Star Trek Discovery- Fear Itself Page 21

  “Father,” she whispered. Saru glimpsed a new, worrying vulnerability in Nathal that he hadn’t thought her capable of.

  “I am Admiral Tauh of the Peliar Cohort,” began the older officer—and if he noticed his daughter among the assembled faces, he gave no indication of it. “This vessel will no longer be allowed to remain under the control of criminals.” His soldiers raised their disruptors, finding the Gorlans and taking aim at them. “Tell your compatriots,” he went on. “All resistance toward the directives of Peliar Zel is to halt immediately, or I will employ lethal force against you. Those responsible for acts of defiance will submit themselves for summary judgment. All remaining aliens in orbit are to deposit themselves on the designated sanctuary world. There will be no negotiation.”

  Vetch slumped against a support stanchion. “We’ve failed. We gave up our advantage and now we will perish . . . here in the void, or down there on that poisoned rock!”

  Saru rounded on Nathal. “Commander, please. You must do something.”

  Nathal blinked, as if coming out of a daze. “Yes . . . of course.” She straightened her tunic and stepped forward, giving a brisk salute at her shoulder. “Admiral, thank you for your intervention, but you may recall your escorts, sir. This ship is already under Peliar control. The Gorlans who took over the craft have surrendered. They are no longer a danger.”

  “I will be the arbiter of that,” replied Tauh. “A grave series of events have occurred under your dominion, Commander. You bear the responsibility. The Cohort is dissatisfied with your performance.”

  Nathal’s double nostrils flared. “I accept that. My crew did the best they could against superior numbers.” She gestured at Saru. “These Federation officers helped us retake the ship without further violence.” Nathal faltered. “But Admiral, this planet . . . What we were told about it . . .”

  Tauh turned his attention to Saru, ignoring her. “Ah, yes. The meddlers from Starfleet.” He gave Saru a dismissive once-over. “A Kelpien. I have heard of your species. Still alive, are you? Your Captain Georgiou was quite concerned about your well-being.”

  Saru couldn’t stop himself from asking the question. “The Shenzhou . . . Are they all right?”

  “If they did as they were told, they will be fine,” Tauh said airily. “I ordered them to return to your side of the border zone. For their own safety.”

  The Kelpien considered that reply, thinking of how his captain would take that demand. It didn’t square with what Lieutenant Burnham had said, but Saru decided to keep the discrepancy to himself and pressed on.

  “Admiral, I am Lieutenant Saru. As you are the highest-ranking official of the Peliar Zel Cohort present here, I wish to offer my services to you as an independent third party to mediate for the Gorlan refugees aboard this ship, on behalf of the United Federation of . . .” Saru trailed off as he realized that Tauh was laughing at him. “You find my words amusing, sir?”

  “I find your arrogance amusing, Lieutenant,” he snapped, his chilly humor vanishing. “You have no authority here to offer anything, or expect anything. Perhaps you were not paying attention to my initial statement? Let me reiterate the relevant point: All aliens are to deposit themselves on the designated sanctuary world. That includes you and your Starfleet associates.”

  “This is the true face of Peliars’ so-called altruism,” said Madoh, glaring at Saru. “You see, yes? Now it is too late for any of us.”

  “It speaks?” Tauh gave an arch sniff, as if noticing the Gorlan red-band for the first time. “I have no need to hear what you have to say, criminal.” He refocused his attention on his daughter. “Commander, repatriate these aliens aboard the cargo containers and deposit them on the surface. Or must I have my adjutant do it for you?” He gestured to the other Peliar officer accompanying him, who took a wary step forward.

  “You’re going to send them back there?” Nathal shot a glance at the desolate world on the main screen. “Father, look at it. The Alphan Council told us this place was verdant, that the Gorlans would have a fair chance at a new life. But that was never true, was it?”

  “Child,” he intoned, “I taught you to be smarter than this. In warfare, certain realities have to be accepted. Don’t be naïve.”

  “We’re not at war with the Gorlans,” she countered.

  Tauh’s displeasure deepened. “You talk like a Betan. I expected more.”

  “Admiral! That world is a harsh and unforgiving wilderness,” insisted Saru. “If you abandon these people there, you doom them.”

  “Then they can thank me for thinning the herd.” Tauh was dismissive. “The Gorlans boast of their fortitude. This planet will give them ample opportunity to prove it, and Peliar Zel will be rid of a distraction our worlds never wanted.”

  “You cannot do this.” Saru’s voice rose with his ire. “Have you no empathy? Despite whatever violence a handful of these people may have committed in their desperation, you cannot sentence tens of thousands of innocents to a slow death!” The flesh of his face colored as indignant rage overwhelmed his innate instinct for self-preservation. “I won’t allow it! The Federation will not allow it!”

  “The Federation won’t hear of it,” Tauh sniffed, and the threat hung silently in the air.

  “Sir . . .” Tauh’s adjutant dared to speak for the first time. “I would counsel against any rash actions that might jeopardize Peliar Zel’s future membership in the Federation.”

  “Be silent, Craea!” Tauh waved him away. “The chattering politicians of Alpha and Beta are light-years distant. I am the authority here.”

  “I will always serve Peliar Zel and the Cohort,” Nathal began. “And I have no loyalty to these aliens . . .”

  “As it should be,” said Tauh.

  She disregarded him and kept speaking. “But I do have a moral code! Those who acted against my crew must answer for what they have done, yes, but Lieutenant Saru is right. I won’t be a party to this.”

  Tauh gave his daughter a withering stare. “I should have expected this. There is too much of your pair-mothers in you.”

  “I think now that they taught me better than you ever did,” she shot back.

  The admiral glanced around, finding Nathal’s subordinate. “You, the second-in-command. Hekan, isn’t it? Nathal is relieved of her captaincy. You’re in charge now. Execute my orders.”

  Hekan folded her arms and stood fast. “I’m afraid you won’t find anyone on this ship who will go against our commander, sir.”

  “Oh?” Tauh’s gaze swept the chamber and zeroed in on Saru once more. “Is this your poisonous influence, alien? Bad enough that your sickly Federation moralizing has won over the Betans and the weak willed among my fellow Alphans, but now you think that I will swallow it too?” He clasped his hands together. “Very well. I’ll make this clear for everyone concerned, one final time. Follow my orders now, to the letter, and I may be willing to consider this as a minor outbreak of insubordination, induced by the stress of recent events. But if anyone refuses, if the Gorlans do not return to the sanctuary of their own accord . . .”

  From the corner of his eye, Saru saw the blink of indicators flashing on dozens of vacant consoles. Ensign Weeton stepped closer to one, his brow furrowing as he examined the screen.

  “I will have my gunners disable this barge,” Tauh continued, unware of what was going on. “And then blast those cargo modules free, and they will fall back to the surface where they belong! I don’t imagine all of them would survive an uncontrolled descent, so consider the choice carefully.”

  But Saru’s attention was fixed on the other Starfleet officer. Weeton had gone pale. “Lieutenant?” He beckoned the Kelpien over. “You really need to see this.”

  “Do not ignore me!” raged Tauh, but Saru did exactly that, crossing to the console in two loping steps. “My orders are all you need concern yourself with!”

  As Saru studied the data on the panel, his threat ganglia pulled tight and he had to physically restrain himself from rea
ching up to press at the tiny dendrite-like fronds. “You are gravely mistaken, Admiral.” The brief surge of anger that had buoyed Saru up beyond the reach of his deeper, fearful nature now fell away as a new and more lethal threat made itself apparent. “I would direct your attention to subspace frequency zero-one-one-four.”

  Tauh’s adjutant Craea peered at a digital panel fixed to the forearm of his uniform, and he tapped a few keys on the device. The Peliar reacted with shock and whispered something that Saru didn’t catch.

  Tauh spun toward his officer. “What? What did you say?” All his bluster seemed to evaporate in an instant as he drew into a hissed, secretive conversation with Craea.

  “Zero-one-one-four,” said Hekan, thinking aloud, “that’s a general frequency used by the . . . the Tholians.”

  Saru was already tapping at the panel. A holographic projection phased into being across from where they stood, and it resembled a piece of abstract art—against a twinkling background stood a diamond-shaped pillar cut from misty crystal, vanishing out of sight beneath the image pickup. The upper facets of the form were broken by a pair of harsh eye spots that glowed with infernal light.

  When it spoke, the Tholian’s screeching, grating communication became a high-pitched, haughty voice rendered through a translator matrix. “Attention, intruder vessels. We have determined that your craft represent a threat to the security of the Tholian Assembly. We have dispatched a defensive force to this star system. It will arrive presently. We expect your craft to be beyond the outer orbit of the system at that time. Any vessel remaining within that perimeter will be considered a threat and dealt with accordingly.” Its message delivered, the image of the Tholian blinked out.

  “How soon is presently?” said Weeton as Saru pivoted over another of the podium consoles.

  “Sensors are picking up unidentified readings at the edge of range,” he said carefully. “Judging by motion and energy output . . . two, possibly three ships. They’ll be here in . . . nine-point-seven minutes.”

  Hekan gasped. “Even if we go to warp right now, with the added mass of those cargo modules we won’t make it past the outer orbit before they catch up with us!”

  “They know that,” said Madoh bitterly. “A potential threat? We are nothing of the kind, just as our colony was no danger to them.”

  “Were we meant to perish there?” Vetch muttered, his head bowed. “Is this fate catching up to us? Events repeat themselves. We are condemned.”

  “Not yet,” Saru insisted, overlooking the hollow ring of his own words. His thoughts raced as he struggled to formulate a solution to the imminent problem. “Mister Weeton! Engineer Hekan! Would it be possible to modify the warp bubble generated by this ship, and merge it with that of the warship?”

  “Uh . . . in theory . . .” The ensign gave the Peliar woman a questioning look.

  “It could be done,” admitted Hekan. “We have dozens of heavy-duty tractor beam emitters on our outer hull; they could be used to secure both ships together.”

  Weeton nodded rapidly, picking up Saru’s idea and running with it. “Stresses would be high, and the spatial drag would slow down the carrier severely, but it could work.” He paused, blinking as he tried to figure it out.

  “Ensign, would we make the perimeter in time?” Saru pressed.

  “I don’t know,” Weeton admitted. “But better we try.”

  Across the compartment, Admiral Tauh turned slowly back to face them. He seemed to have aged years in the space of a few seconds, briefly struck silent by the unexpected arrival of the new danger.

  “Listen to me,” he grated, his previously superior and languid manner now replaced with what Saru saw was genuine dread. “The Peliar Zel Cohort’s standing orders are unequivocal in this situation! Under no circumstances are our ships to engage in any actions that will antagonize the Tholian Assembly.” He turned to bark a command to his adjutant. “Recall all the drones immediately! Task the carrier’s helm to put all power to the star drive!”

  “Father . . .” Nathal approached him. “Admiral. What are you doing?”

  “A tactical reevaluation,” he snapped. “Come! I will have my transporter operator lock on to all Peliar life signs. . . . Prepare yourselves! We are leaving!”

  “You’re going to abandon this ship and everyone aboard it to the Tholians?” Saru said the words aloud and still he could hardly believe it. It was one thing to be ready to force the Gorlans to return to the desolate planet below, and quite another to leave them here, on a lightly armed cargo barge at the mercy of a Tholian attack force.

  “The drones have disengaged and are falling back toward the carrier,” reported Weeton. “He’s gonna do it, Lieutenant.”

  Nathal was aghast at her father’s actions. She looked to the adjutant for support. “Craea, say something! You cannot sanction this!”

  “Don’t make demands of him!” Tauh retorted, regaining some of his previous venom. “I am in command here! You will obey me!”

  Saru could taste the raw terror crackling through the air of the compartment. He sensed it in the thrumming, silent pressure of the aura-fields cast out by the fearful Gorlans, saw it on the faces of the Peliars, and felt the acidic churn of his own anxieties threatening to rise up and engulf him.

  The raw, potent power of the fear—his old, constant, and most-hated companion—seemed to come at the Kelpien from every angle at once. It took all of his will to hold it at bay.

  “Admiral, if you run, what do you think will happen?” He fixed the Peliar officer with a grimace. “Do you believe the Tholians will stop here, if they are not challenged? It has always been in their nature to press the limits around them! If you take your ship and retreat, they will see you go, they will be able to track your ion trail.”

  “Maybe all the way back to Peliar Zel,” Weeton added darkly.

  “Perhaps,” said Tauh. “Perhaps not. If they are on the move, then it is even more imperative to warn the Alpha and Beta Moons to prepare!” He tapped at his own wrist control. “I do not fight battles that cannot be won.”

  “You won’t even try?” All of Nathal’s flinty exterior was suddenly gone, and Saru saw through to something of who she really was, and the conflict she was caught in.

  “Activate—” Tauh raised his arm, speaking into the device—but his words were choked off as his daughter aimed a phaser at his chest.

  “Sir!” One of the armored Peliar troopers called out. He and his men were uncertain where to aim their weapons. “What do we do?”

  “Hold your fire,” ordered the adjutant, before Tauh could respond.

  “No, Father,” Nathal told Tauh. “I won’t run. My crew will not run. Saru is right. We must defy the Tholians.”

  “You’re taking tactical advice from a being genetically programmed to be a coward?” retorted the admiral.

  “I can overcome my instincts when the situation demands it,” Saru said, with as much firmness as he could muster. “Can you say the same, sir?”

  “Gorlans will fight!” shouted Madoh. “We have nothing left but our defiance!”

  “For each other,” Vetch said, with a resigned nod. “For our community and for the hub.”

  Tauh’s fear built into fury as he glared at his daughter. “So be it! I hoped for better from you, but the truth is you have always been a disappointment to me, child! Stay here with these alien mongrels and die, then. I am leaving!”

  “No,” said Nathal, looking to Saru for a nod of support. “You’re not. We must protect the Gorlans, just as we promised we would!”

  Off her cue, the Kelpien stepped in and tore the control device from Tauh’s wrist before he could use it. “The people of Peliar Zel looked the Gorlans in the eye and they promised them safety.” Saru cast around, meeting the gazes of the Peliar soldiers one by one. “Was that a lie or was it the truth? Each of you has a choice to make, as Commander Nathal did. Will you let other sentient beings die, or will you band together against a greater threat that can destroy us
all?”

  “Outworlder lives are not worth Peliar lives!” Tauh shouted.

  “Who among you truly believes that?” Saru asked, in the stark silence that followed.

  Craea gave a slow shake of the head. “We made a promise,” he said, echoing Nathal’s words. He raised his wrist unit and spoke into it. “Carrier control, belay previous orders. Go to battle status and configure the drones into a defensive screen.”

  “You too?” Tauh scowled at his subordinate. “But then this is what I get for elevating a Betan to a combat post!”

  “Adjutant?” said a voice over the open channel. “Where is Admiral Tauh?”

  “He has been relieved of duty,” said the other Peliar. “We’re staying to fight.”

  “Fools . . .” muttered Nathal’s father. “Now we will all perish!”

  Off that bleak prediction, the compartment’s atmosphere was cut by a proximity alert that sounded from the console before Ensign Weeton. The engineer picked at the haptic keypad, and his eyes narrowed. “Huh. Nine-point-seven minutes, on the dot. The Tholians really are as punctual as everyone says.”

  “The fates watch over us,” said Craea. “We will return to the carrier and prepare for battle.” With another tap on his control, the Peliar boarding party were snatched back by their transporters.

  Saru didn’t miss the venomous glare Tauh spared for his daughter as he dematerialized. “You did the right thing,” he told her.

  “I don’t need your platitudes, Saru,” she retorted, turning stony once more. “I need a way to defeat them.” She pointed at the main viewscreen.

  At the upper edge of the display, a trio of silver craft, sleek and sharp like arrowheads, were slipping into position.