Glass Empires

by Various

  But what about the rest of humanity? And the Vulcans and the Andorians and the rest of the Alliance’s subject populations? He thought of all the rich and fascinating cultures that had developed in the cosmos over the last five billion years. All that history would amount to nothing if the Borg had their way. From what he’d seen, they had no use for art or philosophy. All they cared about was technology.

  Escape is not an option, he decided. After spending his entire career trying to uncover the secrets of the past, he couldn’t just stand by and let the Borg bulldoze over all that history—even if that meant saving the Alliance. That’s not who I am, not who Vash wanted me to be.

  Fortunately, he also had a plan….

  Stargazer sped through the Neutral Zone toward an uncharted planet located perilously close to the Romulan border. Picard had long suspected the nameless planet of being Iconia, the near-mythical homeworld of the long-lost and incredibly advanced Iconian civilization. Often referred to in ancient texts as the Demons of Air and Darkness, the Iconians were known to have possessed technology far beyond that of any present interstellar civilization. Perhaps even beyond the Borg?

  We can only hope, Picard thought. The bitter irony that he was now risking everything to save the very same Alliance that had oppressed his people for generations was not lost on him. Somehow he doubted that Gul Madred and his brutal regime would appreciate his efforts, even if, against all odds, he succeeded in repelling the Borg. The Alliance would never admit to being saved by a mere Terran, no matter what happened next. The best Picard could hope for was life as a fugitive. But this isn’t just about me. Not anymore.

  The runabout slowed to impulse as it entered the Yelm system. Iconia appeared upon the viewscreen: a rocky brown planet that looked extremely inhospitable to most life-forms. Its ravaged surface still bore the scars of the cataclysmic orbital bombardment that had destroyed the Iconians over two hundred thousand years ago, when their fearful neighbors had joined forces to exterminate the dreaded “Demons” once and for all. Long-range scans detected the ruins of bygone cities, monuments, and palaces. Wispy white clouds drifted across the planet’s atmosphere. No life signs registered anywhere on the murdered world.

  Picard approached Iconia cautiously. He had longed to explore the planet for years, ever since finding an artifact on Decius III that had pointed him in the right direction, but that was easier said than done. Although long extinct, the Iconians had left potent defenses, as other would-be treasure hunters had learned the hard way. Despite the urgency of his mission, Picard didn’t intend to waste his life fruitlessly. He had spent years planning an attempt at Iconia. He wasn’t going to rush things now.

  Easy does it, he thought. Stargazer slowed to one-quarter impulse power, just beyond range of the planet’s automated defenses. Picard increased the magnification on the viewscreen, zeroing in on a demolished installation in the mountains of the smaller continent. He kept a wary eye on the ruins as he ran through his preparations, making sure that all the necessary systems were in working order. Much to his relief, nothing stirred within the craggy brown mountains. Scanners detected no unusual energy build-ups. So far, so good….

  A proximity alarm went off, signaling that another vessel had entered the system. The image on the viewscreen was replaced by the sight of an enormous green starship, many hundred times the size of the runabout. A pointed beak identified it as a D’deridex-class Romulan warbird. Picard hastily raised his shields, for what little good that would do. Stargazer’s paltry defenses would be of little use against the powerful warship.

  I was afraid of this, he thought. One couldn’t enter the Neutral Zone without risking just such an encounter, and he had been pushing his luck for some time now. Was this the same warbird he and Soong had narrowly evaded back in the Nequencia system? Possibly.

  He half expected the warbird to blow him to atoms without further ado, but the starship hailed him instead. Picard gratefully accepted the transmission.

  “Attention, unauthorized vessel.” A Romulan officer appeared on the viewscreen. Suspicious black eyes peered out from beneath his prominent brow. A black velvet stole was draped over one shoulder of his pleated silver uniform. The man’s tone was far from welcoming. “This is Commander Tebok of the Imperial Warship Gath’thong. Identity yourself at once.”

  Picard replied to the hail. Perhaps he could still talk his way out of this situation? Certainly, the unarmed runabout posed little threat to the Romulans.

  “My name is Galen,” he lied. “Forgive my incursion. I’m simply conducting a routine scientific survey of this system.” The less he said of his true mission, the better; why let the Iconian’s vaunted technology fall into the hands of hostile Romulans? “I meant no harm.”

  “Your presence in the Neutral Zone, particularly this close to Romulan space, represents a serious violation of treaty,” Tebok said sternly. No doubt his sensors had already determined that Stargazer was unarmed. “Acts of espionage will not be tolerated. Prepare to be boarded.”

  “Wait!” Picard protested. He couldn’t possibly mount a defense against the Borg from inside a Romulan prison camp. “This is all a terrible misunderstanding. I’m an explorer, not a spy!”

  “That is for us to determine,” Tebok stated. “This is not a negotiation. Lower your shields or be destroyed.” A warning blast from the Gath’thong’s disruptors shook the tiny runabout. Stargazer’s shields lost power by thirty-five percent. “You will not receive a second warning.”

  The Romulan commander curtly cut off the transmission. The emerald warbird loomed menacingly on the viewscreen. Picard could see no alternative to surrender. He reluctantly shut down his shields, wondering whether he should attempt to explain to Tebok about the Borg. The Romulans’ remote outposts had already suffered at the hands of the cybernetic invader. Perhaps he could convince them to take his story seriously? As far as he knew, the paranoid Romulans didn’t discriminate against Terrans; they distrusted all other species equally.

  The Borg don’t discriminate either, he reflected. Which makes them everyone’s enemy.

  The Gath’thong lowered its own shields in preparation for beaming over the boarding party. This presented no tactical advantage to Picard. Even if Stargazer had been equipped with disruptor banks, he doubted that he could have made a dent against the colossal warbird. Bracing himself for the Romulans’ arrival, he spun around in his chair. A low-pitched whine started up at the rear of the main cabin. The shimmer of a transporter beam began to materialize inside the runabout. Picard put aside his disruptor and raised his hands. He hoped the centurions wouldn’t rough him up too much. That would just complicate things.

  Without warning, a Cardassian warship uncloaked behind the Gath’thong. “What the devil?” Picard exclaimed. The newcomer unleashed a devastating salvo of disruptors and photon torpedoes against the unshielded warbird. A blinding glare filled the viewscreen, causing Picard to throw up a hand before his eyes as the Romulan starship exploded into pieces. A white-hot ball of blazing plasma engulfed the wreckage. A shock wave sent Stargazer tumbling backward through the vacuum, throwing Picard from his seat. He slammed against the starboard bulkhead before landing in a heap on the floor. Bits of burning debris bounced off the runabout’s hull. Metallic clangs echoed through the cockpit. He tasted blood.

  Where did that Cardie ship come from? Picard thought anxiously. And what the hell is it doing here?

  Bruised and bleeding, he jumped to his feet and staggered toward the controls. Automated systems quickly stabilized the runabout’s flight path, halting its out-of-control somersaulting through space. Grabbing onto the pilot’s seat to steady himself, he rapidly raised what remained of the ship’s shields. The alarming echoes faded as the restored deflectors diverted shrapnel away from Stargazer’s hull. Picard dropped into his seat and wiped the blood away from a split lip. Crimson traces smeared the back of his hand. His brain feverishly tried to catch up with events.

  The Gath’thong was gone. Com
mander Tebok and his entire crew were dead, mercilessly slaughtered by the Cardassian vessel’s sneak attack. Picard glanced back at the rear of the cabin. The nascent shimmer had dissipated entirely, suggesting that the warbird’s transporter room had been destroyed before the transmission had been completed. The boarding party’s atoms must have been scattered throughout the sector.

  At least they died quickly, he thought. All the Romulans did.

  Their destroyer took the warbird’s place on the viewscreen: a Galor-class warship, among the most powerful in the Alliance fleet. Pale orange plating armored the imposing vessel from prow to stern. Although slightly smaller than the warbird it had just destroyed, the Cardassian ship was still a giant compared to the humble runabout. The vessel’s name, Hebitia, was inscribed in Cardassian on the ship’s wedge-shaped prow, and it owed its cloaking technology to the spoonheads’ Klingon allies. Picard wondered what an Alliance ship was doing so near the Romulan border. He doubted that it had come all this way just to lend him a hand.

  To the contrary, I expect.

  Matters became somewhat clearer when a hail from the warship forced itself upon his viewscreen. Gul Madred glowered balefully from the captain’s seat of the other vessel. A scowling Klingon, whom Picard didn’t recognize, stood at Madred’s shoulder, his beefy arms crossed in front of his chest. Had it been the Klingon’s idea to blow the Romulans into spacedust? There was no love lost between their respective empires, especially after the Klingons betrayed the Romulans at Khitomer twenty years ago.

  “Hello, Luc,” Madred said coldly. “You’re a long way from P’Jem.”

  How much did he know? “I can explain,” Picard began. “I uncovered a new lead underneath that old Vulcan monastery….”

  “Don’t bother,” Madred said, holding up his hand to forestall any further attempts at prevarication. “Your subversive activities have already come to light.” He shook his head. “Whatever were you thinking, Luc? I had thought you smarter than this.” His saturnine features bore testament to his extreme displeasure. Simmering resentment suffused his voice. “Fortunately, I had the foresight to plant a tracking device upon Stargazer years ago, when we first began our association. I must admit I never expected to find you this far into the Neutral Zone. Is there a rebel base down on that wretched planet ahead?”

  So that’s how he found me here, Picard thought. He should have suspected that there was a tracking device aboard the runabout. Since when would a Cardassian let a Terran loose in the cosmos without a leash of some sort? But there was no point crying over spilled kanar. There were vastly more important issues at stake here. I don’t have time for this.

  “Listen to me, Madred,” Picard pleaded. “The entire Alliance is in danger. An alien species called the Borg is intent on invading this region of the galaxy. They’re incredibly powerful and impossible to negotiate with. If we don’t work together, the Borg will sweep over your empire like a horde of locusts!”

  Madred smirked mirthlessly. “More of your primitive myths and legends, Luc? Spare me your pitiful attempts at obfuscation. I erred in trusting you as much as I did.” His pitiless gray eyes shot daggers at Picard. “Rest assured that I shall not make that mistake again.”

  The Klingon laughed boisterously in the background, eliciting a venomous look from Madred. Picard grasped that the Cardassian commander had been deeply embarrassed by the exposure of Picard’s extracurricular involvement with the Resistance. He could expect no mercy at the gul’s hands.

  “You don’t understand,” Picard insisted. “This is bigger than just you and me. The Borg want to assimilate us all, turn us into soulless, mechanized creatures like themselves.” Vash’s transformed visage flashed behind his eyes. “For God’s sake, Madred. Think of your family, your daughter. Do you want her to be conquered by the Borg? They’ll steal her very self from her. Believe me, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. They’re relentless!”

  “That’s enough,” Madred barked, losing his composure. “Never speak of my family again, or I’ll have your tongue surgically removed. You’ll have to scribble your confession with bloody stumps before I’m done with you.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Or you can cooperate fully and perhaps earn a relatively painless execution. Where is the rebel leader named Vash? And the fugitive, Noonien Soong?”

  Picard didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Vash is dead, and Soong might as well be.”

  “You truly expect me to believe that?” Madred snarled.

  “Not really,” Picard said. He was wasting his breath. Madred was too angry at being made a fool of to listen to anything Picard had to say. I have to get away from him before I find myself in an interrogation chamber aboard that warship. A desperate strategy occurred to him. There was no way Stargazer could outrun the Hebitia for long, but maybe it didn’t have to….

  Cutting off the transmission, he accelerated toward Iconia at nearly full impulse power. His fingers danced over the helm controls, taking evasive action as the Hebitia pursued the fleeing runabout. Stargazer zigzagged through space, veering sharply at random intervals in order to keep the Cardassian vessel from locking onto the smaller ship with its disruptors. Violet beams sliced through the void. A lucky shot strafed Stargazer’s port nacelle. Bright blue flashes of Cerenkov radiation flared wherever a deadly beam intersected with the runabout’s weakening shields. Warning lights blinked on Stargazer’s control panel. Violent energy discharges jarred the cockpit.

  Picard executed a hard right turn, yanking the endangered nacelle away from the disruptor blasts. The move pushed the inertial dampers to their limit, throwing him hard to one side. Diagnostic readings indicated that the deflectors were down another twelve percent. No photon torpedoes yet, he noted, thanking providence for small favors. Madred seemed to be targeting the warp nacelles instead. Guess he’s determined to take me alive.

  A second blast tagged the starboard nacelle. Sparks erupted from the console in front of Picard as the energy surge caused a system overload. Smoke rose from the helm controls, along with the acrid smell of burnt circuitry. His face and eyebrows slightly singed by the sparks, Picard threw himself into the copilot’s seat and diverted helm control to the auxiliary backup system. He tried to check on shield status, but the diagnostic display had gone blank. No matter; he knew Stargazer couldn’t take many more hits like that.

  The desolate brown surface of Iconia grew steadily larger on the viewscreen, until it fairly filled the monitor before him. Almost there, he thought. His gaze stayed fixed on one particular mountain range, where all his hopes resided. Evasive maneuvers helped the runabout dodge the ceaseless disruptor beams. Just a few more kilometers…

  Gul Madred forced his way back onto the viewscreen. “That’s right, Luc. Lead me right to your rebel friends’ hiding place on that clan-forsaken planet.” He leered in anticipation. “I can’t wait to make their acquaintance.”

  Stabbing at the console with his fingertip, Picard killed the visual but kept open an audio line to the Hebitia. “Come and get me!” he taunted Madred, luring him in. He stabbed at the Cardassian’s wounded pride like an ancient Terran picador tormenting an enraged bull. The runabout cruised into orbit around Iconia, with the Hebitia hot on its tail. Here goes nothing, he thought. Would his reckless ploy pay off?

  As if in answer to his unspoken prayers, a bright light suddenly flared amid the rocky peaks of the southern mountain range. Yes! Picard thought jubilantly. The late great Terran pirate, Black Jack Crusher, had reported an identical flare during his ill-fated attempt to plunder Iconia twelve years ago. Picard had spent hours poring over Crusher’s log, along with the accounts of the few survivors. He had also tracked down fragmentary records of earlier, even more disastrous expeditions. Unlike Madred, he had done his homework. He knew what the flare meant…and what was coming next.

  “Battle stations!” Madred shouted. Evidently his people had detected the activity on the planet’s surface as well. “Alpha alert!”

  Only seconds a
fter its launch, the Iconian probe entered orbit between Stargazer and the Hebitia. The artificial construct took the form of a glowing blue sphere, roughly six hundred meters in diameter. Coruscating bolts of energy circled the globe.

  “Damn you, Picard!” Madred cursed him. “What are you and your filthy insurgents up to? How dare they fire upon a ship of the Alliance?”

  Madred obviously believed the sphere to be some new Resistance weapon.

  He should be so lucky, Picard thought.

  “Quick, Madred!” he urged his enemy. “Destroy that probe before it’s too late!”

  “I’ll do nothing of the sort!” the Cardassian shot back. “How foolish do you think I am, to fall for your trickery yet again? You Terran scum speak the truth only under torture. Otherwise, you lie as readily as you breathe!”

  Picard repressed a smile. Clearly, Cardassian children’s literature contained no equivalent to Brer Rabbit and the briar patch….

  Too bad for them. They should never have suppressed Terran culture.

  As he had hoped, the probe focused on the larger vessel first. If Picard’s theories were correct, the automated sentry was scanning the Hebitia at this very moment. But that wasn’t all it was doing; the seemingly harmless scan was also infecting the Cardassian warship with an incredibly sophisticated computer virus that would spread like a contagion throughout the entire ship, causing escalating breakdowns in every vital system, from life-support to propulsion. In the past, every ship that had ever encountered an Iconian probe had been destroyed by some sort of catastrophic malfunction. A warp core explosion had torn apart Black Jack Crusher’s cruiser, the Bonny Beverly. Life-support failures, unplanned decompressions, and other fatal errors had doomed prior vessels, and Picard had every reason to expect that the Hebitia would soon suffer the same fate.