Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Raise the Dawn (Star Trek, the Next Generation)

by George III, David R.

  “The Tzenkethi hit us with their plasma cannon,” called out Uteln. The ship shook violently again.

  “Evasive maneuvers,” ordered Rogeiro, and the low-level hum of the impulse drive changed as Sivadeki worked to move the ship. “Return fire, full phasers.”

  “Firing phasers,” said Uteln.

  Rogeiro heard the audible feedback of the tactical station as the security chief defended Robinson. The first officer looked to the main viewscreen, which had changed to display the Tzenkethi starship. Beams of golden fire leaped from the Starfleet vessel and pounded into the marauder. Obviously restored, the enemy vessel’s shields flared, a second skin of bluish light that clung to the easy curves of the ship’s hull.

  The wreckage of Deep Space 9—And of Xhosa, and of any other smashed ships out there, thought Rogeiro—littered the surrounding space, the floating bits of debris reflecting the distant light of B’hava’el, the Bajoran sun. It appeared that most of the other, smaller vessels had withdrawn, though he spied one runabout making a frenzied dash past the Tzenkethi ship, pummeling it with more phaser blasts. The marauder’s just-repaired shields flared repeatedly, and Rogeiro hoped that it would not be long before they failed again.

  A brilliant white bolt shot out from a recessed port on the Tzenkethi vessel, and Rogeiro braced himself for the impact. But on the viewer, the starfield canted dramatically, and the form of the marauder slipped up past the top of the screen and out of sight. Thanks to Sivadeki’s efforts at the conn, the plasma blast did not land.

  But then something else struck Robinson hard. Rogeiro flew backward as the overhead lighting blinked off, and then stayed off. The first officer struck the starboard bulkhead and fell to the deck in a heap, the wind knocked out of him. He struggled to breathe, gasping in the dim illumination thrown off by the bridge consoles.

  “It’s the Breen,” he heard Uteln call out. “They’ve flanked us.”

  Even as Rogeiro gulped for air, he cursed himself for disregarding the Breen ship. Its shields had been down and its hull breached, and even though they’d repaired the latter damage, it should have taken them much longer to restore their defensive screens. But as the old Romulan saying told, Never turn your back on a Breen.

  “Shields down to eighty-seven percent,” Uteln said. He waited a beat, doubtless expecting an order to return fire, but Rogeiro had yet to recover. The pause lasted only an instant before the security chief declared, “Firing phasers on the Breen.”

  Overhead, the emergency lighting finally engaged, bathing the bridge in an eerie red glow. Rogeiro peered toward the main screen in time to see the Breen warship heave into view. Robinson’s phasers lashed at it, several beams striking it in rapid succession along its engine housing. Where the weapons hit, pieces of the Breen ship’s hull broke off, blasted away into space. The damage surprised Rogeiro, and he realized that he saw no flash of defensive screens under attack, that the Breen must not yet have brought their shields back on line.

  How could they fire their weapons, initiate a confrontation with an enemy vessel, without the ability to protect themselves? Rogeiro wondered. What’s so important that they feel compelled to take such a risk? The first officer briefly considered ordering Uteln to cease firing the ship’s phasers, but then the Breen vessel launched bright green pulses of energy into the night. The disruptor bolts slammed into Robinson.

  “Shields down to seventy-one percent,” declared Uteln. “And the Tzenkethi ship is coming back around, weapons hot.”

  Finally able to breathe normally again, Rogeiro rose and raced back to the conn. When he arrived, Sivadeki anticipated his orders. “Evasive action?” she asked.

  “No,” Rogeiro said. “Keep us steady.”

  Robinson quaked again, hard, and Rogeiro had to grip the edge of the conn to keep himself from falling. On the viewscreen, he saw the assault cause the ship’s phasers to swing away from their target, after which Uteln stopped firing altogether. “Evasive now,” he told Sivadeki, and the image of the Breen vessel quickly slid from the viewer as the lieutenant commander veered Robinson away from the enemy ships.

  “Both vessels in pursuit,” Uteln said.

  Good, Rogeiro thought, seeing an opportunity. Slipping past the conn and over to the operations station that sat beside it, the first officer said to Lieutenant Commander Plante, “Show me a tactical plot of our position in relation to the Tzenkethi and the Breen.”

  “Yes, sir,” Plante said, and she worked to give him the information he needed. He looked to the main viewscreen to see a graphic appear there. On it, emblems for the Tzenkethi Coalition and the Breen Confederacy stood in for their respective starships, and the symbol of Starfleet for Robinson. The two enemy vessels followed Robinson in close proximity to each other.

  “Both ships are firing,” said Uteln, just seconds before the combined force of a plasma cannon and disruptor bolts battered Robinson. “Shields down to fifty-three percent,” the security chief called amid the tumult.

  “Uteln,” said Rogeiro, “lock quantum torpedoes on the Tzenkethi ship, phasers on the Breen. Target their engines. Wait for their closest approach.” Then, peering up toward the overhead, Rogeiro said, “Bridge to engineering.”

  “Engineering,” came the immediate response from the ship’s chief engineer. “Relkdahz here.”

  “Commander, we need to reverse the engines hard,” Rogeiro said. “Can the ship take it?”

  “We’ll need to maximize power to the structural integrity field,” said Relkdahz. “Even then, we can’t perform such a maneuver safely more than a couple of times.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Rogeiro said. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. Signal the conn when you’re ready. Bridge out.”

  The ship shook again as it took more weapons fire. “Shields at forty percent,” said Uteln.

  Looking to Sivadeki at the conn, Rogeiro said, “When engineering’s ready, we’re going to reverse thrust. Bring us to a standstill as quickly as possible.” He pointed toward the tactical display on the main viewer. “Move laterally as necessary. I want you to split those two ships out there as they pass us.”

  Sivadeki worked her console. “Preparing for reverse thrust,” she said. “Plotting our position between the Tzenkethi and the Breen.”

  Peering back at Uteln, Rogeiro said, “All applicable phaser banks, all applicable torpedo tubes.”

  Sivadeki looked up from the conn. “Ready here, sir,” she said, just as another set of weapons fire crashed into Robinson. The emergency lighting wavered, went out, came back on.

  “Shields down to thirty-one percent,” said Uteln.

  “Give us a little wiggle,” Rogeiro told Sivadeki. “Don’t make it easy for them, but keep us more or less on a straight course.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sivadeki said.

  Rogeiro glanced up at the tactical plot on the main viewscreen, then looked to Plante and made a slicing motion across his throat. On the viewer, the tactical display vanished, replaced by a spread of stars. The distant points of light wavered as Sivadeki jogged the ship to port and starboard, up and down. A dazzlingly bright plasma bolt streaked past, losing itself somewhere in Bajoran space, but missing Robinson entirely.

  Rogeiro heard Sivadeki’s console emit a tone, and she confirmed what he hoped: “Commander Relkdahz signals that engineering is ready.”

  Rogeiro nodded. “Ready on weapons,” he said.

  “Aye,” said Uteln.

  To Sivadeki, he said, “Full reverse, now.”

  “Initiating full reverse,” Sivadeki said.

  Rogeiro peered at the viewscreen and saw the field of stars steady. Then the tone of the impulse engines changed radically, from a smooth hum to a sound more like metal straining beneath an excessive force. Rogeiro felt the push of his own momentum as the inertial dampers labored to overcome the sudden reversal in thrust.

  Feedback tones from the tactical console heralded the launch of Robinson’s weapons. “Firing,” said Uteln. Just an i
nstant later, the two Typhon Pact vessels hurtled past on the viewscreen, one on either side. Bands of phaser fire extended from Robinson to the Breen warship, and a line of quantum torpedoes to the Tzenkethi marauder.

  Before the two vessels could vanish from sight into the distance, a fiery explosion consumed the Breen ship. He saw Sivadeki quickly raise a clenched fist, understandably satisfied at the vanquishing of a dangerous foe, but Rogeiro took no joy in the deaths of a starship’s entire crew. He’d been left little recourse, though. He’d offered an end to the hostilities he and the Robinson crew had stumbled upon, and so he felt no compunction about fighting for the lives of his own crew. But he didn’t have to like it.

  “The Tzenkethi ship is slowing,” said Uteln. “We might have damaged their engines. Their shields are down again, their weapons are off line, and they appear to be drifting.”

  “All right,” Rogeiro acknowledged. “Then we can go help the Defiant crew.” To Sivadeki, he said, “Set course for the—”

  “Sir,” Uteln interrupted. “The Tzenkethi vessel is headed directly into a severe ion storm. Contact in less than five minutes.”

  Damn, thought Rogeiro. He knew few facts about the Denorios Belt, which covered an orbital ring far out in the Bajoran system, encompassing both Deep Space 9 and the Alpha Quadrant terminus of the wormhole. A plasma field of varying density and dimension, and prone to tachyon eddies, acute neutrino disturbances, and intense ion storms, it posed not merely a hazard to navigation, but a threat to the safety of any ships that passed through it. “How bad is the ion storm?” he asked Uteln.

  “Bad enough that, without shields, the marauder probably won’t make it through intact,” Uteln said.

  “What’s the status of the Defiant?” Rogeiro wanted to know.

  “Scanning,” Uteln said. “Their shields are below fifty percent, but they appear to be fighting the Romulan vessel to a stalemate. The warbird’s shields are down to forty percent.”

  Rogeiro sighed heavily. He wanted to take Robinson to join the Defiant crew’s battle, but the Tzenkethi faced a more imminent threat. Despite their status as enemies of the Federation—something the marauder’s crew had just underscored by their actions in the Bajoran system—Rogeiro could not simply let them die.

  “Prepare to deploy the tractor beam,” the first officer said to Uteln. “Sivadeki, take us to the Tzenkethi.” Rogeiro stepped between the conn and ops stations, then walked over to the command chair. He did not sit, though, but turned and remained standing. “Uteln, open a channel to the Tzenkethi.”

  The tactical station beeped in response to the security chief operating it. “Channel open, sir.”

  “Tzenkethi marauder,” the first officer intoned, “this is Commander Anxo Rogeiro of the Starfleet vessel Robinson.” He waited for a reply.

  “There’s no response,” Uteln said after a few seconds.

  “We know that your engines and shields are off line,” Rogeiro continued, “and that your ship is heading into a significant ion storm. We are approaching to assist. Using a tractor beam, we will halt your momentum toward the storm.” When he heard nothing, he looked back over his shoulder at Uteln.

  “Still nothing,” said the security chief.

  “All right, close the channel,” Rogeiro said. Frustrated, he raised his hands to his hips and peered at the main viewscreen. “You don’t want to talk to us, and just a few minutes ago, you tried to blast us out of the sky, but we’re going to save your lives anyway.” He saw Lieutenant Commander Plante glance over at him from ops, and he offered her a shrug. “That’s why we’re the good guys,” he said. Plante smiled, then turned her attention back to her station. Rogeiro stared at the image of empty space on the viewer, until at last a distant shape became visible. He watched as it grew in size, resolving into the elegant, teardrop-shaped form of the marauder.

  “Status of the Tzenkethi vessel,” Rogeiro said.

  “Their weapons, shields, and drive remain off line,” said Uteln. “They are continuing to drift toward the ion storm.”

  “All right, let’s try this again,” Rogeiro said. “Hail them.”

  “Hailing them, sir,” said Uteln.

  Seconds passed. “Nothing?” Rogeiro asked.

  “No, sir.”

  The first officer shook his head. “Let’s get this over with, then,” he said. “Lieutenant Commander Sivadeki, bring us to within range of our tractor beam.”

  “Reducing speed to match that of the marauder,” Sivadeki responded. “Employing thrusters to move us into position.”

  The great silver ship grew to fill the main viewer. Rogeiro saw several black scars blemishing its surface, and a run of ragged metal around the port housing one of its plasma cannon. Up close, essentially in repose, the vessel looked like a piece of abstract art, laid out on black velvet, awaiting restoration.

  “Mister Uteln,” Rogeiro said, “engage the tractor—”

  Robinson trembled. A curtain of translucent white light shimmered across the main viewscreen, partially obscuring the image of the Tzenkethi starship. Rogeiro understood the situation even before Uteln reported on it.

  “They’ve deployed their own tractor beam,” the security chief said.

  “Sivadeki, full reverse, now!” Rogeiro yelled.

  The sound of the impulse engines rose, suffusing the bridge. The hum quickly increased in pitch as Robinson struggled to free itself from the clutches of the marauder. Rogeiro hoped that the Tzenkethi crew sought only to alter their trajectory toward the ion storm, but he didn’t trust them.

  As if to confirm his suspicion, he saw the marauder start to move. It spun around on its minor axis, the tapering tip of the vessel coming up and over at great speed. “Fire phasers!” he called out, but too late.

  With a roaring sound unimaginably loud, the tail end of the Tzenkethi starship crashed down on Robinson.

  We failed spectacularly, thought Commander Orventa T’Jul.

  On the bridge of the Romulan vessel Eletrix, from the command chair, she gazed at the main viewer, at the bright veins of directed energy that seared through nearby space, at the blaze of disruptor bolts and quantum torpedoes seeking—and often finding—targets. The background patterns of stars swung to and fro, upward and downward, reeling at a dizzying pace as her crew fought both for their lives and for the security of the Empire. T’Jul continued to issue orders in the ongoing battle, though she no longer credited even the possibility of achieving true success in their mission.

  No, not their mission, T’Jul thought. My mission.

  Except that her orders had not originated with any of the admirals in her direct chain of command, had not been issued by Fleet Admiral Devix, had not even passed to her from some political leader. No, she thought bitterly. Tomalak brought us to this point.

  The former proconsul to Praetors Kamemor and Tal’Aura, Tomalak had before those appointments spent a lifetime crawling slowly up through the ranks of the Romulan Imperial Fleet, his ultimate military achievement less a product of superior ability, she believed, than of simple endurance. He had arrived aboard Eletrix as the Romulan liaison for the joint mission with the Federation vessel Enterprise, to aid in communication between the two crews. But Tomalak had brought with him another mission, ostensibly originating with Admiral Vellon, a known puppet of the Tal Shiar.

  On the viewer, T’Jul saw a streak of blue-white light an instant before another quantum torpedo detonated against Eletrix’s shields. The ship jolted beneath the attack, and the commander knew that time was growing short. Working on weapons and defense, her executive officer, Subcommander Venalur Atreev, provided a temporary fix of the ship’s defensive screens, which had dipped below thirty percent. T’Jul heard the sound of disruptor bolts launching, even as the image of the stars on the viewscreen rotated rapidly, Lieutenant Torlanta laboring hard to evade the bantam Starfleet vessel that had unmasked Eletrix as it emerged into the Alpha Quadrant from the wormhole.

  The burden of T’Jul’s failure seem
ed to envelop her. Tomalak had presented the mission to her as a mere possibility, a secondary plan intended only as a backup should the crew of Ren Fejin require assistance. The Breen cargo ship had entered the Gamma Quadrant as part of the opening of Typhon Pact and Khitomer Accords borders to civilian space travel. A Breen engineer had developed a means of converting existing Pact starships to use quantum slipstream drive, but to accomplish that important goal, he required specific equipment that could be found only within the Dominion. The crew of Ren Fejin had successfully infiltrated the Changeling-controlled territory and located that equipment, but the machinery’s considerable size necessitated a much larger ship to transport it.

  Employing materials left throughout the Gamma Quadrant by other civilian Pact vessels, T’Jul and her crew had counterfeited the destruction of their ship, then had traveled to the Dominion to take possession of the equipment. As added layers of protection for Eletrix and its precious cargo, an operative had planted bombs aboard DS9, and two cloaked Pact starships had stood guard within the Bajoran system. But the plan had called for the sabotage of the space station and the military support of the Breen and Tzenkethi vessels only if absolutely necessary to secure the safe passage of the Dominion equipment. In the best-case scenario, Eletrix would have simply slipped through the wormhole and out of Federation space cloaked and undetected.

  Instead, the worst happened, thought T’Jul, though less with bitterness than with a sense of resignation. Eletrix had been exposed as soon as it had entered the Alpha Quadrant from the wormhole. Deep Space 9 had been incapacitated, but not before it had engaged the Breen and Tzenkethi starships, which had ended up providing virtually no help whatsoever to T’Jul and her crew. The space station had ultimately been destroyed, further ensuring the disastrous nature of the entire incident, which would doubtless have interstellar repercussions. After such actions by Typhon Pact ships, could a declaration of war by the Khitomer Accords powers be far behind? And with the Federation’s military advantage of the slipstream drive, what hope could there be for the Romulan Star Empire in such a war?