“It looked on the comnet like you were well received.”
“It seemed that way to me as well,” Spock said. “In excess of twenty thousand people attended today’s event. As a Vulcan and a leading voice for reunification, I have become, in some ways, the face of the Movement. But those present appeared focused not just on me and my words but on what all the speakers had to say. They also asked many questions, not just about the Movement, but about the Vulcan way of life, how it differs from the Romulan way, and how the two might be combined to form something greater.”
“Do you really believe there’s any way that the Romulan people could reunify with the Vulcans?” Slask said. “Especially now, with Romulus a part of the Typhon Pact? How could that possibly work?”
“It might not be accomplished easily, but that does not make it unworthy of pursuit,” Spock said. “There are several practical ways in which such a reunification could take place. Both Romulus and Vulcan could withdraw from their respective allegiances, or they could spur détente, or even entente, between the Khitomer Accord nations and those of the Typhon Pact.”
“It all seems so unlikely,” Slask said.
“Perhaps,” Spock said. “But a year ago, it might have been argued that a treaty uniting the Gorn with the Breen, Kinshaya, Romulans, Tholians, and Tzenkethi was just as unlikely.”
The Gorn nodded. “You make a point,” he said.
Behind the bar, the Ferengi returned carrying a circular tray, atop which sat a steaming bowl of broth, a small plate containing three brown biscuits, and a glass of water. Before the bartender could set the meal down, Spock said, “I’d like to eat in one of the booths.”
“Take your pick.”
As Spock started back into the room, Slask said, “May I join you while you eat, Spock? I am interested to learn more about your Movement.”
“Please do,” Spock said. He selected an empty booth in the corner, away from the few other customers in the tavern. He and Slask sat down opposite each other, and the bartender placed Spock’s food in front of him.
“Care for another sth’garr?” the bartender asked Slask. Spock did not recognize the word, but assumed it named the beverage that the Gorn had been drinking.
“Not right now,” Slask said. As the bartender departed, Spock heard him muttering to himself in Ferengi.
Spock picked up a spoon and sampled his plomeek soup. To his surprise, it actually tasted quite like the dish as made on Vulcan. He broke off a piece of kreyla and dipped it into the broth, again satisfied with the re-creation of the Vulcan food.
As Spock ate, Slask glanced around the room, then surreptitiously removed a small device from under his belt. The Gorn stood the cylindrical object on the table, out of sight behind Spock’s glass. A moment later, a small dish unfolded from the top of the device.
“This will defeat any eavesdropping,” Slask said.
“It seems improbable that the praetor or the Tal Shiar would have any listening devices in this establishment,” Spock said.
“Maybe, but I’ve always found it’s good policy to trust neither of them,” Slask said. “Besides, this place is run by a Ferengi. There’s a good chance he’s got his own microphones hidden around the room, listening for any information on which he could turn a profit.” The Gorn looked over at the bartender, who had returned to wiping down glasses behind the bar. Turning back to Spock, Slask said, “So what’s this all about?”
“I have information and a recommendation I need conveyed to our mutual acquaintance,” Spock said. He knew that Slask had a personal relationship with Federation President Nanietta Bacco, established back when she had served as governor of Cestus III, which bordered Gorn space. At one time, the Gorn Hegemony had claimed the Cestus system for their own, although the Federation had not known that before colonizing the third planet.
“This is obviously information you do not feel comfortable sending by subspace, or putting down in writing,” Slask said.
“Indeed, I am exercising a great deal of caution.” After Spock had learned of the prior affiliation of R’Jul—the Romulan Security protector—with Donatra, he had sent an unencrypted message to the Federation’s Bureau of Interplanetary Affairs. In it, he had detailed the growing success of the Reunification Movement within the Star Empire, in the guise of keeping the UFP informed of his situation. He had also included his upcoming schedule. Knowing that the BIA as a matter of course passed on all of his communications to the office of the president, Spock included a trigger word in the document. The president’s staff understood that word to mean that he possessed information potentially vital to the security of the Federation, but that he could deliver it neither personally nor via subspace transmission.
Spock had soon after that received a brief response from the BIA director, ostensibly acknowledging receipt of Spock’s message and congratulating him on the success of the Movement. But that reply also contained a trigger word, indicating after which of the events on Spock’s itinerary somebody would meet him to act as a messenger. On the major worlds within the Empire, Spock had prearranged with the president’s staff the locations for such meetings. The trigger word also distinguished the identity of the messenger, one of half a dozen possibilities preselected by the presidential staff.
“Very well,” Slask said. “What do you wish me to tell our mutual friend?”
Although Spock had never before met Slask, he knew of him. The Gorn had also uttered specific phrases to identify himself, which Spock had responded to with specific phrases of his own. Slask had been deemed suited to such an assignment not only because of his friendship with the Federation president, but because that relationship remained unknown to most people. Slask also remained a loyal citizen of the Gorn Hegemony, one associated with neither their government nor their military. There existed essentially no reason that a seemingly random meeting between Spock and Slask should raise the suspicions of anybody who might be watching, nor could any connection reasonably be made between the two men.
Spock explained the attempt on his life eight months earlier, and the circumstances surrounding the subsequent death of the Reman assassin, including R’Jul’s prior service on Donatra’s starship. “It remains unclear to me whether the Reman killed himself in order to avoid being handed over to the Romulan authorities, or whether Protector R’Jul or somebody else killed him. It is possible, though by no means assured, that Donatra might be involved, either as instigator or as victim.”
“Victim?” Slask said.
“If Donatra did try to have me killed, and then eliminated her assassin, she would have done the latter in order to prevent her actions from becoming public knowledge,” Spock explained. “But since public knowledge of a murder attempt would hurt Donatra’s cause among the Romulan people, perhaps all of this has been done not by Donatra, but in order to implicate her.”
Slask shook his head slowly. “The machinations of the Romulans,” he said. “It’s difficult to know who’s hiding behind which door.”
“That is why we need more information,” Spock said. “We need to know what has happened and what is happening, so that we may determine what likely will happen—and if necessary, change what will happen. If there is a concerted effort, or efforts, to undermine either Donatra’s government or Tal’Aura’s, it could lead to a shifting of the balance of power, which could adversely impact the security of the Federation. That is why I believe it is vital that our mutual acquaintance send an envoy to speak with Donatra.”
“I understand,” Slask said. “Is there anything else?
“No,” Spock said.
Slask immediately closed the anti-eavesdropping device with a touch, then swiped it from behind the glass and tucked it back into his belt. He stood up and, a bit loudly, said, “I still think you’re a fool, Mister Spock, to expect the Romulans to let you run your Movement.”
“They are already allowing me to do so,” Spock said.
“For now,” Slask said. “I’m just not sure that
they’re going to keep letting you run it. But good luck.”
“And safe travels to you,” Spock said.
Slask headed for the door, and Spock returned his attention to his meal. As he ate his plomeek soup and kreyla, he wondered whether President Bacco would accede to his recommendation, and if so, whether Donatra would agree to meet another Federation representative. Given her tenuous position and her need for allies like the UFP and the Klingon Empire, he doubted that she would turn down such a request. The real issue was whether or not she knew anything about the attempt on Spock’s life and the murder of the Reman, and if she did, whether she would reveal anything about the situation. That would likely depend, at least in part, on whomever the Federation sent to meet with Donatra.
As Spock finished the last of his soup, he wondered who President Bacco would choose as her emissary.
23
“Tzenkethi marauders.”
Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Sisko spun toward his starboard station on the Okinawa bridge and punched at the controls. As quickly as he could, Sisko called up a sensor readout to replace the engineering data spread across his screen. He immediately saw the ships that Lieutenant Snowden had identified.
“Two heavies,” Snowden added, her voice steady in the face of the threat. “They’re on a heading for M’kemas Three.”
“Have they spotted us?” Sisko asked, and he felt relieved that the question had occurred to him. Although he had drawn a promotion out of engineering and into the command division nearly a year earlier, he still hadn’t grown entirely accustomed to his role as the ship’s executive officer. Even so many months later, he found that his duties on the bridge did not come naturally to him, and he often had to consciously think through what queries to make, what orders to give, what actions to take. In quiet moments, of late, he’d begun reviewing Okinawa’s drive performance at his station, more than once thinking that a return to engineering might be best for him.
“I don’t think they do see us,” Snowden replied, and Sisko glanced over to where she crewed her side of the combined tactical-and-communications console. “They’re making no alterations to their course and speed.”
“All right,” Captain Leyton said, rising from the command chair. “Let’s lay low then. If we’re lucky—”
“Captain,” said Ensign Orr, “we’re being hailed by the Assurance.”
Leyton looked over at Sisko. “Damn,” the captain said.
Sisko stood up and strode along the raised periphery of the bridge toward Orr at communications. “Ensign,” he told him, “do not answer the hail. Transmit a standard silent-running protocol to the Assurance.” Sisko peered forward to the main viewscreen, as though he could see the Ambassador-class starship, but it only offered the seeming constancy of the starfield it presented.
On the lower, central section of the bridge, Leyton paced aft, toward Sisko. “Captain Walter’s crew must not have detected the marauders,” Leyton said. “He wouldn’t have made a mistake like that.”
Sisko went around Orr to the tactical portion of the console, where he studied its displays. “Captain Walter’s got a gas giant between the Assurance and the Tzenkethi vessels,” he said. “There’s no way the marauders showed up on their sensors.”
“No more hails, Captain,” Orr reported. “And no response to the silent-running protocol.”
Sisko peered down into the central well of the bridge, where he saw Leyton nod in his direction and motion him forward. Sisko skirted the railing between the upper and lower sections and stepped down to join the captain. “We need a plan, Ben,” Leyton said. “There’s just too much traffic in this area. This system’s too close to the lanes the Tzenkethi use to travel from their space to their settlements on M’kemas and Rodon. It’s a wonder that they haven’t scouted these planets yet.”
“If they had, we’d know about it,” Sisko observed. While patrolling near the Tzenkethi border, the crew of Okinawa had taken the time to survey the Entelior system, where on several of its worlds, they’d discovered a significant deposit of bilitrium, a rare, crystalline element valuable as both a power source and in the manufacture of certain weapons. With the system’s proximity to Tzenkethi space, the Federation couldn’t set up a mining operation—at least not during a time of war—but they needed to keep it out of the hands of their adversaries. “Reinforcements will be here in five days,” Sisko said. “We just need to hold Entelior until then.”
Leyton nodded, then took an elbow in one hand and held a knuckle up to his mouth, a nervous habit Sisko had noticed once he’d become a member of the bridge crew. “I’m just concerned that they’ll detect us here, find the bilitrium, and bring back their own reinforcements,” the captain said. “Maybe we should just leave the system and hope that they don’t stumble across the deposits.”
“They’re going to stumble across them at some point, sir,” Sisko said. “Those settlements on M’kemas and Rodon are new. Sooner or later, the Tzenkethi are going to come looking here.”
“And if it’s sooner and we’re not here to stop them,” Leyton said, “then we’re giving them a valuable resource to use against us.”
“Yes, sir,” Sisko said, but then another possible solution struck him—an engineering solution. “Unless there’s a way we can mask the sensor signature of—”
“Captain, the Tzenkethi vessels have altered course,” said Snowden. She worked the controls at tactical, then added, “They’re now heading directly toward us.”
“How long?” Leyton wanted to know. He took the command chair, and Sisko moved to stand by his side.
“Estimating three minutes, thirty seconds,” Snowden said.
Sisko ran the variables through his head, then told Ensign Orr, “Signal the Assurance. Let them know we’ve got company.” The Tzenkethi had obviously detected Captain Walter’s hail, obviating the need for silent running.
“Aye, sir,” said Orr. “Transmitting our sensor logs of the marauders.”
“Shields up full,” Sisko said. “Ready all weapons.”
“Shields up,” Snowden said. “Charging main phaser banks, loading photon torpedoes.”
“Hail the Assurance,” Leyton said.
After a moment, Orr said, “I have Captain Walter.” On the main viewscreen, Sisko saw the field of stars replaced with the image of the Assurance captain. Not very tall, with close-cropped brown hair and hazel eyes, Walter appeared younger than his actual years, looking as though he couldn’t possibly have ascended to the command of a starship in so short a life. But Sisko knew the captain by reputation and their wartime acquaintance. Walter had led the crew of Assurance for a decade, and he owned numerous citations and an impressive record of accomplishment to show for it.
“George,” Leyton said, “we’ve got a pair of type-A marauders bearing down on us.”
“We have them on sensors now,” Walter said. “Attack sequence epsilon-three. We need to make short work of them.” Of the two starship captains, Walter held seniority and therefore headed the patrol.
“Two on two,” Leyton said. “We should have the advantage.”
“Because of our vast wealth of combat experience and keen minds for tactics?” Walter said dryly. To Sisko, it felt too much like whistling past the graveyard.
“Exactly,” Leyton said with a half-smile.
“Type-A marauders,” Walter said, his tone becoming serious. “Be careful.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Assurance out,” Walter said. The stars replaced the captain’s image on the viewer.
“The Tzenkethi are within visual range,” announced Lieutenant Thiemann from the operations station.
“Let’s see them,” Leyton ordered.
On the screen, the starfield shifted and the two marauders became visible. From the vantage of the Okinawa crew, they appeared spherical, but Sisko knew them to be shaped like great teardrops, their structures’ graceful curves tapering out behind them to points. With virtually no surface details, they looked less
like starships and more like some peculiar astronomical phenomena.
“The Assurance is beginning its attack run,” Thiemann reported.
“Full impulse,” Leyton said. “Implement attack sequence epsilon-three.”
“Aye, sir,” replied Ensign Lafleur from the conn, her fingers translating the captain’s orders into action.
Sisko felt the power of the impulse drive surge through the ship, heard its low hum conveyed through the decking and bulkheads. Okinawa leaped forward, trailing behind Assurance and off to port.
Sixty seconds later, Assurance and Okinawa engaged the Tzenkethi marauders.
Sisko waved away the smoke that filled the Okinawa bridge, the gray clouds tinted red by emergency lighting. An unfamiliar whine, keyed low, betrayed the strain of the impulse engines. Flames licked at the top of a bulkhead where one of the port science stations had exploded, until a damage-control team assaulted the fire with a chemical retardant. Pandemonium flooded the bridge, but within the turbulent waters of disarray, the captain maintained the high ground of order.
Still in his command chair, Leyton called for pursuit. On the viewscreen, Sisko saw one of the marauders veer off to port, its bulbous forward end venting plasma into the void.
“Following Ship One,” called Lafleur. Because the Tzenkethi vessels admitted of no distinctions, no visibly different markings or features, the Okinawa crew had assigned them the most basic of identities.
From his starboard station, Sisko watched as a plasma cannon, its emitter revealed by an open hatch on the Tzenkethi hull, fired on Okinawa. The superheated band of filaments slammed into the shields of the primary hull. The ship shuddered beneath the onslaught.
“Deflectors down to fifty-seven percent,” Snowden called out.
“Target that cannon!” Sisko yelled.
A pair of phaser beams leaped from Okinawa and found their objective. A brilliant nimbus of white light erupted around the plasma emitter, the energy of Okinawa’s weapons redirected to the Tzenkethi ship’s deflectors. The plasma cannon continued firing.
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Rough Beasts of Empire Page 19
