Claws 8

Rrueo

My tail switches nervously as I watch the screen. The balance of power, if things come to a fight, has just tipped quite decisively in the Federation's favour. My Anar and R'j's Goroke are both fine ships... but they do not have the specialist systems, the advanced weaponry, that Grau's ship carries, making combat a chancy business at best. And now that Shohl's King Estmere has come crashing out of subspace....

The modified Tholian carrier is an ugly thing, a diamond-shaped main body gripped in the triple talon of its engineering hull. The whole thing is nearly half a kellicam long, and it glimmers all over with the reticulated web of advanced Federation shielding. As it approaches, it launches auxiliary craft; first one pair, then a second. Mesh Weaver frigates, adapted from Tholian designs, compact starships in their own right.

I have pride in my ship, pride in my crew, but I am also a realist. If it comes to a fight, now, we will lose.

Therefore, it must not come to a fight. "We will keep the deception going," I tell my exec, the Klingon engineer K'Rokok. "Rrueo will beam to the Fed ship alone."

K'Rokok has a permanent scowl, but it deepens now. "Standard protocol dictates that you should have at least one aide, or bodyguard, sir," he grumbles.

"Rrueo is General Bl'k''s mercenary security, or so we say," I tell him. "Rrueo is her aide and bodyguard, and therefore needs none herself." I yawn, displaying my fangs. "Besides, those Tholian carriers have a crew complement of only two and a half thousand - if things go wrong, Rrueo will not need help to kill them all."

That earns a reluctant laugh from the Klingon. "Signal the carrier," I order Shegithem, the big Gorn on the comms console. "Tell them Rrueo is ready for transport." I stalk off the bridge, towards the transporter room. My mind is filled with misgivings, my tail still twitching moodily.

The Feds are, at least, efficient. Only a few minutes pass before the transporter operator signals readiness, and my transporter room dissolves in red light, to be replaced by that of the Tholian carrier.

The lights are too hot and bright, the designs bleak and bare and functional. I step off the pad and turn to watch R'j materialize. She has brought one other with her, the Lethean, Nubir. In keeping with our deception, I offer her a formal salute, which she answers with a haughty nod.

Grau and Shohl are there ahead of us, the tall stern Andorian and the small, unhealthy-looking Borg woman regarding us with that tolerant, patient, indulgent look the Federation always has, the one that has probably stirred up more anti-Federation sentiment than the entire KDF propaganda corps.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant-General Bl'k', Lieutenant-General Rrueo," says Shohl.

"My aide, Commander Nubir," R'j says, in a casual, dismissive tone. Naturally, she wants them to pay no attention to Nubir. Naturally, the Feds will watch the Lethean very, very carefully.

"We've set up in the conference room," Shohl says. "This way."

She too has her - aides. Two in security uniforms, one in science; a Vulcan, a Betazoid, and a ghost-pale image of herself - an Aenar. Carefully, I open my mind to the sensations of the people around me.

R'j's mind-tone is familiar, though not comforting. Nubir is like so many Letheans, a mind like bloodstained clockwork glimpsed through veils. The heavy-set Vulcan is trained in basic defences, his mind is a simple shell of steel. The Betazoid's mind is shining and reflective, too, but it is not metal, it is a pool of still water, inviting one to dive in... and, no doubt, full of undertows and currents to drag an unwary swimmer to her doom. No, I will not choose to drown in those waters. The Aenar's mind is strange, coloured by her unusual senses, a blizzard in which dark shapes move.

And our hosts.... Shohl's mind is a fortress with many walls, and sentries set upon them that watch both ways, inwards as well as outwards. Grau's mind is bright and jangling, swirling with sudden patterns like a broken kaleidoscope, and all the while something cold and malevolent and mechanical watches from outside.

I fret as we tread the sterile corridors of the Tholian ship. I need to talk to R'j, to discuss with her... how her plans are going astray. And I must hide that concern, because I have no doubt that the Betazoid and the Aenar are sensitive to my mind as I am to theirs - and that their purpose is not merely defensive.

We enter another bright, angular room, with the spikes of Tholian data consoles set about the sides, and a Federation holo-display in the centre.

Grau touches her combadge. "Saval? We're ready, start playing the slideshow, will you?" Shohl goes to a console and touches a control crystal. The lights dim, and the holo-display springs to life.

"Data feed from the Falcon's astrometrics probes," says Shohl.

"And hoo, boy, have they been feeding some data," Grau adds.

The holo-display shows a simple rocky sphere - Duselva WX III, the planet which has been the target for their probes. A network of glowing lines marks out a third or more of its northern hemisphere. My tail switches again. Nerves. I fight to control myself.

"All four planets in this system are Class D," Grau says. "Big rocks, basically. But our long-range scans picked up refined elements and modified albedoes on the third planet. High reflectivity. Polished surfaces, generally taken as a sign of intelligent life. God knows why, I never clean stuff. Maybe I'm not intelligent life." Well, I think, you said it.

"So we bunged some probes in its general direction," Grau continues. "As you two know, unless you've been asleep at the switch. What we found... you can see on the display."

R'j leans forward. "Elucidate," she snaps.

"You do and you clean it up yourself," says Grau. "Oh, all right. What we're seeing is a network of construction. Not just buildings, big buildings. A complex arcology covering an area roughly the size of North America. If the inhabitants were humanoid, we reckon there might have been room for around a hundred billion of them."

"There are no life signs now," R'j says.

"Nope," says Grau. "Not that we've seen so far, anyway."

"Rrueo assumes you believe this to be the remains of an extinct native civilization," I say.

"Well, it's a bit big for a colonial outpost," says Grau. "Of course, that presents us with several other interesting questions, doesn't it? Dwarf Cepheid stars like Duselva WX aren't exactly favourable to the development of life... and there isn't much sign, apart from the arcology, that this planet has ever been anything other than a Class D slag pile." She stares hard at R'j, the Borg targeting laser an accusing line of red. "Unless, of course, you know different."

R'j consults a datapad in her hand. If she is discomfited by the way her lies have suddenly come true, it does not show on her face. "I have no specific information," she says. "Direct investigation may tell us more. We may find configurations of buildings, for example, which correspond to the landmarks on Tiaza Zephora. If we are fortunate, of course, we might discover an archive of some kind -"

"Direct investigation," Shohl cuts in. "You think we should go there."

R'j shrugs. "If it is under observation by the entity at Tiaza Zephora - your astrometrics probes will already have drawn its attention, I am sure. We gain nothing by remaining here."

"And we could find out a lot if we go take a look in person," says Grau. "Makes sense."

Shohl nods. The tenor of her mind is... unhappy. The sentries on the battlements of her consciousness seem to be perturbed. Grau's mind is still a welter of half-formed images.

And sparks are flying in the kindling of R'j's mind....

"Rrueo suggests we should make a temporary accord," I say. Everyone turns to look at me. I smooth my whiskers with one claw. "We should not waste time and effort sniping at each other, suspecting each other. That is all Rrueo has to say. We may be taken unawares by an external threat, if we spend all our time watching each other."

"Point," says Grau.

"So what do you suggest?" Shohl says.

"As Rrueo said. A temporary accord. We undertake to begin no hostilities, you do the same."

"You're in no position to begin hostilities," Shohl snaps.

"Neither are you," says R'j. "We have information you need." Clearly, this is one of her seven permitted circumstances. Perhaps she is in love with the Andorian and wants to prepare a pleasant surprise for her.

"OK," says Grau. "Buxton's got a point, we could waste a lot of effort watching each other like hawks all the time." I hiss at her. "All right, all right. Rrueo's got a point. And I guess the bickering and sniping hasn't."

"We will cooperate, then," says R'j.

"Up to what point?" Shohl is still suspicious.

"Once we know what we are dealing with," says R'j, "then we can decide. If the entity is neutral, concerned only with Tiaza Zephora, it may safely be left to its own devices. If it has other potentialities... then, we must decide how to progress."

"The truce holds until you start shooting?" says Shohl.

R'j sighs. "We will send you command codes for our weapons arrays," she says. "You can lock them down, make sure we cannot use them without your permission. I do not like this -" Nor do I, but I say nothing "- but it is obviously the only way to progress."

"Sounds reasonable," says Grau. "Of course, being Starfleet and upright, downright, forthright and all that, we should really make sure the playing field's level by giving you command codes for our weapons in exchange."

R'j smiles. "And will you do that?"

"Of course not. I'm not daft."

"S-s-s-s-s. You have an advantage: you wish to retain it. I can understand this."

"In which case," I say, "there are practicalities we must attend to. Rrueo will beam back to the Goroke with her employer; we will implement the necessary commands on both our ships, and then we will set out for the planet. In, say, one standard hour from now. Is this acceptable?"

R'j swivels one eye to look hard at me. I hope she will take the hint, realize that there is something I must tell her - out of Starfleet's hearing.

"All right," says Grau. "Do you have anything at all that suggests where we should start? That arcology is a big place to search."

R'j consults her datapad again. She steps forward, makes a great show of studying the holo-display, finally points with one bony finger at a spot on the planet's surface. "I can make no guarantees. But try there." She turns. "Now, my associate and I will return to my ship, and arrange for our weapons to be... neutered."

"See them back to the transporter room," Shohl orders her telepathic guards.

I keep my own mental shields up, as strong as I can make them, on our way back. The beam of the transporter takes us, the Tholian ship fades out... to be replaced by the equally alien interior of the Goroke. I wrinkle my nose. The Elachi ship smells... even R'j notices it, and her sense of smell is many times weaker than mine.

"So," R'j says to me. "What is so important? You were twitching like a nn'hrr-tg'hrr all through that meeting."

"Something you should know, and our new allies need not," I say. "Rrueo began in the science division, do you recall?"

"If I ever need to write your biography, that is where I will begin," says R'j. "So?"

"Rrueo is in the habit of running sensor scans, of making sure all available information is gathered and processed. And Rrueo's ship's sensors are at least the equal of Grau's. When we arrived in this system, Rrueo ordered all the normal scans to be performed. And we arrived here well ahead of Starfleet."

"So?" R'j repeats.

"So," I say, "this continent-spanning complex of ancient ruins on the third planet?" I look hard at her, holding the gaze of her silvery eyes. "It was not there yesterday."