Some observers said that the Klingon Empire was forever on a war footing, and the martial nature of the Klingon culture meant that there was some truth in that. However, the attacks on Da’Kel had sharpened the ever-present edge of tension in the skies of Qo’noS to a new degree. Suspicion was the watchword.
The cutter crossed into sensor range and immediately received a summons from the perimeter command authority. A patrol cruiser was already being routed to intercept the alien vessel. If the craft performed any maneuvers that could be considered questionable, lethal force would be employed.
Lieutenant Vaughn listened to the automated warning message for a second time and rubbed his chin. There was a layer of unkempt stubble forming there; it was one more indicator of the time and distance this mission had put between him and the Starfleet career he thought he had. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of the control console. The man looking back at him seemed to have aged years since that confrontation in Commander Egan’s office; he didn’t look like a green officer anymore. The Elias Vaughn he saw now was someone different, someone who had gone a long way off the grid.
But that’s the job, right? he wondered. At that moment, more than anything he wished that Miller could be here. Elias felt the veteran spy’s loss keenly. This had been his mission from the start, and Vaughn felt like a pretender trying to fill the man’s shoes. I’m in the deep end now, he told himself. Do this wrong and it’ll mean disavowal by Starfleet and a lifetime of breaking rocks on Rura Penthe . . . If I’m lucky.
The hatch behind him opened and he turned as Kaj and Valeris entered. He drew his hand from his face self-consciously and the major smiled. “A beard might suit you, Vaughn. Humans have such weak chins. It would give you character.”
“Thanks for the tip.” He glanced at the engineering console. “Good work down there. You two kept this scow from falling apart and didn’t kill each other. I’m impressed.”
The Vulcan and the Klingon exchanged a loaded look that Vaughn couldn’t read. “We . . . found a means of complementing each other’s skill sets,” said Valeris.
Vaughn frowned. Something had changed between the two women, that much was certain. What happened while I was up here? He decided not to press the issue: other matters were more urgent. “Border control has already hailed us. A ship is coming in. If you have any suggestion how we can sneak past them, now’s the time to speak up, Major.”
Kaj didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she took a seat at the sensor panel and ran a long-range scan. A tactical plot opened on one of the tertiary monitors, sketching in the nearby planets and the zone around Qo’noS. Vaughn saw the orbital course of Corvix, the planet’s one remaining moon, and the debris ring that was all that remained of shattered Praxis. The display grew a cluster of indicators, each one representing a starship. They were spread throughout the system, holding station, covering all avenues of approach.
“The Thorn are already here,” Kaj pronounced, grim-faced.
“How can you tell?” said Vaughn.
Kaj gestured at the monitor. “We all knew from the start that this speed-course to Qo’nos would be a close run. I prayed that those Kriosian fools would make some error and attract the patrols, but the transit patterns visible here show ships on standby alert. The distribution of vessels would be markedly different if they had detected a viable threat.”
“Maybe we got here before them?” he offered hopefully. “If we warn the Defense Force command—”
Valeris shook her head. “Negative. With their head start, the Chon’m was always guaranteed to reach Qo’noS first . . .” she trailed off as something on the screen took her attention. “One of the vessels displayed here . . . I recognize the transponder code from Da’Kel . . .”
Kaj’s eyes narrowed. “It is the No’Tahr.”
“General Igdar’s flagship?” Vaughn blinked. “What’s he doing here?”
“Summoned home to account for his actions, I imagine,” said the major. “He would never pass up the opportunity to stand before the High Council and hold forth on his own merits.” Kaj shook off the thought and worked the panel in front of her. “Perhaps, if we can isolate commercial traffic, we might be able to narrow down the targets. The Thorn would not risk dropping the Chon’m’s holographic veil until the last possible moment.”
“I am detecting twenty-four cargo vessels in the system,” Valeris reported, “and those are only the ones registering on the Daughter’s sensors. I remind you this ship’s systems are considerably antiquated.”
A strident buzz sounded from Kaj’s panel. “There’s a K’tinga-class battle cruiser approaching off the starboard bow. They’re hailing us.”
Vaughn took a breath. Here we go. “Let’s hear it.”
A gruff male voice growled from the bridge’s speakers. “Attention, Kriosian cargo vessel. Bring your ship to a halt and lower your shields for boarding and inspection.”
“They’re targeting us,” said Valeris.
“Standard procedure,” Kaj noted. “If we don’t respond in a few moments, they’ll give us a mandatory warning and then open fire.” She paused. “Of course, as we speak they are cross-checking the false transponder code this ship is broadcasting. If they determine the deception, they will fire immediately.”
Vaughn looked at his periscope screen. The lethal hammerhead shape of the Klingon D-7 loomed large, overshadowing the smaller cutter. A livid crimson glow grew about the maw of the warship’s forward photon torpedo launcher, signifying its readiness to launch.
“We can’t fight a cruiser,” he said, “but I’m damned if we’ll show the white flag now.” Vaughn drew himself up and looked to Kaj. “Last chance to pull rank, Major. Because the next order I give might be the last you ever hear.”
“Miller had faith in you,” she replied. “And I owe him a debt. Don’t make either of us regret those choices.”
“I assume my opinion is not required?” said Valeris, arching an eyebrow.
“On the contrary,” Vaughn went on. “I want your opinion on the Daughter’s warp engines. Do they have anything left to give?”
The Vulcan’s expression stiffened. “The field coils have been stressed beyond all operational limits, the plasma manifolds are on the verge of catastrophic failure, and the nacelle frames are riddled with micro-fractures. Engaging warp drive again for anything more than a few seconds will destroy this ship.”
“Well, that was succinct.” Vaughn shifted on the command saddle. “Take your stations.”
“Attention, Kriosian cargo vessel.” The Klingon voice was harsh and grating. “Failure to comply with commands will result in your destruction. Obey now!”
“You did hear what the Vulcan said, yes?” asked Kaj.
“Every word.” He nodded, and glanced at Valeris. “Helm? Your heading is Qo’noS orbit. Maximum warp.” Vaughn took a shuddering breath. “Execute.”
Azure lightning flashed along the sides of the warp nacelles fitted into the flanks of the Kriosian cutter, the radiant flux of released energy spilling out into space. Resonating as if it had been struck by a massive hammer, the dart-shaped vessel trembled and burst into motion, leaping away at tremendous velocity from the lumbering D-7 before a tractor beam could snare it. Disruptors flashed, cutting through the vacuum where the Daughter had been a fraction of a second before; and then the Klingon ship vaulted after the cutter, racing past light speed to catch its new quarry.
As the stars turned into threads around them, the cruiser spat a fireball at the smaller ship’s retreating stern. Trailing streamers of accelerated radiation, the photon torpedo crossed the gap between the two vessels and the Daughter banked hard, losing fragments of hull metal as the turn overstressed the already damaged fuselage.
The torpedo, proximity-fused for highest lethality, detonated in a sphere of annihilation, missing a direct hit on the cutter, but close enough to slam it with the edges of the expanding blast wave. Sparkling flickers spilling from overload buffers las
hed along the blade-shaped planes of the Kriosian ship, and its speed bled away. In the few seconds that had passed, the pursuit had already crossed half the system and was now dangerously close to the homeworld. The D-7’s crew had been fully briefed on what took place at Da’Kel; any threat to Qo’noS would not be allowed to stand. The cruiser’s captain ordered a salvo of torpedoes.
Ahead of them, the Daughter was shedding pieces of itself, then suddenly the cutter’s warp field collapsed like a bursting bubble and the vessel plummeted back into normal space.
The cruiser’s helmsman was ready and reacted immediately, matching the punishing deceleration, dropping the D-7 out of warp, still on the cutter’s stern.
“Jettison now!” The lieutenant had to shout to make himself heard over the hooting clarion of the Daughter’s warning sirens and the storm-noise of the tortured hull.
Valeris, ignoring the very real possibility that her next act would kill them all, stabbed at the activation key, sending the command to the struts securing the salvaged K-6 engines to the flanks of the Kriosian cutter. In a millisecond, explosive bolts sheared off the bracing rods and pinched shut the energy feeds connected to the nacelles. The drive modules were cut free, and they tumbled away from the starship, spinning end over end into the path of the Klingon cruiser.
She leaned in and pushed the flight control yoke to the stops. Valeris dropped the bow of the Daughter relative to the plane of the ecliptic, putting distance between the vessels at full impulse.
On the screen she saw the D-7 shift as her Klingon counterpart tried to mirror the escape maneuver, but the cruiser’s mass was over twice that of the Kriosian vessel and it was slower on the turn.
The ejected warp nacelles, still crackling with unspent energy, reached the point of structural collapse and exploded within seconds of one another. Blasts of raging plasma bloomed in the darkness, spilling clouds of tritanium shards and dilithium hydroxides across the cruiser’s course like an oil slick over water. The debris clogged the ramscoop collectors on the Klingon ship’s warp engines and strangled their reaction. A cascade shutdown swept through the cruiser and set it adrift.
“Qapla’!” Kaj gave a triumphant shout.
However, Vaughn’s reaction was more muted; he sighed and sagged against the command panel. “Great,” he managed. “One ship down. Now all we need are some more warp engines to throw at the rest of the Klingon fleet, and we’re set.”
Valeris glanced at the sensor display. The warp jump had taken them into the high orbital zone over the Klingon home-world, and the Defense Force was already reacting. Sensor drones were scanning them from multiple vectors, and the subspace frequencies were alight with encrypted communications from ground installations, orbital stations, and nearby ships. “They believe we have come to attack them,” she said aloud.
“The No’Tahr is signaling planetary command,” said Kaj. “They’ll be coming after us.”
Vaughn rubbed the bridge of his nose with his hand; the human’s fatigue was evident. He appeared to be operating on little more than adrenaline and dogged tenacity. “No time to waste, then. Valeris, push all available power to the sensor grid, boost the gain as much as you can.” He used the controller gloves to input a command string as he spoke.
She saw what he was attempting. The lieutenant had preprogrammed a scan subroutine to look for the energy signature of the Thorn’s isolytic device. The sensors began a sweep of the surface of Qo’noS, searching for the unique radiation pattern of the subspace weapon.
“We’ve got the advantage,” he explained, noting her scrutiny. Vaughn pulled a tricorder from his belt and showed it to her. “I secretly took a read of Rein’s bomb while we were in the assembly chamber.”
“The Defense Force has passive sensors at every viable target in the Empire,” said Kaj. “They know what to look for. If the Thorn’s isolytic device were there, they would know it.”
The sensor returns showed only null readings. “That’s not right . . .” said the human. “Unless . . . Could they have shielded the bomb somehow?” The frustration he was keeping silent finally burst out. and he slammed his fist against the panel. “Damn it! We have to find these bastards!”
“Perhaps it is beyond our scanning range on the far side of the planet, the night side,” Valeris offered.
Kaj dismissed the suggestion. “There are no targets of high value there, only oceans and wilderness. The First City, Kri’stak, Qam-Chee . . . they all lie below us, and the scan reveals nothing. If the device is not on the homeworld . . .” Kaj turned a sharp glare on Valeris. “You told us this was the target! Rein deceived you—!”
“No,” she insisted. “His mind was undisciplined. He could not lie to me. I saw his intentions. I saw Qo’noS.”
“More Vulcan superiority?” Kaj demanded. “What if you are wrong?”
“I am not wrong.” Behind her a warning chime sounded. Vessels were closing in on intercept headings.
“It has to be close,” said Vaughn. “Think it through. If not on the surface, then where? On one of the stations . . . Maybe one of the ships out there is hiding the Chon’m . . .”
In that instant a jolt of insight struck Valeris like a slow bullet. “No,” she repeated, snatching at the flight yoke. She applied power to the impulse drive, pivoting the Daughter’s bow away from the cloud-wreathed planet below.
“What are you doing?” demanded the Klingon.
“Realigning the sensor grid,” she replied. “I estimate a sixty-two-point-eight percent probability that the isolytic device will be deployed from a location other than the planetary surface.”
“Where?” asked Vaughn.
Valeris nodded at the monitor screen as a wide band of rocky debris swung up into view. The remnants of the moon Praxis lay spread out before them.
The Vulcan didn’t wait for him to give the order: she applied power to the impulse drives and the Daughter shuddered as it raced away toward the glittering ring of rubble circling the planet.
What had once been a rocky satellite of similar dimensions to the moons of Vaughn’s home on Berengaria VII was now an arc of shattered ruins, rocks, and dust stretched into a halo by the inexorable forces of gravitation. Seven years after the obliteration of Praxis, and the Klingon homeworld was still in turmoil from the loss of one of its orbital partners. On the surface, earthquakes and tidal shocks were common occurrences; the already challenging ecosphere of Qo’noS had been made far more severe, and meteor storms were now a frequent threat, as pieces of Praxis fell to the surface with alarming regularity. The meteors brought environmental damage with them, scarring the planet’s atmosphere with heavy elements and toxic minerals.
Much of what most now called the “Praxis Ring” was made up of particles little bigger than grains of sand, but caught like a dark sapphire set in the band was a thicker clump of the largest fragments, the pieces that had survived the devastating explosion. Now they wheeled and tumbled in a shaggy cloud, a blot on the sky that passed over the heads of the citizens of Qo’noS like the blade of a bat’leth poised to fall upon them.
“The Thorn are there,” said Valeris. “It is the only hypothesis that makes sense.” She bent over the cutter’s controls, working to keep the damaged ship stable.
“Supposing you’re right,” Vaughn said with a frown, gripping a support column to hold himself steady. “They’re too far out to do serious damage. Even with the larger isolytic device, at most the blast might disrupt the debris ring, maybe damage ships and stations in near orbit . . .”
Kaj glanced at him, and her expression was bleak. “No, Lieutenant. The Vulcan is correct. Remember what Rein said? He threatened to destroy billions of Klingon lives. Speeding up the fall of a few meteors isn’t enough. He was talking about destroying Qo’noS itself.”
“The composition of Praxis was a major factor in its demise,” Valeris said, speaking quickly. “Overmining and energy management errors caused a cascade effect—”
“I remember,” Vaughn bro
ke in. “Get to the point!”
“The structure of the moon was rich in boronite, pergium, and kemocite, all volatiles, all vital minerals for any spacefaring species. Each one of those ores is highly receptive to subspace particles.”
A chill ran through him. “So if the isolytic weapon is detonated in the ring, what will happen?”
“An amplification effect,” said Kaj. She looked stricken. “The particle stream will become self-sustaining, long enough to cause a spatial tear. A subspace rift large enough to consume the entire planet.”
Valeris gave a nod. “Rein said these words to me: ‘We will cut out the heart of the beast.’ This is what he meant.”
Elias tried to imagine what devastation such an event might wreak, the fabric of space-time itself ripping open to swallow a world whole. Nothing would survive as the atmosphere was flayed away and the planet disintegrated. It was almost too much to comprehend.
Then alarm tones blared from the sensor console, bringing him crashing back to the moment. Vaughn looked up at the main display as a photon torpedo went wide of the Daughter’s spiked prow, angling off into space.
“A warning shot,” said Kaj. “Igdar’s gunners on the No’Tahr are eager for our blood.”
“We’re not here to play shooting gallery,” said the lieutenant. “Valeris, sweep the debris zone with the sensors, find Gattin!”
The cutter rattled and groaned as it passed through the inner edge of the Praxis Ring, energized specks of dust and larger clumps of rock sparking off the navigational deflectors. They were moving too fast to avoid them, but with Igdar’s flagship at her back, the Daughter could not proceed with care. They dove into the denser regions of the debris belt, dodging around the wallowing motion of fragments as big as city blocks.
“You think Igdar will follow us in?” he asked.
“The High Council is watching,” replied the woman. “The general likes to have an audience.”
Star Trek® Cast no Shadow Page 33
