptly, even in her current condition.”
Anxious to say anything to get the implacable Selar off the line, Calhoun said, “What three words?”
“ ‘It sees us.’ ”
A chill ran through Calhoun, and he suspected he wasn’t the only one, based upon the mute responses of the other members of the bridge crew.
“I thought,” continued Selar, “that it might have some significance to you.”
“You thought correctly. Thank you.”
“Selar out.”
The echo of Selar’s voice had barely faded when Morgan announced, “Ship is coming closer on a direct intercept course.”
“We’re not moving,” Kebron pointed out. “How can they be planning to intercept us?”
“They’re not,” Calhoun said grimly. “I think they’re planning to ram us. They’re not even going to waste the energy of shots on us. They’re just going to plow right through us as if we weren’t even here.”
“Do we try to outrun them, Captain?” asked Morgan.
“At sublight speed? We couldn’t outrun a crippled Horta at sublight speed. But if we go to warp speed,” and he glanced at Xy for confirmation, “we risk possibly tearing apart the entire space-time continuum. Does that more or less summarize the situation?”
“I would have stopped short of the hyperbole,” said Xy, “but otherwise yes, that’s fairly accurate.”
“Then we stay and fight,” said Calhoun. “Sound battle stations.”
“Sounding battle stations, aye,” confirmed Zak Kebron.
Immediately the red-alert klaxon sounded through the ship, prompting Calhoun to think that the crew was going to be able to figure out, all by themselves, that the Excalibur was no longer attempting to stay hidden.
“Phasers online,” Kebron said. “Charging photon torpedoes.”
“Targeting capability?”
“Limited,” admitted Kebron. “Nor do we know how the actual substance of our surroundings is going to affect the trajectory of our weaponry.”
“We’ll have to do our best. Still, first things first. Obviously they know we’re here. Try to open a hailing frequency.”
“Aye, sir,” said Morgan. She moved her hands across the control panel…yet another gesture that was done in deference to making herself appear more human and normal. Linked into the ship’s systems as she was, she merely had to decide that she wanted a hailing frequency opened for it to happen. She paused, waiting. “No response. Perhaps they’re not capable of receiving our transmission.”
“Or perhaps they simply don’t give a damn,” suggested Burgoyne.
“Either way, it’s a waste of time,” said Calhoun. “Prepare to—”
“Captain!” Morgan suddenly said, sounding extremely surprised.
“I see it!”
Indeed he did, as did everyone else on the bridge. The larger ship had been descending upon the Excalibur, moving at high speed, and suddenly it lurched as something struck it from the side. Explosions erupted along the ship’s surface in response to whatever it was that had fired upon them.
“Give me a visual!” shouted Calhoun. “A visual! Now!”
The screen shifted and there it was, the new vessel that had arrived and was firing upon the ship that had been stalking them. It was not a single sustained blast, as with phasers. Instead it looked almost like a string of beads, as if an array of photon torpedoes was being fired one after the next after the next, so fast that it looked like one unending barrage.
The newcomer was smaller than the ship it was assailing, and appeared hexagonal in shape. The sides of it were flat, black and inscrutable, with no markings to give the slightest hint of the race that was in control of it (not that markings would have been of tremendous use to Calhoun, thanks to the sheer “alienness” of their surroundings).
The “molecule ship” rocked back under the attack. The barrage was definitely having an effect, but the ship’s maneuverability indicated to Calhoun that it wasn’t having enough effect. Dropping its interest in the Excalibur, it instead angled around and made toward the new vessel.
“Shall we make a run for it, sir?” asked Kebron. “While the two of them are fighting it out…?”
“Tactically, it does make sense, sir,” said Burgoyne.
The possibilities raced through Calhoun’s head, and he responded before he had truly thought it all out…although if he had given it lengthy consideration, the chances were he would have made the exact same decision. “Bring us around,” he ordered. “Prepare to open fire on the larger ship.”
“Captain, are you sure?” said Kebron.
Calhoun, who was not sure at all, didn’t let it show. “Old Japanese saying, Kebron: The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“Arabic saying, actually, Captain,” Morgan informed him.
“I don’t really care. Now prepare to—”
“Phasers locked and ready, sir,” Kebron announced.
“Targeting?”
“Still nonfunctional.”
“Best guess, then,” said Calhoun. “All ahead full and…fire!”
The twin phasers below the Excalibur’s hull roared to life and began firing on the far larger vessel. The gelatinous mass outside trembled in vibratory response.
Kebron’s best guess was completely accurate. The ship’s phasers cut into the larger vessel amidships at the same moment that it shook beneath the assault from the other vessel. It returned fire at the Excalibur, but this was an instance where the starship’s far smaller status served it well as Morgan effortlessly moved them out of harm’s way, even as Kebron continued to return fire.
“Stay on them!” Calhoun called out.
Battles in space tended to be brief, violent affairs, and despite the fact that they were not in anything that remotely resembled “space” as they knew it, this was no exception. It took a minute, maybe two, and suddenly entire sections of the larger vessel were blasted free of their moorings. They didn’t simply float away; instead they just hung there, unmoving in the gelatinous environment, displaying only the slightest sign of drift in the viscous surroundings.
In the final moments, the smaller vessel needed no help from the Excalibur. It moved in for the kill, pounding away aggressively with its own weaponry, the nature of which Calhoun could only guess at. Then the larger vessel blew apart unceremoniously, the vibrations of its violent death spreading through the glutinous ether and violently shaking the Excalibur, albeit without any harm to the starship itself.
Calhoun sagged back in
relief, although he avoided any loud exhalation of air that might have indicated he was anything less than fully confident that his ship and crew would have been more than up to the task.
“Two against one. My kind of odds,” muttered Kebron, sounding remarkably like his old self there for a moment.
“I reluctantly have to agree,” said Calhoun.
“Sir,” said Morgan cautiously. “The other ship is heading this way.”
She was correct. Having dispatched the larger vessel, the newcomer was slowly moving on an indisputable course toward the Excalibur.
“Not unexpected,” Calhoun said.
“Yes, but if they start shooting at us, that will be unexpected,” said Burgoyne.
That was true enough. Calhoun had rolled the dice and chosen his ally. Now the only question was whether the ally was going to choose him back.
Calhoun stared at the approaching vessel and dwelled on the fact that sometimes there was no such thing as a good choice.
The Spectre
i.
Soleta stared at the approaching vessel and dwelled on the fact that sometimes there was no such thing as a good choice.
There it was, cruising in their general direction without the slightest awareness that the Spectre was anywhere near them. If the Romulan ship wanted to fire upon them, then aside from the ship’s decloaking in order to use their weapons, the advancing starship would have no warning whatsoever before they were under attack.
But that was not an option for Soleta at that moment, even if she’d been so inclined for some insane reason. Because the Spectre was in deep trouble, and she was already being forced to the conclusion that the ship coming toward them might well be their only hope.
Unfortunately, the rest of her command crew hadn’t followed her to that same conclusion.
“Commander, with all respect, you cannot be serious,” Lucius said, stepping forward and fixing her with an intense gaze. He pointed at the screen. “Despite your long history with them, and despite whatever alliances the Empire may have forged with them in times of duress, we must not lose sight of the fact that they are, and will always be, the enemy.”
“I admire your conviction, Tribune,” Soleta said cautiously, “even if I do not necessarily share it.”
“But, Commander—”
“They have a saying, Tribune,” she continued as if he had not spoken, “and even though it’s their saying, it still has measurable validity. And that saying is ‘Any port in a storm.’ Unless there is a significant upside to our current situation that you’re not telling me, then we have to face the fact that we’re in a significant storm at the moment.”
“I admit the situation is dire, but—”
“Dire?” She glanced around at the bridge crew and then began ticking off the specifics on her fingers. “Life-support is on battery, which is running low. Warp engines are offline. Ion glide functioned just enough to get us out of Romulan space. Repairs may take days, presuming we survive long enough to make them. Shall I go on?”
“I know the situation is dire,” Lucius said stiffly, “but if my life is at stake, then I do not hesitate to sacrifice it in the name of the Romulan Empire.”
“That may be, Tribune, but it’s not your life to sacrifice. It’s mine. Your life is in my hands. For that matter, so are the lives of everyone else on this ship. That’s my responsibility as commander, and I’m not about to shirk it simply because you believe it’s time for you to lay down your life. And,” she added, “need I point out that as admirable as your dedication is to the Romulan Empire, the Romulan Empire at this point in time doesn’t seem interested in reciprocating.”
“Isn’t it possible,” Aquila said, sounding hopeful, “that it was just some sort of…of misunderstanding?”
“An interesting notion,” replied Soleta. “My understanding is that they were trying to take over this ship and, when we were disinclined to allow it, attempted to blow us the hell out of space. Did anyone else have a different understanding of what transpired in our most recent encounter with the Romulan Empire? Anyone else perceive any bright spots…aside from the fact that we managed to escape with our lives, barely?”
No one was able to come up with any reasonable response. Even Lucius dropped his gaze and looked away. She almost felt sorry for him. The tribune was a respected warrior and a proud Romulan. He deserved far better than to be treated as the enemy by the very Empire he’d spent so many years serving.
“Commander.” Maurus reluctantly spoke up. “The starship will be out of range very shortly. If it is to be done…then best to be done quickly.”
She nodded, and said with the resignation of one who knew she was making the right decision, even though it was at great cost, “Maurus…hail them. And drop cloak.”
“With energy reserves as depleted as they are,” Vitus observed, “we wouldn’t have been able to maintain cloak much longer in any event.”
“They’re responding, Commander,” said Maurus.
She took a deep breath. “On screen, Centurion.”
The image of the starship on the screen wavered for a moment, and then was replaced by the icy, scarred visage of a severe-looking blond woman. Her lips pursed in grim amusement. “Well, well. In all the vastness of space, imagine running into you.”
“You need not imagine at all, since it has, in fact, happened.” Soleta studied her a moment. “Command appears to have agreed with you, Captain Mueller.”
“I’d like to say the same for you, Soleta,” replied Kat Mueller, “except something seems to be niggling in the back of my brain as to why I shouldn’t…oh! Yes! I remember now. You betrayed the Federation.”
“I like to think it was a two-way betrayal.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” Mueller said coolly, “as would anyone who was ungrateful for the many opportunities and freedoms Starfleet presented her. So…I assume this is not a social call, especially considering you’re skulking around in Federation space.”
“Technically, this sector is unaligned with any one interest. My ship has as much right to be here as does the Trident.”
“You speak the truth…a novel experience for you, I’d say.”
Soleta winced inwardly, and suppressed the anger she was feeling over Kat Mueller’s snide and humiliating comments, especially in the presence of her crew.
“So,” asked Mueller, “what can I do for you?”
“I suspect you already have some idea of the answer,” replied Soleta.
“Yes indeed. It appears someone kicked the crap out of you.”
“I would have summarized it in a different way, but yes, that’s a fair assessment.”
“And you…what? Want our help?”
She took a deep breath. “It had occurred to me, yes.”
Mueller looked as if she were suppressing an urge to laugh. “Soleta…you’re tooling around the galaxy in a ship designed specifically for espionage. Don’t think we’re unaware of your vessel’s capabilities. Furthermore, we may have allied ourselves with the Romulans during the Dominion War, but you’re still not members of the Federation. In fact, officially you’re still classified as a hostile race. Under such circumstances, I’m under no obligation to offer you any sort of assistance.”
“This is outrageous,” Lucius said under his breath to Soleta. “Tell her to go die in burning agony and let’s be done with this. It’s unseemly.”
“You’re right, Captain Mueller,” Soleta said stiffly. “You are indeed under no obligation. And the fact that you have far greater claim to humanity than I, who have none, is obviously no guarantee that you would feel compelled to act in a humane manner.”
“Very generous of you to see it that way, Commander Soleta,” replied Mueller. “So are we done here?”
“It would appear so. Just…out of curiosity. How is Admiral Shelby?”
“Why do you ask?” Mueller said, her eyes narrowing. “Is that some attempt to threaten her…?”
“Threaten? Captain, we’r
e holding our ship together with wire and willpower. We’re hardly in a position to threaten anyone. No, I was simply asking because I feel I have a vested interest in her well-being. I did, after all, save her life.”
“I’m well aware of that,” said Mueller. Soleta could almost see frost starting to form on the viewscreen.
“Are you?” asked Soleta with raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t sure. I mean, you obviously place such a premium on matters of loyalty and gratitude. I simply find it interesting that those priorities don’t extend to someone who saved the life of Elizabeth Shelby, your good friend and former commander. Or perhaps you felt that Starfleet’s dismissal of me was an appropriate and valid punishment.”
“You weren’t thrown out of Starfleet for saving Shelby,” Mueller snapped. “You were thrown out for lying about your true nature.”
“That wasn’t my mistake, Mueller. Everyone lies about their true nature. My mistake was getting caught at it, and the reason I was caught was because I was nearly killed saving Elizabeth Shelby. Then again,” she added silkily, “perhaps you resent me for doing so. After all, were she dead, you’d have a clear field at her grieving husband, wouldn’t you.”
The cold of space was as nothing compared to the iciness that was coming from Mueller’s eyes. Nothing was said for a long moment.
“We’ll take you in tow and render what aid we can,” Mueller said finally. “We’re on our way to Space Station Bravo; I assume you’ll understand if we cut you loose before we arrive, no matter what the current status of your ship is by then.”
“Understood.”
“And I’ll want you over here for the duration.”
“As hostage?”
“As a guarantee that whoever I send over there to assist in repairs will return unmolested.”
“And here I thought my giving you my guarantee of their safe passage would be sufficient.”
“I’ll say one thing for you, Soleta,” replied Mueller. “Your time with the Romulans has finally provided you with a sense of humor. Trident out.”
Her image disappeared from the screen. Soleta forced herself to look around at her command crew, her chin slightly upthrust, as if daring them to say something insulting or demeaning after the heated exchanges with Mueller.
