Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 14

"Uhura," Thelin said. "Are the comm channels quiet?"

"Yes, sir," Uhura replied. "Just the normal interplanetary chatter."

"Well, be thankful these Klingon cloaks are good enough to fool their own defense networks." He turned his head down toward the helm. "Captain Sulu, put us into geosynchronous...o...b..t around the moon, twenty thousand kilometers, equidistant from the two nearest sensor buoys."

"Aye, sir." The image of Praxis on the viewer shifted as Sulu turned the ship and settled into an orbital route. As it happened, they were positioned almost directly over the moon's terminator, and with each pa.s.sing minute the surface of the world beneath them slipped slightly further into darkness. And whereas the lighted portion of the surface appeared to be barren and lifeless, marked with craters and the remnants of long-dormant volcanic peaks, the expanding shroud of night revealed the twinkle of artificial lights spread out over the surface of the sphere, condensing into the bright hubs of small colonies constructed within the safe confines of vast environmental domes.

All eyes on the bridge focused upon the tranquil scene laid out before them. Time itself seemed to slow, until Thelin broke the silence.

"Mister Chekov," Thelin said. "Program the trajectory for deployment of the Genesis torpedo near the equator, on the illuminated side of the moon."

"Aye, sir," he replied, intently setting himself to the task at hand, as if afraid that any hesitation might draw his attention back to the viewscreen.

"Captain Sulu," Thelin continued. "Prepare to drop the cloak and power the weapons systems, on my mark."

"Standing by, Admiral," Sulu responded.

Thelin climbed down from the captain's chair and stood behind the helm, still looking at the image of Praxis rotating slowly against a backdrop of alien stars shimmering through the cloaking field, providing a surreal, dreamlike view of the landscape before him...which, were they to be successful, would shortly be changed forever.

"Programming complete, Admiral," Chekov announced.

It was time. "All right, everyone," Thelin said in a firm but rea.s.suring tone. "You all know your jobs. Let's do this thing and go home." He looked down at Sulu. "Now, Captain."

Sulu punched two keys on the console and moved a slider to its opposite position. As Thelin watched, the moon on the viewer before him suddenly focused into sharp relief. The lights dotting the breadth of the night side, providing illumination for the hundreds of thousands of settlements on the surface, beamed out at him in vivid clarity.

Half a million people-some living underground, or within protective forcefields that could minimize the Genesis effect. We can't possibly know what this will do to them, David had said.

"Awaiting orders to deploy, sir," Chekov said.

Once you do this thing, the galaxy will never be the same. You're opening Pandora's box. You're unleashing a power that can never be reined back in.

"Admiral?" Sulu inquired with a hint of alarm.

Thelin swallowed. His antennae stood firmly at attention. "Fire," he calmly commanded.

With a brief flash upon the viewscreen, the projectile launched from the torpedo bay and traced a long streak across the face of the moon as the rockets in its self-contained propulsion units guided it toward the horizon as it slowly descended to the surface.

"Reengage the cloaking device," Thelin ordered.

"Activating now," Sulu replied. The telltale shimmer returned to the viewscreen's display.

"Admiral," Uhura called out from her station. "I have confirmation that our presence in orbit has been discovered. The Qo'noS defense network is going to high alert. Stand by..." She stared off, nodding slightly as she a.s.similated additional incoming information. "Ground-based defenses on Praxis are tracking the torpedo, but they're having trouble locking onto it."

Chekov nodded. "Then the targeting scramblers we installed on the device are working!"

"Captain Sulu," Thelin said. "Break orbit. Follow evasive pattern delta in retreat formation; we have to a.s.sume they'll be trying to track us visually. Let's get out of here."

"Aye, sir," he said. "Aft view on screen."

The Katai began to veer away on a course perpendicular to the moon's terminator, away from the system's sun, and the visible half of Praxis began to shrink away into a thin, bright crescent.

"Five seconds to device detonation," Chekov announced.

The seconds ticked away. The image of Praxis slowly reduced in size as the Katai continued on impulse power, clearing the gravity well of both the moon and the nearby planet. Somewhere on the opposite side, invisible to them, the Genesis device reached its target.

A few more seconds pa.s.sed in silence, until Uhura spoke up. "Ground-based observers on Qo'noS are reporting an explosion on the surface of Praxis."

On the screen, the dim outline of Praxis was now barely visible as the sunlit surface had waned into darkness in the wake of the Katai's hasty retreat. Suddenly, a fiery corona erupted over the horizon of the entire sphere, outlining its circ.u.mference with a h.e.l.lish glow. In moments, the effect crept over the edge of the disc and began to wash over the surface of the moon, swallowing up the full breadth of the cratered surface in a spreading inferno.

"Admiral," Uhura said. "I'm monitoring communications...from Praxis."

Still standing directly behind the helm, Thelin spun round to face Uhura. "Communications...from the surface?"

"Stand by," she replied, squinting and looking down as she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. "There's a lot of overlap, sir, and it's breaking up...the translator isn't able to do much with it. But I believe most of these are distress calls originating from subterranean sources."

"Underground mining settlements?" Thelin asked.

"I think so, sir," Uhura replied. She looked away, and Thelin noticed her eyes beginning to widen with shock.

Thelin turned back toward the viewer. The initial effect of the wave had pa.s.sed, though the landscape of Praxis had become a maelstrom of both geological and biological activity. No surface settlements could possibly have survived the ravages of the wave, but there was no way to know what sort of changes the Genesis matrix could be working beneath the ground, where mining operations delved deep toward the moon's core. "Commander Uhura," Thelin said tentatively. "Speakers on."

The ship's intercom flared to life with a burst of white noise, which quickly died away, revealing the frenzied voices beneath the interference.

"Perimeter...forcefields holding... baQa'...!...kind of energy wave...no response from the surface...read us? Qo'noS command..."

Intense static momentarily overwhelmed the transmission. At the helm, Sulu and Chekov exchanged glances, seeming not to know how to react.

"...believed to be dead! Is anyone listening? Secondary wave impact..." Then shouts, followed by shrieks of alarm, or possibly pain.

"...families are trapped! We cannot..." A female voice interjected. "Molgoth? Come in...east barriers have been compromised! Can we still beam out the children? Molgoth...? qeylIS...Qoy wIj tlhobtaHghach!"

Additional shrieks were heard, and screams...

Then the speakers throughout the bridge produced nothing but a cold, empty hiss.

"Speakers off," Thelin whispered.

The noise ceased, and a stifling silence enveloped the bridge, punctuated only by the beeps and whirrs of the computer consoles that busily charted courses and a.n.a.lyzed data, morally oblivious to the event that had just occurred.

Thelin stepped back onto the platform at the center of the bridge and walked to the chair, but did not sit, instead facing the chair and gripping the armrests, leaning on it for support. "My G.o.d...What have we done?"

A beat pa.s.sed. At the communication station, Uhura removed her earpiece, rose from her chair, and stood at attention. "We followed our orders, sir.... We did what was necessary for the sake of the Federation." And although her composure was unflappable, a single tear ran down the length of her left cheek.

Thelin did not move, even to turn his head in acknowledgment. "Yes, for the Federation..." he whispered. "But have we destroyed it in order to save it?"

The rest of the bridge crew stared ahead in silence. On the screen before them, retreating into the distance, shone a shining sphere of blue-green paradise, sp.a.w.ned in the depths of h.e.l.l.

7.

Praetor Aratenik stood up from his chair at the head of the Romulan Senate, his ceremonial robes billowing about his tall, lanky form. His troubled expression foreshadowed the acrimony that would undoubtedly plague this session. The events of the past week were unprecedented on a galactic scale, and what happened today could chart a course for generations to come.

"The Senate calls to the floor Saavik of Vulcan," Aratenik announced, "the honorable amba.s.sador from the United Federation of Planets."

Saavik rose from her seat in the front row of the gallery and stepped forward into the large round area in the center of the chamber. Beams of sunlight pierced through the high, arched windows of the domed ceiling, reaching the cartographic design splayed across the speaker's floor. Each of the eight members of the Continuing Committee, seated to either side of the praetor, focused their stern gaze on her.

"Amba.s.sador Saavik," Aratenik continued, "do you wish to make an opening statement?"

"I do, sir," Saavik replied.

"You have five minutes," he said, returning to his seat. "Proceed."

"Thank you, sir, but I shall be brief," Saavik said, bowing her head in respect. She turned around to acknowledge the representatives seated in the rows behind her. "Honored Senators," she began, and then completed the turn to refocus her attention upon the praetor. "I am of course well aware that the subs.p.a.ce channels have been abuzz with rumor for the better part of a day. So allow me to confirm what will soon be publicly announced: Approximately twenty-one hours ago, Chancellor Gorkon of the Klingon High Council on Qo'noS extended to the Federation an offer to suspend hostilities indefinitely. Plans are under way to convene at a neutral location and negotiate terms for the surrender of the Klingon Empire."

Whispered voices began to stream forth from the gallery like water from a slowly opening spigot. While no one could rationally express regret at such news, the nervous tension underlying the reaction in the chamber was unmistakable. Saavik waited for the background noise to subside before continuing.

"The Federation acknowledges with regret the catastrophic loss of life in the military operations leading up to the present armistice. But we also celebrate the lives that will be saved by the cessation of further warfare and conquest. Federation relief efforts are already under way, and thousands of medical personnel and social workers have been dispatched to Qo'noS to provide aid in this difficult but hopeful time.

"The Federation once again extends its grat.i.tude to Empress Ael and the Romulan Star Empire for their impartial support during this protracted conflict, and trust that a more peaceful galaxy will produce further cooperation among all the powers of the region, and the flourishing of diplomatic relations. On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I thank you for your time and attention."

Saavik remained standing at attention as further mumbled voices rumbled throughout the chamber. Praetor Aratenik stood and raised his hand. "Thank you, Saavik of Vulcan. Now, if you will indulge the lines of inquiry from the seated representatives. We will begin with Proconsul Dralath. You have fifteen minutes."

Dralath rose from his seat at the praetor's right hand and fixed his steely gaze upon Saavik. Though appearing absolutely calm, the intensity in his eyes seemed to suggest a volatile zeal bubbling just beneath the surface. A guileful grin broke out upon his face.

"Amba.s.sador Saavik," he began. "Among the members of this Senate, you of all visiting diplomats are held in the highest esteem, for you are indeed a lost child of Romulus, and your blood no doubt burns with the same pa.s.sions as our own. It is because of this that your testimony on this day has left me in utter dismay. You were brought here today to explain the Federation's use of a weapon of seemingly limitless destruction, and yet you hide behind diplomatic bromides, dancing around the issue like a human ballerina."

Saavik took a deep breath. "Forgive me, Proconsul. I thought my meaning was clear. The Federation's actions with respect to the re-formation of Praxis served one purpose and one only: to bring about an immediate end to the otherwise interminable pain and suffering caused by this continuing conflict."

"The re-formation of Praxis?" Dralath exclaimed. "Is this the cloyingly benign term the Federation will use henceforth while it traverses the galaxy annihilating entire planetary civilizations?"

Saavik closed her eyes. How could Aratenik be so spineless as to allow a reactionary like Dralath to begin the questioning? "Sir," she began, before reopening her eyes and attempting to convey an expression of honesty and trustworthiness, "neither the members of this senate nor any other sentient beings in the galaxy need fear the motives of the Federation. We desire peace and stability, not conquest."

"Then tell me, Amba.s.sador Saavik...Once the Federation has subjugated the Klingon Empire, what then? What will be the role of the Romulan Empire in this grand new order? From where shall we receive our a.s.surances of peace and stability when facing a Federation more powerful than this galaxy has ever seen, with weapons capable of destroying entire planets on a whim?"

Saavik took yet another deep breath, struggling to keep her emotions in check. As long as Dralath-and those who deferred to his opinions-distrusted the most basic motivations of the Federation, this wasn't an argument she could possibly win. "Proconsul Dralath...and Praetor Aratenik," she said, turning back toward the leader's center seat. "Might I please suggest that you withhold judgment of our intentions until after the new treaty is signed. The Federation will extend an invitation to Amba.s.sador Nanclus to attend the negotiations and to represent the interests of the Romulan people."

"I'm not certain that will be possible," Dralath said. "Empress Ael has already recalled Amba.s.sador Nanclus to Romulus while the future of our diplomatic relations remains in doubt."

The future of our diplomatic relations? Saavik thought. What the h.e.l.l is that supposed to mean?

"Clearly, Amba.s.sador, you and the Federation have failed to grasp the severity of the Empress's concerns. For years, the Federation has given us a.s.surances that they did not and would not produce or deploy weapons capable of destruction on this scale. In fact, I believe you will find that more than a few members of this governing body believe the Federation now to be in violation of treaty. We are faced with no alternative, Amba.s.sador. Our only protection against a weapon of this magnitude is a policy of mutual a.s.sured destruction."

Saavik felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard. "What are you saying, sir?"

Dralath stepped out from around his table and took several menacing steps toward Saavik's position on the speaker's floor. "What I am saying, Amba.s.sador, is that the best scientific minds within our borders are already at work developing our own a.r.s.enal of Genesis weapons. We have already successfully produced the effect on a small scale."

By d.a.m.nation of Shariel, Saavik thought. At what cost did we stop this war?

"I am truly sorry, Saavik," Dralath said, his tone suggesting perhaps a hint of genuine regret. "But you of all people should understand the need to ensure the survival of our race." He turned and marched back toward his seat at the committee table. "I have no further questions for the amba.s.sador from the Federation," he said with cold finality.

"Very well," Aratenik said. "Next on the docket is Senator Pardek. You have fifteen minutes."

Saavik spent the remainder of the session listening absently to the questions asked of her and responding robotically with her prepared answers. She felt drained of all emotion, aggrieved over the damage to the fledgling detente with the Romulans, and in many ways betrayed by the people whom she represented. This was not a simple miscalculation. The galaxy had changed irrevocably, and the future was now more uncertain than ever.

The reports from the Federation News Service maintained an even and somewhat somber tone in the wake of the Praxis mission. Despite the unqualified success of the Federation attack, the deaths of nearly a half million souls in a single nightmarish event was difficult for any objective correspondent to convey in a dispa.s.sionate manner. Of course, as always, pundits from all along the political spectrum cast subtlety aside and weighed in for whomever was willing to listen-some claiming that no Klingon lives had value and that Qo'noS should be wiped from the map, others claiming that the Federation's own unconditional surrender would be preferable to the loss of even one more life.

But when word of the cease-fire came through just days later, the celebratory reaction that immediately spread through all the worlds of the Federation seemed entirely appropriate. Field reporters, no longer in danger from being stationed in a combat zone, freely captured these historic moments for posterity...and with those reports came images of the wounded civilians on both sides of the conflict-the men, women, and children who had paid a dear price for the enmity of their leaders. Among the survivors were about two thousand Klingons who had called Praxis their home, who had escaped the effects of the Genesis wave due, in whole or in part, to their deep underground habitation or the protection of various dampening forcefields.

Many of the survivors had already been rescued and relocated to Qo'noS for medical attention, with further rescue operations still under way. The instant that the Klingon High Council gave its authorization, Federation relief efforts mobilized, and within hours the first teams of doctors, nurses, social workers, and other disaster recovery personnel descended en ma.s.se onto the Klingon homeworld.

David Marcus walked down the ramp of his transport along with several dozen other relief workers-one of several teams sent to supplement the medical units that had landed the day before. As he set foot upon the landing pad, he mentally added Qo'noS to the growing list of alien worlds he had visited in his young life. The sun had just begun to set, and the buildings around him cast long shadows, made more ominous by the severe angles and embellishments of the imposing Klingon architecture. The air was still warm, and carried with it an unusual musky scent that David couldn't quite identify but found strangely appealing.

He followed the rest of the personnel as they crossed a wide street and poured through the doors of a large coliseum where evacuees were temporarily housed. As he entered, his senses were a.s.saulted by a cacophony of bustling activity amid the sterile smells of medical supplies and the wails of the suffering patients.

Beds were laid out as far as he could see, filling the large lobby area and extending down long curved corridors on either side. Most of the patients were covered with sheets, but a few of their unnaturally horrific injuries could be seen here and there as the medical staff attended to specific cases. David's memory harkened back to the incident aboard the Enterprise five years earlier-an event he had never wished to relive, though now he had little choice.

His mood instantly improved when he glimpsed a familiar face. He rushed up to an elderly doctor attending to a young Klingon boy. "Doctor McCoy!" he said.

The doctor looked up and broke into a wide grin. "Doctor David Marcus! How in G.o.d's name did you get mixed up in all this?" He reached out his hand and David gripped it firmly.

"What can I say," David replied. "I guess I'm just idealistic enough to believe I can make a difference here."

"Well, your beliefs are spot-on. It's good to have you here, David."

"Thanks," he replied, hoping that McCoy spoke the truth. "So how are things going?"

"Oh, I dunno," the doctor said, casually looking about the area. "I guess when you consider that they've converted a sports arena into a triage center, things are going pretty well. Admittedly, I had to take a crash course in Klingon anatomy prior to my arrival-and it shows," he winced with chagrin. "But the good news is that I've spent the past five years figuring out how to reverse the effects of the genetic damage caused by the matrix. Even though a lot of these injuries are pretty horrific, most of the patients will eventually recover."

"I suppose that's good news," David said, trying unsuccessfully to match McCoy's level of optimism. He looked down at the boy on the cot in front of the doctor. The young Klingon was fully conscious, but seemed to be experiencing a great deal of discomfort. His torso was fully exposed, and the skin on the left side of his body was altered, growing darker and coa.r.s.er the closer it was to his extremities. The effect continued along his left arm until it became sheathed in a scaly outer carapace; at the end of his arm, his hand had morphed into a primitive-looking talon.

David became aware that the boy was watching him, and shifted his attention away from the gruesome injury. "h.e.l.lo! How are you feeling?" David asked him.

"What do you mean?" the boy responded with confusion. "I'm lying in bed. Why would I be feeling anything?"

"I mean, are you in any pain?"

Oddly, the boy's spirit seemed to brighten at the question. "Yes, my arm hurts a lot. But that's the will of Kahless. He put an angry spirit in there, so that it would help to claw the eyes out of my enemies!" He took a few playful swipes at David with his altered limb. "My father taught me all about Kahless. And now he's gone to be with him."

David's heart sank. "Your father was killed on Praxis?"

"He was working in the mines," the boy said. "But he was serving the Empire! Mother said he died honorably, and he would still go to Sto-vo-kor. Do you think he has met Kahless yet?"

McCoy held up his hand. "I'm sure your mother knows all about it. She'll be back in a few minutes, okay, son?"