STAR TREK: The Lost Era - 2298 - The Sundered

by Michael A. Martin

  The only action he could conceive at the moment lay, in its own fashion, utterly outside the bounds of propriety. But hadn’t Commander Chekov taught him that failing to act could be as costly as acting incorrectly? Improper action might be precisely what was called for.

  Lojur decided then that he had to seek the advice of someone neutral. Someone completely outside of Excelsior’s chain of command. Neither of his closest friends, Akaar and Tuvok, could help him this time.

  [319] He turned his chair toward the communications station, where Commander Rand appeared to be listening intently to something on her earpiece. She was also nominally in command of the bridge until the captain and Commander Chekov returned from the situation room.

  “Commander?”

  Rand looked up, quickly giving Lojur her full attention. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lojur?”

  He regretted compounding his earlier sins by lying. But he felt he had little choice. “I feel ... unwell. I request permission to leave my post.”

  “It’s past time to take some decisive action of our own,” Burgess said. “Nothing good can come of Captain Sulu’s plan to duel with the Tholian admiral.”

  “I am forced to agree with your assessment,” Jerdahn said, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the ambassador’s VIP quarters.

  Burgess was surprised at how quickly the huge Neyel officer had come around to her way of thinking. He was obviously a creature of discipline, a man used to following the orders of his superiors without hesitation. But he also just as clearly possessed a lively, flexible intellect that seemed at odds with his humble position as a sanitation worker aboard Oghen’s Flame.

  Jerdahn had evaded her direct questions about the “previous life” to which he’d referred after the boarding party had briefly been taken into custody aboard Oghen’s Flame. While she could only speculate about the details of Jerdahn’s mysterious past, it seemed to have given him a perspective on alien relations that was atypical of his species.

  Or maybe he’s finally realized that he’s run out of options other than trying to make peace. Could that mean he’s also coming to accept the Tholians as fellow sentient beings?

  “All right, then,” Burgess said, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in hours. “That just leaves us to work out the [320] operational details. We’ve already tried asking Drech’tor Joh’jym nicely to consent to a meeting with the Tholians, and vice versa. That approach got us nowhere. So now we have to find a way to force your commander and Admiral Yilskene to sit down with me at the negotiating table.”

  Jerdahn’s expression grew even more deadly serious than usual. “You understand that to do this will require us to kidnap both of them. They have already demonstrated that nothing less will suffice. But we will have to move quickly. My drech’tor grows impatient with waiting, and might soon take some precipitous action on his own.”

  Burgess sighed, well aware that she might be about to cross the Rubicon. “We’d have to move quickly in any case, with half the Tholian fleet ready to pulverize both your ship and Excelsior the moment Yilskene kills Captain Sulu. Under the circumstances, I think we can be forgiven for letting the ends justify the means.”

  “Perhaps Captain Sulu would also agree, in private, were he not bound by both honor and military regulations,” Jerdahn said.

  She laughed harshly. If Sulu really thinks he can win a monoblade-duel against a giant hunk of sentient crystal, then he’s bound more by testosterone than by Starfleet regs.

  The door-chime sounded, interrupting her reverie. “Come,” Burgess said.

  The door slid open, admitting Lieutenant Commander Lojur. The Halkan was clearly beside himself. Burgess supposed he was traumatized by the prospect of the extreme violence that almost assuredly lay ahead.

  She decided it was best to give him a polite but firm brush-off. Though she had long admired the tradition of pacifism embraced by Lojur’s people, she simply didn’t have the time right now to let him cry on her shoulder.

  “Lieutenant, I’m really quite busy at the moment.”

  For a Halkan, he was surprisingly direct. “None of us [321] has much time, Ambassador. I need to speak to you about the truthcombat ritual that the captain intends to undertake.”

  He surprised her again by stepping past her and entering the room unbidden. Before she could react, he walked straight toward Jerdahn, who eyed him warily.

  Stopping within arm’s reach of the Neyel, Lojur said, “I tried to take your life earlier because Neyel weapons fire took the life of someone I cherished. In my rage, I betrayed everything I grew up believing. I beg your forgiveness.”

  Jerdahn seemed surprised as well, but quickly recovered. “We were adversaries. You tried to kill me. Such is the way of the universe.”

  “Sometimes, yes,” Lojur said. “But it shouldn’t be.” He suddenly seemed on the verge of tears.

  Burgess felt her impatience beginning to boil over. “All right, Lieutenant, I hope you feel better now. But Jerdahn and I currently have more important things to do than help you redeem your honor. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”

  The Halkan surprised her yet again by turning toward her and interrupting. “We’re about to be destroyed by an overwhelming force. So are the Neyel. I can’t imagine what could be more important than that.”

  “Get out, Commander.” Burgess pointed toward the still-open door.

  But Lojur stood his ground. “Too many have already died. The two of you may be the only ones who can help me prevent still more unnecessary death.”

  Burgess’s eyebrows rose involuntarily. After considering his words silently for a moment, she turned and placed her hand back onto the security keypad for a moment. The door hissed closed.

  “He may prove useful,” Jerdahn said. “Don’t forget, Ambassador, that certain ‘operational details’ still remain to be worked out before we can proceed.”

  [322] Burgess had to admit that Jerdahn was right. She and the Neyel officer could do little without the assistance of at least one member of Excelsior’s crew. Yet she remained uneasy about taking any Starfleet personnel into her confidence, given what she and Jerdahn were considering.

  But she also knew she was all out of other options. It truly was time to cross the Rubicon. A plan, possibly an incredibly stupid plan, began coming together in her mind. You always told yourself you wanted to do something bigger and nobler than simply fine-tuning agreements made by other people, she thought. It looks like it’s finally time to put up or shut up.

  Burgess approached Lojur, stopping only centimeters away and never breaking eye contact with him. “Please have a seat, Commander. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  As the shimmering light of the transporter beam released him, Sulu took in his new surroundings. The decks and bulkheads were smooth and dark, as though cut from volcanic glass. Even in the relatively dim light, the atmosphere in the high-ceilinged chamber shimmered slightly because of its extreme heat and pressure. The environmental suit’s thermal exchangers could handle 200° Celsius easily enough. But he could feel the dense atmosphere pressing down against his chest and shoulders. Fortunately, the newly modified internal servomotors in the suit’s joints greatly ameliorated the overall effect.

  Still, he felt a sensation uncomfortably like wading through gelatin as he took a few experimental steps. This was going to take some getting used to.

  Several scantily attired Tholians were waiting to greet him on the broad chamber’s opposite side. None appeared to be Yilskene, but it was difficult to differentiate between them, especially with the dense atmosphere that obscured each individual’s distinctive coloration pattern. Without the encumbrance of pressure suits, these Tholians seemed a [323] good deal more graceful than had their diplomatic-caste counterparts during the initial meetings between Kasrene and Burgess.

  That wasn’t an encouraging sign, with a monoblade duel coming up.

  “Greetings, Captain,” one of the Tholians said, its tail switching back and forth. It cros
sed its multijointed fore-limbs in front of its chest, crossing them just below the claws. “I am Taskene. I am to be your weaponskeeper—your assistant and fair witness to your death during the truthcombat.”

  “Thank you, I suppose,” Sulu said. He bowed slightly, glad that his modified environmental suit gave him greater flexibility than did the standard models.

  As he straightened, he noticed a dull ache in his left shoulder, the one that the Losira-simulacrum’s lethal fingers had brushed thirty years earlier. It might have been an artifact of his growing fatigue. Or perhaps his body was trying to remind him that it had been a very long time since he’d swept the Inner Planets championship fencing tournament.

  Taskene gestured toward the wide door located at the far side of the chamber. “Through here, please. It is time for me to make you ready for truthcombat.”

  As they moved down a black glass-lined corridor, Sulu took in more of the ship. He assumed that the polyhedral outcroppings beside which many Tholians perched were computer system interfaces. The strange, corrugated metal designs placed at irregular intervals along the corridor walls might have been anything from security cameras to art objects for all Sulu could tell.

  Finally, Taskene gestured toward another door set into, the winding corridor, and Sulu entered. Sitting on a crystalline pedestal was a meter-wide hexagon that Sulu assumed to be his shield. Beside it lay a monoblade. From the faint glow the superheated atmosphere imparted to the [324] whisker-thin blade, Sulu could see that it was at least as long as the shield was wide.

  “I will advise you in the use of this weapon, and on the rules of the duel,” Taskene said, lifting the haft of the blade. “You may be interested in the surrender-forfeit option. It may not save your life, but it might spare you from experiencing this.”

  The Tholian then threw a stonelike object into the air, neatly cleaving it in two with the weapon.

  In spite of the room’s intense heat, Sulu felt a chill course down his spine.

  Chapter 29

  Chekov regarded the empty captain’s chair for a protracted moment before taking a seat. I sincerely hope Hikaru doesn’t force me to keep this permanently, he thought. If he does, I’ll never forgive him.

  “We’re being hailed, Commander,” said Janice Rand, who was seated at the communications console. “It’s the captain of the Neyel vessel.”

  “Put him on the screen,” Chekov said. A moment later, Drech’tor Joh’jym’s face appeared on the main viewer, his hard brow scored by a look of worry.

  “Commander, Jerdahn has informed me that your captain has gone among the Devils.”

  Chekov wondered how Jerdahn had learned about the truthcombat. On the other hand, the fact that the captain was off the ship at the moment wasn’t exactly classified information among Excelsior’s crew.

  “That’s right, Drech’tor.”

  “Why aren’t you aiding him? We can’t simply leave him at their mercy.”

  “I’m afraid we have no choice. I have direct orders from Captain Sulu not to intervene.” At least, not before intervention becomes absolutely necessary, he thought. “Please don’t complicate things by getting involved in this.”

  [326] After a pause, Joh’jym said, “I am hardly less involved than you, Pavelchekov. But I will respect your captains wishes. For now.”

  “We’re making preparations to withdraw, should the need arise,” Chekov told the Neyel commander. “If we give the word, we want you to head straight back into the rift, to warn your people.”

  “My people are already well aware of the threat the Devils pose,” Joh’jym said. “I do not relish the idea of running from them a second time. Once was enough. Twice is cowardice.”

  “Captain Sulu is convinced that he’ll succeed,” Chekov said. “But if you are ever to see Old Earth, it will either be because Sulu won the truthcombat, or because he has failed and we have escaped from the Tholians to fight another day.”

  Joh’jym nodded, though his expression showed that he still needed more convincing. “Very well. In whatever fashion you intend to move, inform us when you are ready.”

  After Joh’jym signed off, Chekov turned his chair back toward Rand, who was paying close attention to her console.

  “What’s the status of the transponder in Captain Sulu’s environmental suit, Janice?”

  She grinned. “Coming in loud and clear, Commander. According to his suit’s biomonitors, he’s fine so far.”

  “His heart rate is slightly elevated,” Tuvok reported from the science station. “And he began consuming considerably more oxygen than normal forty-seven seconds ago. I believe this would signify that he has begun the truthcombat duel in earnest.”

  Chekov felt some measure of relief to hear that Sulu had already apparently survived nearly a minute of close-quarter combat against a monoblade-wielding Tholian. But his relief was tempered by an equal portion of apprehension. The captain was still in grave danger.

  Pressing a button on the arm of his chair, Chekov said, “Transporter Room One, do you still have a lock on him?”

  [327] “Aye, sir,” Ensign Prager reported over the comm. “Standing by and ready to energize at your signal.”

  “Very good. Keep monitoring the transponder transmissions and let me know about any changes.”

  Chekov was grimly aware, of course, that any sudden change in Sulu’s bioreadings would very likely mean that the captain was either dead or had sustained a monoblade injury so serious that not even Dr. Chapel could mend it.

  Let’s hope I don’t have to yank him out of there prematurely, Chekov thought. Yilskene’s bound to react badly to that.

  While each combatant’s weaponskeeper looked on from his respective end of the oblong chamber, Yilskene advanced. He moved on four of his legs, his tail switching hypnotically from side to side over his head. Mirroring Sulu, he grasped a monoblade in one claw, and an energy shield in the other. While their shields were easily visible, the blades themselves betrayed their lethal presence only with a faint, heat-induced glow that grew elusive with motion.

  Sulu waited for his opponent to strike the first blow, testing his balance. He was pleased to note that the artificial gravity seemed indistinguishable from that aboard Excelsior; it was the hazy, oppressive atmosphere that was affecting his moves.

  Yilskene thrust forward with his blade, and Sulu barely managed to sidestep it, forcing the more massive but slower-moving Tholian to lumber awkwardly past him. But Yilskene recovered quickly, sweeping the weapon back around in a semicircle. When Sulu moved to parry with his own blade, Yilskene pulled back slightly, causing Sulu’s weapon to slice vainly through the thick but empty air.

  The Tholian thrust forward then, and Sulu brought his shield up in time to avoid a blow that would have cleaved his shoulder from the rest of his body. Yilskene’s blade sizzled for a split-second as it made contact with the shield’s [328] energies. Then the Tholian retreated two steps, apparently looking for another opening.

  Sulu pressed forward, feinting to the left as Yilskene answered, circling his blade around clockwise, then switching to a counterclockwise motion. As Yilskene moved, Sulu lunged forward as quickly as the atmosphere and his suit would allow, aiming the point of his blade above Yilskene’s shield and stabbing the tip deeply into one of the admiral’s forelegs.

  The Tholian admiral let out a roar of pain and rage, and as Sulu withdrew his blade, brilliant turquoise fluid pulsed out from the wound. Sulu hoped he hadn’t done any mortal damage.

  He stepped back, catching his breath as Yilskene paused to bind his wound. “Admiral, I am willing to end the truthcombat now, and spare any further harm to either of us.”

  “I choose not to allow you to yield, Captain,” Yilskene said, evidently misunderstanding Sulu’s request. A millisecond later, he charged forward with his blade, releasing a ferocious sound that brought to mind erupting volcanoes.

  Sulu moved to block the blow, but Yilskene reared up on his hindmost legs, and was suddenly taller than
Sulu by at least a meter. The trajectory of the Tholian’s weapon changed, and Sulu barely managed to raise his shield in time to absorb the lethal blow. The shield emitted a refulgent crackle of energy that made Sulu’s left forearm go momentarily numb.

  Yilskene rained three more quick chopping blows down onto the shield,’ each one releasing still more energy as it connected. Sulu could feel progressively more force behind each successive blow. He ducked to the side and stumbled, half-rolling out of harm’s way. Trying to keep his balance, Sulu stabbed forward, missing one of Yilskene’s rocky flanks by a hair’s breadth.

  I’m using up my shield’s power too quickly, Sulu thought. Maybe if I can find a way to separate him from his shield, I can gain an advantage. Convince him to yield.

  [329] Sulu struggled to remain standing in the bulky environmental suit, even as Yilskene approached him again.

  Yilskene slashed to the side, but as Sulu attempted to parry, the Tholian swept the blade up in an arc. Sulu parried again, and their weapons clashed this time. Yilskene attempted to disengage, but Sulu followed his blade around, pressing forward and forcing the Tholian to retreat toward the far wall.

  Finally, to escape Sulu’s blade, Yilskene batted it away using his shield.

  Then, as Sulu tried to recover his balance, Yilskene stabbed forward, nearly skewering Sulu straight through the chest. Sulu arched his back, twisting his body as far away from the blade as he possibly could, then pushed Yilskene’s blade aside with the lowermost part of his own, where he could put the most brute force behind the stroke.

  The blow actually knocked the blade from Yilskene’s grasp, and it skittered away across the obsidianlike floor. Sulu hoped the room didn’t contain any external bulkheads; a stray monoblade slash could conceivably breach the hull.

  Sulu was about to offer Yilskene another chance to withdraw, when he felt himself beginning to gag. A noxious, sulfurous odor suddenly permeated his suit.