Shadow of Heaven

by Christie Golden

  Jekri held up a hand. “Enough. I believe you. Are those people in any danger?”

  “I do not believe so. There was no follow-up, once you had been sentenced.”

  “Good. I would not have them come to harm on my account.” Idran was scowling, not knowing what they were talking about. Jekri thought about enlightening him, but decided against it. Not everyone was ready for the concept that the former chairman of the Tal Shiar fought against the mental attacks of an enemy with Vulcan mental control.

  “These battles, in the Neutral Zone and at the various homeworlds, must not be permitted to happen,” she stated, hearing in her voice again the assurance of old. “It would ruin the Empire. I do not know why Lhiau hates our people so much that he wishes our obliteration, nor do I know why he is so intent that we ourselves be the vessels of our own destruction.”

  Verrak frowned. “When he first came to us, he asked for our help in defeating his enemies. How can destroying our people accomplish such a goal?”

  “Lhiau speaks in riddles, he twists words, he never reveals himself,” said Jekri. “He cannot be trusted to simply state something.” She leaned back and folded her arms across her lean chest, absently noting the sharpness of the bones. She had lost a great deal of weight during her ordeal.

  Verrak had raised an excellent point, one that needed to be understood if they were to truly defeat Lhiau. How could the Romulans help Lhiau defeat his enemies if they were destroyed?

  Unless destroying the Romulans would somehow harm his enemies.

  She brooded on this thought for a moment, then sighed. “We do not have all the information we need in order to solve this puzzle. The successful completion of my plan is therefore even more vital. Idran, you said we were to rendezvous with the Tektral. What then?”

  “Then we must report to our position in the front line and await orders to attack.” He grinned savagely. “We will attack, but not the way they think. They have their prize; we will have ours.”

  * * *

  Under Jekri’s leadership, the Tektral had been a smoothly operating machine. When she materialized on the bridge of her vessel, she found chaos. There had been an uprising upon news of her imprisonment. Some aboard were loyal to the chairman of the Tal Shiar, and when Jekri no longer held that position, she no longer held their loyalty. They were content to simply wait until they were notified as to who the new chairman might be and serve him or her as they had served the Little Dagger.

  But there were others to whom loyalty was a much more personal thing. They followed Jekri, and continued to follow her even as they watched her carefully orchestrated downfall. Lhiau’s trumped-up charges had been seen by everyone for what they were. But few had dared protest, because the unspoken message was This can happen to you.

  Among those few were some stalwart souls aboard the Tektral who, like Verrak, had pretended to cooperate but who were all the while still Jekri’s people. Verrak, who had captained the vessel until such time as a new chairman could be officially appointed, had known whom to trust, and when he had given them the word they had risen up against their enemies and retaken the ship. There was no brig aboard this vessel, but a small cargo bay was now crammed full of so-called Imperial loyalists. When Verrak had given her a list of all those who had turned against her, Jekri’s heart had ached. Among their number were some that she might have called friends, if the chairman of the Tal Shiar could be permitted to have something as intimate as a friendship.

  Those who had chosen Jekri and her struggle against Lhiau were permitted to join the crew of the Para’tar. Jekri graciously welcomed everyone individually, thanking them personally and assuring them of eventual victory.

  “What do you wish to do with the loyalists?” Verrak asked. Jekri had opened her mouth to reply when Idran interrupted.

  “Leave them on the Tektral,” he said bluntly. “Destroy it. That is what we do to traitors.”

  Once, and not that long ago, Jekri would have been the one to issue that order. Now, she realized she did not want to execute over thirty people with the single push of a button.

  “They do not yet understand,” she said to Idran. “Take them prisoner. Your brig will certainly accommodate them. Besides, I do not want to see my ship destroyed.”

  “If we win, the Empress will give you a better ship—a dozen, probably, if you like. If we lose, you will have no need of a vessel, no matter where you go. They are traitors as far as we are concerned, and that is what happens to traitors.”

  The image of Dammik, of young Tarya, appeared in Jekri’s mind. Neither of them would have approved of this. It was not necessary. It would have been had they been forced to simply leave the loyalists in charge of the Tektral. But there was a place to keep them until this was settled one way or another. She simply couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong.

  “No,” Jekri said firmly. “We will take them with us. You are operating on faith, old friend, and for that I am more grateful than you can know. Verrak knows Lhiau, knows what he has done. These people were not permitted aboard the Talvath, they do not yet appreciate the danger. I will not have their blood on my hands if it is not necessary.”

  Idran lifted a slanted eyebrow. “Perhaps Verrak was wrong,” he mused. “Perhaps they did break you in prison. You’ve gone soft, Jekri.”

  Before Idran could even blink, Jekri had drawn her weapon and shoved it under the old warrior’s chin. “Soft? I? I do not think so, considering who has the weapon and who has the weapon at his throat. You said this ship and her crew were mine to command when you beamed me on board. Are you going back on your word?”

  “No,” said Idran, carefully. “The ship is yours, Chairman.”

  “I told you, I do not have that title.” Jekri resheathed her weapon and Idran’s hand went to his neck, as if to make certain it was still whole. “You may call me the Little Dagger.” Once, the name had been shameful to own. Now she claimed it proudly, more honored by that title than that of chairman. “Beam them into your brig, and let us make all haste to the rendezvous point. I would not wish to draw attention by arriving late.”

  * * *

  It took traveling at warp nine to reach the rendezvous point at the edge of the Neutral Zone, but they managed. Idran had been given a precise set of coordinates at which to position the Para’tar, and they moved slowly to take up their ordered position.

  Jekri was now dressed as a low-ranking bridge officer. While her name was known, and her former title feared, because of the nature of her position her face was not immediately recognizable. She had wanted to be on the bridge and though there was a risk of someone speaking with Idran identifying her, it was a slight one. She managed to keep her shock from showing, but she was flooded with disbelief and not a little apprehension as the Para’tar moved toward its position.

  She had never seen so many ships in one place in her entire life. They stretched for thousands of kilometers along the Neutral Zone. The Para’tar threaded its way delicately, slowly moving past ship after ship after ship in a languid dance that might have been beautiful had not its significance been so deadly. Finally, they were in position.

  Jekri tapped up a map on the screen. There was their target—the Talvath, positioned several hundred kilometers away. It was dwarfed by the mighty warbirds that surrounded it, yet it was perhaps the beating heart of the entire invasion plan. It was the only vessel that had been equipped with Shepherd technology to augment Telek R’Mor’s own; the only way that the wormholes could be opened. Without that tiny ship, the invasion would be crippled.

  She swallowed hard. They would succeed. They had to. She did not know precisely what hinged on their victory, but she knew it was awesome in its magnitude.

  Kelleh Taklarin had replaced the traitorous Sharibor, and while he was not as adept as his predecessor, he was good, and he was loyal. Presently, Jekri knew, he was hard at work intercepting messages, breaking codes, and creating new, false messages of his own.

  The first one flash
ed across the screen. It was allegedly from the third-highest commander of the invasion. “Para’tar and Khalvur exchange positions.” To divert attention, Kelleh had several other ships exchange positions as well. Slowly, the mighty warbird moved into position. This single move closed the distance between the Para’tar and the Talvath by nearly three-quarters.

  They waited. Jekri thought the seconds crawled by like hours. Another message came from Kelleh, this one ostensibly from the Praetor to all vessels: “Prior to the implementation of the invasion, Subcommander Verrak will assume position as commander of the Talvath. Nonessential personnel aboard the vessel shall prepare to be transported to the Para’tar until such time as Subcommander Verrak deems it safe for them to return. The Talvath is a science vessel, not a warship.”

  Even as she marveled at its brilliance, she caught her breath at its daring. With one order, the Para’tar would pull into position beside the Talvath, Verrak would secure it, and they would capture all personnel—for Jekri did not think for one moment that, granted the opportunity, Idran would not beam everyone over and put them into the brig. The Talvath was a small ship, meant to be crewed by only one person. Under her command, there had been six crammed into the tiny space: herself, Verrak, and four lesser officers. And Lhiau, but he did not require quarters.

  She wondered if Lhiau was aboard. There was no way to tell. Any scan to see if he was present would seem to confirm it, as the Talvath was crammed to the gills with Shepherd technology. She desperately hoped he was not. Things were difficult enough as it was.

  She cursed how slowly they had to move in order to not give the appearance of haste. Any moment now, someone would realize that these messages had been forged. The mighty warbird settled into position alongside the Talvath. Jekri, Verrak, and two of her most trusted men hurried to the transporter.

  The young woman at the transporter gave her a brief but sincere salute. “Good luck, Honored Chairman. We will see you on the other side.”

  Jekri, Verrak, and the two officers materialized inside the Talvath. She stifled an instinct to contact Idran. Their communications would be monitored. She had to leave that to Verrak, whose confirmation of a safe transport would not arouse suspicion.

  “Subcommander Verrak to Para’tar,” said Verrak, slipping into a chair at the console. His voice was utterly calm, almost bored-sounding. “I have assumed command of the Talvath.”

  “Nonessential personnel have arrived safely,” responded Idran, sounding as neutral as Verrak. I hope they enjoy their stay in the brig, Jekri thought.

  Verrak thumbed the channel closed and turned to her. “Six minutes before the order to attack is scheduled to be given,” he said.

  “Do you remember how to do this?” she asked with a half-smile.

  “I burned it into my brain,” Verrak replied. Together, they set the coordinates. There would be no more conversation with Idran. There was no need. The commander would know what to do when the time came.

  “Coordinates set,” said Verrak, and his voice trembled ever so slightly.

  Jekri took a deep breath. They would have to move fast from here on in. With a deft touch, Jekri activated the Shepherd device.

  “Commander Stahl to the Talvath. Why have you activated the wormhole technology? Stand down and prepare to be boarded.”

  “He’s fast,” muttered Verrak. “Hurry.”

  Jekri needed no urging. She tapped in the controls and at once a purplish cloud swirled in front of them. The wormhole yawned open.

  “Let’s go!” cried Jekri, and the Talvath surged forward at full speed. Behind them, so close as to almost touch, was the Para’tar.

  And behind them, swooping through just as the wormhole closed behind them, were three other warbirds.

  INTERLUDE

  THE PLANET’S SURFACE WAS HARSH, UGLY, AND FILLED THE Entity with a sudden, unpleasant shock of remembrance. It had been here, and the experience had been a difficult one. But what? What was that experience?

  It floated swiftly along the planet’s surface, seeking out the dark matter that called to it. In the earth, in crops that had been ominously left untended, in some of the tough creatures that managed to find food, creatures that seemed almost as bad as the mutated dark matter itself.

  The carnivorous kal plants. The “sand that eats,” which were more than simple quicksand, but actual living creatures. The Xians, whose complex brains were geared toward harsh survival and who reveled in brutality.

  Had the Entity possessed a corporeal body, it would have shuddered.

  Yet nothing was completely evil, not even here. There were more benevolent beings as well, though they were being affected by the dark matter and were sometimes behaving in as cruel a fashion as the Xians.

  It was pulled to the pain of one such species, the kakkiks, small, gentle, and oh so intelligent. The dark matter had not corrupted them, not these little beings, but it was killing them. As the Entity floated along the surface, it grieved at the number of small, winged bodies that were rotting on the earth.

  They sensed the Entity at once. Of course they would. They flocked to it like a moth to fire, seeking its benevolent aid. They knew it would help. Their large, soft, dark eyes held a world full of torment, and they beat their wings frantically, hovering, sending messages that the Entity could understand all too clearly: Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, and we do not know how to stop it. Help us. Save us. Save this place.

  It sent back thoughts as full of love as it could manage as it gathered up the dark matter from their beleaguered bodies. Their little hearts calmed, and they fluttered away, singing joyfully as their bodies were purged of the evil that had been destroying their entire species.

  On to the other beings. It knew their names, too; had known them ere now. They were wise and good, though their fearsome, ursine bodies belied such statements and their minds had been ravaged by dark matter. They would grieve over what they had done, the fear that had wrapped them in its cold cloak and forced them to turn on one another, turn on their greatest friend—

  The Entity felt knowledge surging through it, so powerful it was almost overwhelming. The great ally.

  It had spoken to this being, told him once that he could choose to be the great ally or the great enemy. That he could turn his long life toward helping others instead of imprisoning them, that he could find comfort and richness in his interaction with the Sshoush-shin. And so he had, until the dark matter had come.

  And now, he would again.

  As it had done before, it entered into the very cells of the ancient being who called himself Aren Yashar. It trembled along his nerves, coasted through his veins, planted warm affection in his brain. Once, Aren had demanded love from the Entity it could not give. Now, there was nothing it could not love, and it sent that love to the Rhulani.

  All is not lost. The healing can begin again. You will find that the Sshoush-shin welcome your aid. Forgive them, as I have forgiven you, and you will know love and belonging once more.

  Tall and still handsome, as the Entity remembered, but thin and worn and consumed with fear and hate, Aren Yashar shuddered as he felt the Entity’s healing presence. He fell to his knees, alone in the cave that had become his dwelling place, and gasped. His hands came up to his hearts and pressed hard on his chest, as if he could touch those aches and calm the pain inside them. The Entity tasted the bittersweet joy that flooded him.

  “You,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER

  13

  PERSONAL LOG, STARDATE WHENEVER. I REGRET TO SAY THAT Trima and I have been avoiding one another ever since her confession a couple of nights ago. She’s probably sorry she told me, and I am at a total loss as to what to say or do. I don’t envy her one bit. Her role as Culil would be difficult under any circumstances, and to have obtained it the way she did, and to be what she is—a woman divided—well, all I can say is I’m glad it’s not me.

  Tom realized that the words he had just written were all squiggly. His hand
was shaking. He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue.

  On the other hand, Trima appears to be well, something I most certainly am not. Soliss can’t explain it. It’s nothing I’ve eaten, I don’t think I’ve been bitten by any nasty little insect, and it doesn’t seem to be any one of the eighty-three or so fevers he’s familiar with. I’m tired, and weak. It almost feels as though I’m recovering from an injury or something, like I’ve lost a lot of blood. I’m craving meat on the rarer side these days.

  That was enough. The words were almost too shaky to read, so he abandoned his log for the day. He hated this. He couldn’t contribute any more, and did not want to feel like a charity case. His mind made up, he rose, rather unsteadily, and made his way to Trima’s hut. They had to do something.

  Tentatively, Paris knocked on the door. “Enter,” she called in her cool voice.

  He did so, and gave her a faint smile. Her pale blue brows came together in a frown of concern. “Paris, you do not look at all well.”

  “Yeah, so Soliss tells me. But I can’t stand any more tree-bark tea, so I thought I’d come while away some time with you.”

  She glanced down. She had not risen, but had remained seated on the soft floor cushions. “What is it you require?”

  “A trip home.” He sat down, quickly, before he fell down. “I know you said you don’t like to contact the Alilann frequently, but we both thought they’d have come for me by now.”

  She nodded. “I have received no more messages. I do not understand what’s happening.”

  Tom thought he might. Contrary to what he had just said, he asked for a cup of tea before he began. He’d need it to keep his throat wet through what was certain to be a long story. He took a sip, and then began. He told Trima everything, from Telek R’Mor’s unexpected contacting of the ship to the discovery of the dreadful nature of the mutated dark matter to his arrival in this place. Her eyes widened when he mentioned Khala, but she remained silent until he had finished.

  “I think that may be what’s wrong with me,” he said at last, draining his cup. “I think your planet has dark matter in it somewhere and it’s starting to affect me. It may have already affected your contact people.”