Walter screamed. But even over the sound of his voice, Sisko could hear his flesh sizzling beneath the Tzenkethi’s golden touch. The raw odor of burning meat filled the room. And still the captain screamed.
And then a siren split the air, a moment before the deck beneath Sisko pitched forward. Sisko slammed into the cylinder, and crashed to the floor. He felt momentarily nauseous, and he realized that the embedded cylinders functioned as field nodes, generating gravitational envelopes within the Tzenkethi vessel, possibly even reinforcing the ship’s structural integrity.
He peered upward and saw Captain Walter struggling with the Tzenkethi. The lighting flickered, the Tzenkethi glowing brightly in the instants of darkness. Sisko looked at the bulkhead before him, then rushed forward and stepped onto it. He felt momentarily disoriented, but he did not fall back to the deck.
Quickly, he strode forward, and then onto the overhead—which became the deck for him. He felt woozy once more, but did not hesitate. He rushed forward and threw himself at the Tzenkethi.
Sisko felt a jolt, like an electric shock, but the Tzenkethi flew backward and into the bulkhead. Sisko followed, raised his foot, and thrust it forward into whatever joint passed for her knee. His boot connected, and he felt the sensation of something giving way, like a water-filled balloon popping.
The Tzenkethi opened her mouth and a sound like gravel falling on metal came out, clearly a scream of pain. Not knowing if he had sufficiently incapacitated her, Sisko raised his foot to strike a second time, but the deck beneath him rocked again, and he lost his footing, sending him onto the deck, hard. He landed beside the captain, and Sisko saw the flesh of Walter’s forehead hanging in tatters, blood seeping down his face.
The room shook again, and over the siren, Sisko heard the sounds of battle. Phasers, he told himself, though he could not really tell. He looked back at the Tzenkethi, but she was gone. He glanced up, and saw her pulling herself up the bulkhead with her arms, her leg dragging uselessly behind her.
Sisko let her go. Instead, he reached up to his uniform and tried to tear a strip from it. When he couldn’t, he peeled off his uniform shirt and applied it gently to Captain Walter’s forehead, wanting to stanch the bleeding. Walter winced when the fabric made contact with his wrecked skin, but the captain reached up and held it there.
The room continued to shake and rattle for ten minutes. At one point, Sisko looked up again and saw the Tzenkethi woman nowhere in the room. She must have left, but no one else entered.
Finally, Sisko stood. “I’m going to go try to find something of use for us,” he told Captain Walter. “A weapon . . . a shuttlebay . . . something.”
Walter said nothing, but he nodded.
Sisko saw a flanged metal circle in the wall, which resembled the opening through which the Tzenkethi had entered the hold. He moved toward it, but before he reached it, his vision began to cloud. He thought the Tzenkethi vessel and its various internal gravity envelopes had affected him again, but then he recognized the sensation of being caught in a transporter beam.
He and Walter materialized aboard Okinawa.
They were two of only eleven survivors recovered from the Tzenkethi vessel.
33
Praetor Tal’Aura of the Romulan Star Empire—an empire soon to be made whole—sat down in the gilded chair in her audience chamber. Months of planning perched on the threshold of fruition. She found it nearly impossible to contain her satisfaction, though she knew that she must.
As she waited to play out one of the final acts of her complex plan, she gazed around her chamber. She relished its regal splendor: the beautiful artwork, the stately columns, the dazzlingly glossy floor and walls. For too long, this place had felt temporary, as though the means by which it had come into her possession lessened the legitimacy of her claim to it. But Romulan politics had a long and rich history of advancement by assassination. And she had not plotted the demise of Praetor Hiren and the Senate; Shinzon had. Tal’Aura had merely escaped her own death by agreeing to assist Shinzon in his plot—had escaped her own death, and contributed to the removal of a praetor and his sympathetic Senate, all of whom preferred to appease the Federation and the Klingons rather than stand firm and face them down. She had taken control of the Empire to strengthen it, to make it the power in the region, to return it to a position worthy of respect and even awe.
And I would have succeeded, she thought, if not for Donatra escaping the Empire and forging her own base of power. “‘Empress’ Donatra,” she said aloud, her lone voice sounding hollow in the large space. But now I’ve cornered that veruul, and there will be no more escaping.
The enormous wooden doors that permitted visitors into her chamber began to swing open. Her proconsul, Tomalak, entered, closing the doors behind him. His boot heels clicked along the floor as he approached her dais. “Praetor,” he said, bowing his head, “I bring news.”
“Tell me.”
“The chairman of the Tal Shiar and his loyal pet have just entered the Hall of State,” Tomalak said. “They will be here shortly.”
“Very good,” said Tal’Aura. “Make sure that our friend is prepared.”
“Immediately,” said Tomalak. He bowed as he withdrew a step, then made his way around the dais to one of her chamber’s private entrances. He returned only a few moments later, informing her that the necessary arrangements had been made. Then he turned and stood before her, to her left, facing the visitors’ doors and waiting along with her.
When Rehaek entered, Tal’Aura for the first time felt pleased that he had brought his bilious servitor. Torath’s constant display of disrespect for anything not directly associated with the Tal Shiar rankled her. Even as he crossed Tal’Aura’s audience chamber with Rehaek, he moved with an air of pomposity impossible to miss. The Tal Shiar chairman, on the other hand, walked unhurriedly, almost carelessly, at least not wearing his arrogance for all to see.
Rehaek stopped several strides before Tomalak, Torath at his side. While the Tal Shiar chairman kept his gaze trained on the proconsul, his aide haughtily peered up at the praetor, as though looking upon a mere servant girl. “Good evening, Proconsul,” Rehaek said with polite formality. “I understand that Praetor Tal’Aura has requested my presence.” In the past, Rehaek had often taken days to respond to such requests, but that night, knowing the current state of affairs—as he most assuredly did—he had made his way to the Hall of State within an hour.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Chairman,” Tomalak said, and Tal’Aura cursed him for his courtesy. A change in behavior would certainly not go unnoticed by a man of Rehaek’s ilk. But then Tomalak regarded Torath with a disdainful look, and Tal’Aura calmed herself. “The praetor wishes to inform you of a political undertaking that will at the very least demand your notice, if not your attention.”
“I see,” Rehaek said, and Tal’Aura knew that he did. She could scarcely eat a meal without the chairman being informed of her every bite. His spies had infiltrated so many places throughout the Empire, and his surveillance devices even more. But Tal’Aura had her own methods and agents, and few actions could Rehaek take without the praetor finding out about them.
“You are aware, I trust, of Donatra’s plea two days ago,” Tal’Aura said, “for a summit between us.”
Rehaek looked up at the praetor. “I would imagine that there are few enough citizens throughout the Romulan realms that are not aware of it,” he said. “It seemed a desperate attempt to ask you to help bail water from her sinking ship of state.”
“Perhaps,” Tal’Aura said, actually appreciative of the chairman’s turn of phrase. “But I have chosen to take Donatra at her word. She said that she wants a united Empire, as do I, and clearly the Romulan people want that as well. I have therefore agreed to her offer of a summit.”
“I . . . am surprised,” Rehaek said, and Tal’Aura waited to hear what more lies he would tell her. The praetor’s own sources had already confirmed the chairman’s knowledge of the summit. “
It may prove difficult for the Tal Shiar to do any advance work on a meeting held within Donatra’s so-called Imperial Romulan State. She has tightened security considerably on her world.”
Another lie, Tal’Aura thought. “The summit will not be on Achernar Prime,” she said. “I have agreed to host Donatra here. This is, after all, the homeworld of the Empire.”
“Ah, I see,” Rehaek said. “I am pleased with your decision, Praetor. It will make what I am about to tell you much easier for us both to deal with.”
Tal’Aura waited for Rehaek to tell her the greatest lie of all. Instead, the chairman motioned to Torath, having his aide do it.
“We have just learned that the man who attempted to assassinate Spock,” Torath said, “was himself assassinated by a protector in Romulan Security named R’Jul.”
“And that is important why?” Tal’Aura asked, presenting her own falsehood. The praetor’s people had hired the Reman to kill Spock, and when that had apparently failed, they had put out the word to protectors throughout the city to execute any Remans on sight. Once R’Jul had done that, it had been a simple matter to plant enough false information to link him to Donatra. But then, Chairman Rehaek knows all of that too.
“It is important because R’Jul was in the employ of Donatra, and in killing Spock’s assassin, acted on her behalf,” Torath explained. “Donatra wished to silence the failed killer after having hired him to eliminate the leader of the Reunification Movement. She apparently wanted Spock dead so that his ideas of reunifying the Romulans and Vulcans could not stir people’s desires to unite the two Romulan empires.”
“These are extraordinary charges,” Tal’Aura said, playing her part. “Do you have proof enough?”
“We do,” Torath said.
“And when Donatra arrives on Romulus for the summit,” Rehaek said, “it will be a simple matter to make public her complicity in both acts—in the attempt on Spock’s life, and in the murder of Spock’s would-be killer. After that, we will have no choice but to arrest her.”
“Thus dissolving the only real government of the Imperial Romulan State,” Torath added.
But neither Torath nor Rehaek added the subsequent part of their plan, which Tal’Aura’s own agent had uncovered. Once Donatra had been arrested and put to death, the chairman would reveal that Tal’Aura actually had framed Donatra, which would provide more than enough cause for the Senate to remove her from the praetorship, imprison her, and possibly even execute her. Rehaek then would call in favors in the Senate to have his own puppet installed as the leader of the Romulan people: Durjik.
But Tal’Aura disclosed nothing. “You have clearly earned your position on merit, Chairman Rehaek,” she said, summoning up the spirit of magnanimity. “Donatra will arrive on Romulus, in Ki Baratan, two days hence. Once she is within the city, you are authorized to release the information and see that she is taken into custody.”
Rehaek nodded. “It shall be done,” he said. “Is there anything else with which I can assist you today, Praetor?”
“I asked you here to inform you of the summit,” Tal’Aura said, “and to direct you to coordinate with Romulan Security on the logistical details for Donatra’s visit. I ask now that you still take on that task. All must appear normal.”
“Of course,” the chairman said. “Is there anything else?”
“No,” Tal’Aura said. “Thank you, Chairman.”
“Thank you, Praetor.”
Spinning easily on his heel, Rehaek headed back toward the great doors, pulling Torath along behind him like a planet hauling around a lightweight moon. Before they exited the audience chamber, Torath glanced back over his shoulder at Tomalak. The two men exchanged a final harsh look.
Once they had gone, Tal’Aura felt an enormous sense of relief. She had never liked nor trusted Rehaek and Torath. It pleased her greatly that she would never have to deal with them again.
Chairman Rehaek of the Tal Shiar permitted himself a small smile. As he and Torath sat in the cabin of the automated airpod on the way to Rehaek’s home, it pleased him that he would not have to deal with Tal’Aura for much longer. When she had first come to power—when she had first seized power—he had embraced her. In his field of expertise, chaos made for too short a life expectancy, and challenges to Tal’Aura’s praetorship would have brought chaos. He had seen to the dampening and even elimination of such challenges.
Outside the cabin windows, Rehaek saw the densely clustered lights of central Ki Baratan slip behind as the airpod sped toward the purlieus of the city. He looked forward to a sound sleep that night, as he doubted that he would have much time at home over the next three or four days. Chaos would arrive with Donatra, and it would leave with Tal’Aura. After that, life in the Romulan Star Empire—in the Romulan Empire—should return to a relative calm.
The chairman glanced over at Torath, his trusted and exceedingly useful adjutant. In his mind, he could see his aide in the courtyard that surrounded the Hall of State, producing a curved steel blade in his hand faster than even Rehaek himself could follow. He recalled the dizzying speed with which Torath had struck, opening a gaping, blood-green wound across Pardek’s throat.
An exceedingly useful adjutant, indeed, he thought.
At the time of Pardek’s demise, just after Tal’Aura had taken the reins of what remained of a government decimated by Shinzon’s thalaron weapon, circumstances on Romulus threatened to spin out of control. The agenda of Pardek and his compatriots concentrated not on the best interests of the Empire—let alone on its stability—but on a desire to strike at the Federation. It mattered little to those so focused that Shinzon had plunged Romulus into turmoil following a similar campaign. To restore constancy to the Empire, Rehaek had developed his own program of actions aimed primarily at quelling dissent within and without the government. And for the most part, he had succeeded.
But circumstances had changed since then. Donatra had taken the military assets under her control and maneuvered a division of the Empire. Even that had been manageable, until Tal’Aura had begun her intricate plot to bring down her rival. Joining the Typhon Pact, allowing Spock and his Reunification Movement out of the shadows and into the public eye, and then steering massive Romulan unity protests, all had subverted the steadiness Rehaek had worked so hard to reestablish. Tal’Aura, a fool blinded by her thirst for power, did not even understand that Donatra’s imprisonment and death would not mean the end of the Imperial Romulan State. The empress had supporters, and her death on Romulus, even after being charged with capital crimes, would not convince all of those supporters to abandon their new nation. The only thing that would do that, Rehaek had realized, would be the subsequent imprisonment and death of Tal’Aura.
But that would bring about another power vacuum, one which, if not properly controlled, could lead to even more disorder. Rehaek needed a new praetor, somebody whom he both understood and could manipulate. Senator Durjik had been an easy, if ironic, choice.
Durjik had been one of Pardek’s compatriots, one of those dedicated to the military extermination of the Federation. But though Durjik had not altered his attitudes, he would, as praetor, find himself limited by the Empire’s new alliance. Rehaek knew from his sources inside the governments of the Typhon Pact nations that, with the possible exception of the Kinshaya, none of them had a taste for war. They all despised the Federation to one degree or another, and for a variety of reasons, but they had also had their fill of battling an enemy with massive resources and a strong collective will to survive. They still wished to bring the Federation low, but their newfound alliance would provide far more options for them than that of the military. Several believed that they could defeat the Federation utterly, without even firing a shot.
Up ahead, Rehaek spied the scattering of lights that marked the extent of Leri’retan, the neighborhood on the outskirts of Ki Baratan where he kept a home. Torath appeared to notice their location as well, and he tapped the button that would begin an automated security s
weep in and around Rehaek’s property. Two security officers kept watch there at all times, but Rehaek trusted in an over-abundance of caution.
Except that when Torath touched the control, nothing happened. Normally, the small screen at the front of the airpod would begin listing the security procedures being performed in the house, along with the result. In this instance, the screen remained dark.
“Trouble with the security system,” Torath said. Rehaek himself reached for the button, but also received no response. “I’m aborting our approach, Chairman,” Torath said. “I’ll contact the team at the house and have them—”
That was when the airpod fell out of the sky.
Sirens cried out in the night, their plaintive wails growing closer. Though the outer districts of Ki Baratan offered open stretches of land, the crash of an airpod could not escape notice. The fiery wreckage threatened no homes, but it marked well the site of the accident.
Sela hurried through the field and neared the twisted debris quickly. Consulting the scanner in her hand, she saw no risk of the pod’s batteries exploding. An electrical surge in the fractured equipment interfered with her bioscans, but even if it hadn’t, she always, whenever possible, liked to check on her work directly.
The airpod had come to rest canted partially onto its nose. Flames reached up its left side and flickered toward the sky. Stepping up to the mangled door on the right-hand side of the small craft, Sela saw an arm hanging down from within the cabin. She poked her head inside to see which of the pod’s two passengers the arm belonged to, but discovered that it was no longer attached to a body. Inside, the smell of copper mixed with that of charred equipment.
Shifting her upper body so that she could see the entire cabin, Sela spotted a shoe upside-down beneath a fallen panel. She followed the line of it down to where a leg should have been, and a torso, until at last she caught sight of a bloodied face on the floor. It belonged to Torath. Sela reached her gloved hand to his neck and felt for a pulse, lingering only long enough to confirm his death. Then she peered around the rest of the cabin.
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Rough Beasts of Empire Page 27
