by Various
“General Shran,” Hoshi said, offering a polite nod.
Thy’lek Shran bowed at the waist, his hands locked at his sides. “Your Majesty,” he said. “I bring you greetings on behalf of the people of Andoria.” As he straightened his posture, Shran indicated his two escorts and the containers they carried. “I also wish to present to you gifts which are but a taste of the spoils collected from our recent occupation of the planet Beta III.” Shaking his head, the general released a sigh. “It is almost criminally inappropriate to call it a conquest, given their utter lack of resistance. They are little more than sheep.”
Hoshi waved in the direction of the general’s party, dismissing them and their gifts. As the other guard removed the Andorians, she turned to Shran. “General, walk with me.”
The Empress and the general made their way toward the narrow wooden bridge leading from the palace out into the gardens, with Carpenter following but maintaining a discreet distance to afford them some privacy. Hoshi walked slowly, her arms folded across her chest, saying nothing as they crossed the footbridge and entered the inner perimeter of the oikeniwa.
“Leadership suits you, Your Majesty,” Shran said after a moment. “You have weathered the obstacles facing you with great poise and dexterity.”
It was a shameless compliment, even by the general’s standards. Shran was being uncharacteristically deferential this morning, and with good reason, Hoshi knew.
“The ease with which you acquired the loyalty of Starfleet and the late Emperor’s followers was simply—”
Maybe I should have him killed and spare myself any more of this.
“General,” Hoshi said. “Shut up.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. “I need your counsel,” Hoshi finally said as they walked together along the narrow path winding through the garden. “This war is deadlocked—we’re making no progress. Starfleet is still recovering from the losses we suffered at Tau Ceti. So far, we’ve been lucky—the rebels seem to be reluctant to launch a major offensive against Earth.”
“I imagine you have the Defiant to thank for that,” Shran replied.
It was true that the rebels—a loosely organized coalition of Vulcans, Andorians, Orions, Tellarites, and several other species conquered by the Empire over the years—had aborted their planned attack on Earth, thanks to the timely arrival of the starship from the future and, incredibly enough, a parallel reality.
The sudden appearance of Defiant in orbit above Earth had been enough to send the rebels scurrying for cover, bolstering the flagging morale of imperial forces. Hoshi knew the effect was only temporary—the rebels would eventually redouble their efforts and launch an all-out offensive. The Empress needed something more than a tactical advantage.
She needed a victory that everyone believed to be inevitable.
To that end, Hoshi had taken steps to ensure that knowledge of Defiant’s true origin in a parallel reality remained suppressed. As far as her subjects were concerned, Defiant was from the future of this universe—a future in which the Empire had not only defeated the rebellion, but thrived well into the next century. In the months since her ascension to the throne, she had used the imperial media to disseminate these revelations of “future history,” allegedly garnered from the vessel’s historical database.
As news spread on every subspace channel, a renewed optimism swept across the imperial territories. Skeptics need look no further than Defiant itself—definitive proof of the Empire’s eventual triumph. Word eventually filtered back through operatives in the field that the rebels, too, were believing the story. Some had already abandoned their cause; many more were considering their options.
She had broken their spirit; now she would crush them.
“The rebels are using the pause to rebuild their forces,” Hoshi said after a moment. “When they strike, we may not be able to drive them off, even with Defiant.”
Shran nodded. “Of course, you have considered a counteroffensive?”
“I can’t order an attack if I don’t know where they’re hiding. We’ve been searching for their fleet for months.” Hoshi could send Defiant and its advanced sensor array to hunt for the rebel fleet, but the moment the starship left orbit, Earth would be open to attack, something she was not prepared to risk—at least, not yet.
“The rebels will not hide forever,” Shran said. “Earth is too tempting a target, even with Defiant as its protector.” He bowed slightly. “How may the Andorian Guard be of service?”
Stopping her leisurely stroll through the oikeniwa, Hoshi turned to face the general. “You could stop supporting the rebels.”
Shran’s shocked expression was almost comical to behold. “Your Majesty, I…”
Hoshi’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Shran. “Elements of the Guard have been providing aid and supplies to resistance cells for months. The rebels would never have been able to acquire seven decommissioned vessels from one of your most well-protected surplus depots without assistance. Those ships—and the tactical assistance you personally provided—may have made the difference in our defeat at Tau Ceti.”
Shran said nothing for several seconds, during which Hoshi heard nothing save the sounds of rippling water and the call of some exotic bird she could not see. Regarding the general, she noted that his expression was no longer that of denial. Instead, Hoshi saw guilt and even a hint of fear in his one good eye. Stepping closer, she folded her arms across her chest. “Save us both the embarrassment of denying any of this, General.” She noticed Carpenter moving up behind Shran, his hand drifting to the handle of the phaser on his belt. A subtle shake of her head halted him in his tracks, but the bodyguard maintained his alert stance behind the Andorian.
To his credit, Shran said, “I will not deny it, Your Majesty, but you must understand that I was acting in defense of my own people. The former Emperor saw Andoria as nothing more than a subject world to be pressed to the ground under his boot. He considered us no better than Orions or Tellarites, despite the fact that we helped build this Empire. Even the Vulcans did not show our level of devotion!”
“Is that your rationale for treason?”
Shran remained silent, and Hoshi caught him glancing over his shoulder to where Carpenter stood at the ready. The general’s body language spoke volumes, as he no doubt considered his chances of overcoming her loyal protector.
“Relax, General,” Hoshi said, amused by his evident anxiety. “I wouldn’t think of ruining our stroll with an execution. You’re more valuable to me alive.” She stabbed a slender finger at his chest. “But don’t think me a fool; your betrayal is not something I’ll forget.”
“I beg forgiveness, Your Majesty,” Shran said meekly. “I will do whatever is necessary to make amends.”
“Good.” Hoshi resumed walking, and the general followed. “If I’m to win this war, I need resources I don’t currently have. Starfleet isn’t ready, which means I must look elsewhere. Pledge the allegiance of the Guard to me. Take command of Starfleet and hunt down the rebels. Help me, and I will reward all of your people.”
Obviously unprepared for the opportunity being laid at his feet, Shran appeared genuinely humbled. “Your Majesty, this is most unexpected. I must confess some confusion. Why would you present such a generous offer after my betrayal?”
“Because history must unfold as it was written—as it will be written.”
She watched as Shran considered her words carefully, his eyes finally widening in realization. “The historical database from Defiant. It foretold your act of mercy….”
“Much more than that,” Hoshi replied as she moved closer to him, her voice barely more than a whisper. “In addition to my lengthy and compassionate reign, there was the rather surprising and intriguing revelation that you and I will marry.”
It required physical effort to maintain her composure as Hoshi watched the color drain from Shran’s face. “Marry?” he repeated.
She nodded.
“And I will bear you a son.”
It was all a lie, of course. Hoshi had no more idea what the future held for Shran than she did for herself. Even the fate of the Andorian in the other universe had not been listed in Defiant’s memory banks, owing to his withdrawal from public life after the end of his military career.
Hoshi pressed her case: “Once we are joined, your people will enjoy rights and privileges so far known only to Terrans. A new order will emerge. Andoria will stand beside Earth as a partner—an equal.”
Shran looked away for several seconds, and Hoshi watched as he considered everything he had heard. He would be a poor tactician if he was not evaluating all possible angles to the proposition she had made.
While she admitted to finding him strangely attractive personally, in reality Shran was a means to an end. A military strategist of unmatched ability, he would not stand by and wait for the inevitable attack as A. G. Robinson seemed prepared to do. Shran would take the fight to the rebels. His influence over the Andorian insurgents would prove invaluable. When they learned of their new status, they would desert in massive numbers, leaving the other rebels no option but surrender.
Returning his gaze to hers, Shran regarded her with a neutral expression. “I honestly do not know what to say, Your Majesty.”
Hoshi was unable to resist the smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “It’s very simple, Shran. You can become my consort and the supreme commander of Starfleet, or be executed for treason.”
A nervous laugh brought a glint even to his lifeless eye. “Your negotiation skills are unrivaled, Empress.” Then, with her trusted bodyguard standing as sole witness, the general stooped to one knee and held out his right hand.
“The people of Andoria would be humbly pleased beyond measure if you joined me in the bond of matrimony.” Hoshi smiled as she felt his hand tighten around hers, seeing both uncertainty and determination in his remaining eye. What the general did here now was for the sake of the Andorian people. His loyalty to the Empire might be suspect, but his fidelity to his home planet was inviolable. It was one of Shran’s greatest strengths.
That devotion would also be his downfall.
2
T he intruders were good. T’Pol did not hear them until an instant before she opened her eyes and saw the lirpa blade in front of her face.
Tossing aside the blanket that insulated her from the desert’s chilly night air, she used it to entangle her assailant’s weapon as she rolled to her left and scrambled to her feet, kicking over the small portable lamp situated between her and Staal. The wavering light illuminated the shadowy figure facing off against her; the man who twirled the lirpa in a circular motion and freed it from the blanket as he raised it for another attack.
In her peripheral vision T’Pol saw Staal facing off against another of the intruders, easily sidestepping his opponent’s attack with a maneuver she recognized from her own defense training. He moved first left then right, catching the other Vulcan with the feint before closing the distance between them. Staal’s right hand found the juncture of the intruder’s neck and shoulder and applied the appropriate pressure, and his attacker fell unconscious to the cave floor.
His companion turned at the sound, giving T’Pol the opening she needed, and she lunged forward. He recovered, swinging the lirpa again, but now she had maneuvered inside the blade’s arc. Grabbing the polished wood of the weapon’s long handle with her left hand, T’Pol lashed out with the heel of her other hand, catching her opponent just beneath his chin. There was a satisfying grunt of surprise and pain and she felt his grip loosen on the lirpa. It was all the advantage T’Pol needed as she reached for the dagger secured to her left hip.
“Kroyka!”
So loud and emphatic was the command, echoing in the narrow confines of the small cave, that T’Pol froze in the act of pulling her dagger from its sheath. Looking toward the source of the directive, she saw that two other intruders—both Vulcans—now flanked Staal, who also had been roused from sleep. Each of the figures wielded what T’Pol recognized as Starfleet-issue phase pistols, no doubt obtained from one of the several arms shipments that Vulcan ships had seized in recent months. One of the figures turned toward her, aiming his weapon at her head.
“Do not move,” a female voice said from somewhere to T’Pol’s left, and she turned to see a Vulcan woman step from the shadows, the dim light from the portable lamp illuminating her figure and her features. Dressed in simple woven clothing that approximated the hues of desert sand, and with the bulk of her dark hair concealed beneath a light-colored tudung, the woman all but melded into the cave’s surrounding rock.
Her eyes narrowing in recognition, T’Pol bowed in greeting to her. “T’Pau.”
The woman nodded. “Indeed. You know who I am?”
“From visual records taken during your tenure as a minister at the sanctuary on P’Jem,” T’Pol replied, her eyes shifting as her original attacker moved into her line of vision, still brandishing his lirpa. The ancient ceremonial weapon seemed like a toy in the muscled Vulcan’s hands.
“You are known to us as well.” T’Pol was surprised to hear the resonant voice of the Vulcan who had attacked her. “Commander T’Pol of the Terran Starfleet. A traitor to her own kind.” His eyes narrowed. “It is no mystery why your mother renounced you.”
“Sevor,” T’Pau said, her tone one of clear warning.
At the mention of her mother, T’Pol took a step forward, only to stop when Sevor lifted his lirpa blade to her throat. Ignoring the obvious threat, she glared at T’Pau. “Where is my mother?”
“T’Les is dead,” T’Pau said simply.
Despite years of training and discipline, T’Pol flinched at the pain as she absorbed the news. It had been several years since she had last seen T’Les, her mother having resigned her position on the faculty of the Vulcan Science Academy and disappearing from public life. T’Les had been an outspoken proponent of the teachings of Surak, a philosopher who had extolled the virtues of peace and harmony not only for Vulcans but also for every other species. The rumors that she had joined the rebellion had been difficult for T’Pol to hear. They also had provided no small measure of difficulty for her as her Starfleet superiors began to question her loyalty. To his credit, Captain Forrest had been one of the few humans who had never doubted her integrity. Nevertheless, the shame over her mother’s actions against the Empire had haunted her for years.
None of that seemed to matter now.
Struggling to maintain her stoic demeanor and ignore the sudden feeling that the walls of the cave were closing in around her, T’Pol asked, “How?”
“She was killed when Starfleet attacked the Zakal Sanctuary,” T’Pau replied. “An entire cell was wiped out, along with a large cache of weapons and supplies. As you can see, we are in constant danger of discovery and execution. We must therefore always be on our guard.”
Raising his lirpa blade once more to her throat, Sevor added, “We know that spies supplied Starfleet with information about the cell’s location, but the identities of the traitors remain a mystery.” T’Pol felt the point of the blade touch her skin as he said, “Perhaps that is no longer the case.”
“Silence,” T’Pau said before ordering Sevor to step back and lower his weapon. Though she spoke in normal tones, there was no mistaking the commanding presence that belied the woman’s petite stature. Whether it was as a once-respected minister or as a resistance leader, T’Pau bore the weight of her responsibilities with an ease normally found in someone of greater age and wisdom.
“How did you find us?” T’Pol asked, keeping her anger at Sevor in check. The Vulcan warrior stood at the edge of her peripheral vision, ready to strike at an instant.
T’Pau did not provide an immediate answer, pausing instead to glance about the interior of the small cave in which T’Pol and Staal had sought temporary respite as night fell. They had chosen this cave because of its small opening, hoping to deter any of the wandering sehlats from venturin
g inside in search of shelter or an easy meal.
Unfortunately, the cave entrance was still large enough to admit other types of predators.
“Your movements have been tracked since your arrival on Vulcan,” T’Pau finally replied. “I almost ordered your execution then, but I decided to wait. Perhaps you were here to meet with other traitors.”
T’Pol did her best to hide her anxiety at this revelation—if T’Pau was being truthful, then it was possible the rebels were already in possession of their shuttlecraft—and the Defiant schematics.
Though it was logical to assume that T’Pau and her resistance cell were hiding somewhere on Vulcan, it had taken months for T’Pol and Staal to transverse the 16.5 light-years in the stolen shuttle. The small vessel was far more advanced than the sub-light shuttlepods carried aboard NX-class battlecruisers, but its maximum velocity was limited to warp four, and that speed could only be sustained for a few days at a time. To complicate matters, the renegades were forced to plot a circuitous course to the 40-Eridani system, in order to avoid imperial patrol routes.
T’Pol believed the shuttlecraft would prove useful in her dealings with the rebels—aside from its miniaturized warp drive, the vessel also contained a cache of personal sidearms. T’Pol had touched down in a canyon on the easternmost side of the Forge—as she had surmised, the geomagnetic instabilities that disabled most forms of technology in this region had no effect whatsoever on the Federation shuttle. Although it was safe from government patrols, she now realized the rebels may have resources of which she has been unaware.
“We were looking for you,” Staal said before T’Pol could offer a reply. “An informant told us that a rebel cell was using the catacombs beneath the T’Karath Sanctuary as a base of operations. We have information of interest to the rebellion.”
Holding his position to her right, the stout end of his lirpa resting on the cave’s dirt floor, Sevor turned to Staal. “You have nothing of value to us, human.”
