Shadow of Heaven

by Christie Golden

  Healing her, to enact more torture.

  “That’s because it is bad,” said the doctor crisply. “You were supposed to be out of here with her by now.”

  Out of here?

  “I know, but in her state she’d just attract more attention. Jekri, listen to me.” She felt him take her right hand in both of his. She wanted to snatch it away, spit at him, flee from whatever new torture he was improvising. “This is going to be difficult for you to believe, but you must. You will only succeed in getting us both sent back there if you try to fight me. I grieve for what you underwent, but I had no choice. I had to make the Senate believe that I was turning you over to them, or else I would not have been able to remain free. By feigning betrayal, I was able to serve you still.”

  What kind of new lie was this?

  “Dr. T’Lar is also one of us. One of those who believe that Lhiau has taken over the Empress’s mind and is leading us down a path that will end in disaster. I know you believe this too, and there are more people than you think who were willing to help you. We had to keep up the pretense of torture, but it worked to your advantage. Had I tried to transport the energy cell with the food as I did the other materials, it would have been detected. Dr. T’Lar’s transports of you to and from the examination rooms were not supervised, so she could manage what I could not. We inserted the cell inside your body, where you could easily remove it.”

  Jekri thought of the pain digging around in her wrist had caused, and did not think it easily removed.

  “She is treating your injuries right now and rehydrating you.”

  Slowly, Jekri became aware that her body’s movements were returning to her control. She opened her eyes and gazed at Verrak.

  “Jekri,” breathed Verrak. The emotion in his face was almost painful to behold. His strong, angular face was soft with passion and grief. Jekri was embarrassed for him.

  “I am so sorry for what you went through. I do not dare hope you will ever forgive me, but perhaps you will understand. I have procured a ship for you. The commander is prepared to defect in order that you may achieve your goal. He thinks that once you have done so, the Senate and the Praetor will listen to you. You will have exposed Lhiau’s evil and perhaps saved the Romulan people. You will most certainly get your title back. In the meantime, please. Trust me. Come with me.”

  She licked her lips. “I will come.” There was no alternative. Perhaps it was a trap, but to what end? They had already gotten her, were able to do what they wanted to her. Unless Lhiau wanted her to dance to his tune again, and for a shot at freedom, at bringing the fvai as low as she could, at recovering the Empress’s sanity, she would trust the President of the Federation herself.

  Verrak’s face broke into a smile, and he pressed his forehead to her small hand. “I know you do not trust me yet, but you soon will. This, I swear to you.”

  He eased her up, and she moved carefully, mildly surprised not to be in pain anymore. She turned to the doctor, who regarded her as coolly as Verrak did with heat in his gaze.

  “How did you find me?” asked Jekri.

  “The energy cell was more complicated than it appeared,” replied Dr. T’Lar. “It emitted a certain signal. No one else would have detected it unless they were specifically searching for it.”

  “That’s how we knew which tunnel you were in,” said Verrak.

  “Subcommander, the two of you must leave now.” The doctor wasted no words. “Kaleh, you are as healed as I can make you at this moment. Change into these and with luck I will be able to walk the both of you right out the door.”

  Hastily Jekri slipped into the impersonal uniform worn by the doctors. She was glad to shed herself of the last physical remnants of her time in prison. Verrak, she noticed, was already wearing the off-white pants and tunic with the medical-officer insignia on the left breast. Quickly and efficiently, T’Lar handed them their props to complete the charade. A medical tricorder to peek out of one of the tunic’s pockets. A padd with charts and patients’ names on it.

  Jekri looked around and realized for the first time that they were in a storage area. She had been treated while lying not on a table but on a box of stacked bins.

  T’Lar picked up a small box of some sort of medical supplies, opened the door, and peered out. She turned to face them, nodded, then flung the door open and strode out. Verrak followed, then, taking a deep breath, so did Jekri.

  The doctor was an accomplished actress, it would seem. Nothing about her body posture gave her away. She spoke as they strode down the corridor.

  “How are those tests coming on the camanovirus toxicology estimates?” she asked. Two other doctors, deep in conversation, were approaching them.

  Verrak looked at the padd. Jekri looked at it too, ducking her head to keep her face from being seen. “It’s highly effective, but that’s just in the first round of tests,” said Verrak. “The symptoms are exactly what we anticipated. Lesions, liquefaction of tissue, all predicted. We’re on track.”

  “Excellent,” said T’Lar. They came abreast of the two doctors, heard something about “immunological defects”; then they were past and their conversation lost.

  It took Jekri several seconds to comprehend what their false conversation had been about. Dr. T’Lar had been discussing using the nearly ninety-eight-percent lethal camanovirus, which had only recently jumped species from hlai to Romulan, as a biological weapon. She stumbled slightly.

  Verrak quickly caught her elbow and propelled her forward. “Keep moving,” he hissed.

  She had not known about this. And anger rose inside her as she realized she, the chairman of the Tal Shiar, ought to have known. They were experimenting on their prisoners. Anger, relief, and terror flooded her system as she realized how fortunate she had been. Dr. T’Lar’s ministrations had been far from tender, but Jekri had just been granted a brief glimpse into exactly how badly her imprisonment could have gone. The knowledge strengthened her trust in both T’Lar and Verrak.

  They headed for the turbolift. “Exit,” said T’Lar. She turned to face them. “When you reach the exit, keep walking. I’ve erased the identification marks of your predecessors and substituted your ID signatures. It’s the usual, fingers, eyes, DNA scan.” Her gaze flickered to Jekri. “I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

  “I am,” replied Jekri. This woman might have been part of the mission to rescue her, but she had enjoyed her task of causing Jekri torment far too much for the Little Dagger to like her. “I assume our predecessors won’t cause trouble?”

  “They have been eliminated. The ruse will be detected soon enough, probably within the hour. But that should be enough time to get to the rendezvous point.”

  Jekri nodded her comprehension. Two doctors had been quietly killed, their identifying genetic markers switched with those of Jekri and Verrak. For a moment, she felt a stirring of regret that innocent lives had been lost, but then she recalled what the doctors here did. None of them could truly be called innocent.

  “Time is precious,” said T’Lar. “The guard you killed could be discovered at any moment. I would make haste, but be careful. Do not draw attention to yourself.”

  Jekri felt an expression of annoyance flit over her face. As if the chairman of the Tal Shiar—

  No. She was no longer the chairman. She was something better, something that had been strong enough to survive when the chairman had fallen. She was the Little Dagger, and the Little Dagger understood covert operations better than anyone.

  The door hissed open. They were in a small antechamber, only a few steps away from the green luminescence of a forcefield. On the wall at about eye level were two purple squares. Casually, Jekri and Verrak each placed their hands on the grid. The system “recognized” them and the field deactivated. They stepped forward into a second tiny antechamber.

  For just a moment, Jekri felt claustrophobic. The walls were a similar color to those of her cell. She licked her lips and kept going. Not looking at one another, they pl
aced their faces up to a small glassed window. A light scanned their retinas, identified them, and the second field deactivated.

  Jekri’s heart was beating rapidly. One more test to freedom. The third antechamber had holes in the wall. Again, they inserted their hands. Jekri felt cold metal against her palm, felt a slight tickling sensation as the mechanism painlessly extracted a DNA sample for analysis. On the other side, Verrak did likewise.

  The machine hummed. Jekri was sweating. She hoped they did not pass too close to anyone; her stench would give her away. Dr. T’Lar might have been able to clothe her in a doctor’s garb and heal her injuries, but there had been no time for a sonic shower. She wondered if her face was dirty. Surely the grime beneath her gnawed nails would reveal her as no doctor should anyone chance to glance at them.

  A hum, a click. The forcefield shut down. After the small confines of the security antechambers, the room that yawned ahead of them seemed cavernous. They were in a large area, patrolled by bored-looking security guards who glanced up disinterestedly at them. Jekri sniffed. No proper centurions here. Her people would have been more alert.

  Her people. No, they were not her people. Was anyone, anymore?

  Verrak leaned over and began chatting about Test Subject 10928-Alpha and the reaction he had had to the drugs, which merely confirmed their theories. Jekri nodded at appropriate times, but did not dare speak.

  A wail rose in the air. Jekri’s heart lurched to a stop, then resumed beating with a painful rhythm. The lights dimmed to a dull red. The lethargic guards snapped to attention, listening to messages on their combadges. Their heads came up and they stared at the two “doctors.”

  Verrak inhaled swiftly. “Keep going,” said Jekri in a low voice. “You run now, you’ll give us both away.”

  Verrak nodded, but nonetheless quickened his step. Jekri supposed he couldn’t help it. She fished in her pocket for the padd. She’d have to risk speaking.

  “Yes, I understand,” she said to the phantom on the other side of her combadge. “We’re on our way. Yes, I have the information right here.” She glanced up at Verrak. “Code Alpha-Gamma-Theta, Doctor. Let’s go.”

  Now she broke into a run, head held high. Not the frantic flight of a prisoner, no, but the assured, purposeful trot of a professional hastening to an emergency.

  A guard stepped right in their path as they were a mere meter from the door. “I’m sorry, Doctors, but we have a Code Red here.”

  Jekri didn’t hesitate for a second. “And I have a very special patient with an emergency,” she snapped, waving the padd in his face. “Code Gamma-Theta.” She stood, trying to convey a certainty that he would let her pass.

  He looked suspicious. “I’m not familiar with that code.”

  “Of course you’re not,” said Verrak. He wore an expression of supercilious anger. “Though your superior would be. The content is classified. Let us through or there will be trouble.”

  The guard looked as though he wanted to believe them, but was afraid to. “I apologize, but our orders are very clear on this point. With an escaped prisoner loose, all exits are to be sealed.”

  Jekri laughed harshly. “So, is that what you plan to tell the Praetor’s widow?”

  The guard’s eyes widened. “The P-Praetor?”

  “Our patient. We are his personal physicians.”

  The guard paled before the steely glare in Jekri’s eyes. Cursing, he hit the controls and the door slid open. They darted through and continued moving quickly.

  “You were brilliant,” said Verrak as they strode across the deceptively pleasant grassy area behind the palace.

  “I did what was necessary. Where is our beam-out site?”

  “Just over by the—” The distinctive sound of disruptors being fired cut him off. As one, they broke into a run.

  “Apparently I wasn’t that brilliant,” Jekri gasped. Her fingernails. She had waved the padd in front of the guard, moved her fingers over the keys. He’d seen them but hadn’t really understood what he was seeing, until now.

  Verrak pulled out a small device and pressed a button on it. At once the world around them shimmered. When Jekri could see again, she was standing on the darkened bridge of a top-of-the-line warbird. Jekri looked around wildly. She glimpsed someone in a command chair, a conn, active stations, and a viewscreen with Romulus filling every square centimeter.

  “Shields up! Activate cloak!” someone was ordering in a deep, booming voice. “Set coordinates for the rendezvous point!”

  “Done, sir!”

  “Let’s get there, then. Warp nine!”

  The image of Romulus vanished, to be replaced by the familiar, distinctive streak of stars as they hurtled through space at warp nine. Jekri stumbled to the railing and leaned on it, catching her breath. It would seem she was not fully recovered.

  The commander of this vessel rose. Jekri stared in surprise and pleasure. “Commander Idran,” she said, her voice warm.

  He saluted her smartly. “Chairman, we are honored by your presence aboard the Para’tar. She, her crew, and her commander are yours to command.”

  Jekri gathered strength and forced herself to stand erect. She took a deep breath and levelly regarded the crew that had committed treason to assist in her rescue.

  “In times of darkness, old friends are the truest,” she said, including Verrak in her sweeping gaze. “I thank you for your part in my rescue. Rest assured that I will do everything I can to see that you are rewarded, not punished, for your actions here today. Status report.”

  “Your vessel, the Tektral, waits to rendezvous with us,” said Idran. “We will be able to take on what crew wishes to accompany us, as well as the vital information we need to carry out our mission.”

  “And what mission is that?” challenged Jekri. She thought she knew, but wanted to make certain.

  Idran, grizzled and elderly veteran that he was, grinned like a Klingon. He knew exactly what he was doing. And to Jekri’s immense pleasure and relief, he told her.

  INTERLUDE

  THE ENTITY HAD KNOWN THAT AT SOME POINT IT WOULD run across them. But it did not wish the contact. It did not wish it at all, but it had a duty to perform.

  The Borg cube was all but destroyed. Holes gaped in its side, through which open space was visible. Sparks flew, lights flickered, and it tumbled through space with a randomness and wildness that would have appalled its makers, had they been able to express such a thing.

  The Entity hesitated, ruminating. The Borg were implacable in their purpose: to assimilate and plunder the knowledge of other species. Such a single-mindedness—and the term, with them, was quite literal—had made them almost invincible. Almost. Though on occasion, wit and courage and determination had foiled them.

  There was no doubt in the Entity’s mind, if such it had, that if the bad things, the mutated dark matter, had found one Borg cube, it had infiltrated all of them. To one degree or another, every Borg ship in the quadrant, or even elsewhere, would be affected at this point. What the Entity was now regarding was merely an infected ship in the later stages.

  If it were only the destruction of the Borg that was at stake here, the Entity knew, its decision to help them would be a harder one to make. But there was so much more. Certainly, the Borg would be destroyed, but the dark matter that had been their downfall would linger on, waiting for something more innocent to infect, perverting even the space in which it existed. It would eat away at the fabric of this universe. No matter who benefited, it must needs be contained.

  So the Entity descended upon the hurtling Borg cube, enveloping it into itself with a care the ruthless creatures did not deserve. It felt the hive mind trying to assimilate it even now, their multiple thoughts condensed into one powerful demand: We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. Prepare to be assimilated.

  But the Entity was unique, and knew it, and far beyond even their frightening comprehension. It brushed aside their attempts to make it one of them almost as an afterthought, a distracti
on to its true task, which was to purge them of the wrong things that would have been their ruination.

  Through its connection with the ship, it knew where the other cubes were, and departed. Again and again it enveloped a cube, purged it, and moved on. Their numbers were almost uncountable, but the Entity partially existed outside time and space and the vast distances were nothing to it.

  It was done. The Borg were cured. They would not contaminate others they assimilated with the mutated dark matter, though some might feel that Borg assimilation was something worse. It was not the Entity’s place to decide such things. It merely had a task, a task far greater than any single individual’s needs: a task that would save or doom everything, from the smallest microbe to beings nearly as vast as itself.

  The Borg were cured, free to pursue their own task. It did not sit well with the Entity, and it puzzled over the moral dilemma as it drifted to the next place where the wrong things dwelt.

  CHAPTER

  10

  THE DOOR TO CHAKOTAY’S QUARTERS BUZZED ANGRILY. Quickly he stepped to answer it, wincing at the annoying sound.

  “You’re prompt,” he told Ezbai.

  “Promptness is a virtue,” the young Interceptor replied.

  “I’m almost ready. Have a seat.” Chakotay indicated a utilitarian stool while he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

  “You’ve had nothing to eat or drink since last night?” asked Ezbai.

  “Not a drop nor a crumb.”

  Ezbai smiled, relieved. “Oh, good. Our doctors are very adamant about that. Food and hydration alter the baseline chemical makeup of your system, and if you’d had anything I’d be in the Implementer’s office in a heartbeat.”

  Chakotay stepped down on his boot to fit it snugly onto his foot. “I’ve noticed that. He comes down pretty hard on you.”

  Ezbai flushed blue. “Oh, no, not really. He’s that way with everyone. He’s exacting, that’s all. By the way, please let me apologize for the testing you underwent. With the hand sensor. From what I understand about your customs, you probably considered it rude. It’s just our way, we do it to everyone.”