Star trek double helix, p.145
Star Trek - Double Helix, page 145
But this time, the Federation vessel was on the move, veering to the Thallonian’s right. As a result, Thul’s azure bursts missed their target and vanished into the vastness of space.
The governor smiled thinly. “All right, then,” he said. “I like a game as well as the next fellow.”
But he was confident that it wouldn’t go on for long.
“Red alert!” Picard ordered, leaning forward in his center seat. “Lieutenant Asmund, evasive maneuvers!”
They wheeled as the red glow of the alert lights filled the bridge. A blue burst of energy glowed for an instant on the viewscreen, but the Stargazer managed to avoid the impact this time.
“Shields down twenty-four percent,” said Vigo, his face grim as he bent his massive frame over a control panel.
He barely got the words out before another volley struck the ship, sending it lurching dizzily to starboard. It was only the armrests on the captain’s chair that kept him in his seat.
“Fire phasers!” he bellowed.
Twin shafts of red fury sped toward the Thallonian vessel. As Picard watched, they slammed savagely into the enemy’s shields.
“Direct hit,” said Vigo.
But in the same heartbeat, another barrage from the Thallonian sent the Stargazer staggering to port. One of the aft consoles blew up, spewing sparks and billows of thick, black smoke across the bridge.
“Report,” Picard demanded.
“Shields down fifty-eight percent,” the Pandrilite told him, hanging onto his console for all he was worth. He glowered at his monitor, his face bathed in its ruddy glow. “But we barely made a dent in their deflectors, sir. We can’t match their firepower.”
The captain nodded as Idun Asmund wove her way through an elaborate maneuver, eluding another series of devastating energy discharges.
“Hard to port, Lieutenant Asmund,” the captain said. “Mr. Vigo, prepare to fire photon torpedoes on my command.”
The Stargazer dove to the left under the skillful hands of her helm officer. A moment later, the blue blaze of a Thallonian energy blast passed harmlessly beside them.
The ship was still in the roll as Picard shot a glance at Vigo and cried out, “Now!”
A rapid volley of photon torpedoes struck Thul’s vessel dead on, detonating when it hit the Thallonian’s deflectors. Picard didn’t need his weapons officer’s report to know he had made the right choice. He could see how quickly the enemy withdrew in the wake of his assault.
“We made some headway that time,” Vigo reported. He grinned at his monitor. “Their shields are down thirty-eight percent…and we seem to have taken out one of their weapon ports.”
The captain decided to press his advantage. Given the disparity in their weapons systems, Thul wouldn’t be expecting it.
“Bear down on them,” Picard told Idun Asmund. “Mr. Vigo, ready phasers and torpedoes. Full spread.”
“Aye, sir,” said the helm officer.
“Aye, sir,” said the Pandrilite.
The governor’s ship was still looping about in an almost casual manner, her flank very much exposed. The captain’s eyes narrowed eagerly as she loomed on his screen.
“Fire!” he barked.
Suddenly, the Stargazer hammered her adversary with all the might at her disposal. The Thallonian seemed to recoil from the barrage, ruby-red phaser beams ripping hungrily at her shields, photon torpedoes exploding around her to spectacular effect.
If Picard was going to win this battle, he told himself, he would do it now or not at all. “Fire!” he barked.
Again, Vigo unleashed a hail of phasers and torpedoes, tearing apart the enemy’s defenses with overwhelming efficiency. The Thallonian tried to escape, but to no avail. No matter how Thul’s ship tried to elude her, Idun clung to it like a predator worrying her prey.
One more volley, the captain thought, and it would all be over. One more volley and the enemy vessel would be crippled.
“Fire again!” he told his weapons officer.
But no sooner had the words left his mouth than the Thallonian turned the tables. Instead of trying to shake his pursuer, he did the last thing Picard had anticipated…he came about and fired back.
All the captain saw was a blue-white burst of brilliance on his viewscreen. Then he was catapulted out of his chair like an ancient cannonball. The next thing he knew, he was pulling himself up off the deck, a distinct taste of blood in his mouth.
He looked about—and didn’t like what he saw. The Stargazer’s bridge had been transformed into a scene out of hell. Control consoles blazed and smoke gathered in dark clouds under the low ceiling. All around Picard, his officers were struggling to get to their feet, trying to shake off the bludgeoning effects of the Thallonian’s counterattack.
“Casualties on decks six, seven, ten and eleven,” Ben Zoma bellowed, waving smoke away so he could see one of the aft consoles.
“We’ve lost weapons,” Vigo announced sharply, wiping some blood from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Shields as well.”
“Propulsion and helm control are offline,” Idun observed grimly.
“So is navigation,” Gerda added.
The captain turned to the forward viewscreen. Through the thick, acrid smoke, he could make out Thul’s ship. She seemed to be hanging in space, her portals dark.
“What about the Thallonian?” he inquired as he made his way back to his center seat.
“Looks like he’s in bad shape too,” Ben Zoma reported, checking his sensor readings. “No shields, no weapons, no propulsion…” He turned to Picard. “That killer’s in the same boat we are.”
The captain grunted at the irony—not that he wasn’t grateful for it. “Picard to engineering.”
“Aye, sir?” came Simenon’s response.
“How does it look down there?” he asked the Gnalish.
“Like we’ve been turned inside out,” came the answer. “I’ve got half my people working on restoring propulsion and the other half on the EPS system…unless, of course, you’ve got a better idea.”
“No,” Picard sighed. “Can you tell me how long it will be before the shields are restored?”
“A couple of hours?” the engineer ventured.
“Make it thirty minutes,” the captain told him. He could hear Simenon hiss a curse. “Picard out.”
Next, he turned to Cadwallader. Her strawberry-blond hair was in disarray, but outside of that she looked all right.
“Hail the Thallonian,” he told her.
She nodded. “Aye, sir.”
A moment later, the ruddy face of Gerrid Thul graced the viewscreen, replacing the sight of his crippled ship. Picard took the opportunity to survey the enemy’s bridge. There was damage there, though the Federation vessel had suffered worse.
“Ready to surrender, Captain?” asked the governor. He was grinning like a damned jackal.
Picard feigned surprise. “That’s odd,” he retorted. “I was about to ask the same thing of you.”
Thul glanced at his bridge and shrugged. “A small setback, I assure you. In the long run, it won’t help you a bit.”
“We will see,” said the captain, “won’t we?”
The governor’s smile faded. A moment later, he severed contact. Once more, the image of his damaged ship filled the viewscreen.
Picard turned to Ben Zoma again. “We know so little about Thallonian technology,” he said ruefully. “If only I had some idea of how quickly they can effect repairs…”
His first officer grunted. “I know how long it’s going to take us.” He looked at the viewscreen less than optimistically. “Of the two of us, sir, I would put my money on the Thallonians.”
It wasn’t what the captain had wanted to hear.
Chapter Eighteen
THUL SAT BACK IN HIS CHAIR and tried to control his anger. “You’re certain?” he asked his sensor officer.
“Quite certain, my lord,” said the Thallonian. “They are just as helpless as we are.”
The governor eyed the Stargazer, which was hanging in the void like a crippled bird. Without shields, she was utterly defenseless. One good energy barrage would destroy her.
But the Thallonian vessel couldn’t muster an energy barrage. With its weapons systems offline, it couldn’t muster a single shot.
“Make the weapons systems operational!” he demanded of Ubbard.
“Yes, my lord,” said the weapons officer, placating him as best he could. “As soon as possible, my lord.”
The governor scowled. He didn’t want obeisance. For the love of the Twelve, he wanted results.
“Governor,” said his sensor officer, “another ship has entered the vicinity of the fleetyard.”
Thul looked at him, trying to absorb the unexpected information. “A…Cordracite ship?” he wondered.
That could prove disastrous, the governor reflected. To think he had had the entire fleetyard at his mercy not so long ago…and now he was worrying about a single vessel!
“No, my lord,” said the sensor officer, scrutinizing his monitors. “It appears to be a Durikkan vessel. But its commander identifies himself as Mendan Abbis…a Thallonian.”
Thul’s brow creased. Mendan…?
What was the boy doing there? Certainly, he had known of the governor’s plan to attack the fleetyard, since Thul had held nothing back from him. However, they had made no plans to rendezvous here.
The governor stroked his chin. “Answer the vessel’s hail, Nakso. And establish a visual link.”
“Yes, my lord,” came the woman’s response.
Abruptly, the image on the viewscreen changed. Thul found he was no longer looking at the crippled Stargazer, but rather the familiar visage of his bastard son.
“Why are you here?” the governor asked, intensely aware of the questions Mendan’s presence would raise among his command staff.
“Why?” the boy echoed, smiling a thin smile. “I’ve been informed that you lied to me.” His voice was strangely cold, strangely distant.
“What?” Thul couldn’t believe what he had heard. “Lied…?” He glanced at the faces of his bridge officers, who looked stunned. After all, they had never seen their lord receive such an affront.
Mendan’s eyes narrowed. “I encountered some Starfleet officers on Debennius Six,” he said. “They knew everything…and I mean everything…though I still have no idea how.”
The governor felt the scrutiny of Kaavin, Ubbard, and the others. His face flushed. “This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion,” he told his son.
“I beg to differ,” Mendan replied. “These Starfleet people…they said you had no intention of making me heir to your new empire, Father.” He leaned forward in his seat. “They told me that once you had gotten what you wanted, you were going to kill me—that you wanted a son of noble lineage, not some poor, stupid bastard.”
The boy fairly spat out the word, making Thul feel as though a knife had been twisted into his gut. And now his officers were exchanging wide-eyed glances, putting the pieces together for themselves.
But then, they would have found out his intentions eventually, the governor told himself. If it came a little sooner, what difference did it make? None at all, Thul reflected.
More importantly, Mendan’s vessel was well-armed for its size, and the governor’s ship was an easy target at the moment. If the boy acted out of anger and resentment, without thinking…
Thul shook his head. “No, Mendan,” he said, hoping his sincerity would come through in his voice, “it’s not true. I don’t know what these Starfleeters told you, but they are the liars—not I.”
He searched his son’s face, to see if his protest had had any effect. But the hardness in Mendan didn’t seem to have gone away.
The governor swallowed away a dryness in his throat. “I swear on my life,” he said. “I could never betray my own offspring.”
Still the boy remained silent, inscrutable.
“You have earned your place at my side,” Thul assured him. “More than earned it. You know I will not live forever. Who better to guide my empire after I am gone than the only son of my flesh?”
Mendan continued to stare at him—and for the space of a heartbeat, the governor was certain that his bastard would destroy him after all. Then, finally, the boy nodded.
“I believe you,” he told his father in a more animated voice. “In fact, I never doubted you for a moment.”
Thul’s eyes narrowed. “Then why…?”
“Why did I tell you all this?” asked Mendan. He smiled, and for just a moment, the governor thought he saw the child he had shunned and neglected shining through the eyes of the adult. “Because I wanted to hear the truth from your own mouth, Father.”
The governor was relieved, to say the least. “And now you’ve heard it,” he told his son. “The truth entire.”
“I thank you,” said Mendan. “But there’s another reason I wanted to tell you about the Starfleet officers, Father. You see, I need to make amends—and I wanted you to understand why.”
Thul tilted his head. “Amends…?”
The bastard frowned. “These Starfleet people—they were able to surprise me, to get themselves free and…” He paused. “And kill my friend Wyl. Then they escaped and warned this starship.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the Stargazer.
The governor grunted. He was beginning to understand why Picard had tracked him there.
“You would have arrived here unopposed if it weren’t for me,” said Mendan. “You would have been watching this shipyard burn by now. As it is, the Starfleet beasts were able to stop you.” His mouth twisted with what was clearly a thirst for revenge. “But now they’re helpless, unable to defend themselves. This is my chance to even the score.”
“Abbis’s ship is coming about,” Kaavin announced. “It is approaching the Federation vessel.” She looked at the governor, clearly uneasy with this turn of events.
He’s going to attack it, Thul realized numbly.
“My lord,” said Kaavin, “it is inadvisable for our…ally to fire on the enemy ship, even in its crippled state. He will need to let his shields lapse in order to power an effective disruptor burst, and the Federation vessel may still have some tactical capability of which we are unaware.”
They hadn’t severed contact with Mendan, so he had heard Kaavin’s warning. But it didn’t seem to faze him—far from it. The reckless grin that was so sickeningly familiar to the governor spread across the youth’s face.
“I’ll take my chances,” he chuckled.
“No!” Thul was out of his seat and striding in the direction of the screen, as if his son were standing there on the bridge and could be stopped by physical means. “Please,” he counseled, “there is no need for haste, Mendan. At least take some time to probe the enemy before you fire on her.”
The younger man turned his attention to his control panel. “I’m targeting her now,” he announced.
“Mendan!” Thul barked, a drop of cold sweat making its way down the length of his spine. “I know your worth. I know your courage. You do not have to demonstrate it anymore…not to me.”
His son’s laughter had an unnerving strain of bitterness in it. “Perhaps not to you, Father. But I allowed those Starfleet officers to slip through my fingers and Wyl is dead as a result. That leaves me with a need to prove something to myself.”
“Damn your stubbornness!” the governor roared. He had a bad feeling about this. “Listen to me, Mendan! You have time!”
But his son wasn’t heeding his warning. He was working feverishly at his control console, determined to gather all the power his tiny vessel could bring to bear.
Suddenly, Mendan looked up, his eyes alight with anticipation. “I hope you enjoy this, Father. I know I will.”
Picard eyed the Durikkan vessel that had appeared scant minutes earlier and established contact with the Thallonian. “Anything yet?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Cadwallader said. “However they’ve protected their communication, I can’t seem to break through.”
The captain scowled, wary of the newcomer. “And the Durikkan still won’t answer our hails?”
“That’s correct,” the communications officer responded.
Picard swore beneath his breath. “Keep trying,” he told Cadwallader. Angrily, he thumbed a control. “Engineering, this is the captain. We may need those shields in a matter of moments.”
“I wish I could give them to you,” the Gnalish answered, his voice drenched with frustration. “Unfortunately, sir, we’re not even close.”
