Subcommander Kaol is a typical piece of Romulan misdirection.
People assume that the commanding officer of Alliance Joint Command must be of high rank - they therefore assume that this harassed-looking officer of intermediate rank is only a representative of higher command, and merely passing on decisions arrived at by some superior body. They do not, therefore, argue with or question Subcommander Kaol, since it is not worth their time to deal with a mere representative.
Of course, Kaol is largely responsible for the whole of Joint Command's policy, and he has the shortest chain of command of any subcommander in the Republic Navy - he reports to Admiral Kererek, who reports to D'Tan. It is an enviable arrangement - I could wish that I, too, had so few superiors. Persons who try to assert authority over Kaol - to "pull rank" - are referred up to his immediate superior. This rarely works as well for them as they might wish.
Now, Kaol taps on his desk console, and an image of the sphere forms in his holoprojector. I lean forwards in my chair to study it closely.
A pulsing green dot marks a spot on the interior surface. At this scale, there is no meaningful detail to be seen. The location is some millions of kilometres from the spire appropriated by Joint Command, and well outside the - optimistic - boundaries of the area we have surveyed in detail.
"This is where the anomalous tetryon pulses originate," Kaol says. "So far, they are at relatively low power - but the tetryon frequency is unusual, and there appears to be some attempt to modulate it. Our experts are unable to decipher any meaningful information, but the mere fact of the modulation implies some sort of intelligent direction."
Someone, or something, is deliberately creating a tetryon pulse. I study the hologram. "That point is well outside our own area of operations," I say. "We cannot be absolutely sure about Voth explorations, but it is also outside the known extent of their territorial claims."
"Their defensible territorial claims," says Kaol. The Voth, of course, continue to lay claim to the sphere as a whole.... "The most likely inference is that some third party has gained access to the sphere, and is engaged in some experiments with the Solanae tetryon generators." He frowns. "Naturally, this is cause for concern. The power levels are comparatively low, so we need not immediately fear a repetition of the Solanae, ahh, mishap. But we need to investigate this situation, to find out who is generating this signal, and to, ahh, dissuade them from any incautious experimentation."
The disaster created by the Solanae's failed rift experiment devastated the sphere, significantly dimmed the central star, and contaminated the Solanae themselves with so much tetryon radiation they were unable to exist in normal space any more. As Kaol suggests, a repetition of this disaster would be... unwelcome. "What resources will you devote to the investigation?" I ask.
"We were certainly hoping," Kaol says, "that Starfleet would handle this one. The situation may call for diplomacy, and that is, ahh, Starfleet's forte, I think. Obviously, we also need experts in high-energy particle physics - I understand that is your background?"
"That is correct," I say. "The Tapiola can certainly be made available. It might be preferable, venturing into an unknown area, to have additional support."
"The Dauntless-class USS Timor has recently returned from a survey mission, and is, ahh, at a loose end, as far as my records indicate. Commanded by an Admiral M'eioi, whom I believe you know...?"
"Indeed. She was my junior in Stellar Survey Group 247 up until the Undine incursion, during which she distinguished herself and was promoted and reassigned. She is a competent officer with a suitable scientific background. Her assistance would be welcome, if you can obtain it."
"I will coordinate with your Director of Operations to -" Kaol suddenly looks past me, and stiffens. Something has alarmed him. I turn in my chair and look.
Kaol's "office" is no more than a section of a larger compartment - it is not even walled off, and there are always numbers of people around. At present, their attention seems to be monopolized by status screens displaying information about the local environment within the sphere.
I study those screens myself, and I understand why.
"If I am interpreting the visual data correctly," I say, "the ion stream appears to have shut down."
"That, ahh... would seem to be correct," says Kaol.
I stand up. "I will return at once to the Tapiola. You will require detail scans of the stream's waveguides. Also, this incident is liable to draw interest from other quarters, and it would be as well to be fully prepared."
"Yes," says Kaol in a blank voice. "Quite. Yes."
---
The ion stream is a conduit of exotic high-energy particles flowing through huge circular waveguides, hanging in the interior of the sphere, passing near Joint Command's spire. It has not been fully charted - like so many things - nor has its behaviour been fully explained. The idea that it is, in effect, a part of the sphere's power systems - like an EPS conduit inside a starship - does not bear closer examination; the ion stream generates many unusual energy effects, and we do not know how they could be used.
Usually, it generates many unusual energy effects. Currently, as Tapiola makes a cautious approach to one of the waveguides, it is generating nothing whatsoever.
"No signs of damage or malfunction." The Saurian science officer, Bildua, speaks in abstracted tones, as he tries to assimilate the data flooding into his console. Given that the waveguides are not currently operating, we should attempt to take detailed scans of them - something which is not possible while the energy stream is producing vast quantities of sensor noise. "It's just... shut down, I think, sir. We're getting a data signal which is consistent with Solanae comms chatter - I think it's just repeating 'standby mode', over and over."
"Patch that through to my command console," I say. "I want some warning if that changes. Mr. Psaz. Tactical report."
"Nothing yet," the Tellarite at the weapons station replies. "That'll change, though. Scanning on all Voth frequencies. I've got positions on allied ships in the vicinity - huh. One we know, nearby. Elachi Monbosh-class battleship with KDF privateer transponder. The Goroke."
"Excellent. General Bl'k' is a competent tactical commander, and her ship is a significant combat asset."
Normally, the Voth are deterred from probing too close to Joint Command by the minefield, an automated defence network... which, in fact, works rather better than it should. The minefield is vast, but it is, in the end, a fixed defensive line in a three-dimensional and unbounded strategic environment; such things are usually circumvented. It is, perhaps, a function of Voth rigidity of outlook, that they should respect a notional boundary line....
Most of the time. "Contacts bearing three eight seven," Psaz reports. "Here they come."
"I'm receiving a general hail." This from Pascale, the green-haired android at the operations console. "Putting it through -"
A craggy scaled face glares at us from the viewscreen. "This is Science Commander Katzik aboard the Madractis. This phenomenon is now a subject of study by the Voth Circles of Science. Mammalian vessels are to depart immediately. No further warnings will be given."
"This is Admiral T'Pia aboard the USS Tapiola," I say. "Intelligent cooperation in this matter will undoubtedly yield better results -"
The screen goes blank. To be honest, I did not expect otherwise.
"Mammalian," Bildua mutters. "I should take offence."
"Can't get a read on all the Voth," says Psaz. "They're throwing out some fierce sensor jamming. We've got a Bastion-class for sure, though, coming our way." He glares at me. "I don't think he's got intelligent cooperation in mind."
"I concur. Red alert. Battle stations. Ready all projection systems."
"Goroke is moving in," Psaz says, "but that cruiser will reach us first unless we go max evasive now."
Options flash through my mind. "Better to bring the Voth to action immediately," I decide. "Comms. Signal the Goroke and patch through tactical telemetry." I touch a control. "All hands. We are about to engage a Voth cruiser. Stand ready." My voice booms back at me through the Tapiola's internal speakers.
"Weapons range in two," says Psaz.
"Forward shields to maximum."
I have a visual. Against the blue haze of the sphere's atmosphere, the Bastion cruiser is a small, malevolent black blotch. A blotch that grows, and suddenly flares with red -
Tapiola shudders in the antiproton barrage. "Forward shield down thirty-five per cent!"
"All projectors, fire. Steer two seven two mark three, emergency evasive."
My ship shudders again with the fury of her own barrage. Tetryon fire from the forward blades, yes, but most of my energies are expended on more exotic weapons systems. Lines of light reach out from our hull, spread out, and shimmer into holographic warships, fuelled by energy from our warp core. Ahead of us, the Voth ship suddenly slows and trembles, caught in an induced gravity well - and then is surrounded by an icosahedral cage of golden light, as our Tholian web generators come into play. In the sphere's atmosphere, the web lines sparkle and crackle vividly.
The Bastion has tried a trick of its own, creating an energy-sapping spatial rift at our location - our desperate burst of speed tears us loose from it, just in time. My power levels are depleted, though, and the initial barrage took my shields down lower than I would like. But the Voth ship is temporarily trapped, and I have the opportunity to pummel it with tetryon fire and thermionic torpedoes. I have the opportunity, and I take it.
A thunderstorm of energies rumbles around the Bastion cruiser, and I see a brief flash of flame from a minor hull breach. Tapiola comes about once more, to present her substantial forward armament. Still, the Bastion is a larger and more powerful ship than mine, and the odds are not in my favour - or would not be, if I did not have support.
"Goroke is in range," Pascale reports. "Her auxiliary vessels are spoofing the Voth's sensors. General Bl'k' is targeting their engines."
"We will follow suit. Mr. Psaz. I find that cruiser's port nacelle aesthetically displeasing. Kindly remove it."
The Tholian web implodes, the mesh scoring deep grooves in the Bastion's hull - but releasing it, at the same time. Scarlet antiproton fire raves out from its every gun port. Tapiola shivers again, and there is a flash-bang from a secondary console as a transient surge is damped out in our EPS grid. Our combat holograms are firing, but the Voth ship's wide-area barrage has caught them and destabilized their matrices - they flicker and wink out of existence.
There is the grunt and whine of energy banks discharging below me. Cherenkov-blue light sears out from our blades, tearing at the stumpy rounded shape of the Bastion's port nacelle. And, on the other side -
The Goroke's approach should have been obvious, but the battleship is accompanied by her specialist auxiliary craft, and one of those is projecting a jamming beam that blinds the Bastion's sensors. Anyone looking out of a porthole, of course, could see the goat's-skull shape of the battleship - but it seems the Voth were not looking. Now, the first intimation they get of Goroke's arrival is a vicious blast of crescent-wave disruptor fire, virulent green light scything through the armour of their starboard nacelle. A vivid flash marks the impact of a subspace torpedo, at the same time as one of our own thermionics pierces the Bastion's failing shields and strikes home on the port side.
"Yes!" Psaz shouts in triumph. "Cruiser's drive is out! Shields dropping, power failing! We've crippled them!"
"Hail from the Goroke," says Pascale.
"On screen."
The face that appears in my viewer is dark green, thin and feral, with glittering silvery eyes, and a bony crest on the forehead that is remarkably similar in shape to the Goroke herself. R'j Bl'k's voice is a thin rasping whisper; her species has difficulty with vowel sounds. "Reasonably well done," she says. "But there is a problem. S-s-s-s-s. One of your ships has engaged the Voth's command battleship, range two fifty kellicams, bearing nine six. They will need immediate support, and we are closest."
"I see. Commander Pascale. Get me a channel to the Bastion." I look hard at R'j. "We must secure the situation here, quickly."
"I hope you do not plan to be overly sentimental. S-s-s-s-s."
"I have the Voth captain, sir," says Pascale.
R'j's face is replaced on the screen by another harsh reptilian one - perhaps not quite as ferocious as Commander Katzik's, but still not the face of someone easily amenable to reason. "Eject your warp core," I say.
The Voth glares at me. "I do not take orders from mammals!"
"I will rephrase. Please eject your warp core. Our attention is needed elsewhere, but we must ensure that your ship no longer poses a threat. If you eject your warp core, you will no longer pose a threat. If we open fire and destroy you completely, you will also no longer pose a threat. Please choose logically. I have no desire to inflict unnecessary loss of life."
The Voth captain's expression is - hard to describe. He turns and makes a gesture to someone off-screen. Seconds pass, and then something drops out of the Bastion cruiser's hull, to tumble off on a random course in the air of the sphere.
"Warp core ejected," the Voth says in a choked voice. Even if they restore auxiliary power, it will take many hours to retrieve and reinstall the core - by which time prize crews from Joint Command will have taken the ship in charge, in any case.
"I congratulate you on a sound decision," I say to the Voth, and close the comms channel before hearing his response. "Helm. Flank speed to the coordinates supplied by the Goroke. Reinforce shields, and give me status reports on urgent repairs."
The damage to Tapiola is insignificant, and Goroke was never touched. We remain fully functional and combat-ready. As I study the situation ahead of me, I am glad of that.
"One Pathfinder-class science vessel, USS Tempest," Psaz reports. "Voth ships - three Palisades and a Bulwark. Bulwark's got to be their command ship, the Madractis." He scowls. "Stupid names the Voth give their ships."
Palisade-class scout vessels are depressingly capable enemies - though Tapiola and Goroke should not be challenged too severely by three of those. The heavy Bulwark-class battleship, though, is another matter. Looking at the tactical display, I am amazed that the Tempest has survived as long as she has.
"That Pathfinder is luring them," R'j's voice says over the link to Goroke. "Your ship's commander is pulling them in like ll'hhyrst'ni after a gh'dr'st. But luring them where?"
"Hopefully, the Tempest will survive and we can ask them," I say. The Pathfinder-class vessel is showing several damage icons in my display, though. The Palisades are showing little damage, the Bulwark none at all. "Who is the commander of the Tempest?" I ask.
"Records indicate... Rear Admiral Daniel Fallon," Pascale answers. "Unusual. Tempest is a long range science vessel, but Rear Admiral Fallon is a tactical division officer."
Intriguing. However, my primary concern, when it comes to Admiral Fallon's personnel record, must be to make sure it does not end today.
"Signal the Tempest. Inform them that we are on approach to assist." I study the range display. We can see flashes of golden phaser light - and more vivid flashes of Voth antiproton weapons - but we are still a long way from effective weapons range. Especially in atmosphere - atmosphere is a problem anywhere near the interior surface of the sphere.
The Tempest dodges another barrage of beams from the Madractis. Fallon is clearly a skilled ship handler - but he cannot keep this up indefinitely. He is an experienced officer and he must know this. Logically, therefore, he must have a plan. But what is it?
"Five minutes to weapons range," Psaz reports.
The Tempest changes course. Ignoring the attack from the nearest of the Palisades, the Pathfinder loops around and through one of the ion stream's inactive waveguides, then dives out again, turning towards the surface of the sphere. The Voth ships turn in a curve to follow, but they are less nimble -
And I see Fallon's plan. I glance at an indicator on my console - something I had neglected, until now. Fallon must have something like it on his bridge.
The automated message from the waveguide has changed. "Hail the Voth," I order, "tell them to -"
I do not have a chance to finish before the ion stream turns itself back on.
The atmosphere is thin, here, but it still flames and glares with a million cracks of thunder all rolled into one. My displays white out in a burst of sheer noise. When they come back, I can see that Fallon's trap has worked, just as he evidently intended. The energy is flowing through the waveguides of the stream... and the Voth ships are squarely in its path.
The Palisade scout ships stand no chance; they glow and flame and vanish in the white-hot flashes of core breaches, and those explosions themselves are taken by the stream and stretched, endlessly, into the distance. But the Madractis -
The Bulwark's shields are failing, true, but they are still there, for the moment. The armoured hull - I do not know what is happening to it. Energy is bleeding through the shields, and there is still a soft vacuum within the stream - I am not sure if the hull is ionizing, or vaporizing, or oxidizing, or some combination of the three. I can see that it is glowing white, and seems to steam, almost, as the outer layers are ablated away.
Is there any way the crew can possibly survive? Escape pods would disintegrate in an instant. Transporter operations - I can only imagine what those energies would do to a transporter signal, and I would far rather not. Perhaps, if the Bulwark is capable of a subspace jump -
The ship's hull changes. Now, hairlike lines of light are shooting out of it, bristling in all directions. I repress a shudder. Energy is bleeding through the shields in greater quantity, and some of it is being refracted or reflected through the crystal structure of the hull. Random energies, blasting outwards - blasting in all directions, including inwards -
The ablation of the outer layer of the ship might keep its interior cool enough to survive in. Now, however, all the crew has to worry about... is a random barrage of plasma fire, coming out of the walls themselves.
The Madractis changes course, angling more steeply towards the boundary of the ion stream. It must be in response to some automatic mechanism. Nobody could possibly be alive on that ship now.
The shields finally fail, and the question is rendered irrelevant. Unimpeded by the shield, the stream's forces tear what remains of the Madractis down to nothing. There is a white glare as the core goes, and then the Voth ship is gone.
I find my voice. "Contact command. Establish the overall battle situation, find out if we are needed anywhere else." I swallow. "Then contact the Tempest. Offer any necessary assistance with repairs."
"Did he do that on purpose?" Psaz asks. I am not sure what emotion is in his voice.
"It seems most likely. An effective stratagem, certainly... not, perhaps, one I would have chosen." Whatever else, Fallon is clearly not concerned with minimizing loss of life. The Voth casualties will be... total. Not even bodies left to bury.
"Receiving strategic data across Joint Command occupied zone," says Pascale. "The Voth forces are withdrawing at high speed. We're reading three more cripples - Joint Command is sending prize crews - and our own losses seem to be minimal so far." She turns her metallic gaze towards me. "Do you think they ran because they lost the command ship, sir? Or just, well, because the ion stream came back?"
"It could be either," I reply. "If the latter, their action is... premature. There is still a mystery here."
The ion stream takes power. Petawatts of power, at least - power enough to blast a battleship into nothingness. For a time, all that energy was being - diverted. Energy does not simply disappear, and the abrupt cessation and equally abrupt reappearance of the stream... suggest, to me, that its generators, wherever they might be, were still running. But the power those generators create was... needed elsewhere.
Needed where?
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