by David Mack
For all the times that being the first officer to the Grand Admiral of Starfleet had been a boon to Takeshewada, moments such as these made the job a horror. Being the one to inform him that his son, Will, had been slain—cut down by Admiral Spock’s loyal Vulcan operatives—marked a low point in her military career. Now she had the unpleasant task of delivering a second piece of news to the grand admiral.
“There’s one more thing, sir.”
His face was scrunched from his efforts to muzzle his grief and fury. Through clenched teeth he replied, “What is it?”
She cast her eyes downward. “The Empress commands you to make contact with her at once.”
An angry, bitter chuckle rumbled inside Decker’s throat. “Of course she does.”
Takeshewada pointed toward the door. “Should I … ?”
“No,” Decker said. “Stay. I want you to hear this. So you can be glad you’ll never have to deal with it.”
Intensive training over the past few years had enabled Takeshewada to suppress any reaction to Decker’s almost-reflexive insults. At first, his mocking reminders that her career would never advance beyond its current position had grated sorely on her nerves. It was well known that the monarchs of the Sato dynasty had refused for more than a century to grant female officers the rank of admiral. A lucky few made captain, but such an honor was rare and usually restricted to noncombat vessels—in other words, to ships of little value to the Empire. Takeshewada’s own aspirations had never been a secret, and as a result she had endured continual mockery by her peers and shipmates for more than two decades.
With the help of Sontor, she had learned how to suppress her emotional reactions to Decker’s taunts. No longer did a snarl twist her lip or a grimace crease the corner of her mouth. Her eyes didn’t narrow, nor did her face flush with anger when he hurled another of his unthinking japes in her direction.
He powered up the private viewscreen on his desk. “Computer,” he said. “Establish a secure, real-time communication channel to Empress Sato on Earth.”
“Working,” said the computer’s masculine, synthetic voice.
Decker took a few deep breaths while he waited for the channel to open on his screen. He had just composed himself into a semblance of his normally grim, imposing visage when the face of Empress Hoshi Sato III appeared on the viewscreen.
“Grand Admiral Decker.” She sounded almost amused. “It’s my understanding that the trap you set on Deneva was unsuccessful.”
He bowed his head like a common supplicant to the throne. “Yes, Your Majesty. Admiral Spock anticipated the ambush.”
“I warned you not to underestimate him,” Sato said. “His promotion of compromise and nonviolence might seem irrational, but I am beginning to comprehend a method to his madness.”
Vengeful wrath usurped Decker’s demeanor. “He’s just a man, Your Majesty. And I’m going to kill him.”
Her voice was hard and unyielding. “You will kill him, Admiral, but you will do so because I order it, not for your personal satisfaction.” She waited until he bowed his head before she continued. “And he’s more than just a man. For dissidents and malcontents throughout the Empire, he has become a symbol. The longer he remains free to promote his agenda, the more allies he attracts. He enjoys an unprecedented level of popularity among civilians, and my sources warn me that more than half of Starfleet is prepared to follow his banner.”
“Any who follow him are traitors,” Decker declared. “Any crew that mutinies will be put to death.”
“Really?” The Empress tilted her head, again with an intimation of mockery. “You were incapable of killing one man, but you’re prepared to declare war on half your own fleet?”
“Ambushing Spock is extremely difficult, Your Majesty,” Decker said. “After today, he’ll be even more cautious. It’ll take time to prepare another trap.”
Her tone became one of dark menace. “We’re long past the time for clever ploys, Admiral. Spock is poised to launch a coup for control of Starfleet. He must be put down immediately. Assemble a fleet and destroy the Enterprise. Act with extreme prejudice; kill Admiral Spock. Is that understood?”
“Explicitly,” Decker said.
As she closed the channel, she said simply, “Good hunting.”
Decker deactivated the viewscreen and turned his chair to face Takeshewada. He was so alive with purpose that he looked reborn. “Commander, send on a secure channel to all confirmed-loyal ships, ‘Rendezvous at Terra Nova, await further orders.’ And start running battle drills.” He stood and straightened his posture into one of defiant pride. “When we catch up to Enterprise, I want to be ready to blast her to kingdom come.”
A soft hum coursed through the deck of Enterprise’s bridge. The ship was cruising at warp six toward Xyrillia, having made an unharried departure from Deneva. By now, word had certainly reached Starfleet Command regarding the outcome of Grand Admiral Decker’s trap and the fate of his son. Though it was possible Matt Decker and the Empress might choose to regroup following such a setback, Spock doubted they would afford him or his crew such a reprieve.
Spock leaned forward in the center seat while reviewing a short list of candidates to succeed the late Will Decker as first officer. He had narrowed the roster to three names since his last cup of tea, and much careful consideration now reduced it to two: either Lieutenant Commander Winston Kyle or Lieutenant Commander Kevin Riley.
He looked up from the data slate in his hand and focused his eyes on points at different distances around the bridge, as a relaxing exercise for his fatigued ocular muscles.
As his gaze passed the communications station, Lieutenant Elizabeth Palmer turned toward him. “Admiral,” she said. “I’m picking up encrypted signal traffic on multiple Starfleet channels. None of the regular decryption protocols are working.” She thought for half a second, then added, “It appears the message is intended for all Starfleet ships except us, sir.”
Turning toward the opposite side of the bridge, Spock looked to his science officer. “Lieutenant Xon, tie in to Lieutenant Palmer’s station and help her decrypt the signal from Starfleet.”
“Aye, sir,” Xon replied.
Tense minutes passed while Xon and Palmer worked to decipher the fleet’s urgent communiqués. Finally, Xon moved away from his station and stepped down from the upper level to stand beside Spock’s chair. He spoke softly. “Admiral, we have decrypted the signals. The message is audio only, and is available for your review at my station.”
In a normal speaking voice, Spock said, “Put it on the speaker, Lieutenant.”
Xon remained calm, replied simply, “Aye, sir,” and returned to his post. From there, he relayed the message to the bridge’s main overhead speaker. A recorded male voice spoke calmly and plainly. “Attention all Starfleet ships, this is a direct order from Grand Admiral Matt Decker, commanding the fleet from aboard the Starship Constellation. All vessels in sectors one through seven are to rendezvous at once in the Terra Nova system. Under no circumstances is any vessel to exchange communications with the Starship Enterprise. This is an imperial directive issued by Empress Sato III. Further orders will be forthcoming at the rendezvous. Constellation out.”
Spock arched one eyebrow with curiosity at this turn of events. Glancing to his right, he saw his expression mirrored on Xon’s young, clean-shaven face. Nervous looks were volleyed between the non-Vulcans on the bridge. Before idle speculation could take root, Spock seized the initiative. “Helm. Increase speed to warp nine, and set course for Terra Nova.”
Ensign Saavik began punching in the coordinates for the course change. Then she paused and turned to face Spock. “Admiral, please confirm: You wish to rendezvous with Grand Admiral Decker’s attack fleet?”
“Affirmative, Ensign,” Spock said.
Even Xon seemed perplexed by Spock’s order. “Sir, the fact that Grand Admiral Decker excluded us from the initial transmission, and barred the rest of the fleet from communicating with us, would seem
to suggest—”
“I am well aware of what it suggests, Lieutenant. Grand Admiral Decker has been ordered to destroy this ship. First, however, he hopes to intimidate us into retreat, so that he may frame the conflict as one of loyal soldiers versus deserters.” Folding his hands against his chest, Spock finished, “I will force him to accept a different narrative—one of my choosing.”
Saavik continued to press the debate. “Admiral, would it not be prudent to seek reinforcements before confronting an entire fleet of hostile ships? As the ancient Terrans might have said, ‘Discretion is the better part of valor.’ ”
“True enough, Ensign. But the ancient Terrans were also fond of a different maxim: ‘Fortune favors the bold.’ … Set course for Terra Nova and increase speed to warp factor nine.”
Enterprise was still more than a light-year from the outer boundary of the Terra Nova system when Grand Admiral Decker’s attack fleet intercepted it. Ten minutes after Spock’s ship had registered on the Constellation’s sensors, it was met and surrounded, all without a shot being fired. Enterprise didn’t attempt a single evasive maneuver. Every scan Decker’s crew performed showed Enterprise’s shields were down, and its weapons were not charged. The only thing postponing Decker’s order for its immediate destruction was the signal of surrender transmitted by Admiral Spock himself, along with a formal request for parley.
Decker didn’t like this at all. It smelled like a trap.
Lieutenant Ponor, the communications officer, looked up to report, “I have Admiral Spock on channel one, sir.”
“On-screen,” Decker snapped. The main viewer wavered and rippled for a moment, then the visage of Admiral Spock appeared, larger than life. Decker scowled at the Vulcan. “Admiral Spock, by the authority of Empress Sato III, I order you to surrender your command and relinquish control of your vessel.”
“I have already surrendered,” Spock replied. “Forcing you to destroy the Enterprise would serve no purpose when it can still be of service to the Empire.”
If Spock had a strategy here, Decker wasn’t seeing it. “Very well,” Decker said. “Prepare to be boarded.”
“Hardly necessary,” Spock said. “I am prepared to allow myself to be transported to your ship.”
It took a moment for Decker to formulate his response. “Who said any of this is up to you? You’re in no position to—”
“I merely suggest,” Spock interrupted, “the most logical and least time-consuming alternative.”
Decker was on the edge of his chair, tensed to spring to his feet at the slightest provocation. “You’re not dictating the terms here, you Vulcan sonofabitch.”
“My apologies, Grand Admiral,” Spock said, lowering his head slightly. “Do you wish to accept my surrender in person?”
“What?” He didn’t know why Spock even had to ask. The protocol for a formal surrender demanded Decker receive it face-to-face. “Yes, of course.”
“Shall I arrange to have myself transported into custody aboard your vessel?”
Only then did Decker realize what Spock was doing. Though Spock had framed his statements as interrogatives, he still was directing the process of the surrender, usurping Decker’s authority. “A security detail from my ship will beam aboard your vessel immediately,” he said, then continued quickly to keep Spock quiet. “If they meet with any resistance, Admiral Spock—any resistance whatsoever—I will not hesitate to destroy your ship and its crew. My guards will escort you back here, to my bridge, where I will accept your surrender and pass sentence for your treason against Empress Sato III. Decker out.” He made a slashing motion in Ponor’s direction, and the communications officer closed the channel before Spock could sneak in another word.
Commander Takeshewada stepped down from one of the aft consoles and stood beside Decker’s chair. “The boarding party has just beamed over, sir,” she said. “They’ll notify us the moment they have Admiral Spock in custody.”
“Good,” Decker said. “Have extra security guards meet them in the transporter room when they get back. Don’t take any chances with Spock.” He heaved a tired sigh. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
As Spock had pledged, no member of his crew interfered with Constellation’s boarding party, and he gave no resistance when the six-man team placed him under arrest and ushered him at phaser point off the bridge of the Enterprise.
Now they were aboard the Constellation, Grand Admiral Decker’s flagship, crowded together in the turbolift. Deck after deck blurred past as they ascended toward the bridge.
The doors opened with a gasp and swish, and the soft chirps and hums of the bridge, all but identical to those aboard Enterprise, washed over Spock as he was prodded forward out of the turbolift. Constellation was a refit Constitution-class vessel just like the Enterprise, and only a handful of tiny differences in console layout distinguished the two ships’ command centers.
On the main viewer was the image of Empress Sato III. A string of symbols along the bottom edge of the screen informed Spock this was a two-way transmission being broadcast in real time on an open subspace frequency.
Decker stood beside his chair, facing the turbolift, as Spock and the security detail filed out. The bridge officers also stood, each next to his or her station, observing Spock as he was led in and guided to within a meter of Decker. When the procession came to a stop, boot heels clapped together as the guards snapped to attention and thrust out their arms in salute to the grand admiral. Spock saluted him, more out of respect for the rank than for the man. While keeping eye contact with Spock, Decker returned the salute to one and all.
Hands pressed down roughly on Spock’s shoulders. “Kneel,” said one of his guards. He was forced to his knees in front of Decker, who glared fiercely down at him.
“You killed my son,” Decker said.
Raising one eyebrow, Spock replied, “No, sir. My operatives slew your son. I merely sanctioned it.”
“Spare me your Vulcan semantics,” Decker said. “You ordered it. You’re responsible. Hand me your agonizer, Admiral.”
Spock calmly answered, “I no longer carry it. Nor does any member of my crew.”
“That’s a court-martial offense,” Decker said.
Unfazed, Spock said, “If you wish to convene a court-martial, I am more than willing to defend my decision.”
Decker practically quaked with rage. “I’ve heard enough,” he said, his disgust evident. “Admiral Spock, I order you, as a Starfleet officer and subject of the Terran Empire, to profess your loyalty to Empress Sato III before you are put to death, so that you may die with some measure of honor.”
Speaking boldly for the benefit of those watching via the subspace channel, Spock answered, “I pledge my loyalty and my life to the Empire.” He noticed, at the edge of his vision, the Empress on the viewscreen casting a poisonous glare at Decker. He waited for Decker’s reaction. It took only a moment.
“I ordered you to pledge your loyalty to the Empress Sato III,” Decker snapped.
“The Empress and the Empire are one,” Spock said. “Fealty to one is fealty to both. It is a founding principle of the Empire.”
Decker sneered. “Do you really think this grandstanding will delay your execution, Spock?”
“I think,” Spock said, “this will all be over in a few moments.”
A screech of phasers, flashes of light, and agonized cries filled the bridge of the Constellation. The security detail surrounding Spock dropped to the deck, shot dead. Spock, already aware of what was happening, stayed where he was. Decker cringed, looked around in a sudden panic—and watched his bridge officers act in concert to ambush the security team.
It was a mutiny.
Decker backed away from Spock. The voice of his first officer stopped him. “That’s far enough, Decker.”
The grand admiral turned and faced Commander Takeshewada, whom Spock had cultivated as an ally through his operative Sontor. Her resentment at the suppression of her potential had made he
r a prime candidate for a revolt against the status quo, and her access to information as Decker’s first officer had provided Spock’s people with critical intelligence—such as the means to break the Constellation’s latest encryption codes.
Trapped between Takeshewada and Spock, Decker started to lose his stature. He was cowering. “What are you doing, Hiromi?”
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”
The grand admiral turned away from his first officer to find Spock standing tall, surrounded by the charred corpses of the fallen and gazing down upon him. Mustering the timbre of authority in his rich baritone, Spock declared, “You are relieved, sir.”
All at once Decker understood what was transpiring, and he straightened himself to a pose of dignity and defiance. Looking Spock in the eye, he answered, “The hell I—”
Takeshewada fired and burned a hole halfway through Decker’s back. He convulsed and twitched grotesquely as he fell facedown at Spock’s feet.
