by Various
The Vulcan nodded. “T’Pol.”
“If you are responsible for seeing to Empress Sato’s safety,” he said, the plea spilling from his mouth even as the thoughts took form in his mind, “then your previous crimes might well be forgiven, and you will be amply rewarded for your efforts.”
Her face betraying no hint of emotion, T’Pol replied, “I have been informed that the rewards will be even greater for capturing enemies of the Empire.”
“One could argue that I have acted in the best interests of the Empire,” Shran said. “Earth cannot conquer an entire galaxy on its own. It needs allies, those with far greater influence than humans have been able to muster.” He looked to Sato. “You’re infants compared to races who have been traveling space for centuries while your ancestors beat each other with the bones of animals they killed for food. Imagine what you’ll discover the farther you push beyond the confines of this insignificant planet. Think of the enemies you’ll face.”
Sato shrugged. “I’ve no intention of facing them alone, Shran.” Nodding to T’Pol, she added, “The rebellion is all but over. I have already been in contact with Vulcan, and they have accepted my offer: I have released them from their servitude and granted all Vulcans the status of citizens of the Empire, effective immediately. Never again will they live in slavery, and they will live as equals to humans. Together, we will chart a new destiny for both our peoples, and it’s already started, Shran. A fleet of Vulcan warships waits in orbit above us, pledged to me.”
Unable to stifle the sudden, humorless laugh exploding from his lips, Shran stared with openmouthed shock at the Empress. “Pledged to you? Vulcans living as equals to humans, and simply because you order it to be so? Your species does not possess that level of cooperative spirit, Empress. Even if the Vulcans believe they have been granted their freedom after a century of enslavement, what’s to stop the rebels from continuing to fight you?” Looking to Sato, he added, “To say nothing of how my own people will react when they learn that you’re abandoning them for this alliance of convenience. Andoria will not rest until the Empire is crushed, along with anyone foolish enough to ally with them.”
Instead of Sato, it was T’Pol who replied, “The proposal of a human-Vulcan alliance to secure the future of the Empire is logical. Once Vulcan resistance cells stand down, others will soon see the futility of their actions. The rebellion will end quietly, with little more loss of life. Perhaps in time, other peoples will understand that aligning with the Empire is more beneficial than taking up arms against it.”
“Or, they can continue to resist,” Sato added, “and be destroyed.”
Shaking his head at the incredible depths of naïveté he was hearing from this representative of a race long known for its logic and ability to reason, Shran looked upon T’Pol with disgust. “Your shortsightedness will be your downfall.”
“Perhaps,” the Vulcan replied after a moment, “but there are always possibilities.”
Sato nodded to Reed, and the major directed his two MACOs toward Shran. The soldiers wasted no time flanking the general and each taking an arm in hand. He felt their muscled grip on him, lifting him nearly off the floor as they proceeded without further direction toward the door, escorting him to his still-unknown fate.
Struggling in their grasp, Shran jerked his head to look over his shoulder. “She’ll betray you, T’Pol!” he shouted, his words echoing off the walls of the office. “The Empire will die on the sword of its own treachery!”
Sato signaled for the guards to halt their departure, indicating for them to pull Shran around so that he faced her one final time. Handing her phaser to T’Pol, an overt gesture of trust to her new-found ally, she stepped forward until her body nearly pressed up against his. She reached up to stroke his chin, her hand moving upward to caress the side of his face in the way he remembered from the last time they had shared her bed. Her expression never wavered, remaining fixed and determined as she stared into his eyes.
“Regardless of what happens,” she said, her voice low and soft, “I’m sorry to say that you likely won’t be around to see it.” Then she cocked her head, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. “Though I’ll certainly do my best to see that you’re kept alive that long.”
The obvious threat was like an icy hand reaching out to grip Shran’s heart.
Epilogue
F ading rays of sunlight filtered through the trees lining the Kyoto palace’s western wall. As night descended upon the oikeniwa, Hoshi stood on the balcony outside her office and took in the peaceful surroundings for the final time that day, bookending the ritual she observed each morning from her bedchamber on the opposite side of the palace. No trace remained of the damage inflicted upon the far edge of the grounds weeks ago during the rebel attack, a testament to the small army of landscapers and other staff charged with maintaining the palace’s picturesque appearance.
Not for the first time since her return to Earth, Hoshi considered the symbolic nature the gardens now seemed to hold. Once more marking the heart of the Terran Empire as far as its subjects were concerned, the oikeniwa now also embodied the new peace that had come with the ending of the rebellion. As the Empress had hoped, the remaining resistance cells had surrendered in the wake of the Vulcan contingent’s recusal, taking with them the need for prolonging hostilities. Her promise to elevate all of Vulcan to equal status with Earth in the Empire had achieved its intended effect, and the two planets now found themselves in unfamiliar territory as they charted a new, joint destiny for their respective peoples.
Stepping away from the balcony rail, Hoshi turned and reentered her office. Her new bodyguard, Brooks, stood vigil near the door, the man having been promoted to her personal security detail following the death of her steadfast guardian, Carpenter. Seeing her, the muscled bodyguard snapped to attention and rendered the traditional salute. She acknowledged him with a nod as she crossed to the office’s other occupant, who currently sat at the oval conference table situated before a large rectangular monitor mounted on the wall opposite Hoshi’s desk.
“I have completed my analysis of the star charts,” said T’Pol, Supreme Regent of Vulcan. Dressed in a simple yet stately ensemble of earth-toned robes that were highlighted by a heavy necklace featuring an arrangement of shaped and polished stones from her homeworld, the regent showed no outward sign of the injuries sustained during her fight with T’Pau on Aldus Prime, all of which Phlox had mended upon her return to Defiant. “I believe you will find this most interesting.”
Reaching for the portable computer positioned near her right hand, T’Pol tapped a sequence of commands and the wall-mounted monitor activated, its screen coalescing into a two-dimensional, computer-generated representation of an area of space. The black background was overlaid with a light blue grid, and cutting a curving, diagonal swath down the center of the image was a thick gray line emblazoned with the words “Neutral Zone.” To the left of the line—which to Hoshi was obviously a territorial boundary—was a series of seven numbered black triangles, highlighted with the caption “Earth Outpost Sector Z-6.” On the right of the Neutral Zone were two large red circles, each denoting a planet.
“The Romulan Star Empire,” T’Pol said, reading the caption aloud. “In the other universe, these two planets, Romulus and Remus, are at the center of what according to the Defiant’s database is a militaristic, totalitarian regime. Earth fought and won a massive war against them.” Looking away from the monitor, the regent regarded Hoshi. “A war that is supposed to start within the next few years, in fact. After its ending, Earth, Vulcan, Andoria, and Tellar will be among the signatories for the creation of their so-called Federation of Planets.”
“What do we know about that area of space in our universe?” Hoshi asked, her attention still focused on the star chart.
T’Pol shook her head. “Almost nothing. It has never been explored. All we have are unsubstantiated rumors about whoever or whatever is there.”
“So,” Hoshi said,
folding her arms across her chest as she began to pace the width of her office, “even if these Romulans do exist there, they might be nothing like those found in the other universe. They may be much weaker than us.”
“Or far more powerful,” T’Pol countered. “Likewise, they may be open to an alliance, rather than seeking conflict.”
Frowning, Hoshi considered the notion. Though it had become apparent within hours of discovering Defiant that the universe from which it had originated possessed many differences from her own, it also was apparent to the Empress that there were a great deal of similarities, as well. Indeed, in many cases perceived disparities were not black and white but merely shades of gray. With that in mind, she wondered: How did the Romulans of this universe—assuming there were any—compare or contrast to their counterparts in the other universe?
There was only one way to find out.
“We need to see for ourselves,” Hoshi finally said. “I’ll send Defiant. It will lead an armada to that area of space, and we’ll learn what awaits us there.” While the technological upgrades to the remaining Starfleet vessels were continuing at a pace slower than she would have preferred, the Empress was confident that Defiant still was the premier warship in the known galaxy. It would certainly be a match for whatever the Empire might find at the mysterious location designated on the star chart she now studied.
“If our intention is to seek a new ally,” T’Pol said, “this mission will require someone skilled in diplomacy, particularly with regard to first contact situations. You should also be prepared in the event these Romulans reject the offer of cooperation and instead desire conquest. With all due respect to Captain Mayweather, he does not yet possess the necessary experience.”
Hoshi nodded in agreement, reassured once again that her decision to appoint T’Pol to the highest position of leadership on Vulcan had been the correct choice. In only a short time, the Empress had come to value T’Pol’s counsel, which she considered correct in this matter. Though Travis Mayweather was a capable and loyal officer, Defiant’s current master still lacked the proper seasoning—something he would acquire, certainly, but not fast enough for what Hoshi now needed.
Fortunately, the Empress had anticipated such eventualities.
The special research laboratory Hoshi had ordered constructed on the palace’s lowest underground level was abuzz with power and activity. In stark contrast to the damp stone walls lining the passageways leading down from the ground floor, the lab was the very picture of cleanliness and sterility.
As she entered the lab with T’Pol following a step behind, Hoshi regarded the lab’s stark white walls and dull metal floor plates and was momentarily reminded of the infirmary aboard the late Enterprise. Work tables and storage lockers lined the walls, and the Empress recognized a variety of equipment and components taken from several of Defiant’s fourteen science labs as well as its own sickbay. The lab’s most notable feature was the hyperbaric chamber. Essentially a large, squat rectangle, it was composed of thick plates of gray duranium, much like the outer hull of Defiant itself, from which the chamber had been removed.
For the moment, Hoshi found herself drawn to a smaller construct situated to her left as she entered the laboratory. Essentially a cylinder on its own freestanding frame, it possessed a quartet of frosted-glass viewing ports through which the Empress could see only the shadowy outline of a small, fragile figure floating within a green, gelatinous fluid. Limbs were visible, as was its elongated head, which she knew would soon be in proportion to the rest of the body as the baby continued to mature. A single tube ran from the creature’s abdomen to a device mounted inside the chamber, delivering needed nourishment and vitamins to the gestating fetus.
Her son. Hers and Shran’s.
Upon returning to her rightful place on the imperial throne and seeing for the first time the results of Shran’s insidious scheme, Hoshi had been tempted to terminate the unborn child’s life, destroying with it any remaining vestige of her former husband’s grand plot to unite the people of Earth and Andoria before carrying out his final goal of ultimate conquest of the Empire. When faced with the decision, however—seeing the fetus confined to this laboratory and being harvested as though it were nothing more than the genetic samples used to create it in the first place—she found she did not possess the will to carry out the abortion, unwilling to punish the child for the actions of his father.
Perhaps he represented the Empire’s future? Did he hold its life in the palm of his still-maturing hand? Of course, Hoshi did not know. There was no historical database to consult. She had only her instincts to guide her, and for now they were enough.
“Your Majesty?”
Hoshi turned at the sound of the voice and saw Doctor Phlox. Dressed as always in his dark leather uniform over which he wore a blue physician’s lab coat, he regarded her with a smile. “He is doing quite well. All life signs appear normal.” Shrugging, he added, “Well, so far as I can tell with respect to a human-Andorian hybrid. However, I am confident.”
Nodding, Hoshi replied, “Thank you, Doctor.” Putting aside her personal feelings for the moment, she indicated the larger chamber. “What about…?”
Moving to stand before the unit’s massive circular door, the Denobulan peered into the chamber through the door’s porthole while reviewing the contents of a data padd he held, the fingers of his right hand tapping across its surface as he entered whatever information he considered important at that moment. “You are just in time. I’ve begun synaptic stimulation, and the patient is already responding most favorably. From what I can tell it’s a rather painful process, but certainly better than the alternative.”
The report was heartening news for Hoshi. Though she had at first resisted this course of action, logic eventually had prevailed. In her haste to ascend to the throne, she had neglected to consider all of the long-term consequences for removing all of her potential enemies. Even her most devout adversaries might still harbor some potential value, T’Pol had advised, and such possibilities should be explored at length before any rash action was taken.
Thankfully, on this occasion, when a decision needed to be reconsidered or even recanted, technology from the future had once again come to her aid.
“It’s taken me several weeks to perfect the process,” Phlox said, “but between the information in the Defiant’s medical banks as well as a few things I learned from some friends of mine on Antos IV, I am confident we will be successful this time.”
“So you’re saying…?” The words trailed off, squelched by disbelief. Was it truly possible?
Nodding at the rest of the unspoken question, Phlox replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. He lives.” He stepped back, indicating the viewing port to her.
“I do not understand,” T’Pol said, her brow creasing in confusion. “What have you done, Empress?”
Rather than reply, Hoshi gestured for the Vulcan to join her at the viewing port, and both women stared in awe at the scene before them.
Suspended in the null gravity environment created by Phlox inside the chamber was a human male. Nude but for the spider-web of wires and tubing running to and from his body to a host of instruments lining the chamber’s interior walls, the patient twitched and jerked as his body was repaired, erasing the neglect and decay of the past months. He soon would be whole again, but only time would tell if he would be her enemy or her ally.
Hoshi flinched as the patient’s body spasmed again, and this time his eyes opened. With a start, the Empress felt triumph, uncertainty, and even fear grip her heart as she stared into the face of Jonathan Archer.
The Sorrows
of Empire
David Mack
For what could have been,
if only we’d had more courage.
Historian’s Note
The Sorrows of Empire begins in mid-2267 (A.C.E.), shortly after the four crew members of the U.S.S. Enterprise crossed over to an alternate universe (“Mirror, Mirror”), and concludes in 2295,
two years after the Khitomer Accords were signed by the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Empire (Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country). All events occur in the mirror universe.
In every revolution, there is one man with a vision.
—Captain James T. Kirk
Part I
Sic Semper Tyrannis
2267
1
The Marriage of True Minds
C rushing Captain Kirk’s windpipe was proving far easier than Spock had ever dared to imagine.
The captain of the I.S.S. Enterprise struggled futilely in the merciless grip of his half-Vulcan first officer. Kirk’s fists struck at Spock’s torso, ribs, groin. His fingers pried at Spock’s grip, clawed at the backs of the hands that were strangling him. Spock’s hands only closed tighter, condemning Kirk to a swift death by suffocation.
Killing such an accomplished officer as Kirk seemed a waste to Spock. And waste, as Kirk’s alternate-universe counterpart had reminded Spock only a few days earlier, was illogical. Unfortunately, as Spock now realized, it was sometimes necessary.
