It was not difficult for Wildman to read between the lines of this rehearsed speech. The good news was that the public seemed to accept the precautions and concurrent inconvenience and moved steadily through the transport station without resistance.
Wildman finally found Sharak speaking to a young man in civilian attire who seemed more frustrated than most.
“They say they’ve sent her my messages, but I don’t know,” Wildman overheard as she approached.
Doctor Sharak had to be as alarmed as Wildman was by the situation, but was employing his most compassionate bedside manner with the young man. He interrupted gently to introduce Wildman when she arrived at his side.
“Lieutenant Wildman, this is Mister Herens. He is a student at Aberdeen University and was evacuated from his dorm three days ago. He is most concerned about his twin sister, who had reported to the campus infirmary that day. Apparently she was suffering from a mild cold.”
“Everyone is saying it’s the flu,” Herens interjected. “But I’ve never seen an outbreak of the flu cause anything like this.”
Wildman attempted to smile reassuringly. “The Jendarian flu is a unique strain,” she advised Herens. “It is extremely contagious. Your local public health directors are simply trying to contain it.”
“Is it fatal?” Herens asked.
“Not when treated immediately,” Wildman assured him. “I’m sure your sister will be fine.”
“In the meantime, you should avail yourself of one of the temporary relocation facilities,” Sharak suggested. “If your sister has not arrived for transport in the last three days, it is unlikely she will do so.”
“Those relocation facilities probably have dedicated comm lines with all of the local medical centers,” Wildman added. “They’ll have more information for you than you’ll find here.”
Herens considered both of them dubiously. “You’re both Starfleet. They probably told you to say that.”
“We are Starfleet officers,” Wildman said. “But we came here on personal business and are not working with any of the local authorities. I’m just telling you what I’d tell any friend in your situation.”
Herens nodded, chagrined. “I’m sorry. I’m just so worried about her.”
“I understand,” Sharak said, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Try not to worry.”
“Do they just take anyone at these relocation facilities?” Herens asked.
“Anyone who can prove they reside in the evacuated area. You have your student ID?”
Herens nodded.
Wildman pointed out a nearby lieutenant standing at one of the public information terminals. “He’ll help you,” Wildman suggested.
Once Mister Herens was out of earshot, Wildman pulled Sharak toward the nearest line of those awaiting transport off the planet’s surface. Their eyes held the same fear, but they remained silent until they had returned to the Goldenbird.
“I’ve never heard of the Jendarian flu,” Sharak admitted.
“It’s a lethal strain that was eradicated a hundred years ago,” Wildman reported. “It’s a good cover story, but you and I both know it’s not the truth.”
“No,” Sharak agreed.
The truth was that Ria had a counterpart on Aldebaran who had likely installed within the Benevolent Daughters Hospital a device similar to the one Wildman and Sharak had found on Coridan. Sharak had successfully neutralized it before it could release the catomic plague. The one meant to target the citizens of New Kerinna had likely been detonated without discovery. There was no telling how many people might have suddenly been infected by the plague, but based on the city’s population and the size of the restricted area, casualties were easily going to be numbered in the thousands, if not tens of thousands.
“We’re not going to be able to speak with anyone at that hospital, let alone get access to their patient records,” Wildman noted.
“No.”
“We need a new plan.”
“Yes.”
“Temba. His arms wide,” Wildman said.
Shaka. When the walls fell, Sharak thought.
5
MANTICLE
Inspector Kashyk,” Minister Odala snapped as he aimed his sidearm at Rigger Meeml.
“No one is watching,” Kashyk retorted. “This charade is over.”
Meeml rose to his feet and began to shout something, but the sound was quickly lost in the screech from Kashyk’s weapon. Janeway’s gorge rose as Meeml disintegrated from the center of his body outward, flailing helplessly for the few seconds it took for him to be completely vaporized.
“Franribkesh!” Odala shouted.
Janeway did not understand the word, but its effect on Kashyk was instantaneous. His entire body tensed, his shoulders hunching forward as his weapon fell to the floor. He grabbed the sides of his head with both hands. His face was clenched in a spasm of agony.
“Was that . . .?” Veelo asked of Odala.
“Silence,” Odala ordered.
Kashyk’s breath came in short gasps as he fell to his knees. Lifting his head so that his eyes could meet Odala’s, he begged, “Lsia . . . please . . .”
Pitiless black stones glared back at him.
Kashyk’s chest began to heave. Ragged breaths tried to force their way out of his mouth.
“What have you done?” Janeway demanded.
“Would you have preferred I allowed him to kill you?” Odala asked.
Janeway stepped toward Kashyk and bent low, searching his face. Suddenly his eyes opened, darting about the room, wide with terror. When they found Janeway’s, they settled.
“K . . . Kath . . .” He struggled for every sound.
“Kashyk?” Janeway asked.
“Atwaon,” Odala said.
Kashyk’s eyes closed again, and the tension gripping his body began to dissipate. Veelo and Dhina stepped down from the platform and rushed to his side, helping him to his feet.
He shuddered again. The eyes that found Janeway and moved swiftly back to Odala were filled with rage.
“You dare?” he demanded.
“I gave you that form, Emem,” Odala replied coldly. “Never forget that I can take it from you whenever I wish.”
“She cannot be allowed to live,” he insisted.
Janeway found her voice again and directed it toward Odala. “To whom am I speaking?” she asked.
When Odala did not immediately respond, Janeway said, “Tell me who you are and what you want. Let’s start there.”
“Kill her,” Emem shouted.
Instead, the form of the Voth minister began to shimmer and dissipate. It was replaced by the figure of an extremely tall woman with long black hair wearing a form-fitting ensemble composed of narrow layered strips of reddish-brown leather. Her eyes were dark green. “I am Lsia of the Seriareen,” the woman said in a much warmer and richer voice than the Voth minister’s.
The floor beneath them shuddered.
Lsia pressed a button on the console before her and with Odala’s voice said, “This is Minister Odala. Report.”
No response came, and the ship shook again as the unmistakable pounding of weapons impacting shields sounded around them.
“It sounds like your ship is now under attack,” Janeway said.
“The Confederacy?” Lsia asked.
Janeway shrugged. “I told you that for us to proceed, we had to be honest with one another. I know you tried to disrupt the transmission, but if my people did their job properly, and they usually do, both the Confederacy and the rest of your Kinara heard every word I said and just watched you execute Rigger Meeml.”
“Seal the doors to this chamber,” Lsia ordered Veelo, who moved immediately to obey. To Janeway, she said, “If this ship is destroyed you will die. We will not.”
“The moment I agreed to turn myself over to you, I figured my odds of surviving this were long. On the off chance I miscalculated, tell me why you’ve done this. Tell me what you want, and I will do whatever I ca
n to help you if we all survive the next few minutes.”
The clatter of weapons firing at the chamber door was added to the symphony of regular percussive booms followed by continued bucking of the deck.
Lsia smiled sadly. “Would you believe me if I told you that we just want to go home?”
THIRD CALVERT
Ranking General Mattings usually preferred bloodless victories. Today was an exception to that rule.
His forces had been humiliated by the Kinara. For that, the Kinara must burn. He could not argue with their tactics. Withholding their most powerful vessel, the Scion, until the fight was well under way was a dangerous choice, but it had worked to the Kinara’s advantage.
Once.
Now that the CIF had all the requisite intel at their disposal, grinding the Kinara to dust was a simple matter of the appropriate allocation of resources.
A sight I hunger to see.
As his third detachment moved into formation to attack the Scion, her cannons rotated and opened fire.
On the Manticle.
“Sweet Source at sundown,” Mattings cursed. “JP Mantz, order the second detachment to protect the Manticle. Encrypted transmission to LG Swenn. Destroy the Scion.”
“It looks to me like he’s already trying,” Captain Chakotay noted.
Mattings focused his attention on the quadrant of his screen that showed the third detachment flying close target runs around the Scion like a swarm of gnetz. Her shields had yet to show any weaknesses, but that would change soon enough.
He hoped.
Quadrant one of his display showed the Lightcarrier and Denizen now trading fire with the Turei and Vaadwaur vessels who had departed their post at the Gateway. The latter were about to lose that engagement. The remaining two quadrants showed a flurry of fire between the CIF and the ships flanking the Manticle, and the cordon of vessels surrounding the Federation ships, far from the center of battle.
“General,” a voice called from tactical.
“Report, JC Leveti.”
“The Scion is—”
But before he could finish Mattings watched as the massive Voth ship cleared a path by ramming its way through the CIF line, accelerating as it moved toward the Manticle.
“Order the fourth detachment to take the three unID’d moving on the Manticle’s flank. Send the fifth to help LG Swenn.”
A small explosion along the Manticle’s rear propulsion array caught the general’s eye.
“Captain Chakotay, I swore to rescue your admiral, but she hasn’t made my job any easier.”
“She does that a lot,” Chakotay noted.
As the deck began to vibrate, Mattings instinctively grabbed the edge of his control panel. A sharp crack indicated their shields had just taken a beating, but most of the status bars glowed gold with only a few edging into the orange.
“The Turei and Vaadwaur ships have been destroyed, sir,” Leveti reported.
Mattings watched as five of his finest moved to intercept the Lightcarrier. The Denizen was belching flame from her underbelly, her course erratic.
“The Lightcarrier is trying to flee, sir,” Leveti said.
“Let them go,” Chakotay suggested.
“I don’t think so, Captain,” Mattings replied.
“That was Rigger Meeml’s ship,” Chakotay insisted. “His men just watched him die. The rest of his people should be told what happened here.”
“When his ship never returns home, his family and friends can assume the worst,” Mattings said.
“You don’t know yet how many more ships they might have or who is really controlling them. It looks to me like the original Kinara members are attacking their newest allies, the ones we know were compromised by Meegan. They’re helping you. A gesture of goodwill could go a long way toward making future negotiations easier. They don’t have to be your enemy.”
Mattings sighed. Vengeance was one thing. But Chakotay had a point.
“Let the Lightcarrier go,” Mattings ordered.
“Now, hail the Manticle,” Chakotay offered.
“I don’t want to talk to them,” Mattings replied. “I’ll save their sorry backs for the sake of your admiral, but that’s as much courtesy as I can possibly extend right now.”
“May I?” Chakotay asked.
“It’s your breath to waste, Captain.”
Chakotay looked about the command center of the Calvert. Mattings obliged him by ordering Mantz to contact the Manticle.
“The Gateway has been cleared of enemy ships, General,” Leveti advised. “The Denizen has been destroyed.”
“Have those detachments fall back. What monster forged the alloys of the Scion?” he asked.
“No response from the Manticle,” Mattings heard his communications officer confirm. This didn’t surprise him. Mattings wondered if it surprised Chakotay.
A single Devore vessel was all that remained now of the Kinara, apart from the Scion and Manticle. The space between the two larger ships was filled with two CIF detachments making slow but steady progress. Several weak areas had finally begun to show in the Scion’s shields and his men were exploiting them mercilessly.
“Another direct hit on the Manticle,” Leveti reported. “Her shield strength is below one-half. The other Devore vessel has been destroyed.”
Finally, a huge burst of green flame shot up from the aft section of the Scion.
“It’s about damn time,” Mattings said.
Suddenly, perhaps cognizant of the futility of her efforts, the Scion accelerated, passing the Manticle and clearing a path through her CIF attackers. She seemed to shudder momentarily before engaging her faster-than-light propulsion unit. Her body appeared to elongate before she vanished before the general’s eyes. A number of CIF vessels caught in the resulting shockwave tumbled out of control like falling stars.
“Order the second through fifth detachments to stand down with my gratitude and compliments,” Mattings said. “Order the first to surround the Manticle.”
“General, the Manticle is signaling her surrender and requesting parlay.”
“Tell them to drop whatever is left of their shields, take all of their weapons offline, and prepare to be boarded.” To Chakotay he said, “Let’s go get your admiral.”
MANTICLE
The door was sturdier than it looked. The internal seals Veelo had activated showed no signs of weakening as the sounds of disruptors and pounding continued. Admiral Janeway had moved toward the far side of the platform and taken hold of it as the ship rocked and bucked, tossed about by the waves of enemy fire now loosed upon her.
Lsia remained near her with enviable sea legs. The ship’s motion did not appear to disturb her at all. Emem, Veelo, and Dhina had formed a tight semicircle near the door, their weapons raised, ready to attack the first person to breach the door.
“You said you wished to help us, Admiral,” Lsia said softly. “Is that still true?”
“I suppose it depends on who comes through that door,” Janeway replied. “You led the Devore, the Turei, the Vaadwaur, and the Voth here under false pretenses. You may need to answer to them for that.”
“You understand that we can’t die. They can kill these forms and if they do, we will simply choose others.”
“Solving nothing,” Janeway agreed bitterly.
“You wanted to end this without further bloodshed. This is your chance.”
Janeway looked to the others.
“Hand over your weapons, and I’ll see what I can do,” Janeway said.
Lsia nodded, and moved to collect her companions’ sidearms. Kashyk was the last to surrender his, and did so grudgingly.
“One more question,” Janeway said.
“Yes?”
“You took seven canisters from the Neyser. By my count, four remain. Where are they?”
“Three,” Lsia corrected her. “Sipho, Ruscho, and Phiel remain contained. The fourth, Xolani, was lost when I first attempted to release him. I fear he never survived the tr
ansfer from his last form into containment.”
“Are they on board the Manticle?”
Lsia paused, then said, “I left them on an asteroid.”
“Near New Talax,” Janeway said, smiling faintly in anticipation of her next conversation with Lieutenant Barclay and making a mental note to add a commendation to his file.
“Yes,” Lsia confirmed.
“Take cover,” Janeway suggested as she moved to stand alone directly in front of the door.
• • • • •
Chakotay knew that transport via protector was completely safe. That didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He could only manage to keep his stomach calm as he moved through open space by keeping his eyes focused on his boots and extending his arms out to the sides, allowing his fingers to graze the edges of the wave form that was carrying him.
After a few unsettling minutes of travel, he found himself inside a large shuttlebay. An old acquaintance awaited his party, flanked by four men. It was the first time Chakotay had ever seen any Devore officers unarmed.
General Mattings and six of his security officers were already standing on the deck when Chakotay’s protector released him.
“Commander Chakotay?” the lead Devore officer greeted him.
“It’s captain now, Mister Pratt.”
Pratt was a portly man, well past his prime. He had taken more pleasure than most of his counterparts in petty humiliations during Devore inspections. Chakotay might have relished seeing him like this, his uniform scorched and blood trickling down the side of his face, had he not been conscious of how much now depended upon Pratt’s goodwill.
“Captain,” Pratt said.
“This is Ranking General Mattings of the Confederacy Interstellar Fleet’s Third Calvert. His was one of many ships that just risked themselves to protect the Manticle.”
“I suppose you want our thanks?” Pratt sneered.
“That won’t be necessary,” Mattings replied. “Where is Admiral Janeway?”
“The tribunal chamber was sealed from the inside just after hostilities began. My men are trying to force the door now.”
Atonement Page 8
