Star Trek: ALL - Seven Deadly Sins (8 page)

Sounds like wishful thinking.

“Why do I feel like we’re on the outside looking in?” Allen asked.

“Because we are,” Solow replied, rising from his chair and retrieving the juice glass from his desk before making his way to the food slot situated in the wall to his right. “Or, we will be, if there’s any truth to this.” Starfleet had been attempting to develop their own version
of a cloaking generator for years, or at least create sensor technology that might penetrate such a field, with no tangible results. When the Romulans disappeared deep into their own territory, seemingly never to be heard from again, that research slowed and eventually faded to nothing as other priorities took precedence. With the reappearance of Romulan ships during the past year, efforts had begun anew, but the progress to this point did not look promising. According to the reports Solow had read, new teams of undercover agents were at this moment being prepared and trained for insertion behind enemy lines, in the hope that they might eventually uncover information pertaining to the cloaking technology, as well as other military secrets. Such operations required time and patience to carry out with any degree of success, and Solow now doubted the Federation had that kind of time.

Turning from the food slot with a fresh glass of juice, Solow returned to his desk. “When can you have the updated reports ready?” he asked, reaching up to rub his temples. Was it his imagination, or were the analgesics actually working?

“Eleven hundred hours today, Admiral,” Allen replied.

“Good,” Solow said. “I want a package encrypted and readied for secure transmission to Starbase 47. Nogura’s our foremost expert on the Romulans, and if they’re getting into bed with the Klingons, we need him looking over the data we’ve collected.” Pausing, he shook his head. “Figures Starfleet would ship him out to the farthest point of known space that doesn’t require you to speak Kelvan.”

Admiral Heihachiro Nogura was one of Starfleet’s leading tactical minds and a key player in much of the strategic planning that had been put into motion during the previous year when war with the Klingon Empire had seemed inevitable. For over a year, he had been stationed at Starbase 47, a remote installation on the fringes of Federation space. Overseeing a massive—and highly classified—research and military operation taking place in that region, Nogura still had been called upon to weigh in on the escalating situation with the Klingons, even after the mysterious Organians had put a stop to the pending hostilities between Starfleet and the Empire. If the Romulans were emerging from their figurative shells and seeking renewed conflict with the Federation—and asking the Klingons to participate—then Starfleet once again would require Nogura’s keen insights.

“What do we do in the meantime, sir?” Allen asked.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Solow settled back in his chair, turning it so that he once more looked out over the bay. To the west, storm clouds were gathering.

Was it an omen? If so, then it most certainly was going to be a very long day.

“For the moment,” he said, not liking the way his words sounded, “we wait.”

Transition from warp drive complete, Proconsul. Now proceeding at impulse power.”

Toqel swiveled the captain’s chair at the sound of Centurion Nilona’s voice, feeling a slight twinge in her stomach as the
Kretoq
’s inertial dampers compensated for the battle cruiser’s deceleration to sublight speed. Looking up from the handheld computer interface pad containing the latest reports delivered by her lead engineer, she said, “Excellent.” She rose from the chair, moving to stand behind the helm officer and take in the image displayed on the bridge’s main viewscreen. “What about the
Vo’qha?
”

From behind her at the tactical station, Centurion Rezek replied, “It has just dropped out of warp, as well.” A status indicator flashed on his console, and after turning to consult it, he added, “Coded burst message from Commander Lajuk, Proconsul. He awaits your orders.”

“What is the status of our cloak?” Toqel asked.

Rezek said, “Fully operational.” He reached for one bank of controls at the tactical station. “Sensors detect no trace of the
Vo’qha.
”

As it should be.
Toqel smiled at the thought. She had been waiting for this moment since receiving approval from Praetor Vrax to undertake this clandestine survey mission. Having proven the success of the technological exchange she had championed, the
Kretoq
now was crewed solely by loyal Romulans, with Captain Mortagh and his
contingent having been returned to Klingon space after the completion of the exercise in the Dar’shinta system.

“Continue on course to the fifth planet,” she ordered. In accordance with the instructions she had been given by Praetor Vrax himself, the first order of business would be to determine the full capabilities of the outpost’s sensor array. During the
khaidoa
that had passed since the Tal Shiar’s initial report on the installation being constructed here, covert reconnaissance had been conducted by vessels operating at the very edge of the border separating Romulan and Federation space. As a result, most of the new information was limited in details and quality, but one thing had been determined: the base—while still largely under construction—was operational, including the massive sensor array that appeared to be its most prominent feature.

“Sensors standing by,” Rezek said, and Toqel nodded at the report. Stepping around the helm console, her attention was fixed on the image of Theta Cobrini V—as it was listed in Federation data banks—growing larger on the viewscreen. According to the long-range scan data originally collected
fvheisn
ago by sensor probes, the planet was unremarkable in nearly every measurable sense. It possessed no useful mineral deposits in any amounts to justify establishing a mining operation. Its atmosphere, just like the system’s other four planets, was poisonous to most humanoid species. Indeed, the world’s only redeeming feature was that it was the outermost planet in a system that sat adjacent to the territory of an enemy. Its orbit around the Mar’venas star would allow for ground-based sensors to collect detailed scans of Romulan ship activity in the vicinity of the border. If Starfleet followed its usual pattern, a series of satellites and other unmanned drones would augment that sensor coverage, making this system a key location in the Federation’s early warning and defensive reaction strategies.

Assuming it’s allowed to remain here unmolested.

“Proconsul, we are inside the planet’s orbital trajectory,” Nilona reported from the helm.

“Activate sensors,” Toqel ordered, casting a glance over her shoulder at Rezek. “Inform Commander Lajuk to do the same.” According to the information gleaned from the unmanned drone scans, the outpost’s sensor array should have been powerful enough to detect an uncloaked vessel while still light-years away at warp. Pinpointing such
a vessel within the system’s perimeter should be child’s play. Despite the known limitations of the new cloaking generator to fully mask impulse emissions, detecting such readings normally required specialized sensor components. The likelihood of the outpost’s possessing such equipment was small, Toqel knew, therefore increasing the odds of a successful reconnoiter prior to departing the system and returning to Romulan space.

“All sensors active,” Rezek reported after a moment. When Toqel turned from the viewscreen, she saw the expression on the centurion’s face change. “We are detecting only residual energy signatures coming from the planet’s surface.”

Frowning, Toqel asked. “What do you mean?”

Looking up from the sensor displays, Rezek replied, “All power generation systems are off-line. Sensors are recording traces of discharges from particle beam weapons as well as high-yield explosives. Proconsul, the outpost appears to have been destroyed by orbital bombardment.”

“What?” Even though she had suggested just such a scenario scarcely a
khaidoa
ago, the words still sounded alien to her ears. “Are there any survivors?” Perhaps someone still alive down on the surface might be able to offer some clue as to what had taken place here.

Rezek shook his head. “I am detecting no life-forms, Proconsul.”

Total destruction? How was that possible, and who was responsible?
The questions raged in Toqel’s mind as she turned once again to face the viewscreen. “Helm, take us into orbit. Rezek, disengage the cloaking device, and route that power to scanning. I want a full-spectrum sweep of the surface.”

“Redirecting sensors,” Rezek replied, his voice taut. For several moments, the only sounds on the bridge were those of the various control consoles, with the occasional chatter of a disembodied voice speaking through the ship’s intercom system. “We have visual.”

“On-screen!” Toqel snapped, the first hints of dread beginning to worm their way into her mind. The image of Theta Cobrini V was replaced by an orbital view of what to her eyes appeared as an opaque ghostly smudge against the craggy, orange-gray terrain of the planet’s surface. Without being asked, Rezek increased the image’s magnification, bringing into sharp relief what Toqel could see were vast
craters, from which emerged remnants of artificial constructs—twisted structural supports, fragments of blackened hull plating, and other detritus littering the scorched earth. Turning from the screen, Toqel saw Rezek looking back at her, the centurion’s expression one of confusion.

“Well?” Toqel asked, all but shouting the question.

“Residual energy readings are consistent with those of plasma torpedoes,” Rezek answered. “Romulan plasma torpedoes, Proconsul. I am confirming my findings with the tactical officer aboard the
Vo’qha,
and she corroborates the readings.”

How in the name of the Praetor is that possible?

Had Vrax, or someone in the Senate, authorized a separate mission, and left her uninformed? To what end? None of this made any sense. Was someone pursuing another agenda, one at odds with her own? Had she been betrayed? If so, by whom, and for what purpose?

No answers presented themselves, and then she had no time for further reflection as an alarm klaxon wailed across the
Kretoq
’s bridge.

“What is it?” she asked, talking to Rezek’s back as the centurion bent over the tactical displays.

“Sensors are detecting four vessels,” he said. “Klingon D7 battle cruisers. They were on the far side of the planet. I don’t know where they . . .” He paused, and before he spoke again Toqel heard the frustrated grunt escape his lips. “They were
cloaked,
Proconsul.”

“Cloaked?” Toqel’s thoughts turned to the four other ships traded by the Klingons as part of the exchange initiative. According to the last report she had received, those vessels were still conducting tests near Galorndon Core, nearly a
dhaei
’s travel at maximum warp.

Another warning alarm sounded on the bridge, and Rezek shouted to be heard above its wail. “The vessels are assuming attack postures, increasing speed and powering their weapons!”

“Shields up!” Toqel ordered, lunging around the helm console and reaching for the captain’s chair. “Stand by all weapons. Helm, make ready for evasive maneuvers.” All around her, Romulan centurions turned to their stations, carrying out whatever frantic preparations they might complete in the precious little time remaining to them. Toqel tried to ignore her racing heartbeat. It had been a very long time since she had faced ship-to-ship combat, and only once as a vessel’s commander.

Sarith, I wish you were here now.

“They’re locking weapons on the
Vo’qha,
” Rezek called out, and on the screen, Toqel saw the leading Klingon vessel enter the frame, its weapons ports glowing a harsh, vibrant jade. Then a pair of writhing green balls of energy spat forth, crossing the void separating the ships before disappearing past the screen’s right edge. “Direct hit on the
Vo’qha
!” Rezek reported. “Their weapons are passing through the ship’s shields!”

“Fire all weapons!” Toqel called out, an instant before something struck the
Kretoq.
The deck shifted beneath her feet and she all but fell into the captain’s chair. Alarm sirens blared again, and she saw several alarm indicators flashing on workstations around the bridge.

Behind her, another centurion, Santir, said, “Direct hit to our secondary hull. Engineering reports damage in their sections.”

“Proconsul,” Rezek said, “Our attackers are pulling back, but Captain Lajuk is broadcasting a distress signal. They’re under continued assault.”

“On-screen,” Toqel ordered, and the image changed to show the
Vo’qha
being pummeled by repeated weapons blasts from two of the four newly arrived Klingon ships. Hull breaches were evident, and a cloud of debris surrounded the wounded vessel.

“The enemy ships are firing Romulan weapons, Proconsul,” Rezek said, his tone one of shock and disbelief. “Plasma torpedoes.”

We have been betrayed!

The blunt statement hammered in her mind, defying her efforts to ignore it as she took in the scene on the viewscreen. Everyone on the bridge watched as the
Vo’qha
shuddered beneath the brunt of multiple hits, and an instant later the ship disappeared in a brilliant burst of white-hot energy as its warp engines overloaded. A sphere of superheated plasma expanded outward from what had been the secondary hull, swallowing the ship and everything in the immediate vicinity. The image on the viewer automatically lowered its brightness and reduced its magnification so that Toqel could see the pair of Klingon warships that had slain the
Vo’qha
making a hasty retreat.

“Evasive!” Toqel shouted over the disorderly cacophony threatening to engulf the bridge. “All weapons, fire at will! Helm, plot a course out of the system, and stand by to engage at maximum warp.” Still reeling from the loss of the
Vo’qha,
Toqel forced
her mind to consider her options. Her ship, already damaged and alone against four adversaries? Those were very poor odds indeed.