“Report,” he said as he moved toward the Klingon.
The security chief shrugged. “He appears disinterested in cooperating, sir.”
From the other side of the room, Simon added, “He did a hell of a number on the computer banks. We can probably reconstruct their research data, but it’ll take time.”
April glared at the Klingon researcher. “Anything you’d like to add?”
The captive snarled in reply. “What more do you need, Earther? We now possess a weapon that will wipe the galaxy clean of your filth.”
Shrugging, April asked, “What good’s a planet that you can’t use? Are you planning to live inside pressure domes or bunkers on every world you conquer? You can’t have an empire if you’re hiding underground everywhere you go.”
“For now, it works well enough!” Gesturing toward the other room with a nod of his head, the Klingon added, “Look at those petaQ, wasting away in their beds. The Penemu’s initial failure has led us to a solution even more desirable than we could imagine. We need not destroy a planet’s atmosphere. With just the right manipulations of the original formula, we can poison it only to the point that it proves deadly to native life.”
April nodded in comprehension. “And leave the planet and its resources relatively intact.”
The Klingon sneered. “It’s only a matter of time before we perfect the process, but even now, the weapon is more than enough to slaughter our enemies. You may well live long enough to see Klingons plant their flag on your homeworld, Earther.”
Waving his hands to indicate the room and the rows of destroyed computer consoles and other support equipment, April said, “But here you are, with all of your newfound knowledge lost.” The Klingon said nothing, holding his gaze without so much as a blink. “Of course, it’s not truly lost, is it?”
Behind him, Simon said, “He wouldn’t sacrifice his research and findings so easily, not without some kind of backup. I’m betting he and the rest of his team have been sending regular reports to his superiors, and wherever they are, that’s where the real weapons research is being performed.”
That was when the Klingon blinked.
April smiled, watching the prisoner squirm—if only slightly—in his seat. “Dr. April, perhaps you can persuade our new friend to pinpoint that location for us?”
Ordering Ryckert and her team to wait outside, Sarah stepped forward. She reached to her belt, the fingers of her right hand playing across the small device that had become one of her favorite toys. “I’ve only just begun to experiment with physiologies that differ greatly from humans,” she said, removing the device from her belt. “Tellarites usually provide excellent baselines when it comes to pain thresholds, but I think a Klingon would be even better.” She leaned closer to the bound prisoner. “It’s not often I encounter Klingons, so I do thank you for this opportunity.” She then placed the appliance to the Klingon’s neck and pressed its activation control.
The response was somewhat surprising to April. An electrical crackle pierced the air, and while the prisoner obviously registered the targeted pain being inflicted by the device Sarah wielded—as evidenced by the flurry of muscle spasms and the way his eyes bulged and how his hands clenched into fists—there was no overt audible concession to the agony he must surely be feeling.
“Where is the weapon being developed?” Sarah asked, her tone neutral, almost relaxed, as she touched a control. April heard the device’s pitch rise in response, doubtless now unleashing an even greater level of discomfort. Despite that and the obvious effect it was having on the Klingon, he remained silent save for dull moans of pain forced between gritted teeth.
Sarah’s brow knitted in confusion. “That’s the agonizer’s highest setting.”
“It’s not working,” April said before turning to Simon. “Check the equipment again. There has to be a record or log of communications. Maybe there’s something that’ll help us find who they’re talking to.”
“Wait,” Sarah said, holding up her free hand. Deactivating her tool of choice—her “agonizer”—she straightened her posture, regarding her subject with something approaching genuine admiration. “I applaud your strength, Klingon. A pity it’s wasted on such an inferior animal.” Glancing over her shoulder, she held up the device. “Obviously, this still requires some fine-tuning to account for more robust humanoids. For now, though, we’ll have to go back to basics.”
With that, she drew her dagger and jammed it to its hilt just below the Klingon’s left knee.
This time, the captive’s response was immediate, as he loosed a howl of shock and distress unlike anything April had ever heard. He could not help wincing himself, feeling his hand moving to the phaser on his belt as the Klingon’s body jerked so violently that it appeared he might break free from his bonds. His anguished cries only intensified as Sarah twisted the knife.
“Sometimes more traditional methods offer the desired results,” she said. Bright pink blood streamed from the wound as, with almost surgical precision, she angled the slim blade upward, its tip exploring beneath the Klingon’s kneecap. When he drew a deep breath in an effort to combat the pain, Sarah reapplied the agonizer to his neck. “Where are your superiors?” When she asked the question this time, her voice was sharp and taut, echoing within the room’s confined space.
Feeling his gorge rising, April shared an uncomfortable glance with Simon. As Sarah turned the embedded blade and the Klingon jerked yet again, the commodore was certain he saw something new in the prisoner’s eyes. His mouth moved, though no words came forth. April rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder; she seemed consumed by her current task. “Sarah! He’s trying to say something.”
Deactivating the agonizer, she pulled away the device, at the same time extracting her dagger from the Klingon’s knee. He groaned in response, flicks of spittle flying from his mouth as he struggled to speak. Finally, he forced out a single word. “H’atoria.”
April looked at Simon, who already was consulting her tricorder. “H’atoria is the Klingon name for the Strelluf star group. It’s only a few hours away at high warp.”
Nodding at the report, April turned his gaze back to the Klingon, who appeared drained from his ordeal. Though all haste in this situation had been necesssary, the commodore wanted to pity the prisoner. They had what they needed now, and he saw no reason to prolong the proceedings any longer. Drawing his phaser, April aimed it at the Klingon and fired, the weapon discharging a harsh blue-white beam that washed over the prisoner, enveloping him in a shroud of energy and ripping his body to atoms that promptly dissolved into oblivion.
“We should take the specimens with us,” Sarah said, wiping her bloodstained dagger with a towel before returning it to the sheath in her boot. “I may be able to glean something from them.”
“There’s nothing here of any use,” April snapped, increasingly irritated at the pleasure his wife was taking in her particular talents. Was he actually taking pity on members of a lesser alien species? He had never cared before, so why now? Could it be fatigue? Had this mission revealed something about her, or perhaps even himself?
Forcing away the troubling thoughts, April returned the phaser to his side and reached for his communicator. “Stand by to return to the ship. We’ll destroy whatever’s left from orbit.”
There still were larger issues that required attention, after all.
Sitting in the center seat, April felt the Constellation drop out of warp drive seconds before his helmsman, Lieutenant Ran Armstrong, turned from the helm.
“We’ve entered the Strelluf star group, sir. Slowing to impulse.”
April nodded at the report. “Where’s Indomitable?”
At the science station, Simon replied, “They should arrive in about fourteen minutes, Commodore.”
“Excellent,” April said, pleased with the progress Captain Stone and her crew had made with repairing their damaged ship even as they coped with following him all over the sector. “Notify them of our status. M
eanwhile, let’s have a look. Full sensor sweep.”
“The planets in this star group are reportedly uninhabited,” Simon said, adjusting the controls on her console before turning her attention to her viewer. “Klingons aren’t exactly known for their subtlety, so finding them won’t be hard, but what do we do after that?”
“I don’t know yet,” April conceded as he rose from his chair and stepped up to join her at her station. “For the moment, all we can do is be prepared.”
The turbolift doors opened to admit Sarah April. “Assault troops are assembled for deployment,” she said, a satisfied grin curling the edges of her mouth. “They’ll be ready for transport within two minutes of your order, Commodore.”
“Thank you,” April said, trying not to dwell on the fact that his wife seemed most pleased to deliver her report.
“Well, that’s what I call being prepared,” Simon said.
April released a tired sigh. “It’d be simpler just to destroy the base,” he said, glancing toward his wife, “but if we’re going to take it, then I’m not leaving anything to chance.”
“We take it, Bob, and then what?” Simon asked.
“Whatever the Empress commands,” replied Sarah.
Simon ignored her. “So, what? We hide it until someone comes to take it from us? Or maybe we start using it?”
“All questions I’ve already asked, Lorna.” Avoiding the eyes of both women, April returned to the command well. “For now, we follow our orders.”
An abrupt beeping sounded from Simon’s console, and she turned to consult her instruments. “Bingo. Sensors are picking up indications of a base on the moon orbiting the fourth planet. I’m also reading high levels of inorganic compounds matching those we found on Donatu V.”
“Life signs?” April asked, already feeling the surge of adrenaline in response to the report and what it meant.
Simon nodded. “Hundreds. Klingon and Penemu. This has to be it.”
Settling into his seat, April said, “Red alert. Armstrong, close to maximum transporter range.” To his communications officer, he said, “Lieutenant Copowycz, notify the assault teams to stand by for beam-down.” It would still take time for Simon to determine the best points for infiltrating the base, but he wanted them to be ready the instant that information was provided.
Another alarm echoed across the bridge, and this time, the large wedge-shaped indicator on the center of the helm and navigation console flashed an angry crimson.
“Our shields just went up, Commodore,” Armstrong called out. “Unidentified vessels on an intercept course.”
“Lorna?” April asked.
Bent once more over her viewer, Simon replied, “Four Klingon light attack cruisers, coming at us at full impulse with weapons hot. Sneaky bastards were hiding beyond the far side of the moon.”
“Stand by for evasive,” April ordered, seconds before something slammed into the Constellation’s shields. Klaxons pierced the air, the overhead lighting flickering in protest as the shields bore the brunt of the attack. Feeling an impact against the back of his chair, April looked up to see Sarah gripping the backrest for support, and he reached to steady her.
“Full power to the shields!” he ordered. “And give me some maneuvering room! Stand by all weapons!”
He felt Sarah’s hand on his arm and turned to see her regarding him. “They know we’re here now. They might try to destroy the weapon and anything else of use. You’ve got to send down the assault teams.”
“No time,” April countered, his attention divided between his wife and the rapidly evolving tactical situation. “Find a seat and hang on. This is going to get bumpy.”
Alarms wailed across Indomitable’s bridge in wholly unnecessary fashion, given that the starship’s entire crew had been at battle stations since well before entering the Strelluf star group.
“Feel free to shut that off,” said Erin Stone, leaning forward in her command chair. “Report.”
“We’re closing to maximum effective weapons range, Captain,” replied Lieutenant Jason McNally from his position at the helm.
On the bridge’s main viewscreen, Stone could just make out the five telltale points of light standing out from the other stars that formed the backdrop for the battle they were approaching. “Give me a tactical plot.”
The image on the viewer shifted to depict a computer-generated schematic. A pale green grid appeared, over which was displayed a large blue circle to represent the barren moon. In proximity to the lone satellite, four red circles—each symbolizing a Klingon attack cruiser—moved around a single green arrowhead, the Constellation. Though the four cruisers were smaller and more maneuverable than their lone opponent, the Constitution-class starship’s weapons were nearly a match for its enemies.
“What’s Constellation’s status?” Stone asked.
From the science station on the bridge’s starboard bulkhead, Lieutenant Kisho Akamatsu replied. “Her shields are down to sixty-five percent, Captain. Aft torpedo launcher appears damaged.” Looking up from his workstation, the science officer added, “Considering the odds, Commodore April’s holding his own.”
“Let’s try to even those odds a bit,” Stone said, before tapping the communications control on the arm of her chair. “Engineering, route all power from nonessential systems to weapons and shields.”
From the intercom bridge speaker came the harried voice of Indomitable’s chief engineer, Commander Leslie Collins. “We’re holding things together down here with spit and prayer, Captain. Main power’s only back to eighty-seven percent.”
“It’ll have to do. Take power from wherever you need it, but keep us in the fight.”
Stone knew that Indomitable, despite the past days of frantic repair work, still had not regained peak operating efficiency, and Commodore April had shown surprising understanding. Rather than execute her for her failure, he instead had ordered her to continue repairs and to follow Constellation at her best possible speed. It had galled Stone to have to accept such a concession from the commodore while he traveled ahead to the Strelluf star group in search of the new Klingon weapon. Now, his generosity had resulted in him venturing alone into a fight when she should have been at his side, earning the trust he had placed in her by giving her command of Indomitable in the first place.
Now’s your chance, Captain.
“Weapons are online, shields at full intensity,” reported her new first officer, Thomas Blair, from where he sat at the engineering station, behind Stone’s left shoulder on the bridge’s upper deck. For just the briefest of moments, Stone thought she could detect anxiety in the just-promoted lieutenant commander, but it passed quickly, if indeed it was there at all. A young officer on the fast track, Blair had—like Stone herself—barely been given the opportunity to adjust to his promotion and change of duties before being thrown headlong into the current situation. Still, he was good at his job and, more important, utterly loyal to Stone, both on and off duty. She could think of no one else she would rather have watching her back as she took command of Indomitable.
Akamatsu suddenly released a triumphant war cry. “One of the Klingon ships has just lost all power!”
“Split screen,” Stone ordered. “Keep the tactical view.” The image on the viewer divided into two sections, adding a display of Constellation and its four adversaries. While three of the attack cruisers bobbed and weaved as they fired, attempting to stay out of reach of the starship’s weapon, the fourth was adrift, all ports and running lights dark. Energy spewed from its port warp nacelle as the cruiser fell away from the battle in a slow arc.
Then a pair of brilliant yellow orbs launched from Constellation, crossing the void between predator and prey to strike the Klingon vessel’s secondary hull. With no shields to protect against the attack, the photon torpedoes punched through the heavy plating before detonating, shredding that section of the cruiser from the inside out. Seconds later, the entire ship disappeared in a massive ball of exploding gases and energy,
flinging debris in all directions. All around her, Stone listened as her bridge crew cheered on the fatal blow Commodore April had dealt their enemy as Constellation changed course, bearing down on its next target.
“Two of the enemy vessels are breaking off,” Akamatsu reported. “Changing course to intercept us.” The science officer’s update was punctuated as Stone saw four new blips on the viewscreen’s tactical plot, the computer’s way of signifying torpedo launches from the oncoming enemy vessels. “Incoming fire!” he called out.
The torpedoes struck seconds later, and though the bulk of their energy was absorbed by Indomitable’s shields, Stone still felt the starship shudder in the face of the assault. Overhead lighting and various display monitors around the bridge flickered as the shield generators called upon more power to reinforce the ship’s defenses.
“Return fire!” she shouted. On the viewscreen, bright orange beams of phaser energy lanced across space, hitting the shields of both approaching vessels. At the helm, McNally pressed the attack, following his initial volley with a quartet of photon torpedoes. Guided by Indomitable’s fire-control computer, the weapons charged after their intended target, also striking the deflector shields protecting the Klingon ships. Seemingly undeterred, the enemy continued to advance, unleashing its own fresh barrage of disruptors and torpedoes. The ship trembled again, more pronounced this time.
Behind her, Blair called out, “Shields at twenty-four percent and dropping. I’m reading power fluctuations in the generators!”
Stone punched the comm switch on her chair. “Engineering! Collins, route all available power to the shields!”
“It’s no good, Captain!” shouted the chief engineer through the speakers. “All our jury-rigging is coming down around our ears. You need to give us some breathing room.”
“We’ll all be breathing vacuum if you don’t keep those shields up!” Severing the connection, Stone rose from her seat, reaching forward to grasp the top of McNally’s chair for support. “Blair,” she called out over her shoulder. “How bad is it?”
Star Trek®: Mirror Universe: Shards and Shadows Page 6
