Star Trek: Typhon Pact 02: Seize the Fire

by Michael A. Martin

  With that, Krassrr’s image vanished from the screen, to be replaced by the menacing image of his vessel, the glow of its forward tubes quickly intensifying.

  “I’m picking up two more incoming bogeys, Captain,” Rager said. “Closing fast, roughly equidistant from the planet’s eastern and western limbs.”

  “Gorn vessels, both originating at about equatorial latitude,” Tuvok said.

  “Their weapons read hot,” Rager said. “As do Krassrr’s.”

  Fresh from guarding Brahma-Shiva, Riker thought as he retook his command chair. “Evasive maneuvers, Lieutenant Lavena. And keep those shields up, Mister Tuvok. Both of you coordinate with engineering to execute the Archer maneuver as soon as we achieve the optimal ionization effects on the hull.”

  We’re only going to get one shot at this, he thought as Titan’s bridge rocked seismically beneath his boots.

  GORN HEGEMONY RECONNAISSANCE VESSEL SSEVARRH

  Given what he knew of the battle prowess Rry’kurr had displayed during the Black Crest warrior’s coup attempt several suncircuits ago, Captain Krassrr was genuinely surprised by the mammal commander’s failure to put up more of a fight—or at least by his decision not to make a more sensible attempt at flight. He had expected the Federrazsh’n commander to repeat what he had evidently done at the conclusion of both of their previous encounters, which was to flee into the system’s far fringe, whose icy vastness would offer the best chance of concealment.

  What he hadn’t expected was for Tie-tan to initiate a rolling dive straight down, directly into the atmosphere of the planet Hranrar itself. It was an act of suicide, as the Ssevarrh’s sensors, as well as those of both of the other two recon ships Krassrr had temporarily repurposed from their duties safeguarding the ecosculptor, would confirm soon enough.

  Krassrr, however, was disinclined to leave an enemy’s future to blind chance if he had an alternative. At his order, the Ssevarrh and her two support vessels launched full barrages of both particle beams and explosive missiles at the retreating mammal ship.

  With the addition of the spectacular bow shocks and deflector-shield backlash that Krassrr’s multiple weapons hits had generated, the plume of debris from Rry’kurr’s vessel as it burned and disintegrated during its ballistic terminal descent through the atmosphere was something to behold, a thing of beauty that evoked Krassrr’s youthful memories of the Rrrargran meteor displays of Gornar Farsouth, and the unpredictable firerains from Volcano Zzaren in the high northern steppes, where he had taken his basic training.

  Krassrr ordered a cease-fire as Tie-tan descended further, since the thicker layers of the planet’s lower atmosphere would have served to spoil the gunners’ aim. Besides, Krassrr had no intention of jeopardizing any of his remaining vessels by ordering hot pursuit so deep within the planet’s atmosphere. Even in the absence of further weapons strikes, Tie-tan’s ionized debris trail continued expanding in both length and girth, its coruscating reds and oranges multiplied by more than an order of magnitude by the auroral effects of the northern magnetic field. Now the display brought to mind the ostentatious tail-feather displays of Gornar’s wingbeasts, creatures whose plumage extended to more than four times the creatures’ normal overall body length during their time of rut.

  And like the rutting wingbeast, Tie-tan can no longer fly, Krassrr thought as his compound eyes followed the long ellipse his adversary’s meteoric drop traced across his main forward viewer. But even the wingbeast will reclaim the skies if nothing eats him while he is confined to the ground.

  Krassrr reminded himself that this Rry’kurr was a tricky one. Rry’kurr had misled him before, and that made Krassrr chary about taking any chances with this wily mammal and his casteless, mongrel crew.

  Loping toward the sensor station, Krassrr growled to get the attention of a slight young tech-caster. The technician was monitoring Tie-tan’s fall on a display that also generated multiple columns of swiftly-shifting figures.

  “Follow that debris all the way down to the surface so that we will not have to struggle against Hranrar’s magnetic field in order to find it later,” Krassrr said. “I want to see hard proof that the Sst’rfleet ship is no more.”

  U.S.S. TITAN

  The forward viewer displayed a confusing, distortion-dappled mishmash: the icy white curve of Hranrar’s northernmost reaches, as seen from a high but suborbital altitude; a low, horizon-bound needle of light tended by a pair of slowly moving stars, which Riker immediately recognized as Brahma-Shiva, seen from Hranrar’s figurative roof; and a trio of indistinct but clearly retreating metallic shapes, which could only be Krassrr’s ship and those of his reptilian wingmen.

  “All three attackers are moving off,” Tuvok said, shortly after the descent had ended and the inertial dampers had restored the terra firma sanity of up-and-down to the bridge. “I believe the Gorn fleet is satisfied that we were destroyed during an uncontrolled atmospheric entry and descent.”

  Riker was relieved to hear Tuvok confirm what the viewscreen, such as it was at the moment, had already told him. Still, he hoped that Krassrr wouldn’t ultimately prove too sophisticated to believe the evidence of his own buglike eyes. He looked around the bridge, from Rager and Lavena at the forward consoles to Tuvok, who stood at aft starboard. S’syrixx, still flanked by Keru and Qontallium, appeared somewhat unsteady but otherwise none the worse for wear.

  Facing front once again, Riker said, “Position report.”

  “We’re keeping station in the boundary layer between the upper troposphere and the lower stratosphere,” Lieutenant Lavena said as she worked the flight control console. The bridge shuddered slightly, like an atmospheric aircraft encountering a pocket of turbulence. “Our structural integrity field is compensating for the atmospheric hull stresses, and our thrusters are compensating for the prevailing winds, keeping us ‘anchored.’ “

  “Good,” Riker said. “Maintain position. With any luck, being ‘at anchor’ here, almost directly over Hranrar’s northern magnetic pole, will keep the Gorn from seeing us.”

  “If Krassrr can find no reason to disbelieve what you have shown him, Captain,” S’syrixx said, “then he has no reason to continue looking.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I still feel quite uncomfortable among you mammals. I may never get used to the shedding fur and the flaking epidermis. However, I must confess to having developed a certain admiration for your cleverness.”

  “Thank you,” Riker said, though the compliment sounded ever so slightly backhanded. That was a little like being told, “for a fat kid you don’t sweat much.”

  “Tell me, Captain,” S’syrixx said, “how did you formulate such a creative stratagem?”

  “I . . . dabble a little bit in history,” Riker said after pausing briefly to consider how much he ought to tell him about his occasional hobby of running holodeck reenactments of pivotal moments in the history of Earth and Starfleet. He had participated in faithfully rendered holoprograms such as James Kirk’s initial confrontation with a Gorn starship captain, and stinkers like the wildly inaccurate holoaccount of Enterprise NX-01’s adventures on the eve of the signing of the Federation Charter. “More than two centuries ago, the first Earth starship named Enterprise was damaged by microsingularities. The damage caused pieces of her hull to end up in an asteroid field between Coridan and Theta Ursae Majoris. The markings on those hull fragments were enough to convince a couple of Enterprise crewmembers in a passing shuttle that the ship had been destroyed during their absence.”

  “An historical accident plus a little showmanship,” Keru said, “equals a valid tactical plan.”

  “Only for as long as the other guy buys what you’re trying to sell him, Mister Keru,” Riker said. Facing forward, he said, “Lieutenant Rager, can you contact the away team from our current position?”

  Rager tapped a swift series of commands into her board before shaking her head in evident disappointment. “No, sir. There’s too much ionization and interf
erence coming from the local magnetic field.”

  “Get Torvig and White-Blue busy creating a workaround,” Riker said. “We’ve got to punch through that static somehow. We need to reach the away team and find a way to get them back aboard—without compromising our hiding place.”

  “Aye, sir,” Rager said as she set about her tasks.

  Riker tapped his combadge. “Riker to engineering. Status report.”

  “Ra-Havreii here, Captain,” said the harried-sounding chief engineer. “I hope we won’t need to try that again any time soon. My supply of spare prefabricated hull plates is completely exhausted.”

  “No promises. Report.”

  “I’m afraid we sustained more damage than I initially thought during the first Gorn salvo—the one that overloaded the primary EPS relays. We have no warp capability at the moment.”

  Riker’s throat went dry. “How long before you can get the warp drive back up and running, Commander?”

  “I’m still assessing the damage, Captain, so it’s too early for me to formulate a precise estimate. But I can say one thing authoritatively at this point: this ship won’t be going anywhere except on impulse until some time after the Typhon Pact fleet arrives.”

  Titan would have to hide, and continue hiding, at least for the foreseeable future. And maybe with ringside seats to the end of a world, Riker thought.

  He gazed at the forward screen, his eyes straining to pierce the chaotic vale of static and distortion that caused the distant, apparently tiny Brahma-Shiva artifact to ripple and shift as it orbited. The thing hung like a judgment over the world its wielders would so casually doom.

  He contemplated the prospect of watching impotently while the object’s cold-blooded masters ended the existence of his wife, his executive officer, his away team, and an entire civilization.

  17

  GORN HEGEMONY WARSHIP S’ALATH

  “Has Tie-tan detected our presence yet?” Gog’resssh asked.

  Turning away momentarily from her communications console in order to face Gog’resssh—the First Myrmidon had already made it abundantly clear, sometimes with the back of his manus, that he did not enjoy being addressed obliquely—Z’shezhira replied in the negative.

  “The mammal vessel is merely holding its orientation over this planet’s northernmost magneto-intensive region, just as we are,” she said, all the while carefully avoiding making sustained contact with the war-caster’s multifaceted silver eyes. “They seem to be expending a great deal of power to maintain position in a more rarefied atmospheric layer than the one we occupy.”

  “No doubt because their ship is so much less robust than ours is,” said Zegrroz’rh.

  Tie-tan was evidently robust enough to transform one of Krassrr’s best-armed vessels into a huge ball of burning plasma, Z’shezhira thought. She kept the observation to herself, however, not wishing to provoke either of her principal captors. She found she needed Zegrroz’rh’s goodwill, such as it was, now more than ever before; though the second myrmidon remained as repellently charmless as ever, Z’shezhira found she was glad for his ever-watchful presence now that Gog’resssh was making no secret of his unnatural designs on her. Zegrroz’rh’s chilling, cyclopean insect’s stare now made him an acceptably effective chaperone.

  “But why have they come here at all?” Gog’resssh hissed. “If the mammals wish to evade Krassrr, why did they not skitter away and flee this system altogether?”

  “Maybe their engines have suffered damage,” Z’shezhira ventured. “Perhaps they no longer have the option of making a hasty exit.”

  “And they just happened not to see us as they entered the atmosphere over this world’s north polar region,” Gog’resssh said with a skeptical growl.

  “Consider all the ionization and auroral effects the mammal vessel created on its way in, First Myrmidon,” Z’shezhira said. “It is not difficult to believe that their sensors were sufficiently obscured during their descent for them to have failed to detect our presence so near to them.”

  “Their hull is no longer ionized, and only tens of thousands of manus now separate our two vessels,” Gog’resssh said. “They should no longer be blind to us.”

  Z’shezhira spread her claws in a gesture of incomplete knowledge. “It is possible that some of their instruments were blinded permanently during their harsh descent. But we must also take into account the fact that we are significantly deeper in Hranrar’s atmosphere than Tie-tan is. We therefore receive more of the combined shielding effects of both the atmosphere and the planetary magnetic field.”

  Z’shezhira wasn’t entirely sure yet whether Tie-tan’s apparent lingering blindness was a good thing or a bad thing. She rejoiced, however, in the human vessel’s presence, as well as in its relatively intact condition.

  Which, of course, suggested that S’syrixx had remained intact as well.

  “So they may be sightless,” said Gog’resssh. “I wonder if they are also mute. Listen for any transmissions from Tietan. Perhaps they will reveal the real reason for their presence here.”

  “At once, First Myrmidon,” Z’shezhira said, taking his command as permission to turn away from him and return her full attention to the communications console. She was surprised and pleased to be rewarded with some immediate results. “I am picking up some subspace beamscatter from a highly directional transmission. They appear to be attempting to hail someone.”

  “Another hidden ship?” Gog’resssh asked.

  “Not unless that ship is located somewhere on the surface of the planet’s northern hemisphere,” said Z’shezhira.

  “So they have already placed personnel on the ground,” Gog’resssh said, sounding impressed. “And Tie-tan is checking in with them.”

  Z’shezhira again made the manus-gesture of incomplete knowledge. “Or at least they are making an attempt. The hail is repeating, over and over, but I see no indication as yet of any response.”

  “It may be that Rry’kurr came here for the same reason we did,” Zegrroz’rh said. “To seek refuge and await the most propitious moment to mount a surprise attack against Krassrr.”

  “Then we may have a common cause with Tie-tan,” Z’shezhira said.

  Moving menacingly toward her, Zegrroz’rh hissed his disapproval.

  “Hear her out,” Gog’resssh rumbled at his second, holding up a manus in a gesture of warning that froze his second in his tracks. Leaning so that his face came uncomfortably close to Z’shezhira’s, the first myrmidon said, “Explain.”

  Z’shezhira paused long enough to ask silently that the Egg Bringer S’Yahazah guide her tongue and prevent her words from further endangering her beloved. “Tie-tan’s commander can only be here because he values the eco-sculptor as much as Krassrr does. As much as we do.” She knew it was critical now to reinforce in Gog’resssh’s radaddled mind the notion that she shared his interests.

  Zegrroz’rh’s incredulity came as no surprise. “Of course the mammals would love to get their paws on the eco-sculptor. They would not hesitate to use it both as a weapon against us and as a means of remaking the worlds of the Gorn Hegemony for use by their own kind.”

  “Agreed,” Z’shezhira said. “But working alone against Krassrr, they have no more chance than we do of taking the ecosculptor away from him before he uses it on this world. However, if we were to join forces with Tie-tan, work in tandem with the mammals, then we might succeed in—”

  “Why in the name of all the grazerbeasts of Gornar should we want to take the ecosculptor before Krassrr tests it?” Zegrroz’rh said, interrupting. “I thought the plan was to gather our strength, restock our supplies—as we have just done—and then wait until Krassrr finishes ecosculpting this planet. The next step would be to take the ecosculptor and its first fruits as the birthright of our new warrior caste.”

  “The Typhon Pact fleet will probably arrive before any such test can occur,” Gog’resssh said. “We would have to take the ecosculptor before that—and take it to some new world th
at it can reshape into the crècheworld of the new warrior caste we will found.”

  Madness, Z’shezhira thought, marveling at how little these rad-poisoned war-casters evidently understood of the realities of genetic diversity. Although Gog’resssh’s surviving cadre of war-caster refugees from the destroyed Sazssgrerrn crècheworld contained individuals of both genders, its gene pool was neither broad enough nor deep enough to sustain an entirely new caste. The abortive mutiny had only further thinned out the war-caster ranks. And then there was the very real possibility that the radiation injuries the Sazssgrerrn catastrophe had visited upon the present slate of survivors had left most or all of them permanently sterile, their reproductive systems damaged beyond even the prodigious regenerative capacities of the hardiest members of the warrior caste. Whenever she contemplated her likely future with Gog’resssh, Z’shezhira could only pray that he numbered among the sterile.

  And then there was the evident willingness—even eagerness—of both Gog’resssh and Zegrroz’rh to allow an entire world, millions of sentients who were far less repugnantly alien than the crew of Tie-tan, to be extirpated in pursuit of their futile plan.

  Both steeled and shamed by her failure of nerve during the ill-fated mutiny attempt, Z’shezhira knew she couldn’t simply sit back and allow any of this to come to pass.

  “Well, tech-caster?” Zegrroz’rh snarled, evidently losing patience with her. “Is Krassrr not here to remake this planet to suit the needs of the warrior caste?”

  Z’shezhira tipped her cranial crests forward to concede the second myrmidon’s point. “So he is.” Turning away from Zegrroz’rh so that she faced Gog’resssh squarely—making it crystal clear that she was addressing him and him alone—she continued. “But can you trust him to remake this planet to suit the new warrior caste you would build?”