The Latter Fire

by James Swallow

  Lashing out in all directions, spears of lightning blazed away at every angle, heedless of whatever target they found. With the Icarus now recovered, Enterprise was far enough away to bank into a swift evasive turn, but once again a swath of Syhaari starcraft were ripped open by the angry power of the leviathan.

  They did not perish alone; the living planet’s rage was shared equally with the vessels at the leading edges of the Breg’Hel flotilla. Kirk saw the rough-hewn, rock-hulled vessels blown apart by incredible electrostatic stresses, one after another blasted into dust. All around him, the gecko-like aliens cried in a chorus of shared empathic agony—but that was cut short when a pulse of fire lashed out at the command ship and hit it hard.

  Kirk’s footing was gone in an instant, and he found himself slammed up against the curved ceiling before being unceremoniously hurled back down again. He landed badly, spitting blood, managing to scramble into a crouch. Nearby, Kaleo tried to stagger to her feet, and he went to the Syhaari captain’s aid. Smoke that stank of burning vegetation and singed hair made him choke. There was a dull buzzing in the air that seemed to come from the walls themselves, and he could sense the push-pull in his gut as the Breg’Hel ship’s internal gravity generators cut in and out.

  “That . . . that wasn’t even a direct hit,” managed Kaleo. “It’s turned on them, Kirk. Their monster has broken its chains and gone mad.”

  He said nothing, pressing forward, back toward the center of the command area. They came across the operator who had spoken before, the skinny, white-and-red Breg’Hel unconscious, thin streamers of blood issuing from its nostril pits as Ead’Aea tried in vain to wake it.

  Ret’Sed grasped the console as if it were the only thing holding it in place and peered bleakly into the stuttering band of the holograph. “We should never have come here,” rasped the alien. “I swore it was a mistake, but none listened. Blood burned too strongly. Now we will all pay for that.”

  “Can’t you get that thing back under control?” Kirk demanded, finding his voice.

  “We are no longer the masters, known,” Ret’Sed shot back. “It obeys only the fury we kindled within it.”

  The image on the viewer twisted as the ship rolled in an uncontrolled tumble, but Kirk could still see clearly enough as the leviathan lashed out at Syhaari and Breg’Hel alike, laying waste to anything that passed within the sphere of its notice. Forcing its way through a tide of rubble and wreckage, it began to pick up speed, riding waves of compressed gravity out of its orbit around Gadmuur. Kirk saw a ripple of distortion as the object warped space like a stardrive.

  Kaleo saw it too. “Where is it going?”

  Ret’Sed’s gaze dropped back to the console. “It has tired of this place. Moving now, yes. Toward the second world.”

  “Syhaar Prime,” said Kirk, a dark understanding coming to him. “This isn’t over yet.”

  Twelve

  Spock heard the door chime echo inside Captain Kirk’s quarters and then the sound of his commander’s voice. “Come in.”

  The first officer entered, his report marshaled and ready to relay, but Kirk held up a hand before he could speak.

  “This’ll just take a moment,” said the captain, in the middle of shrugging on a fresh uniform. He fastened the green wraparound tunic at his waist and returned to what he had been doing when Spock had arrived. “Computer, resume log recording.”

  “Working,” replied the device.

  “Following our confrontation with the Breg’Hel co-commanders, they agreed to a ceasefire. Kaleo was able to convince them to let us beam back to the Enterprise, and we are now in pursuit of the planetoid life-form, but the damage to our warp engines means we can only maintain a low velocity. Mister Scott’s latest estimate puts us approximately fifteen minutes behind the target.” Kirk shot a look toward Spock, a question in his expression, and the Vulcan gave a curt nod of agreement. He had double-checked the engineer’s calculations himself, and the time delay was correct.

  Kirk went on. “We’ve transmitted a warning to Syhaar Prime, but with the majority of the Syhaari defense force having been engaged at Gadmuur, there are precious few combat-capable vessels in orbit around the second planet. Frankly, even if there were, it wouldn’t be enough to stop the leviathan or to evacuate the major population centers.” The captain leaned forward on his desk, looking into the middle distance. “Many craft, both Syhaari and Breg’Hel, were lost at Gadmuur, but for now we have something approaching a ceasefire. The remnants of their forces are following in close formation with us, and the truce seems to be holding. Envoy Xuur is in the process of assembling an emergency summit meeting aboard the Enterprise, which I have offered up to both sides as a neutral location.” He paused, frowning. “Time is against us, but it is my hope that together we may be able to navigate through the mire of this conflict and find a way to halt any further loss of life. End recording and transmit to Starfleet Command.”

  “Log complete,” reported the computer.

  Kirk let out a breath and sat heavily. His fatigue was clear, and it was a rare moment that Spock’s captain would have showed it so openly, but there were only the two of them in the room.

  “Any change in the status of the leviathan?” said Kirk.

  Spock shook his head. “Negative. The object’s heading remains constant. At this time, sensors indicate that its internal power is almost completely channeled into propulsion and maintaining structural integrity. Any potential for offensive response is, for the moment, greatly lessened.”

  “That’s something,” said Kirk. “At least it can’t hurl more of those lightning bolts at us.”

  “Not at this range,” Spock noted. “However, if we move into close proximity, it will react.”

  The captain accepted that with a curt nod. “How are Uhura and Arex?”

  “Doctor McCoy has released them from sickbay. While the Icarus may be out of service for some time, it served well beyond its abilities bringing them to safety.”

  “I’ve put commendations for both of them in the log,” said Kirk. “I’m sure the envoy brushed off any concerns Bones had in a heartbeat, but what about the Syhaari pilot we rescued?”

  “Mister Rumen has been treated for malnutrition and a minor viral infection, but his condition is good. Kaleo’s species is a robust one.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.” He paused. “What about Kaleo?”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “When the doctor suggested she relocate to the infirmary because of her physical condition, she refused in no uncertain terms. There was an implied threat of violence.”

  “I don’t doubt it. We’re caught between two very passionate, very emotive races here, Spock. Tempers are running high on all sides.”

  “So I have observed. I will endeavor to make allowances.”

  Despite the seriousness of the moment, Kirk gave a dry chuckle. “Your forbearance is appreciated as always, Commander.”

  Spock continued his report. “The representatives from the Breg’Hel have been beamed aboard and are waiting on the hangar deck.”

  Kirk’s manner cooled. “What about Tormid and the other Syhaari?”

  “Tormid was fortunate enough to survive the destruction of The Light of Strength, along with Hoyga and representative Gatag, who were also aboard. Mister Scott’s timely use of the transporters managed to save the lives of several of that vessel’s crew. Tormid and the others are currently in visitors quarters. I took the liberty of posting a security detail.” Spock paused, considering his next words. “Sir, having heard Lieutenant Uhura’s preliminary report about your encounters aboard the Breg’Hel command ship, I find it difficult to conceive of a situation in which our current predicament will become less volatile rather than more so.”

  The captain stood up again, pushing away his weariness. “Our primary concern is stopping the leviathan’s rampage,” he said. “But to do that, we
’ll need a unity of purpose between everyone here. And we’re not going to get that without starting from a place of truth.”

  “I do not believe Tormid will agree.”

  Kirk’s eyes narrowed. “No doubt.”

  * * *

  Spock’s prediction was, as ever, quite correct. It took less than five minutes for the meeting to devolve into a shouting match.

  The Enterprise’s hangar deck had been temporarily repurposed as a gathering area, and the sounds of angry voices—the barking snarls of the Syhaari and the wet growls of the Breg’Hel—echoed off the metal walls. On one side stood the reptilians, the co-commanders Ret’Sed and Ead’Aea surrounded by a cohort of green-skinned guards led by Zud’Hoa; on the other, the simianoids clustered together and glared at the invaders, with Tormid the most vocal. The only one of their kind that stood apart was Kaleo, who had very deliberately chosen to place herself with Xuur, ch’Sellor, and the rest of the Federation party.

  The envoy glanced at Kirk and Spock. “Do you have security standing by?”

  Kirk gave her a nod. “If it comes to it.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over Tormid’s thunderous yelling.

  “This is nothing but a web of lies!” spat the Syhaari scientist, angrily waving his arms. “These alien horrors invade our space with their monstrous colossus and then dare to blame us for it?”

  “Not us,” Kaleo broke in. “You.”

  Tormid rounded on her. “You understand nothing, Kaleo! You’ve spent too long with these offworlders, you’re starting to sympathize with aliens over your own species! How can you take the word of these creatures over the proof from a fellow Syhaari?”

  “The accusation is a proven truth,” chattered Ead’Aea, and there was a deep hatred in its voice. “You are a coward, a thief, and a child-killer! And while the known Kaleo has proven to us there is honor in your kind, you are clearly empty of it!”

  “Do you hear the creature decry me?” Tormid spun to address the rest of his party. Hoyga and Gatag nodded at his words, but the others—among them Kaleo’s first mate Zond and several others from the Learned Assembly of elders—shifted nervously, uncertain how to react. “They justify mass murder by saying it is justice? And then pretend they cannot control their living weapon?” Tormid bared his teeth. “If these Federation fools were not standing in my way, I would end you for your insult!”

  Tormid’s firebrand oratory seemed to rally many of his fellow survivors, and for a moment the balance of the meeting seemed to tip away. Kirk felt it in the air, the tension crackling around him, and he was glad that Xuur had agreed, at his insistence, that everyone at the meeting be searched for weapons before it began. If they did not keep control of this, the conference would soon degenerate beyond any hope of an accord.

  “We are not here to apportion blame!” said Xuur, but her words were being drowned out.

  Kirk put a hand on her shoulder. “With all due respect, Envoy, I don’t think your method is going to work.” Before she could object, the captain took a deep breath and cut loose with the sharp, hard snarl that had given pause to errant junior officers, bellicose admirals, and many of the Enterprise’s adversaries over the years. “There is guilt on both sides of this room!” he bellowed. “No one has the right to claim they have done nothing wrong!”

  His words had the desired effect, cutting through the tirade, bringing a moment of silence in their wake. Before the momentum could fade, he rocked off his heels and strode forward, turning toward the Breg’Hel party.

  “You say you were attacked first,” Kirk challenged Ret’Sed, seeing Zud’Hoa bristle at his tone. “You demand reparation. Your military response was far beyond rational proportion! Your anger drove you!”

  “This is so,” agreed the co-commander, biting out each word.

  “You reacted harshly because your family died. Because your ship was ransacked.”

  “This is so,” repeated Ret’Sed; the alien seemed grim, sad, and furious all at once.

  Kirk rounded on Tormid. “And you, sir. You deny that version of events. You say you have never seen these beings before, that their claims are baseless.”

  “Of course!” The Syhaari scientist hesitated, then drew himself up to his full height, a head taller than the captain. “I agreed to this meeting only because your crew intervened to rescue mine, Kirk. That does not give you the right to interrogate me!”

  “This is neither an interrogation nor a trial,” Kirk shot back. “This is a statement of facts.” He held out his hand to Spock. “Tricorder.”

  The Vulcan handed him the device, and he flipped up the display. Trains of data streamed over the small screen.

  “What is that?” said Gatag, craning his neck to peer at the tricorder.

  “Fact,” said the captain, knowing that what he said next would either end an interstellar conflict—or inflame it. “In the past few hours, my chief engineer has conducted a series of high-intensity, deep-pattern sensor sweeps of several Syhaari starships on my direct orders.”

  Hoyga growled with annoyance. “How dare you invade our privacy, human!” She jabbed a finger at Xuur and ch’Sellor. “We were promised this would not be done!”

  “Yes, I agree that it is a violation. But I’m afraid that Starfleet Command’s operational protocols during military operations supersede any diplomatic guidelines,” Xuur said mildly. “Please rest assured that a complaint about Captain Kirk’s behavior will be placed in his file with the Federation Diplomatic Corps.”

  Along with all the others already there, Kirk thought to himself, pressing on. “It seems there’s a good reason why you didn’t want my first officer taking too close a look at your new engine designs.” He nodded toward the Vulcan.

  Spock picked up the thread of the conversation. “The more recent Syhaari designs for space drives capable of warp factor three and higher, allegedly originated by Mister Tormid, are almost identical to the bilobed forced-matrix structure of Breg’Hel warp engines. Given that first-generation Syhaari warp drives follow a single-stream design philosophy, the likelihood of developing so radical a departure in a short period with no outside stimulus is . . . unlikely.”

  Tormid bared his teeth in a snarl, but he did not speak. Kirk continued. “That so-called revelation you claimed you had. It seems to be little more than knowledge gained by reverse-engineering stolen data. How do you explain that?” He advanced on the Syhaari scientist. “I put it to you, sir, that you have encountered the Breg’Hel before, you acted without thought to the consequences, put the lives of thousands of your own people at risk, and then lied about it. All in the name of your own advancement.”

  “You have shamed us,” said Kaleo in a low voice.

  “Th-these are grave accusations indeed!” spluttered Gatag, his hands knitting together. “Tormid! How do you answer the human’s words?”

  Tormid rounded on the elder, his eyes flashing. “How do I answer?” he spat. “You ask me that? After the prosperity I have brought to our people?” Gatag reeled back, unprepared for the force of his ire. “These aliens,” he snarled venomously, extending a long arm to point at Kirk and the others, “these offworlders are the ones who must explain themselves.” Tormid rolled his head on his thick neck and crossed the hangar deck until he was almost nose to nose with Kirk. “This is conspiracy, yes! This so-called benevolent Federation is playing the Syhaari Gathering as dupes. They come to us in the guise of friends with talk of advanced technology and membership in some vast galactic union, but what do we really know of them? Then these lizard-skinned murderers appear and unleash a beast of war on our worlds.” He pointed at Ret’Sed and the simmering Breg’Hel party. “And now I am the guilty one? This is a ploy! A scheme designed to make us doubt ourselves! They are in collusion, one playing the role of friend and the other of an enemy, but working in harmony when our backs are turned!” He prodded Kirk in the chest. “You have come to take
our worlds, is that it? Make us grateful to you, suborn us all just as you have done with Kaleo.” Tormid turned his head and spat, then drew in another breath. “She may have been weak enough to believe your deception, but we are Syhaari, we will never—”

  I’ve had enough of this. Kirk reached down and pulled out his communicator, flipping it open to speak into the audio pickup. “Bones, bring him in.”

  Across the hangar deck a door hissed open and McCoy stepped through, followed by a tall, rangy figure that could only have been another Syhaari. The new arrival’s head was bowed, and he walked with some difficulty, leaning on the doctor to make his way.

  “Who is this?” said Gatag, momentarily distracted from Tormid’s outburst.

  As close as he was to the scientist, it was only Kirk who noticed Tormid tense, and the faint gasp of surprise as he recognized his former pilot.

  “I am Rumen,” said the other Syhaari. “Former crew of The Searcher Unbound.”

  “Impossible,” gasped Zond, his gaze flicking back and forth between Rumen and Hoyga. “You reported that he was killed on the mission, in the accident that claimed the rest of the Searcher’s crew . . .”

  “How can this be? Tormid and Hoyga were the only ones to return,” Gatag insisted. “The bodies of the others . . .”

  Kaleo shook herself. “Rumen’s corpse was lost, do you not recall? At least, that was what Tormid told the Assembly. Only traces of Rumen’s genetic material remained on the ship.”

  Rumen stopped, his stance making it clear he was in pain but refusing to back away. “He left me behind, left me for dead,” said the pilot, not in anger as Kirk had expected of him, but with bone-weary sorrow. “My bio-data was recorded in the Searcher’s memory banks. For someone of Tormid’s intellect, it would not have been difficult to use the ship’s fabricators to create organic matter with the same gene code.”