The Tal Shiar base is cool and airy, the greenish light in its corridors familiar, almost comforting. My heels click smartly on the decking as I walk confidently up to the security checkpoint.
"Subcommander Aneia, requesting security archive access. My clearance code is Tango Four Seven Zulu Niner Two." The armed uhlan at the doorway consults his data console. It is almost a game, this; we break their security codes and subvert their computers, they discover the intrusion and lay traps for us. Now, I get to find out if we are one move ahead in the game, or one move behind.
"Access granted, sir." The uhlan stands to one side as the door hisses open. I stride through without acknowledging him. Even with a faked security access code, the attitude is all-important when dealing with the Tal Shiar. I'm inclined to think I could have got into the archive with subcommander's insignia and a sufficient degree of arrogance alone.
The archive room is a tiny glass-walled alcove with a single workstation; behind the glass, the computer banks stretch out a long way. They are in vacuum, in a cavern excavated into this airless planetoid - it is one way to restrict unauthorized access. We considered the possibility of sneaking in with an EV suit, and discounted it once we realized just how many sensor devices we would have had to deceive. In that cave full of motionless cuboid shapes, anything living or moving would stand out like a sore thumb.
I key in my queries, transfer the data to my PADD for later analysis. There are many questions I would like to ask, but the Tal Shiar compartmentalizes everything, and I cannot obtain a security clearance that will let me drain those data banks. Even the PADD is a risk, though I have legitimate excuses for it if I am questioned. Ideally, from the Tal Shiar's point of view, I would come here, ask one single question, and carry the answer away in my head alone....
The PADD indicates the download is finished. Everything the Tal Shiar knows about High Admiral Valikra, we now know too. Time to leave.
I turn to go, and the door hisses open. A man stands there, a massive figure in the uniform of a Tal Shiar Colonel. I stiffen into a salute, reflexively. "Sir," I say, "I was just leaving."
My heart is in my mouth. I know this man. Plectan - one of Colonel Vorkov's sycophants, back in the old days, before I came to join the Republic. I know him; he will know me, if he looks past Tal Shiar arrogance and deigns to take notice of a mere subcommander.
He returns my salute without looking at me, and for a moment I feel relieved. Then he frowns. "I did not know anyone else was cleared for access, today. Subcommander -?" And he looks at me.
"Subcommander Aneia, sir," I say as calmly as I can, but I see the light of recognition in his eyes. My right arm is across my chest, still, in the salute; I whip it around into a strike at his throat. My left hand twists, releasing the spring-loaded wrist sheath, and the dagger pops into my palm. I stab at his side, feel the blade sink home, thumb the release catch -
Then his fist catches the side of my jaw, and I am knocked sprawling into the glass wall of the booth. Plectan is bigger than me, stronger, he always was. And he is high enough rank to carry arms, here. He draws his disruptor pistol, and aims it at my head. His other hand goes to his side, where my knife has caught him.
"T'Laihhae," he says. If he is the type to use that disruptor, I am dead. If he takes the time to gloat -
"Oh, this is a pleasant surprise," he says. Of course he is a gloater; when was any of the Tal Shiar not? "T'Laihhae. And with nothing to protect you but such a little knife. You were foolish to come here, T'Laihhae. General Vorkov will be very pleased t'see you...."
Vorkov has been promoted, then. Well, of course he has. "What happens now?" I ask him, although I know better than he does.
"Now? Y'get to ans..anshwer queshtions." He blinks, realising his speech is slurring. His gun hand is drooping, and he steadies it with a visible effort. "You 'n your... Republic... traitorssh..." Tal Shiar dogma to the last. I reach out and take the disruptor from his enfeebled hand.
"Dimorus rodent toxin," I say, "in a reservoir in the knife handle. It is very hard to get, and I rather regret wasting it on you. Enjoy your death, Plectan. I have already reserved a place in hell for you - under Vorkov's, naturally. Be ready to welcome him when I send him after you." Plectan is on his knees, slumping sideways, his eyes glazing, his breathing failing as the poison races along his nerves. It is fast. I have heard it is not particularly painful, although I cannot imagine how anyone would know.
"Colonel Plectan is not to be disturbed," I say to the uhlan as I leave.
That will not work for long - I have a few minutes, I think, to reach the beam-out point. I do not hurry, because Tal Shiar officers never panic. I do, however, walk briskly.
I am still three decks and a hundred metres of corridor from the beam-out point when the alarms go off. Red lights whirl and shrill sirens sound, and all of a sudden a lot of people are in a hurry indeed. My hand clenches on Plectan's gun. If I am to die, I will die fighting -
But the troops who fill the corridors race past me without a word. The security alert, it seems, is nothing to do with me. A relief, in many ways - a further worry, in others.
I move as swiftly as I dare up the ramps to the next level, and there I stop - or am stopped.
The being standing by the security checkpoint there is not Romulan, and my skin crawls at the sight of it - the spindly limbs, the soft white mushroom-like hide, the small bulbous head. Elachi. If there is one species that has earned the undying hatred of all Romulans everywhere -
And this one is in my path to the beam-out point, and I very much doubt my access codes will stand a check under security conditions -
So I don't try. I bring round Plectan's disruptor and fire. The nanite-enhanced beam buzzsaws into the Elachi's personal shield, and blue lightnings shimmer over its body. It makes a strange noise, something my universal translator can't handle - maybe, not even words at all - and it raises a weapon and fires back at me. I am already diving to one side, and the crescent wave of green destruction tears the air and expends itself harmlessly in a wall. I fire again, dodge again as the creature shoots back. My third shot breaches the shield, and the skinny body bursts open, and the Elachi falls and is still.
I stand up, cursing silently. There is no chance that exchange of fire went unheard -
And, indeed, a security squad is coming up the ramp right now. I think fast, decide to brazen it out. "Intruders!" I say. "That way! Follow them while I guard the checkpoint!"
The air of authority is enough to convince - the uhlans hare off in the direction I indicate, though one, a heavy-built woman with mousy blonde hair, gives me a second glance as she goes. I take a deep breath, and consider my position. Messalina's transporters are targeted on a storage cubicle close to the planetoid's surface - it is outside the main screens of the base, but with a security alert in effect, those screens will be extended and supplemented.
Footsteps behind me. I turn. It is the blonde uhlan, and her plasma-disruptor rifle is pointed in my direction. "Subcommanders aren't authorised to carry sidearms in this facility," she says. Damn it. Just my luck, to run into the one bright one.
I'm still thinking what to say next when the lights go out and the whole base shudders.
Red emergency lights come on, and I take advantage of the confusion to kick the uhlan hard in the gut, knock her rifle out of her hands, and slam my gun against the back of her neck. She goes down in a heap. Beneath me, the metal deck quivers. Things are clearly going out of control.
No time to worry about being discreet: I need to know what's happening. I hit the emergency button on my wrist com. "Messalina. Come in. Status report."
"Six battle groups of heavy warbirds just warped into the system," Subcommander Aitra reports. "They've wiped out the pickets already and are bombarding the base. Tal Shiar and Elachi forces are rallying, though. Sir, we can't get a transporter lock on you where you are now."
"All right. There must be a weak point in the screening, somewhere. I'll find it, you can beam me out from there. In the meantime, stay out of the fight." I think for half a second. "Whose heavy warbirds?"
"Unknown at this time. Not Republic, that's for certain."
"All right. I'll contact you again when I've found a location for transport. Out."
Unbelievably, a weak voice comes from near my feet. "There's an observation dome... it's outside the main shields. If the pickets are gone, the chances are the satellite shields are down too, so it'll be exposed."
The blonde uhlan is looking up at me. I train my pistol on her. "I thought I'd broken your neck."
"You damn near did. But I've got a thick neck."
"So I see. How committed are you to the Tal Shiar?"
She smiles wryly. "They drafted me at gunpoint and gave me a choice between security grunt work or being an Elachi experimental subject. How committed do you think I am?"
"In which case - welcome to the Romulan Republic." I kick her gun back towards her. "Where's this observation dome?"
"Not far. It'll be sealed off, if there's a fight going on, but I can crack through the blast doors on manual override. It'll leave a weak spot in the base's defences, of course."
The decks quiver again. "Somehow, I don't think that's our problem," I say. "Lead on."
She gets to her feet. I'm glad to notice she's still a little shaky - I thought I was losing my edge. "This way." And we are off down the corridor at a dog-trot.
The corridors are deserted. This is a bad sign. It means nobody is moving about - either because they cannot leave their assigned posts, or because they are already dead. And that means the base is in bad trouble.
The uhlan reaches what looks like a dead end, pulls open a wall panel, and starts working on - something. I can't quite see what. "What's your name?" I ask her.
"Dellis. And you?"
"T'Laihhae."
She stops working, turns, and stares. "You're... you are her, aren't you?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Walking around openly on a Tal Shiar base? You must be insane."
"Is it a bad idea? For me in particular, that is."
"Well, you're not on the most wanted list, I suppose. But your description gets circulated - I've seen plenty of pictures, come to think of it -"
"But no one actually expects to see me in the flesh," I say. "If there is one thing we have learned, as a people, it is the strength of being unexpected...."
"Sounds like a quotation. Who said it?"
"A friend... used to say it. He's dead now. What are you trying to do?"
"I've cut the security circuits and the power feeds to the solenoid bolts. Now it's just a question of cranking the hydraulics until the damn door comes open." Dellis is clearly working hard at something. "Another reason to hate the Tal Shiar - I'm a technician, damn it, not a security grunt."
"Can I help?"
"There isn't room for two of us to get at the levers." Something clangs and groans, nearby. The blank wall at the end of the passage suddenly moves upwards, with a jerk. Dellis grits her teeth and grunts with effort. There is a line of black at the base of the wall, a line which expands into a gap -
The base quakes again. "Damn it!" Dellis steps back. "The hydraulic line just broke. There's another one on the other side, but -" She is big, heavy-boned; there is no way she will pass through the gap.
I lie down. "I'll try it." I wriggle through, somehow, the edge of the metal panel scraping painfully over me. "Same thing this side?" The light is very dim, but I find the maintenance panel. I tear it open, and - more by feel than by sight - locate the levers for the hydraulic actuator. It is hard work moving them, but the door panel edges up another few centimetres, and Dellis squeezes through. Her Tal Shiar rank insignia is torn away in the process. "Thanks," she says. "You could have -"
"Could have what?"
Her tone is thoughtful. "You could have closed it. Or just gone, instead - the dome is only down that corridor -"
"We had a deal, I thought."
"Yes.... So, Romulan Republic commanders keep their word." She flashes a wry smile again. "I want to learn more about this exotic foreign culture and its peculiar customs."
"You should get the chance soon. By the way - my ship is an adapted battle cruiser that we liberated from the Tal Shiar. I'm telling you this so you don't think it's a Tal Shiar trap when we beam over. I hate having gunfights in the transporter room."
The unlit corridor is about fifty metres long, and ends in a blank metal door. This one slides open easily when I push it, and beyond it is the observation dome - a bubble of transparent aluminium, sticking out of the planetoid's surface, partly shielded by an outcropping of rock. I feel light and unsteady on my feet; the artificial gravity is weak, here.
Outside, space is too bright; lines of light are lancing across the sky, the dire glow of plasma torpedoes is everywhere. Even as I watch, I flinch from the eye-hurting flash of a core breach. I touch my wrist com. "T'Laihhae to Messalina."
"Transporter room." Retar's voice; the rangy auburn-haired engineer is one of my better people, and I'm glad to have her steady hands on the controls.
"I'm in an observation blister on the planetoid surface. Get a lock, somehow, on my signal, and there are two to beam up."
"Two? You don't make life easy, do you, sir?" I hear Retar sigh. "We can do it... but we'll have to drop the cloak and come in close. Two minutes."
I turn to look at Dellis. "If you want out, now is your chance."
Another wry smile. "Which way is out?"
"Up to you, I guess."
"Like I said, I've no reason to love the Tal Shiar. Does the Republic not have background checks, though?"
"It does. Most of us have failed them. The Republic... takes every willing helper it can get. Don't be misled; it's a lot of hard work, and we have a lot of enemies."
"I can work. And I'm not afraid of enemies - not when I think about my supposed friends."
Outside, the stars suddenly shiver and ripple, and the monstrous shape of the Messalina appears, a hollow crown of thorns wrapped around the evil green pulsation of the warp core. Dellis swallows. "I've never seen one of those this close up."
"We're about to get closer, I hope." And even as I speak, green light sparkles around us, and the view fades away, to be replaced by the homely interior of the transporter room.
"Nicely done," I say to Retar as I step off the pad. "This is Dellis, she's a technician, see if you can find a job for her in engineering."
Retar nods in greeting. "I'm Retar. We can always use more people who know what they're doing."
"Right," says Dellis, a little blankly. The reality of her defection is starting to sink in, I think. I reach for the intercom. "T'Laihhae to bridge. Status report."
"Being hailed by both sides now we're uncloaked," Aitra's voice replies. "Tal Shiar calling upon us to defend the homeland... the others are asking us to surrender, or to declare ourselves for the Hegemony of Bresar, they say."
"Hegemony of what?"
"Bresar. Does it mean something?"
Shivers run up my spine. "It means we choose option C, neither of the above. Max evasive out of here, cloak if possible, max transwarp soon as we can. Move us out, never mind which direction, so long as it's out."
Aitra has questions, I know. He also has more sense than to ask them now. Messalina shudders a little as her drive goes to maximum output. I find the repeater viewscreen in the transporter room, call up an image of the battle outside. Plasma torpedoes are streaking in, now, overwhelming the last of the base's defences, turning the Tal Shiar archive into a smear of glowing lava on the bleak surface of the planetoid. Disruptor light glitters across the starfield, the flash of exploding ships dotting the sky like fiery punctuation.
Starships will fly, and starships will burn, Thyvesh said. He was right. What else is he right about?
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