30
HRANRAR
Christine Vale experienced a sensation of intense relief as she looked up at the fireworks display that lit up the Hranrarii firmament, covering nearly half the sky.
“It’s beautiful,” said Deanna Troi, who stood to Vale’s immediate left on the rooftop meadow amid the loose cluster of craned necks that was the rest of the away team.
To Vale’s right, Sethne Naq, Speaker for the Great Syndic of the Global Moeity of Hranrar, stood every bit as spellbound as everybody else present, including her ever-present retinue of attendants; Vale stole a glance directly at the speaker, whose huge, golden amphibian’s eyes were locked on the spectacular tableau unfolding overhead.
“Something tells me this thing is done threatening your world,” Vale said at a decibel-level just short of her “XO shout” to ensure that the speaker could hear her.
“Creation and destruction, all one thing,” Sethne Naq said reverently, as though quoting some revered work of Hranrarii literature, or perhaps a sacred text.
“Here’s to hoping we can all concentrate more on creation than destruction from here on in,” said Vale as a terrible thought occurred to her—a vision of Titan making a last, desperate ramming flight as the only way to save the lives of millions. Quickly approaching the upward-gazing Troi, she said, “Please tell me Will wasn’t forced to light that candle the hard way.”
The senior counselor tipped her head slightly to one side, as though straining her ears to hear distant voices. The look of awe she had displayed while gazing up into the luminescent sky gave way to a poker face borne of concentration.
Then her mouth slowly spread itself into a beatific smile. “I can feel Natasha. And Will.”
Vale was having a hard time sharing completely in the other woman’s joy. That might just mean they were lucky enough to make it to the escape pods.
“I sense tension, recently released,” Troi continued. “Great relief, as from a crisis just passed.”
“Titan is safe,” Vale said with a sigh.
“Yes. But I sense Will is still worried.”
Vale grinned. “He’s the captain. It’s his job to worry. Besides, who can blame him? The last time I checked, the sky was crawling with Gorn, and a Typhon Pact fleet was on its way.”
At that moment, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Vale turned and saw that Ensigns Modan and Evesh were pointing to a location directly behind her.
Turning completely about, Vale found herself standing almost nose-to-nose with Sethne Naq.
“Honored Speaker,” she said, bowing her head momentarily after suppressing an absurd urge to curtsy.
“I assume you will wish to leave us now,” the speaker said.
Vale nodded. “We will need to get back to our ship as quickly as possible. Enemies of ours are on their way to this system.”
The speaker’s eyes widened in apparent alarm. “Do they pose a danger to Hranrar?”
“With the destruction of the . . . artifact,” Troi said, gesturing toward the still-expanding fireball overhead, “they would have to resort to far more laborious means. If they don’t think we are hiding among you, they will have no reason to move against you.”
“Besides,” Vale said, “with your technological capabilities, you don’t have to let anybody else impose their will on you.”
The speaker’s eyes now seemed to radiate a deep sadness. “We Hranrarii have not employed war-violence for eons, since our recorded history began. How tragic that our first acquaintance with extra-Hranrarii life should also reacquaint us with bloodshed. Our forebears were wise to keep us isolated.”
“Judging from the beauty of your cities and the harmony the Hranrarii have forged between your civilization and the natural world, I believe your species values knowledge as much as it values peace,” Troi said. “You can only profit from greater knowledge of the outside universe—even if some of that knowledge proves unpleasant.”
“Perhaps,” Sethne Naq said. “Either way, we appear to have little choice in the matter.”
“When it comes to our adversaries—the Gorn and the other Typhon Pact states—that may be true,” Troi said. “But whether or not Hranrar receives any further visits from the United Federation of Planets is entirely up to you.” “If we requested that you leave, and never return,” the speaker said, “you would honor that?”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Vale said. “One of the items your police force confiscated from us is a portable subspace transceiver.”
“It will be returned to you immediately.”
She momentarily considered asking the speaker to let her keep the data the away team had taken from the global information network, but decided against it. Holding up a hand, she said, “Thank you, Honored Speaker, but no. Please accept the transceiver as a gift. The unit should be powerful enough to reach the nearest Federation subspace relay station.”
Vale paused to look toward Ensign Dakal, who had been listening attentively; the young Cardassian stayed silent as he made a comme-ci comme-ça hand gesture.
“Use the device to call us, Honored Speaker, whenever you feel the time is right for another Federation visit,” Vale said. “We’ll stay away until we hear from you, or one of your successors.”
Sethne Naq, Speaker for the Great Syndic of the Global Moeity of Hranrar, appeared to take her time weighing Vale’s proposal.
“That is acceptable,” the speaker said at length, raising her webbed right hand as though in benediction. “May all of you have gentle winds and sweet water.”
Vale copied the speaker’s gesture as best she could; Troi did so as well, moving with a fluid grace that Vale could only envy.
Tapping her combadge, Vale said, “Away team to Titan.”
“Titan here,” responded a voice that she recognized as belonging to Lieutenant Rager. The standard ship-to-shore channel had already cleared up almost completely, no doubt because of the still-ongoing destruction of the orbiting artifact.
“Hi, Sariel. Seven very tired people would like to beam up now.”
U.S.S. TITAN
It wasn’t until she stepped down from the stage that Vale noticed the personnel change that had occurred behind the control console in transporter room two. Once the away team had mostly departed and the population of the room had declined to a total of three, Vale favored Captain Riker with a wry grin. “We’ve talked about this before, Captain. You’ve really got to learn how to delegate.”
“I missed you, too, Chris,” he said as he glanced toward Troi, who stood beside him behind the console, reflecting and amplifying the relieved grins of both her husband and his executive officer.
Vale was no Betazoid—or even a half-Betazoid—but she could sense how badly the captain and the counselor wanted to be alone together at the moment. Circumstances being what they were, of course, that just wasn’t in the cards.
“Seriously, Will,” Vale said, planting her elbows on the side of the console opposite from him, “unless Captain Krassrr and his fleet have just high-tailed it from the system, don’t you think at least one of us belongs on the bridge right now?”
His expression grew suddenly sober, as did Troi’s. “You’re right, Chris,” he said. “That’s why the bridge is yours until further notice.”
Vale scowled. “Going someplace?”
“Nowhere special,” he said with a nod. “I just have a little meeting coming up with Krassrr aboard his flagship.”
“That’s not very damned funny, Will,” Vale said as she watched Troi’s facial expression take a decidedly unhappy turn. Addressing the counselor, she said, “Wait a minute. He’s not kidding, is he?”
“No, he’s not.” Facing her husband, Troi said, “Are you really sure this is such a good idea?”
“For me, personally?” He shrugged. “Maybe not. On the other hand, I wasn’t in a very good position to refuse. Commander Ra-Havreii is still trying to get the warp drive back online, and we’re outnumbered and outgunned by a terraform
ing fleet that just lost its one chance at terraforming. Titan needs Krassrr’s goodwill.”
“I can’t believe you just used ‘Krassrr’ and ‘goodwill’ in the same sentence,” Vale said, shaking her head.
“Krassrr isn’t Gog’resssh,” Riker said. “Besides, I’m the only one who stands a chance of convincing Krassrr that Brahma-Shiva’s destruction was entirely Gog’resssh’s doing. It’s Titan’s only chance of getting out of this relatively unscathed.”
“As Titan’s senior diplomatic officer, I’ll try not to take that assessment personally,” Troi said, her violet eyes pleading. “But I could go in your place just as easily.”
“She’s right, Captain,” Vale said. Unless you’re experiencing an irresistible impulse to protect your wife from the nasty lizard-people.
The captain was shaking his head as he entered a command into the console, apparently checking a set of preprogrammed coordinates—information that must have been transmitted straight from Krassrr’s lead vessel. Vale noticed only now the dark semicircles of orange-peel flesh beneath his eyes.
“No,” he said, looking at his wife. “You can’t. I’m the one that has to convince Krassrr that Gog’resssh blew up Brahma-Shiva on his own—and that all I did was try to stop him.”
The doors to the transporter room swished open, admitting a pair of Gorn, followed by Lieutenants Qontallium and sh’Aqabaa from security, and Dr. Ree. The larger of the two Gorn Vale recognized immediately as S’syrixx; the smaller one she had never seen before.
“Commander Vale, Commander Troi,” Riker said, “meet Z’shezhira, Mister S’syrixx’s . . . significant other.”
“Hello,” rumbled the lady lizard.
Troi bowed and said something enviably diplomatic.
“Ah. Glad to meet you,” Vale said. She hoped that the biological and cultural gulf that separated them would disguise the awkwardness in her voice; for a fleeting moment, the simultaneous presence of so many reptiloids flashed her back to her early childhood, and her first visit to the reptile house in the New Seattle Zoo back on Izar.
“This is not a good idea, Captain,” said Ree, his forked tongue flicking in and out of his mouth.
“Not you, too,” Riker said. “I’m sorry this makes you uncomfortable, Doctor, but Krassrr made it damned clear that this meeting was anything but optional.”
The CMO slashed a razor-sharp claw through the air, as though waving away the captain’s words. “I understand that, Captain. I am referring to my patient. I don’t think Mister S’syrixx should be leaving sickbay yet.”
“I understand. But Krassrr wasn’t willing to bend on that point, either.”
Riker walked around the console and mounted the steps to the transporter stage, followed by the two Gorn.
Vale circled the console so that she stood beside Troi; they faced the transporter stage together, shoulder to shoulder.
“This might take a little time, Chris,” Riker said. “So I need you to let it take time. Krassrr probably won’t take it very well if you go off half-cocked trying to rescue me if this . . . discussion ends up taking a little longer than you think it should. Keep Titan safe.”
“All right. But I presume the Typhon Pact fleet is still on its way. What if you’re still . . . enjoying Krassrr’s hospitality when they get here?”
He grinned. “I guess that would mean I haven’t done my job very well.” His demeanor once more growing serious as he focused on Vale, he added, “You need to let this thing run its course, Commander. An outside interruption from my own XO at the wrong time can only make things more tense between the Federation and the Gorn Hegemony. Understood?”
Vale frowned. “Understood, Captain.”
“And don’t start measuring my ready room for new carpeting,” he said, his insouciant grin returning. “I expect to be home in time for dinner.”
Nodding, Vale thought, I swear, if you make me cry, I will kick your ass. “Godspeed.”
Riker turned to face the Gorn couple. “You’ll be facing an unserved death sentence, Mister S’syrixx. Krassrr’s ship isn’t exactly a safe place for you. But you’re still under my protection, for whatever that’s worth.”
“Thank you, Rry’kurr. However, Krassrr was emphatic about requiring my presence alongside yours.”
“He tried to execute you once,” Riker said. “What makes you think he won’t try again?”
S’syrixx’s lips parted, displaying a palisade of jagged ivory. “Tie-tan is wounded and surrounded. Why would you believe me to be any safer from death here than in Krassrr’s custody?”
“And where S’syrixx goes, I go,” Z’shezhira said.
Riker nodded. “All right, then.”
Then he turned to face the rear of the transporter stage, per Gorn warrior-caste protocols, as did S’syrixx and Z’shezhira.
“Energize,” he said.
“Wait a minute, Will,” Vale said, her right hand pausing over the slide control’s touch interface. “You still haven’t explained why you are the only one capable of convincing Krassrr that we’ve been the good guys here.”
“The reason,” he said, “is that it isn’t entirely true.”
A little more than two hours had passed since the beam-out. There was nothing to do but wait. And in Vale’s opinion, there was no better place to wait than on Titan’s bridge.
As the XO sat in the command chair, with Counselor Troi seated in her customary place at the big chair’s immediate left, the starship’s nerve center seemed preternaturally quiet. The background susurrus of the various duty stations, the very pulse of the bridge, sounded somehow muted, as though Titan herself were holding her breath until Captain Riker’s safe return.
Vale realized only then that she had been holding her own breath as well.
“He’s off to see the lizard,” she said very quietly, just to break the deafening silence.
“Excuse me?” Troi said.
“I said, ‘What could the captain and Krassrr be doing over there?’” Vale said, her eyes facing front. The main viewer showed Hranrar in all its ringed glory, including the slender new ring that Brahma-Shiva’s explosive death throes had left behind. Also visible were three of Krassrr’s five vessels, the most that could be seen simultaneously from any single vantage point, thanks to their current formation; Krassrr had positioned them around Titan to discourage any escape attempt.
“I don’t yet sense any reason for worry,” Troi said.
Other than the fact that our captain is all alone at the moment among a large number of bloodthirsty, cold-blooded members of the Typhon Pact, thought Vale. And for the second time in the same day, I’m told.
“There’s an inbound Typhon Pact fleet maybe an hour away,” she said. “A little ahead of schedule. I think that’s a damned fine cause for worry.”
Vale’s combadge suddenly sounded, speaking in Commander Ra-Havreii’s voice. “Engine room to Commander Vale.”
“I hope you’re calling with good news, Commander,” Vale said.
“Is a functioning warp drive good enough news for you?”
Vale barely restrained herself from letting fly an exuberant war-whoop. “Ahead of schedule—and ahead of the Typhon Pact fleet to boot. I’m impressed.”
“It’s what I do.”
“If I didn’t know how much it would upset Melora, I’d kiss you right on the mouth. Keep that warp drive warm for me, Xin. We’re gonna need every last millicochrane you can generate, and soon.”
“Understood. Engineering out.”
“That’s certainly a game-changer,” Troi said. “Those Typhon Pact ships won’t be able to catch us.”
“Assuming we don’t cut our departure time too fine—and that we can run broken-field past Krassrr’s squadron without taking any serious damage.”
Lieutenant Lavena turned from her flight-control console so quickly that her hydration suit sloshed audibly. “There’s only five of them. That means I’ll only have to evade maybe two of them in the direction of travel
, and then pour on the speed. Just give the word, Captain, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” Vale said. “Stay ready. And you can call me ‘Commander,’ naval tradition notwithstanding.”
“Aye, Commander,” Lavena said, sounding somewhat abashed.
Vale didn’t consider herself superstitious, but at the moment she had no use for the ancient practice of addressing a ship’s ranking officer as “captain” regardless of that officer’s actual rank; she supposed that on some level she feared “jinxing” Will’s safe return.
“I sense that Will is working very hard to persuade Krassrr on more than one issue,” Troi said. “There’s a lot of general outrage coming from Krassrr and his senior staff over Brahma-Shiva’s destruction, of course. But so far they don’t seem to be directing it against Will—or against Titan.”
Even though Titan seems to have had a wee bit more to do with bringing Brahma-Shiva down than Krassrr knows, Vale thought as she nodded her acknowledgment to Troi.
“And I even sense that Will is gaining some traction in the discussions,” Troi said. “I believe he’s dealing with members of the Gorn legal caste, as well as Krassrr himself.”
Lawyers, Vale thought. Well, that explains a lot.
“I hope you’re right,” she said, wondering if even an empath as gifted as Deanna might be deceived by her own wishful thinking.
Still, judging the Gorn by what she’d seen so far, negotiating with them was akin to haggling with the Grim Reaper. She was unpleasantly aware that Krassrr could be cynically running out the clock until the arrival of the Typhon Pact fleet as a ploy to capture Titan.
Reality struck her like a gut punch: Titan would have to be on its way before that time, whether Riker was back on board by then or not. From the stricken reaction she saw on Troi’s face, the counselor had just done the same math, or was tuned in to Vale’s own emotional reactions.
“Lieutenant Rager, open a channel to the Ssevarrh,” she said.
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Seize the Fire Page 39
