STAR TREK: The Lost Era - 2298 - The Sundered

by Michael A. Martin

  Tuvok was surprised by the harsh voice he heard directly behind him, from the sickbay’s opposite entrance. “Perhaps it’s the threat of imminent war that had Kasrene worried,” Burgess said.

  Tuvok watched as Sulu and Chapel turned to face the ambassador, whose arms were folded across her chest. She appeared to be almost livid with restrained anger.

  [119] “Ambassador, I had planned to speak with you alone when I was done with Mr. Tuvok,” Sulu said.

  “I see,” Burgess said, speaking with the exaggerated politeness humans often used to signal that they were actually quite angry. “I suppose that was when you intended to inform me that my outgoing communications capabilities have been disabled. And perhaps you were also going to explain why this ship is now headed deeper into Tholian Assembly space, risking the lives of everyone aboard. Not to mention jeopardizing any chance for a Tholian-Federation peace agreement.”

  Sulu stared at her for a protracted moment, as though carefully weighing how best to handle this volatile personality. Tuvok found it odd that she should accuse the captain of jeopardizing lives, when she had already done that herself by revealing Excelsior’s surveillance activities to the Tholians.

  “Since you’ve saved me the trouble of scheduling a private meeting with you, Ambassador,” Sulu said at length, “I’ll brief you and my science officer at the same time.”

  Chapel moved away from Burgess and closer to Tuvok, holding her tricorder up again. But Tuvok noted that the doctor seemed to be paying the device scant attention, evidently repeating the same scans she had just completed. She was clearly uncomfortable with Burgess, and Tuvok could understand why. The diplomat was highly emotional, more so than most other humans he had encountered so far. She seemed unhappy not just with the way her diplomatic mission to the Tholians was unfolding, but also with something more fundamental. She seems discontent with her very life.

  “Outgoing communications have been disabled for all but command-level Starfleet officers because we are currently on yellow alert status,” Sulu explained to the ambassador. To Tuvok’s ears, the captain’s politeness sounded every bit as forced as the ambassador’s. “We are now engaged in a highly sensitive mission that could easily be [120] compromised by accidental—or intentional—communications leaks.”

  Burgess’s eyes widened. Tuvok surmised that she had taken the captain’s last statement as a reprimand for her earlier unauthorized revelations to the Tholians.

  “All right,” she said. “But that doesn’t explain our current heading. Can’t you see that moving deeper into Tholian territory is likely to spark a conflict with them?”

  Sulu spread his hands. “Believe me, Ambassador, a conflict with the Tholians is the last thing I want. But the Tholians are already in the midst of hostilities with somebody, and the future stability of the Federation-Tholian border may well depend on our learning everything we can about their new adversary. And I strongly suspect that Ambassador Kasrene was murdered because Mosrene caught her trying to help us do just that.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.”

  “Of course not,” Sulu said. “But that’s why I’ve put us on our present course. To find out for sure. In fact, I think that by being out here, we may actually stave off a conflict rather than ignite one. We might even find a way to help the Tholians defend themselves from whomever is attacking them.”

  “This all sounds pretty far-fetched to me, Captain. And I don’t think Admiral Yilskene will buy it either, once he discovers what you’ve done.”

  “With a little luck, he won’t. Not until after we’re in a position to evaluate the tactical situation on the far Tholian border well enough for Starfleet to draft a practical plan to assist the Tholians. But the longer it takes us to do that, the more Tholian lives will be lost. Believe me, Ambassador, this is for the best.”

  Burgess suddenly grew more intense, her icy politeness melted away by a fumarole of outrage. “Don’t you understand? The Tholian Assembly has an extremely rules-oriented culture. You have no business entering their space without [121] their express permission. Even if your stated intention is to aid the Tholians against some new foe, your actions still risk destroying any hope of creating trust between their government and the Federation.”

  “Only if we’re caught,” Sulu said, holding up his index finger as if making a point. “And we’re doing our best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Burgess paused, then sighed in frustration. “I should have expected something like this from you, Captain.”

  “Why?” Sulu asked.

  “Because I researched your participation in the Khitomer affair of five years ago. You broke more than a few rules then, too, and only a happy outcome saved you from getting severely dressed down by Starfleet’s brass hats.”

  Tuvok recalled that occasion with crystal clarity. He had been on Excelsior’s bridge when Captain Sulu, intent on rescuing Captain James Kirk and Dr. Leonard McCoy, had violated Starfleet orders by attempting to rescue them from the Klingon prison world of Rura Penthe. That day, Tuvok had protested the captain’s apparently reckless disregard for the official chain of command. Though the crisis had ultimately turned out well for all concerned, the science officer still sometimes rankled at the capacity of human Starfleet officers to set aside propriety when it appeared to suit the circumstances. Is this another one of those times? Tuvok thought.

  He wondered if such questions could ever be answered save in retrospect.

  Tuvok watched Sulu grin at Burgess. “Yes, Ambassador. Like you, I’ve been known to break a rule or two from time to time.”

  “Unlike you, Captain, I’ve never played dice with galactic peace,” she said.

  “Really, Ambassador? What do you call revealing the presence of our probe drones to the Tholians?”

  [122] “I call it trying to make the best of yet another Starfleet-initiated alien-relations cockup,” she said, almost snarling. “Frankly, I’m amazed that you haven’t been sentenced to a nice long stretch mining dilithium somewhere yourself.”

  “I must live right,” Sulu said, his grin only broadening. If Tuvok didn’t know better, he’d think the captain was actually provoking the ambassador for the sheer perverse joy of it.

  Burgess shook her head, now seeming more mystified than angry. “I really don’t understand this, Captain. What is it you hope to gain?”

  Immediately adopting a more serious demeanor, Sulu said, “What I hope to gain, Ambassador, is a more complete understanding of exactly what it is that the Tholians are trying so hard to keep us from discovering. I think even you would have to agree that it’s not in the Federation’s best interests to ally itself blindly with a people who are not only already engaged in an interstellar conflict, but are also trying their damnedest to cover it up.”

  Burgess’s mouth opened and closed several times, but she said nothing. Tuvok was momentarily reminded of the Antedean with whom he had shared an apartment briefly during his Starfleet Academy years.

  Tuvok decided then to voice his thoughts regarding the matter at hand; although they might have been taken as overly subjective—perhaps even illogical—he was certain that they were correct and deserved to be heard.

  “Ambassador Burgess, while I share your concerns and apprehension regarding our apparent breach of Tholian law, I have found that Captain Sulu is an entirely capable and trustworthy Starfleet commander. I myself have expressed doubt as to the advisability of his actions in the past, but have most often found that they are appropriate to the situation. Despite his possessing the all-too-common human [123] penchant for excessive emotionalism, Captain Sulu’s command decisions are, in the main, eminently logical.”

  Sulu’s face twitched almost imperceptibly, but his overall expression didn’t change. Tuvok momentarily wondered what emotions had just gone through his captain’s mind before continuing. “Additionally, although I have not yet been able to ascertain the meaning of the information Ambassador Kasrene planted in my mind, I remai
n firmly convinced of two things: first, that she did indeed pass some of her memory engrams to me, and second, that any future peace we may achieve with the Tholians depends largely upon our taking decisive action at this time.”

  Burgess stared at him for a lengthy interval, and Tuvok thought much of her rage had begun to dissipate. Perhaps she recognizes the logic of my words, he thought.

  Nodding curtly to Tuvok and Sulu, Burgess turned to leave. Pausing in the doorway, she said, “I can see that your mind is made up, whether I agree with you or not, Captain.”

  Sulu nodded. “That’s right, Ambassador.”

  “Then would you do me a small favor?”

  “By all means.”

  “When my diplomatic meetings with the Tholians resume, I won’t be able to operate in the dark, Captain. Please keep me apprised of all further developments on the Tholian military front.”

  “Of course, Ambassador,” Sulu said. “As long as I can rely on your discretion.” Tuvok sensed that the captain had only barely avoided appending the words “this time” to the end of that sentence.

  Burgess laughed bitterly. “It looks like you’ll have to. After all, the lives of everyone aboard Excelsior depend upon yours.” And with that, she strode out of sickbay.

  Afterward, Tuvok noted that Dr. Chapel was shaking her head, a look of frustration evident on her face. “Maybe it’s [124] just me, Hikaru, but that woman could drive an El-Aurian ‘listener’ to grab a set of ear-plugs,” she said. Like Tuvok himself, Christine Chapel obviously placed a great deal of faith in Captain Sulu’s discretion and judgment.

  As Sulu chuckled in response to the doctor’s quip, Tuvok wondered fleetingly just how deep the captain’s belief in his own judgment went.

  Chekov was beginning to breathe a bit easier, though only a bit. Excelsior had managed to escape being identified not only by Yilskene’s ship, but also by three other Tholian patrol vessels whose rounds had taken them within a light-year of Excelsior’s route of travel along the length of the interspatial filament. Each time a Tholian craft appeared on the Starfleet vessel’s passive scanners—equipment honed to exquisite sensitivity-levels during Excelsior’s lengthy survey of Beta Quadrant gaseous anomalies several years earlier—Lojur and Asher edged the starship just out of Tholian sensor range.

  One of these encounters had been an extremely close call. Probably after making a faint sensor contact with Excelsior, the Tholian patrol vessel had altered course. Asher had moved the ship counter to the path of the Tholian vessel, spiraling about the boundary of the interphase filament like thread on a spool. Each time they were directly opposite the Tholian ship, Excelsior put on a slight burst of speed, drawing them further and further out of the other vessel’s sensor range. Eventually, they had placed enough distance between Excelsior and the patrol ship to sustain a higher speed without creating undue risk of the Tholians penetrating the starship’s disguised warp signature.

  Now Excelsior was rapidly nearing what the charts indicated was the far border of Tholian space, the very region where their probes had been sent—and destroyed—earlier.

  [125] “Commander, sensors have just detected a warp signature from another ship,” said Ensign Fenlenn, one of the junior science officers.

  “Tholian?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Range?” Chekov asked, eyebrows raised. Are we finally about to meet the enemy?

  “Only light-days away, Commander. They’re in close proximity to a small planet orbiting an F-type star.”

  “Where did it come from, Ensign?” Chekov wanted to know. A ship that close should have been visible much earlier, even via passive long-range scans.

  “The sensors are picking up some very strange interspatial readings emanating from not far outside that system,” Fenlenn said. “It’s as though the interspatial filament has widened into some sort of terminus. Like a colossal rip leading straight into interspace.”

  And maybe straight into wherever that ship came from.

  “Mr. Akaar,” Chekov said. “Give me a tactical appraisal, please.”

  “Aye, Commander,” came the Capellan’s rumbling response. “The vessel does not appear to be scanning us at the moment, but ... sir, they have just deployed their weapons.”

  “Against whom? Scan for other vessels. There’s no way we could be within range of their weapons.” Chekov leaned forward in the command chair, even as Akaar’s fingers danced across his own console.

  “They appear to be firing on the planet,” Fenlenn said. “It’s inhabited. Given the harsh class-N atmospheric conditions, I suspect that it’s a Tholian border settlement.”

  “I confirm that,” said Rand, raising a hand to her earpiece. “I’m receiving several Tholian distress signals from the surface.”

  “Maintain yellow alert status,” Chekov said. “Lieutenant Asher, bring us in closer. Let the attackers know we’re here.” [126] He turned his head slightly. “Commander Rand, hail them.” Rand looked quizzical. “Are we dropping our disguise, sir?”

  Chekov shook his head. “Let them think we’re the biggest, meanest Tholian ship they ever saw.” He punched the comm button on the chair’s armrest. “Captain Sulu, please come to the bridge. We’ve got a situation here.”

  “Hailing frequencies open, Commander,” Rand said. “Making challenge.”

  Akaar spoke before Chekov could, his voice raised somewhat. “Sir, they have just begun strafing the planet with a volley of ionic blasts. They appear to have hit some structures on the surface. But I cannot ascertain casualties as yet.”

  Chekov’s mind raced. “Keep hailing the attacker, Jan—”

  Rand interrupted him. “They’re hailing us, sir.”

  The viewscreen dissolved into static, then gradually regained a measure of coherency. The creature who stared out of the viewer was humanoid, though clearly not human. It’s skin was a mottled gray, with a rough texture that resembled thick tree-bark. The ropy black hair atop its head was shaved into dozens of slender, even rows.

  “Weki kwen jun belaï stofre winá Neyel daod joela.”

  “Sounds like the universal translator is still trying to sort out their language,” Fenlenn said.

  The alien continued speaking, its rigid brow crumpling into furrows, apparently moved by incredibly powerful facial muscles. “Tia foti örwek zam dis de’evl woos émim Neyel,” it said just before the screen went blank.

  “Find out what they’re saying,” Chekov said. “Run the recording of that transmission through every exolinguistics protocol we have. And hail them again as soon as we can communicate.”

  As the doors to the turbolift opened and Sulu stepped out, Akaar spoke again. “Sir, the alien vessel has just fired on [127] the planet again. This time our sensors have confirmed casualties. Hundreds of them.”

  Chekov glanced toward Sulu, who wasted no time saying, “Let’s go put a stop to this, Pavel.”

  And so it begins, Chekov thought. Relinquishing the command chair with an efficient nod, he set about filling his old friend’s simple order. He raised his voice so that everyone on the bridge could hear him clearly. “Red Alert. Raise shields. All hands to battle stations ...”

  Chapter 11

  Sulu felt energized as he took back the captain’s chair from Chekov. He ordered Janice to disable the red warning lights and alarm klaxons, and Pavel quickly brought him up to speed on the events of the last few minutes. Lieutenant Hopman—once again in her male form—arrived on the bridge as they were speaking, and positioned herself near the science station, where Ensign Fenlenn was working.

  “Captain, I believe the universal translator has finally cracked the aliens’ language,” Rand announced suddenly.

  Sulu took this as an encouraging sign. Talking was always the most desirable starting point in any first contact situation. Without a mutually intelligible language, combat with these obviously aggressive beings would shortly prove inevitable.

  “Good work,-Rand,” Sulu said. “Let’s start by replayin
g their hail in Standard.”

  On the viewer, the long-range image of a tapered, cylindrical alien ship orbiting the yellow-tinged planet was replaced by a recording of the alien hail. “Incoming vessel, the Neyel Hegemony has no record of a ship matching your configuration, “State your purpose here.”

  “Neyel,” Sulu said. “So, now we at least have a name for them.” Turning to Rand and Fenlenn, he asked, “Can you [129] confirm that the U.T. is up for a full, real-time conversation?”

  “Tes, sir,” Rand nodded, one hand lifted to the communications receiver in her ear.

  “Then open a channel, please.” Sulu stood as the screen briefly went black. A moment later, the rough-skinned humanoid—presumably the same one from the earlier transmission—appeared on the viewer.

  “Commander of the Neyel vessel, I am Captain Hikaru Sulu of the Federation starship U.S.S. Excelsior. We were on a diplomatic mission to negotiate with the Tholians—the species which claims the world you have attacked—when we learned of their conflict with your people. We would like an opportunity to discuss your side of this matter in a peaceful, neutral setting if—”

  The screen went black again, prompting Sulu to smile crookedly. “Was it something I said?”

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” Rand said, hurriedly touching panels on the communications display in front of her. “They’ve broken off communication.”

  “Reestablish,” Sulu said, scowling.

  Moments later, the Neyel leader was back on the viewscreen, but before Sulu could manage to say anything, the Neyel interrupted. “These crystalline Devils are an opportunistic infestation, a scourge to be exterminated,” the alien spat. “Nothing more, nothing less. Anyone who would treat with them is most assuredly an enemy of the Neyel.”