It had been several moments since the initial reports of disruptor fire from the surface, and Tonar had reported sensor indications of fires emanating from structures from six different settlements scattered throughout the region where Morqla had centered his occupation. From high above the planet, the scenario appeared easy to describe: The natives of Palgrenax had become discontent with their roles as servants to the empire, and finally had summoned the courage to do something about it.
Kutal respected the Palgrenai’s bravery and apparent resolve to stand up to a superior foe and do their best to drive their oppressors from their home, even though the cold reality was that their efforts ultimately would prove pitiful and fruitless. Still, he thought, it might have at least been invigorating to be on the planet’s surface right now, participating in the quelling of the uprising.
Not that he lacked his own matters to deal with at present, of course.
His attention was drawn to a series of tones emanating from the tactical station, and he turned to see Tonar looking at him. “Captain, our sensors are registering a low-level communications signal being transmitted between the different underground sites, as well as to whoever is attacking our forces on the ground. It’s a scrambled signal, employing an encryption scheme I have never seen before.”
“Can the transmissions be jammed?” Kutal asked.
Tonar shook his head. “I have already tried, sir, but there is no effect.”
Impressive technology,the Zin’za’s captain ceded, particularly given that by all accounts the responsible civilization had been dead for uncounted millennia. “If we cannot squelch it, then we shall remove it altogether. Target the source of those transmissions.” Nodding in satisfaction at his own plan, Kutal swiveled his chair back around so that he faced the bridge’s main viewer once more. “Helmsman, prepare to alter course. Tactical, stand by for orbital bombardment.”
Behind him, he heard Tonar enter several series of commands before announcing, “Targets plotted, Captain.”
Whatever had deigned to attack soldiers of the Klingon Empire—to say nothing of one of the emperor’s finest battle cruisers—Kutal vowed to demonstrate the foolhardiness of that ill-informed choice.
Pain!
Though not unexpected as they were during the first assault, the all-encompassing waves of agony washed yet again over the Shedai Wanderer as a second of her Sentinels succumbed to the irrepressible power of weapons the Telinaruulhad brought to bear. The energy from that initial attack had taken her by surprise; so unprepared was she for such an aggressive defense that she nearly failed to sever her connection to the overwhelmed Sentinel.
As it was, only frantic last-instant action had enabled her to withdraw the tendrils extending from her mind and pull them back to the safety of the Conduit. Ensconced within the depths of what had once been a proud monument to her civilization’s technological prowess and the alacrity with which they had employed that knowledge to rule this entire region of space, the Wanderer registered the torment exacted upon the guardians she had sent forth as though the wounds were being inflicted on herself. So painstaking in detail and precision was the connection she shared with her servants that every sense was as if experienced firsthand. From the warm breeze that failed to cool her, to the bright lights being shone upon her as her opponents attacked from the predawn shadows, to the shock of tortured nerve endings reacting to the particle beams being directed at those she commanded, the Wanderer was immersed in all of these sensations as though it were her standing on the surface.
And along with the pain came another sensation for which the Wanderer had received no preparation: fear. Never before in her lifetime—before the uncounted generations that had passed since she had first yielded to the long, cold sleep—had she experienced such trepidation, and never when facing lesser beings such as those the Shedai once had ruled.
Refocusing her attention on the third of six Sentinels she had dispatched to disparate locations across the surface of the world above, the Wanderer once again felt the energy of life coursing through her consciousness as she directed the guardian’s movements. She sensed yet ignored the impacts of the energy weapons the lesser beings carried, their personal weapons too small and inconsequential to inflict any significant damage to the body she wore. Gravity weighed against it as she directed it to face approaching attackers, and she relished the feel of its stoneglass arms slicing through fragile flesh and bone. So sensitive were the receptors formed into the shell’s bioconstruct that the Wanderer even felt the warmth and moisture of Telinaruulblood as it splashed across the Sentinel’s face.
Upon first dispatching the team of guardians, she had likened her opponents to those she had encountered on the ice-bound planet from which she had come. They certainly were larger, stronger, and even more aggressive than those she had fought on that world, something she had taken into account when choosing to deploy more than one Sentinel on this occasion.
She initially considered that she might have overcompensated as the first of the Sentinels engaged the Telinaruulon the planet’s surface. Despite their heightened ferocity—something the Wanderer actually had found refreshing—her opponents initially had proven to be little more than the bothersome pests she previously had encountered. As before, the Sentinel now at her command rebuffed the brave yet pitiful attempts at attack, pushing through the Telinaruulwith the ease of water flowing over rocks in a stream.
Similar scenes were playing out in much the same fashion with the other three Sentinels that shared her consciousness. More of the opponents were coming to the individual battles now, showing none of the fear of those she had encountered on the barren, glaciated planet. If anything, losing comrades in battle seemed to be having the opposite effect, spurring them on to even greater hostility and fury. Likewise, this heightened emotional response did not seem to detract from their tactics or sense of awareness while doing battle. Indeed, even as her Sentinels cut down and slaughtered a growing number of their brethren, the Wanderer surmised that this species of lesser life-form appeared to thrive on the chaos and intensity of combat.
They are a proud people. It is a pity that they must be destroyed, but their meddling cannot be tolerated.
She already had killed those Telinaruulwhom she found skulking within the winding corridors of the subterranean complex that housed the Conduit anchor point’s power-generation and support structures. Those beings had provided nothing in the way of a challenge, certainly nothing like she was experiencing on the surface. It was those engagements that now were giving her cause for concern as, for the first time since unleashing her cadre of guardians to the surface, the Wanderer was feeling the initial pull of fatigue. The demands of directing the Sentinels when coupled with her need to oversee the global defense network as it dealt with the vessel in orbit above the planet were causing a pronounced strain—one the likes of which she had not been required to endure for unknown generations. If the splintered, protracted battles continued, the notion of her opponents gaining a decisive advantage moved from dim hope to potential threat.
She felt another barrage of weapons fire—channeled from another of the Sentinels through the Conduit to her own stressed consciousness as the Telinaruulbegan their assault anew—and directed the guardian to retaliate. Her opponents were so close now that olfactory senses relayed the pungent stench of unwashed bodies and foul breath consistent with a carnivorous diet. One of them released a loud, fierce cry of anger as it and a companion lunged forward, each brandishing a large edged weapon with a curved blade.
The Wanderer was able to admire the attackers’ skill as they employed the implements in an almost choreographed series of maneuvers no doubt designed not only to intimidate an enemy but also to celebrate a culture that had long ago embraced ritualized aspects of the combat arts. She could admire such devotion, as the Shedai had long fancied themselves accomplished practitioners of similar martial disciplines. Further, it was that appreciation which allowed her to more quickly and easily detect her oncoming opponents’ weaknesses and more appropriately adjust her counterattack.