Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 18

When Savalor had first been posted to Qo'noS, K'mpec had been chancellor. A larger-than-life figure, K'mpec had been a wise and n.o.ble leader for his people. It was no wonder he'd lasted longer in the position than anyone else in the Klingon Empire's history.

He was also easy to talk to, which could not be said for his successor. Gowron, with his wide eyes and suspicious nature, always made Savalor feel as if he were on the defensive.

Such was the case now, as the council steward called the session to order the instant that Gowron entered, trailed by four members of his personal guard, the Yan-Isleth.

Before Gowron completely settled in the high-backed chair at the center of the chambers' rear wall, he bellowed, "Step forward, Amba.s.sador Savalor, and tell me why I should not have you killed and call for the council to declare war on your empire."

"Because the Romulan Star Empire has committed no acts to justify such a war, Chancellor," Savalor said calmly as he stepped into the center of the chamber. A light shone in his face, but the nict.i.tating membrane inside his eyelids prevented him from being blinded, or even having to blink. The councillors who stood in a semicircle around Gowron's seat were now all but engulfed by darkness, leaving only Gowron, on whom another light shone, visible. Well, fine, he's the one I need to address.

"What do you call the destruction of the No'Var Outpost?" Gowron asked angrily.

Holding up the padd onto which he'd downloaded the files from the Tal Shiar, Savalor said, "The act of a renegade. Subcommander Lar was a malcontent who spoke out against the Senate after a recent session. The Tal Shiar has evidence that he spoke often in favor of going to war with your empire, feeling that we should have finished the job that we started at Narendra III and Khitomer, and that Klingons are filthy savages who don't deserve to be a power in the quadrant."

Another councillor, Kurn, spoke. "Your Tal Shiar punishes sedition with death, Amba.s.sador, yet you gave this Lar a ship. Why?"

Savalor answered the question, but continued to address Gowron. To do otherwise would show disrespect to the chancellor. "He already had the ship. And his remarks were primarily directed against your empire." He allowed himself a small smile. "Forgive me, but invective directed against Klingons is not a crime in the Romulan Empire-any more than the curses you all direct at Romulans are prosecuted here."

Gowron actually smiled back at that. "True." The smile fell. "But did your Tal Shiar not predict that he would cross the border and engage in a cowardly attack against our outpost?"

"Apparently not. The Tal Shiar are not perfect, Chancellor, certainly not as skilled as your own Imperial Intelligence, and they cannot predict the future. Subcommander Lar's profile did not indicate someone who would engage in renegade actions against the express wishes of Romulan High Command and the Senate." He walked forward to the steward, and forced himself not to wince at the man's body odor. "I offer this padd as evidence of Lar's treachery, to be examined by the High Council. I am also instructed by the Senate to offer whatever reparations you deem appropriate for the loss of the No'Var Outpost." After the steward took the padd, Savalor looked straight into Gowron's wide, pitiless eyes. "We would not declare war with one ship making a sneak attack, Chancellor. Rest a.s.sured, if my government feels the need to make war on you, you will know it."

Gowron stared right back. Savalor knew that to be the first to look away would be to show weakness, and he could ill afford that.

Finally Gowron said, "We will examine your evidence, Amba.s.sador. However, I believe that your government does not wish to wage war on us-for now. Therefore, barring any new evidence, the Klingon Empire will not respond to this outrage." Then Gowron smiled, and while before he was mildly amused by Savalor's comment, this time the smile had no mirth-it was more a baring of the teeth, truly. "However, if the families of those who were dishonorably murdered at No'Var wish to take their revenge, then who am I to stop them?"

You're the leader of the thrice-d.a.m.ned empire, that's who you are. Savalor was not suicidal enough to say so out loud, though. "Of course, Chancellor."

"That is all," Gowron said. "We have other business to discuss."

Savalor gave a small bow, and beat a hasty retreat.

As he moved toward the aircar that would take him back to the-blessedly clean!-Romulan emba.s.sy, Savalor hoped that the Tal Shiar had done their forgery work well. For Lar was, in fact, a patriot of the highest order. His attack on No'Var was unpredictable, not because the Tal Shiar's profile on him was wrong, but because it gave no indication that he would perform such an act.

The mystery of Lar's psychosis was someone else's problem, however. Savalor's was to sell it to the High Council, a feat he was fairly certain he'd managed. A Tal Shiar agent was likely waiting for him at the emba.s.sy to debrief him-though this was an open council session, so the Tal Shiar could just get the facts off the information net like anyone else.

He just wanted to get out of the filth. He was definitely changing his clothes before talking to anyone...

6.

The Voria Mines Voria Province, Bajor Carda.s.sian Union Kira Nerys, the last surviving member of the Shakaar resistance cell, rubbed her callused hands together as she headed home after a long day at the mines.

As recently as ten years ago, the Voria mines were going full bore, taking uridium from beneath Bajor's surface. Five hundred Bajorans worked the mines, and were housed in fifty one-room shacks that ten people had to share. The ore hauler that took the fruits of the miners' labors to Terok Nor for processing came three times a week.

Now, however, only forty-two Bajorans worked the mine, and the hauler came twice a month-and there were rumors that that would be cut back to once monthly. All forty-two got an entire shack to themselves, which was downright luxurious by mine-worker standards.

Many of the other mines on Bajor were in a similar state. From what Kira had heard from her fellow resistance members, that was why the Detapa Council back on Carda.s.sia had been pushing Central Command to pull out of Bajor: it was no longer economically viable to support an occupation force-one that was regularly harried by terrorists-and a s.p.a.ce station, given the meager returns.

But those rumors had died down the past few years, and though the resistance continued to pound away, Bajor was still part of the Carda.s.sian Union.

That, however, was a lesser concern for Kira right now.

Because she knew the truth.

A week ago, she had come back to her one-room shack expecting a visitor, but he wasn't there. For four days, she continued to expect him; then she gave up, a.s.suming something had happened to prevent his arrival.

When she entered the shack tonight, the first thing she noticed was that the patch she'd made on the hole beneath the window was falling apart, and if she didn't want to freeze to death tonight, she'd need to redo it.

The second thing she noticed was the presence of the guest she expected a week ago.

"You're late, Elim," she said without preamble.

"An unfortunate necessity, Nerys. Damar has taken an interest in me of late, and that has curtailed my ability to move about freely if I wish to deviate from traveling to either the Promenade or my quarters."

"But you managed?"

Garak inclined his head slightly. "Damar is a decent enough security chief."

Kira snorted. "'Decent enough' has never been much of an impediment for you, has it?"

"Indeed not. In any case, everything has been prepared." Garak had a satchel on his shoulder, which he now handed to her. "I've provided the access codes you'll need to commandeer the hauler. I trust you're capable of disposing of any personal security the ship might have?"

At that, Kira just looked at him.

"Of course," Garak said with that insincere smile of his. "You'll find everything you need in that satchel, all safe and sound."

"You're sure you weren't followed?"

Now Garak just looked at her.

"Sorry. And both devices are functioning?"

"Yes. Now, then, if you'll excuse me, I have a brilliant escape to engage." Garak moved toward the shack's exit, then hesitated. He turned and faced Kira with a serious expression.

That alone got Kira's attention. She'd known Garak since he was first exiled to Terok Nor five years earlier, and she'd rarely seen him use any facial expression save that of affable charm. That he used another now meant what he was about to say was as close to being from his heart as he was capable.

"Your mission is of critical import, Nerys. Not just Carda.s.sia, not just Bajor, but the entire galaxy depends upon your getting this intelligence to the Federation successfully."

Kira shook her head. "Are we sure they're the right people to take this to?"

"What, pray tell, is the alternative? The Klingons? The Romulans? They are neither of them inclined to listen to reason, or to be open-minded. The Romulans will arrest you and repatriate you to Carda.s.sia. The Klingons would probably just have you executed. No, it must be the Federation-and even then..."

Garak didn't need to finish his sentence. Kira knew the risks. She also knew they were worth taking. "The hauler's due in tomorrow. With luck, I'll be in Federation s.p.a.ce within a week."

"Good." Garak held out a hand. Kira took it. "Best of luck, Nerys. For all our sakes."

"You, too. Stay out of trouble, Elim."

He smiled one last time. "It's what I do best." With that, Garak quickly took his leave.

Kira set down the satchel and opened it, examining its contents. There was a containment unit, a field generator, a holofilter, and a padd. She dare not activate either of the first two, though the generator wouldn't actually do anything if turned on right now. Still, any unauthorized electromagnetic emissions might be detected by Carda.s.sian security. The containment unit was likely shielded-Garak wasn't capable of being careless enough to for-get that-but it was best not to take risks. The holofilter was in case she was hailed while still in Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce and needed to bluff her way past a patrol. The padd contained the access code for the hauler, as well as instructions on how to pilot it. That, she didn't need-this wasn't the first ore hauler she'd flown-but Garak was nothing if not thorough. Also on the padd was the best course for her to follow through Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce to avoid the very patrols for which she might need the holofilter.

Now she just needed to wait twenty-six hours for the hauler to show up...

Once, the Voria mines had a large landing bay, as well as a launching pad. Ships coming to Voria would take off and land on the pad, and stay in the bay during their layover. Not far from the mine was a fairly popular Carda.s.sians-only resort and casino. (At least, it was Carda.s.sians-only as far as patronage went; plenty of Bajorans worked there as low-level cleaning staff or entertainment.) The ore hauler that serviced Voria had an established routine: land the ship in the early evening, head to the resort, spend the night there, get up some time in the late morning-by which time the hauler had been filled with the raw ore to be brought to Terok Nor for processing-and take off for the s.p.a.ce station by noon.

Or at least it used to. Four years ago-shortly before Kira was a.s.signed to Voria-her fellow resistance members set off an explosive in the landing bay. The damage was sufficient to render the bay unusable. However, the only s.p.a.cefaring vessel that ever came to Voria these days was the ore hauler, so the Carda.s.sians didn't think it worth the expense to repair the bay, and the hauler just stayed on the pad overnight.

Which made it much easier for Kira to steal it.

The hauler's pilot had long since gone to the resort, leaving only one bored-looking guard. He wore the insignia of a gil; Kira didn't know his name, nor did she care to. While Kira had come to admit reluctantly that not all Carda.s.sians were b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who needed to die slowly and painfully, her compa.s.sion did not extend to anyone in the Carda.s.sian military. They were the ones who beat and raped and pillaged and abused. They were the ones who'd violated her world.

You wore that uniform, you were a target. Targets didn't need names.

Kira snuck up behind him and broke his neck, and she didn't give him a second thought once he fell to the dirt in a crumpled, dead heap. It was as much consideration as Shakaar, Furel, Lupaza, Mobara, Gantt, and Mabrin had gotten from the Carda.s.sians who'd killed them.

If the Prophets wanted the gil to live, they would've made him more alert.

She walked up to the hatch on the hauler's underbelly and entered an alphanumeric code that she read off of Garak's padd. In response, the hatch loudly unfolded into a ramp that provided entry, and squeaked so much that it echoed throughout the mines. Kira hadn't counted on quite so much noise. Obviously the same budget-consciousness that prevented the bay from being rebuilt also kept the hauler from being properly maintained.

Let's just hope that this thing's engines are in better shape than the ramp, she thought as she overrode the pre-flight checklist. With the racket made by the ramp, more guards would be here any minute, and she needed to be in the air by the time that happened.

Within a few seconds, she had taken off and was heading into orbit. The pressure of g-forces slammed against her ribs and crushed her into the heavily padded seat.

She saw the fuel alarm go off. I don't believe this. He hadn't refueled yet. As soon as she thought that, she cursed at herself. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't refuel until he knew how much ore he was carrying, which he wouldn't know until morning.

Still, Kira only had to take the hauler to Bajor's fifth moon. And since the hauler was still empty, the fuel consumption needed to achieve escape velocity would be low. As long as she had enough fuel to get the hauler into orbit, point it at the fifth moon, and make one last kick with the thrusters, ballistics would take care of the rest.

Her real concern was the one piece of information Garak hadn't been able to obtain: whether the starhoppers the resistance had hidden on the fifth moon were still there. In particular, one starhopper that could go to warp three and even had a (sort of) working transporter.

As soon as Kira got past the stratosphere, she changed course for a standard orbit. She'd only need to orbit for three minutes, then she'd be in position to head straight for the moon. The timing of the escape had been as much to take advantage of the fifth moon's...o...b..tal position as anything.

The fuel alarm continued to sound, and Kira couldn't figure out how to turn it off. It also looked like she'd have only enough fuel for the final thruster kick that would send her toward the moon, then she'd have to shut down.

She wouldn't have enough to make a landing once she arrived. Which meant she had to calculate the course perfectly so that the hauler would enter the moon's...o...b..t, and then she had to hope that the battery power was high enough for her to use the hauler's computer to access the starhopper's transporter.

Should've checked the fuel before stealing the ship, she thought, but dismissed it. She'd left a body behind, one that belonged to a Carda.s.sian soldier who was supposed to check in regularly. There simply would not have been time to refuel even if the ramp hadn't squeaked open.

Once she reached the window, Kira changed course for the fifth moon, left orbit, and sent the hauler hurtling as fast as it could before shutting down all engines.

Then she let out a long breath. It would be the better part of a day before she reached the moon. She just had to hope that the generic nature of the ore hauler-there were literally hundreds of ships just like it all over the Bajoran system, and they all had the same transponder code, as a cost-saving measure-would keep the patrols from finding her.

7.

U.S.S. Enterprise-E In Orbit of Earth United Federation of Planets Captain Jean-Luc Picard was extremely grateful to find himself back in the present day.

It had been a difficult road. The Borg-after devastating Admiral Leyton's fleet-had sent a scout ship back in time, in an attempt to a.s.similate Earth before humans' first contact with the Vulcans, contact that led, eventually, to the forming of the Federation.

But Picard had been able to stop them, at a huge cost. Many of his crew were killed, including conn officer Lieutenant Sean Hawk, deputy chief engineer Lieutenant Paul Porter, and so many others. His android second officer, Lieutenant Commander Data, had been very badly damaged.

Now, though, they were home.

From the ops console, Data-the internal machinery of his head partially exposed-said, "Sensors indicate that we have successfully reversed the Borg's temporal distortion and returned to our own time." He turned around to look at the command chair. "We have returned seven minutes, nineteen seconds after our departure."

From the tactical console, Lieutenant Commander Worf, Picard's security chief, said, "We are receiving multiple distress calls from the fleet, sir-and also a priority-one call from the Palais de la Concorde."

Picard whirled around at Worf 's words, then looked at his first officer, Commander William Riker, sitting next to him. The latter said, "Why would the Palais be contacting us directly?"

"An excellent question, Number One." Generally orders directly from the seat of government went to admirals, who pa.s.sed them on to ship captains. Of course, with Leyton's death, Picard was now in charge of what was left of the fleet, but it still felt as if several links in the chain of command were being bypa.s.sed. "On screen, Mister Worf."

The face of President Jaresh-Inyo graced the viewscreen. "Captain Picard."

"Mister President. To what do we owe this honor?"

"I wish it was to honor you that I was calling, Captain-although I do wish to commend you for your role in destroying the Borg cube. Admiral Leyton was wise to include you in the fleet-we might have suffered many more losses if you hadn't been there."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sadly, while I would prefer to allow you the chance to lick your wounds, I'm afraid that won't be possible. Earlier today, a Klingon fleet led an attack on a Romulan outpost on the planet T'Vyss. Several thousand Romulans were killed. The Romulan Star Empire has declared war on the Klingon Empire, and the Klingons have requested that we come to their aid in this conflict."

Picard blinked. "Surely a diplomatic solution-"

"Is being attempted, yes, but in the meantime, Chancellor Gowron has demanded that we send a fleet to supplement the Defense Force. In fact, he requested you by name, Captain."

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Picard said, "I appreciate the chancellor's confidence, but we've suffered considerable damage-and personnel losses. We-"

"I understand the difficulty, but any repairs will have to be made en route. Take whatever vessels are able to join you from Admiral Leyton's fleet and rendezvous at Starbase 24, where you'll get crew replacements and additional ships. Then set course for the Archanis system. General Martok's fleet will meet you there." The Grazerite leaned into the image and spoke even more softly. "I'm not happy about this either, Captain, especially after what just happened with the Borg. But the Klingon alliance has stood for eighty years, and I won't be remembered as the president who sundered it." Then he leaned back. "Good luck, Captain Picard."

"Thank you, Mister President." Picard did not say the words enthusiastically.

With a final nod, President Jaresh-Inyo's face disappeared from the viewer.

To the relief conn officer who had replaced Hawk, Picard said, "Ensign, set a course for Starbase 24."

"Aye, sir."

"Mister Data, gather every piece of information Starfleet Command has regarding this conflict between the Klingons and Romulans, in particular any intelligence briefings that have been prepared since the start of the Borg attack, then send it to my ready room." Looking behind him, Picard said, "Mister Worf, determine which ships are still battle-worthy and have them join us. Determine which ship of those is the slowest." He got to his feet and looked at his first officer. "Number One, once the fleet is a.s.sembled, proceed to the starbase at the slowest ship's maximum safe cruising speed. You have the bridge-I'll be in my ready room."