"Outside weapons range of the Tapiola," Tom Kowalski reported. "If we get jumped now... no support from her, certainly none from the Timor...."
"Any signal from Timor?" Fallon asked.
John Brinkman shook his head. "Nothing, sir. All channels are jammed solid, inside the spire."
"Only to be expected," said Fallon. He glanced at the main viewscreen, then turned his attention back to his tactical console.
"Signal from Tapiola, sir," said Brinkman.
"On screen."
T'Pia's face appeared on the viewer. "Rear Admiral Fallon. Your ship is out of weapons range of the Tapiola. In the event of combat, we will not immediately be able to support you. What is the reason for your action?"
"We have a reading on some anomalies in the industrial towers," Fallon said easily, "and we're moving to investigate more closely. Is there any immediate sign of enemy activity? We can be back with you in minutes at the most."
"What is the nature of these anomalies? Tapiola's sensor equipment should be able to supplement yours."
"Sir," said Fallon, "I think it might be best if one of us held station near that entrance hole, ready to support the Timor if she needs it. Now, we could break off our current investigation, or we could swap places with you, but -" He spread out his hands. "We spotted this thing, I thought we'd follow it up." He glanced at the science station. "Pearl, transmit our sensor data to the Tapiola."
"I follow your logic," said T'Pia. Her green eyes were calculating and unreadable; like so many Vulcan eyes, Fallon thought. "There is no imminent danger of combat, so I think it reasonable that you should pursue your own objectives for the present. Please keep me informed of your planned movements. Tapiola out." The screen blanked out, changed back to the exterior view.
"Vulcans," Allan MacAndrew muttered.
"She's keeping her eye on us," said Fallon. "Very commendable. It's what I'd do, in her position."
"She's wrong about the imminent danger of combat, though," MacAndrew remarked.
"Sir," said Pearl. "We should inform the Tapiola of our sensor contact and its probable significance."
"Probable significance," said Fallon. "I don't think we'll bother her with a mere probability. Tactically, we're better off with the Tapiola in a long backstop position, anyway. We can hardly catch the Voth between her and us, if we're bunched up together with her."
"Sir, Admiral T'Pia needs to know," the android persisted.
"No," said Fallon. "She's good, but she's not a tactical commander. If things come to a fight, we will have to win it, and never mind about ranks and formalities." He tapped his forefinger on the tactical repeater, on the bright zig-zag line of the energy signature. "Besides, if she doesn't already know that's a Voth sensor-spoofing signature, she doesn't have the experience she needs to direct combat operations. She can see that reading just as plainly as we can."
"Sometimes, that worries me, sir," said MacAndrew. "The Voth must surely be learning from their mistakes. They must have figured out that we can spot their stealth signatures by now."
"Well," said Fallon, "only some of us can spot their stealth signatures. And besides, the Voth are hidebound. Static. Even if they do figure it out, their command structure is so moribund, it might take them years to change their procedures." He smiled. "And, in the meantime, we get to kill them."
---
"The primate Fallon has taken the bait," Davrak Karzis reported.
"Good." Gavron Stannark stood, and lumbered across the bridge of the Gendratis to the specialist science station. "What of the others?"
"The Tapiola is maintaining position. It is possible they have not detected the decoy drone, or that Fallon has not chosen to inform them of his sensor readings." Karzis raised his head, briefly, from the console displays. Information was flickering across his ocular implants, too fast for Stannark to make sense of it. "That would be consistent with our assessment of Fallon's personality. He is not necessarily respectful of his superiors. It is not an uncommon failing among the Starfleet primates."
"He surely cannot hope to overcome a Bulwark-class battleship without Tapiola's support," said Stannark.
"He is vainglorious, he might... but I judge that he is trying to obtain an optimum tactical position for himself. Caught between Tempest and Tapiola on opposite sides, even we might encounter difficulties." There was a faint smile on the intelligence officer's face. "If this were actually the situation Fallon envisages... he might cover himself in glory. What a pity, for him, that it is not."
"What of the third vessel?" Stannark asked.
"Still inside the spire. It will not be a factor in our operations. It would not amount to much, in any event. A tiny laboratory vessel, commanded by a feline primitive."
"We will need to... roust it out, afterwards," said Stannark. "If this test is successful, we will need to secure our position on that spire. Occupy it. It might even make a suitable replacement for our operational command."
"That is a suggestion well worth making to higher authority," said Karzis.
"Indeed." Stannark turned to an adjacent console. "Lieutenant Tyzel. What is the status on the special systems?"
Tyzel was small, brown-scaled, inoffensive; he looked up at the towering bulk of his commander and answered, "We have secured comms access to the spire's emitters. There is substantial data traffic, not all of which we have completely analyzed... but we have control over the primary tetryon antennae."
"Show me," Stannark ordered.
Tyzel punched commands into his console. "The anomalous tetryon pulses have been generated here," he said, indicating a spot on a three-D map. "We still do not have full details of the spire's interior arrangements, due to the heavy shielding... but we have identified that emitter array as one of type L-16-D, and we have command and control protocols for this type -" he indicated another panel. "There have been some glitches and stutters in the system as our data subversion packages were inserted, but there has been no response from the primates. Commander Karzis has the details on, on -"
"The specialist weapon," said Karzis. "Yes." He leaned over, put his hand on Tyzel's console, then rapidly tapped in a string of commands. "There. Data unlocked... and the program is initialized."
"Give me the specifics," said Stannark.
"All of them?" asked Karzis.
"The basics. The exact technical details, I can do without - and what is classified, will remain classified. What will it do?"
"The Solanae were forced out of normal space, into subspace, by an intense biolytic tetryon field," said Karzis. "It flooded the whole interior volume of the sphere... we do not have enough power for that, not from that one emitter array. But we do not need, or even want that widespread an effect. We can deliver a smaller, concentrated burst, in a spherical or ellipsoidal volume -"
"The Solanae committed an error," said Stannark. "No doubt because they were unfamiliar with the ancestral Voth technology they were meddling with."
"No doubt," said Karzis. "But we are in a position to replicate their error, only in a manner controllable - by us. We cannot generate the field at too great range from the spire itself, but our enemies have been obliging enough to come to us...."
He turned back to his own console, and called up a tactical map. "I have set up for an ellipsoidal field," he said. "The Tapiola is not changing position, and so it is neatly placed at one focus of the ellipsoid." One black claw clicked against the map screen. "The other focus is here...."
Stannark leaned over, peered at the screen, at where Karzis was pointing... and at the bright dot nearby. "The primate Fallon is rapidly approaching that position."
"Indeed he is. Following our decoy, in search of his ideal tactical situation. He will be in optimum position in only a few more seconds."
Stannark smiled. He raised his right arm, closed his taloned hand into one massive fist.
"Execute."
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