by Various
“T’Pol!” Hoshi shouted once more. What had she seen in the Vulcan’s eyes? Uncertainty? It was fleeting, but the Empress was sure it had been there.
Think about that for a while, she mused, with only a small amount of bitterness. I’m not going anywhere.
11
I f nothing else, Hoshi decided, the rebels certainly possessed a flair for the dramatic.
The interior of the spacious, drafty subterranean cavern had been reconfigured since her last visit. Gone were most of the cargo containers she remembered being stacked around the chamber. Most of them, along with the makeshift workstations and their pilfered computer and communications equipment, had been moved to the cave’s far wall. There was no sign of the table at which T’Pau and her peers had sat in judgment of her.
Wooden torches were placed around the cavern, the flickering light from their flames reflected by the mineral deposits embedded within the rock walls and ceiling. To her right was a table with four wooden high-backed chairs, and arranged along the wall before the Empress were three rows of tiered bench seating, which appeared to have been constructed from metal plating scrounged from cargo crates or whatever other raw building materials the rebels might have brought with them to this world.
She counted perhaps three dozen individuals—Vulcans, Andorians, Orions, Tellarites, and even a few humans—occupying the stands. Some of the onlookers were talking in low voices among themselves, but most simply sat in silence, regarding her with expressions ranging from irritating indifference to barely disguised disdain to open, unfettered loathing. A railing had been erected in front of the stands, from which hung colorful banners representing Vulcan, Andoria, Tellar, and the Orion colonies. Hoshi noted that the flags bore symbols used by the individual worlds before they had become subjects of the Empire.
Vive la résistance, the Empress mused. Everything in the room, including her, was deliberately staged for visual effect. Hoshi stood atop a metal pallet at the center of the cavern, stationed before the assembled audience. Her improvised dais was ringed by a railing similar to that bordering the viewing stands. While the manacles had been removed from her ankles, those binding her wrists had been further secured to the rail in front of her. She had been allowed to bathe and was once again clothed in the silken robes she had been wearing at the time of her kidnapping. The garments had even been cleaned prior to her receiving them, all so that she might put forth the best possible appearance for the events that would unfold—and be broadcast via subspace throughout the Empire. To her left, a Vulcan female and a Tellarite male had attached a portable subspace transceiver interface to a tripod, aiming it so that its audiovisual receiver pointed toward Hoshi and the table on her right.
“All rise!”
The bellowing command echoed through the cavern, issued by a nondescript Andorian standing at the entrance to the cave and dressed in what the Empress recognized as the black, formfitting uniform of the Andorian Guard. All the conversations taking place in the viewing stands faded into silence as the audience rose to their feet.
The show is about to begin. It was a bitter, sardonic thought that crossed Hoshi’s mind as she turned her head in the direction of the speaker and saw T’Pau, dressed in a traditional light-colored Vulcan meditation robe, enter the chamber. She was followed by the same three rebels who had been with her the last time Hoshi had been brought to this place. Gral, the Tellarite, sported a cleaner version of the dark blue jumpsuit she had seen him wearing earlier, whereas the Orion woman, Navaar, was wrapped in a black gown that hugged every curve of her lean, sultry body. The Andorian, Trev, wore an unembellished sand-colored shift that reminded Hoshi of a poncho one might wear during inclement weather. None of the quartet resembled guerrilla warriors so much as diplomats, though the Empress was well aware of the role they actually would be playing here today.
“Be seated,” T’Pau directed the audience as she and her companions moved behind the wooden table. She remained standing, turning her attention to the subspace transceiver interface. “We offer greetings to the people of the Terran Empire, particularly those of you who are presently involuntary subjects of that corrupt entity. For generations, the Empire has continued to push beyond the confines of its home planet, not for noble purposes such as expanding their knowledge or seeking out other worlds and civilizations which they might befriend.
“Instead, the people of Earth have embarked on a campaign of oppression, enslaving other worlds and subverting populations, resources, and technology for their own ends. This reign of tyranny has gone unchecked for far too long. Today, we will force the Empire to answer for its numerous crimes against sentient life.”
T’Pau stepped around the table, moving to stand next to Hoshi before returning her focus to the subspace transceiver. “I present Empress Sato, your self-appointed ruler. In reality, she is nothing more than a scheming opportunist who rose to power through treachery, greed, and murder, and who now holds on to that authority only through fear and deceit.”
Knowing the camera was on her as well as T’Pau, Hoshi stood straight and still, putting forth every appearance of the calm and control her position demanded while at the same time using all of her willpower to remain silent. How dare they sit in judgment of her? Did they actually think that doing so would bring sympathy to their cause? Even the most obtuse individual would have to see that this trial was to be little more than a circus, a staged entertainment designed to rouse those who already were sympathetic to the rebellion’s cause.
“People of the Empire,” T’Pau continued, “the proceedings will unfold here, with you as witnesses. You will hear the charges leveled against the accused. You will listen to the testimony of learned colleagues who have thrown off the shackles of subjugation and instead pursued a long, arduous path toward regaining their freedom. The accused will be given the opportunity to defend herself and the actions of the Empire she rules. Nothing will be edited, nothing undertaken behind closed doors. Once that has concluded, and if the Empress is found guilty, then you will bear witness as justice is served.”
“Charge number seven: That the Empire deliberately engaged nonmilitary targets on the planet P’Jem, an action resulting in the deaths of four hundred seventy-two civilians.”
Sitting behind the ornate mahogany desk in what until recently had been Empress Sato’s spacious office occupying the topmost floor of the Kyoto palace, General Shran watched the events unfolding on the viewscreen before him with increasing agitation.
“Fools.” The single word was enveloped in bile. He slammed the desk with the palm of his hand, upsetting the crystal sculpture perched near one corner, and he heard it break as it tumbled to the office’s carpeted floor.
Profound apologies, my beloved wife, he mused, frowning at the errant, sarcastic thought.
“Why could they not have simply killed her?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he began to pace the width of the lavish office.
From where he stood near the oval-shaped picture window that overlooked the western perimeter of the oikeniwa encircling the palace, Professor Arik Soong cleared his throat before replying, “I assume that was a rhetorical question, General?”
His eyes narrowing as he turned to regard the professor, Shran said, “Yes, much as if I had asked why you were still alive.” Emitting a disgusted grunt, the general continued his pacing.
“The broadcast is being transmitted throughout the Empire,” Soong said after a moment, his tone more reserved this time. “They’re limiting their transmissions to ten minutes, and resuming them at irregular intervals, as well as scrambling the signal and embedding it within other subspace comm traffic. It’s proving most difficult to trace the broadcast to its source.”
Shran nodded. The so-called trial had paused and resumed in this manner without warning for nearly a day, owing to the frequent interruptions.
Looking down at the data padd he carried in his right hand, the professor continued, “Preliminary reports are already starting to come in from ac
ross the planet. There is much unrest among the people, General.” Aiming the forward edge of the data padd toward the viewscreen, the professor pressed a control and the image shifted to show a series of scenes, all of them depicting crowds of shouting people standing outside the gates or steps of what Shran recognized as imperial military installations here on Earth. Though no violence appeared to be taking place, there was no mistaking the citizens’ growing disapproval.
“Apparently,” Soong continued, “they take issue with their leader being portrayed as a common criminal, particularly when the majority of crimes she’s being charged with were committed in the name of the Empire.” Peering over the rims of his glasses, he added, “The people have embraced the Empress. Unusual thinking, to say the least, considering the anger shown toward her after the rebels’ attacks here.”
Shaking his head, Shran released a tired sigh. The professor was correct in that Hoshi Sato’s brief reign as ruler of the Terran Empire had been relatively bloodless, the murders of her immediate predecessors notwithstanding, of course. She had also eliminated a host of enemies immediately after seizing power, taking such action as a defensive precaution. Otherwise, Sato I had appeared well on her way toward being a truly benevolent ruler once the rebellion was quashed.
It had been a calculated risk on Shran’s part, making it appear as though Hoshi had ordered the shocking attacks—particularly the strike on P’Jem—as retaliation for the assaults on Earth. Though there was a great deal of outrage voiced by the peoples of Earth and Vulcan, much of that indignation was tempered by the “evidence” Shran had presented to support claims that P’Jem was in fact a covert military installation loyal to the resistance. The general knew that such fabrications would never withstand intense scrutiny, but that did not matter. By the time the truth behind the violent actions was revealed, it would be far too late for anyone to do anything about it.
Of course, none of that addressed the more immediate problem.
“I feared something like this might happen,” Shran said as he moved to stand before the office’s picture window. He stared out at the quiet gardens, but the soothing environs did nothing to ease his worries. “From a tactical perspective, it makes perfect sense for the rebels to put her on trial as a shining example of their continued fight against the Empire. It might even suggest that the resistance is gaining ground in the war.” This trial could very well be the impetus needed to bring the rebels out of hiding, their confidence renewed as they set out to achieve more than a simple symbolic victory.
To that end, the general quietly had dispatched the Defiant to search for Sato and the rebels who had taken her. The starship’s advanced sensors were capable of detecting warp emissions and distinguishing between them with greater accuracy than the scanners aboard other Imperial vessels. Admiral Talas had reported a disturbing lack of progress on that front, however, with the Defiant encountering signs of multiple, overlapping warp emissions at the last known location of Sato’s shuttle. Shran agreed with Talas’s theory that the trails had been deliberately left as a means of thwarting the efforts of any pursuing vessels. That presupposed a more thorough knowledge of the starship’s superior technology than would be gained simply through the news reports offered by the Empire.
T’Pol.
It was logical, Shran decided, loath as he was to consider that term. The meddlesome Vulcan had escaped the Defiant months ago, taking with her one of the ship’s shuttlecraft—itself more advanced than anything possessed by the rebels or even the Empire—before disappearing somewhere into deep space. There was no reason to believe that T’Pol had not succeeded in linking up with a resistance cell and offering her knowledge of Defiant as proof of her allegiance to the insurgents’ cause.
One more reason for me to destroy Vulcan at my first opportunity.
“The people are looking to you for answers, General,” Soong said, interrupting Shran’s reverie. Turning away from the window, Shran saw that the professor had changed the image on the viewscreen so that it once again displayed Empress Sato, standing regal and silent as the next in a seemingly unending list of charges continued to be read aloud. A moment later the transmission faded into static, the rebels once again terminating their broadcast.
Stepping forward, the professor removed his glasses and leveled a withering glare at Shran as he pointed toward the screen. “General, with time, the Defiant’s sensors can track that transmission to its source, even with the countermeasures the rebels are employing. The admirals at Starfleet Command are ready to act on your order. Why are we waiting? This trial is an obscenity against the Empire itself. Insolence on any scale cannot be tolerated, but this must be answered with crushing, decisive force.”
“Why, Professor,” the general said, smiling gently as he regarded Soong, “I had no idea you were a man of such patriotism.”
Soong waved a hand before him as though pushing the notion aside. “This has nothing to do with patriotism and everything to do with survival.” Pointing to the screen again, he added, “You heard T’Pau. Sato’s just the first of what they hope will be a long list of trials and public executions. I for one have no desire to stand before a firing squad.”
The smile faded from Shran’s lips. “I could simply kill you now and save you the worry, Professor.”
Before Soong could react to the blunt statement, the general stepped away from the window and moved back behind his desk. “We must act, if only to satisfy the people and prevent full-scale revolution from erupting across the planet.” Thanks to the rebels, he simply had no choice now. Any perceived failure to answer this assault on the Empire or to rescue Sato would turn the upper echelon at Starfleet Command against him. Better to direct their attention, to say nothing of their considerable skill, resources, and mounting lust for vengeance, toward another enemy.
12
T he aroma of lap-wadi incense teased her nostrils, and the flickering of sparse candlelight registered through her eyelids as she sat cross-legged on the floor of her quarters aboard the Ni’Var. T’Pol focused on none of that, instead using the sensory stimulation simply to enhance her mental focus as it allowed her mind to rest, freeing it if only momentarily from the burdens of the past hours. Matters of defensive resources and battle strategy that had consumed her for most of the day were set aside, finally allowing her to relax and benefit from therapeutic meditation.
Despite her best efforts, the same questions and concerns continued to plague her, relentless in their bid for her attention and energy. Even in her subconscious the variables of the strategy she labored to create danced before her mind’s eye, moving and shifting much like the components of a kal-toh match. As she had for the past several days, she struggled to see the order and symmetry of the game pieces, in this case the ships comprising the small rebel fleet tasked with countering any forthcoming Starfleet offensive.
T’Pol had felt the same stresses pressing upon her since learning that T’Pau had chosen her to command the Ni’Var and assigned to her the task of devising a battle plan for defending the resistance cell’s base on Aldus Prime. Now that the insurgents were broadcasting the encrypted and scattered transmission of Empress Sato’s trial, the rebel leader was predicting Starfleet’s eventual discovery of their temporary sanctuary, and wanted a contingency should that event come to pass. Though briefly taken aback at being asked to shoulder the dual responsibilities, T’Pol had accepted both without hesitation. The assignments were an indication of T’Pau’s confidence in her ability, as well as a tremendous gesture of trust on the part of the former minister.
Of course, T’Pol mused, it might all be a ruse on T’Pau’s part—a test of my loyalty.
She knew that T’Pau was aware of her conversation with Hoshi Sato. What the rebel leader did not know was that T’Pol had been forced to admit to herself that there had been some merit in what the exiled Empress had said. Based on the latest reports supplied by rebel operatives within the Empire, General Shran was maneuvering Starfleet and his own fo
rces in a manner consistent with what Sato had described. Was his end game as she had foretold?
Sinking deeper into her meditative trance, T’Pol almost did not hear the pneumatic hiss of her quarters’ door sliding open before her. Irritated at the unexpected interruption, she pulled herself back to full consciousness and opened her eyes to see who had called on her.
“You have arrived ahead of schedule, Staal.”
Was it her imagination, or did her friend actually appear uneasy? Perhaps it was some odd manifestation of his human appearance, which he was forced to keep until such time as he could reach a qualified surgeon who could restore his Vulcan features.
“It was not my intention to disrupt your private meditation,” he said. “I can return at a more appropriate time.”
T’Pol rose to her feet. “Now is acceptable. We still have much work to do with regard to finalizing the battle plan, and your assistance would be most appreciated.” At T’Pau’s request, she had included Staal in the development of the defensive strategy. His contributions had been most helpful, not only with the plan itself but also in how she related to the other members of the resistance cell, particularly the commanders of the other vessels in their small fleet. Working with Staal had helped her build credibility within the cell leadership, and she even allowed herself a minor sense of satisfaction at the progress made to this point.
“Your unique perspective on Starfleet,” Staal said, “as well as the Defiant’s capabilities will almost certainly yield a sound and comprehensive counteroffensive strategy. I am confident that your strategy will serve us adequately.”
It was true that her knowledge of the Defiant’s specifications was unmatched within the resistance—at least, so far as she knew. Thanks to her zealous protection of the technical information she had stolen from the starship, there was no one else better qualified to carry out the task T’Pau had in mind.
