Heresy 28

Tylha

None of us looks particularly diplomatic, even in full diplomatic uniform. Ambassador Streg shoulders his way across the floor like a street fighter, radiating Tellarite pugnacity. Admiral Hengest is visibly ill at ease, his gaze darting every which way. Myself, I just feel uncomfortable.

Above us, the roof is a force-field dome, transparent, but partially polarized against the fierce point of light that is Delta Pyxidis. This ninth planet of the system is an airless, barren world; the rest of the system is equally inhospitable. But something about it attracted the attention of a Vulcan scientific survey, and the small colony here has been a going concern for some decades - and now, it's the latest addition to the Hegemony of Bresar.

The diplomatic reception is being held in a sort of plaza, open to that black sky, surrounded by the functional forms of the colony buildings. The colony administrator, T'Van, is standing in the centre, with a group of Hegemony dignitaries orbiting around her - including two familiar faces. Stiak looks better-groomed, but much more careworn, than he did on Chara V; T'Nir, now officially his consort, seems to have blossomed - she is gracious and elegant in her blue robe, making introductions and keeping conversations bubbling along.

Streg is neither gracious nor elegant. "So," he says to Stiak, "what do you make of this latest addition to your empire, then?"

"I am sure that Delta Pyxidis IX will make a valuable contribution to the Hegemony," Stiak replies with Vulcan imperturbability. I think the Federation Council must have chosen Streg to try and dent that imperturbability. I suspect they're wasting their time.

Or, I muse, it might be something slightly more subtle. While Streg is being brash and noisy and confrontational... all eyes are on him. Which leaves Hengest and me free to do our jobs.

Hengest touches my elbow, now, and I mark the direction in which his gaze flickers. I spot the tall, elegant, rigid figure standing a little way outside the main group. I make my way towards her while Streg is shouting.

"Hegemon Valikra."

"Vice Admiral Shohl." A minimal inclination of her head in response, and those icy eyes glance over me and dismiss me. "We meet again - under more pleasant circumstances, I think, than last time."

"Quite. Congratulations on your promotion," I say.

Again those eyes weigh me and find me wanting. "It is not so much a promotion as a recognition of a fact. I was the effective ruler of Porruma and a number of other systems. I am now their titular ruler as well."

"And your dominion is expanding."

She shakes her head. "This planet is part of the Vulcan Hegemony."

"But the Romulan side is expanding as well, isn't it? Besides, how clear is the distinction between the Romulan and Vulcan halves? Aren't you setting out to abolish that distinction, in fact?"

"We are. But, for the present, it exists. The Vulcan side has certain commitments, my own side has others."

I decide to broach the subject. "The Vulcan side has some obligations to the Romulan Republic."

"We do not recognize the so-called Republic."

"It exists, though, whether you recognize it or not. And we're concerned about your possible conflicts with it."

She raises one eyebrow in that quintessentially Vulcan gesture. "I would have thought you were concerned more with actualities than possibilities."

"All right. Actually, you are attacking Reman interests - mining camps, settlements, convoys - all across Psi Velorum and into the fringes of the Tau Dewa sectors. And Vulcans are involved with these attacks."

"In some respects, you exaggerate. The scale of operations against the Remans is not so significant as you suggest."

"It's significant enough to worry the Remans - and the Republic - and, indirectly, the Federation. You're already fighting the Tal Shiar and their Elachi allies." And whatever's behind them, and the Iconians are not a comfortable thought to dwell on. "Surely you don't want a war on two fronts?"

"I must concern myself with actualities. The manufacturing plants for singularity cores require upwards of five thousand tons of refined pergium each month. The planetary shields at Cor Tasgenia need focus crystals, which cannot be replicated, for the satellite generators. These are two examples - I could cite twenty from memory, more if I consult my records. The Reman mining concerns have these resources. We need them."

"So trade for them."

"Why should we? We have no treaties with the Remans - they are a recalcitrant offshoot of the Romulan state. I am the legitimate heir to that state." She waves her hand at me. "You will say that others dispute that legitimacy. It is immaterial."

"The Remans see themselves as a free people."

"Reman perceptions are often erroneous." She actually smiles at me. "I find myself in an expansive mood, Vice Admiral Shohl. I am about to impart a truth to you." Her smile broadens. "You will find it uncomfortable. That is often the way with truths."

I meet her gaze. "I'm sure I can take it."

"Very well. An essential reason why I attack the Remans is so that they will know their place. It may be necessary to attack others - for the same reason."

I raise my own eyebrow at that. "You think the Remans' place -?"

"Is as it has been, historically. In servitude to a superior race. I said you would find it uncomfortable. It contradicts your Federation dogma. But it is the truth, for all that. We - Romulans and Vulcans alike - are a superior species in every respect. We are stronger than you, healthier than you, in body and in mind. You may bring some specialised assets in some areas - you Andorians, for example, have your enhanced senses, your ability to tolerate a wide range of environments - but, overall, you cannot compete with us. It is folly to try."

"The last Romulan," I say, keeping my tone carefully neutral, "I heard make a speech like that... is either dead, or frozen forever in a temporal anomaly."

"Perhaps. He or she must have made an error. We can make errors - I do not claim that we are perfect. I claim, correctly, that we are better than you."

"And that entitles you to take what you want?"

"That means that, inevitably, we will triumph. Despite setbacks. All setbacks yield to the disciplined mind. You have seen for yourself how well we have coped with the setback at Romulus." Her smile is as icy as her eyes. "Our dominion is inevitable. You will not find us unkind masters, if you cooperate and know your place. Andorians should be good at that - you have found your place, have you not, in the service of the human empire?"

"The Federation," I say firmly, "is not a human empire."

"Of course not," she replies with deep sarcasm. "Remind me, though, what is the relationship between yourself and the human Admiral Hengest?"

"I'm only assigned to him pro tem. And there are Andorian Admirals in Starfleet. For that matter, my official commanding officer is a Vulcan -"

"So you have practice in obeying Vulcans. That will stand you in good stead."

"What about the Vulcan philosophy? IDIC? Infinite diversity in -"

"Propaganda. The weakness of Surak. Bresar's mental and political disciplines show us a truer way. We adopt him as a symbol, Vice Admiral Shohl, because in his time we were one people - as we will be again."

"United in superiority over the lesser races?"

"You speak with irony, but it is true. We can see the beginnings here. Look how my co-Hegemon Stiak and his consort have grown into their roles. Look at that gathering there - Vulcan and Romulan in harmony. Even the Tal Shiar recognize this and are beginning to rally to our cause." She points. "That is General Vorkov, once a senior Tal Shiar officer, now a convert to the Hegemony - and all his substantial military forces with him. There will be more."

Vorkov? Something nags at me - the name is familiar. The man himself, tall, dour, long-faced, is a stranger - but something tells me I've heard the name before. I shelve the problem, return to dealing with Valikra... or trying to. "There will always be weathercocks. What makes you think he won't turn his coat again?"

"People like Vorkov," says Valikra, "are realists. I can deal with realists. Vorkov seeks, realistically, to join the winning side. To retain his loyalty, all I must do is win. And I do assure you, Vice Admiral Shohl, that I can and will continue to do that."

"Is everything well?" A new voice - T'Nir's, I recognize it. She has come up behind me unnoticed; I turn towards her.

"Everything's fine. Hegemon Valikra was just presenting me with some uncomfortable truths, that's all."

"In fairness," Valikra says, "Vice Admiral Shohl took them... as well as might be expected."

T'Nir smiles graciously. She's changed a lot from the harassed but determined refugee I took aboard my ship; she seems to have filled out into the role of society hostess. "Hegemon, with respect, you do represent one strand of opinion within our political discourse. I understand you feel it is the correct one -"

"Events will prove me right." I get the feeling this is a discussion they've had before, more than once. I also get the feeling T'Nir is not persuasive enough to change Valikra's mind.

One strand of opinion? I glance upwards, at the black sky above the force field dome. This planet has no atmosphere, and you might expect to see stars - but the harsh brilliant light of Delta Pyxidis is enough to drown them out, make them invisible. I have a terrible feeling that Valikra is like that.

---

The reception produces... nothing. If Streg won any diplomatic concessions from Stiak, he's not saying anything; if Hengest gathered any valuable intelligence, he's keeping it to himself. I know, as we prepare to leave orbit, that nobody changed Valikra's mind....

"Something odd on sensors, sir." Zazaru's voice breaking into my reverie. The Trill science officer is peering intently into a display screen.

"Problems?" My antennae twitch. Hengest and Streg are travelling in the Luna-class science vessel Umbriel; Valikra is aboard a D'deridex warbird with a flight of Mogais as escort; Stiak is remaining on the colony for the present.... Our ships should be enough to cope with anything short of an all-out attack, but in these peculiar times, I'd like to be sure an unusual sensor contact isn't an all-out attack.

"I'm reading something - I need to make some cross-checks. Objects, about range two-triple-zero...." Zazaru's voice trails off as she concentrates.

"Let's play it safe. Yellow alert. F'hon, get me a line to Admiral Hengest - and to Valikra's ship, if she's willing to talk."

"On it, skipper." F'hon turns to his comms board as the alarms sound.

"I think I have it." Zazaru's head snaps up. "Power signatures consistent with Elachi drive emissions, sir. There might be something else, too -"

"Yes, like cloaked Tal Shiar ships. F'hon, challenge them - not that it'll do any good." The Elachi: the real silent enemy - unwilling to communicate, except with crescent-wave disruptors and their grotesque biological subversions. "Helm, give me an intercept course, max impulse. Red alert. Roll wing cannon platforms." The automated armed drones give me substantial extra firepower, and I have a terrible feeling I'm going to need it.

"Admiral Hengest, sir," says F'hon.

"What's happening?" Hengest's voice asks.

"We have what looks like Elachi ships on sensors, possibly with a Tal Shiar contingent under cloak nearby. Sir, we have to presume them hostile - I'm moving to intercept."

"All right." Hengest's voice shows no sign of tension. "I have to warn you, Tylha, I'm not a combat commander. Umbriel will follow your orders on this one."

"Thank you, sir. Please set up to receive secure tactical telemetry, and follow us in. We'll need your ship's superior sensors if we're going to pick out cloaked vessels."

"We don't have a full tachyon detection rig over her, but we'll do what we can."

Spirits of Earth surges forwards, with the science vessel in support. I peer at the tactical scans, willing them to resolve into something I can recognize -

"I have Valikra, sir," says F'hon.

"Hegemon Valikra. We have Elachi ships on sensors, and they almost certainly have cloaked consorts. Suggest you be on your guard."

"Noted," Valikra's cold voice replies. "Transmit all your available information. I note you are moving to engage."

"We're moving to probe. If that turns out to be a full-fledged Elachi assault force, two Starfleet ships can't handle them. We will fall back to the low orbitals and coordinate with the planetary defense network." However much there is of that. "What about Stiak? Is he secure?"

"Hegemon Stiak is still on the planetary surface. The settlement is heavily shielded against stellar radiation in any event - Stiak is almost certainly safer than we are, unless the enemy can land troops in force. I will await your further reports with interest. Valikra out."

The tactical display is clearing as Zazaru refines the sensor scans. "Signal Umbriel and Valikra. Three S'golth class warships...." I rack my brains. "They're almost certainly a diversion for the cloaked ships... the traces we've got are too big for T'Varos and too fast for a Mogai or a D'deridex - I'd guess Dhelan-class warbirds."

"There's still something around those Elachi," Zazaru says.

"Right." A plan is starting to come together in my head. "So let's fix that. Designate targets Alpha, Bravo, Charlie." I key in comms on my command panel. "Umbriel. Those S'golths are bunched up tight enough that I can try a wing cannon overload, centred on Target Alpha - that will take my cannons offline for a short time, so in that interval, I want you to do whatever you can to slow down Target Bravo."

"And the others?" Hengest's voice asks.

"I'll deal with them. Those S'golths are bait, meant to distract us from the cloaked ships - but they're too dangerous to leave out there. So we'll finish them hard and fast, then backtrack to support Valikra against the others."

"You're assuming Valikra is the target?"

"I don't see a reasonable alternative."

"Neither do I. All right, Tylha, Umbriel is following you in. Target Bravo locked."

"Plasma torpedo launcher fully primed," Anthi reports. "Cannons hot. Shields at maximum, all crew at combat stations. One minute to weapons range."

"F'hon, any response from the Elachi to our hails?"

"None, skipper."

I didn't expect any. "All right. Stand ready, people, this is going to get rough."

The Elachi ships are red dots on my tac screen... are yellow dots... are green ones. "Target locked. Overload set. Fire!"

Space erupts with blinding light as my cannons create a field of destruction. The tac screen flickers, overwhelmed with noise, steadies again.

The three S'golths are showing damage, the leader heavy damage - and space around them is garishly illuminated by the implosions of ruptured singularity cores. An escort group of T'Varo frigates, lying close under battle cloak - so their screens were down when the phaser burst hit. They never stood a chance.

"Turrets. Cutting beam. Fire torpedo."

The cannons are temporarily offline, but our remaining weapons hammer at the battered shape of Target Alpha. The kinetic cutting beam slices away at the saw-toothed hull, the phaser turrets pound at it; strange coloured flames burst from the hull breaches - Elachi atmosphere, no doubt. Then the first plasma torpedo hits, and the S'golth's warp core goes, and it is all over for them.

To one side, Target Bravo is struggling in a glowing, swirling field of force: an induced gravity well, created by the Umbriel's generators. The science vessel's phaser arrays are blazing, and strange signals on my instruments tell me Hengest's crew are trying some other forms of attack besides. With luck, they will be able to occupy Target Bravo's attention while I kill the third S'golth.

Target Charlie's elegant pincer snout is turned towards me now, and Spirits of Earth shudders as crescent waves of disruptor energy slam into her shields. Damage lights start to flash yellow on my consoles. Nothing too bad yet - and my cannons are live again. Blue-white phaser light flashes back at Target Charlie, and the Elachi ship's shields flare and flicker.

"Steer three-eight-seven mark two zero. Reinforce forward shields."

Spirits of Earth might look like an antique, but beneath that old-fashioned exterior she has nearly as much Borg technology as a Tal Shiar adapted destroyer. The shields protest under the Elachi barrage, but they hold - for the moment. And the moment is all that I need.

"Overcharge the torpedo launcher. Hold ready." Spirits of Earth completes her turn, comes onto the heading I want. "Subspace jump now!"

Stolen Klingon technology flicks us across space in the blink of an eye. Like us, Target Charlie has reinforced her forward shields to cope with our attack - now, the jump takes us behind them, to the weakly guarded aft quadrant.

The first blast from our cannons brings down the weak aft shields, tearing into the S'golth's hull, shattering an impulse engine. Then the plasma bolt launches from our modified Borg torpedo tube. The glowing ball of death moves through space at an almost leisurely pace, strikes the unguarded hull - and does its lethal work. The Borg-designed device disassembles the enemy ship at a subatomic level, the energy of the plasma bolt coursing through the matter of the ship's hull and leaving nothing but a fading glow and a faint electrical flickering behind it.

"Come about. Lock cannons on Target Bravo, continuous fire."

Target Bravo has almost climbed out of the Umbriel's gravity well, but the effort has told; that elegant hull is torn and leaking air in several places, stressed almost to its limits. Spirits of Earth's phaser barrage comes down like the hammer of the Infinite - and breaks the S'golth's back.

There's nothing worse than a few flashing yellow lights on my damage control board. "Status check on the Umbriel," I order.

"Umbriel here. We're pretty much intact." Hengest's voice. "Forward and port shields are down to forty per cent - regenerating them now."

"Regenerate them on the way - flank speed back to the planet, to support Valikra." The other part of the raiding force must, surely, have come out of cloak by now -

Indeed they have, as the medium-range sensors tell me. Three flights of Dhelan warbirds, decloaking at short range - if they had caught Valikra napping, she'd be so much ionized gas by now. But they didn't. Valikra's D'deridex's shields are flaring brightly, but holding, and she and her escorts are tearing the Dhelans apart with continual heavy fire from disruptor arrays and plasma torps. And Valikra had her cloaked assets too, it seems - the nightmare spiny shape of an adapted battle cruiser shimmers into view beside her, plasma torps shrieking out of its throat, disruptor beams reaching from its spines to shred one of the Dhelans -

Something clicks in the back of my mind. T'Laihhae flies an adapted battle cruiser - and it was in her company that I heard Vorkov's name. And I remember, now, the way her normally impassive face twisted with fury when she heard it -

Spirits of Earth and Umbriel hurtle towards the battle - but, the way Valikra's ships are handling themselves, it will all be over before we get there.

"Signal from Valikra, skipper," says F'hon.

"Let's have it."

There's a visual; Valikra's face appears on my screen, her icy eyes shining with the light of battle. "Dhelan warbirds," she says. "I believe you guessed as much. Typical of Republic forces."

I shake my head. "No. Those S'golths were unmodified - Elachi, beyond doubt. There's no way the Republic would cooperate with the Elachi."

Valikra frowns. "Perhaps you are right." She glances at something off to one side, seems to find it unworthy of further notice. On my tac display, two more Dhelans die. "We will no doubt find out more from a forensic examination of the debris. Valikra out."