Her fatigue was greater than she had first surmised, however. It was only as the larger, mobile energy weapon—one similar to those already deployed against her other Sentinels—had finished moving into position that the Wanderer took notice of it. By then it was too late and she felt her entire consciousness gripped in a torrent of shock and pain as the weapon was unleashed on the Sentinel. The connection she shared with the servant body fluctuated and threatened to dissolve altogether, carrying with it the very real risk of leaving her essence trapped within the guardian’s mortal shell and at the mercy of the mighty weapon as it fired once more.
Sensing yet another loss, the Wanderer had no choice but to withdraw from the Sentinel, recalling that part of herself back to the Conduit just as her servant body surrendered to the barrage of energy enveloping it. She felt the last vestiges of its life consumed by the weapon’s ferocious power even as she struggled to refocus her flagging strength between the three remaining Sentinels and the needs of the global network she was trying to direct.
It was foolish to have overextended herself in this manner, she realized, though there was nothing to be done about correcting her flawed decision, particularly now as the defense system’s orbital sensor web informed her that the Telinaruulship in orbit was repositioning itself for what probability algorithms described as an attack profile.
From deep within her own being, the Wanderer saw the scene as if floating in space before the enemy vessel, watching as its weapons ports spouted a series of blazing crimson plumes. Eight elongated spheres of packaged energy raced away from the ship and plummeted toward the planet below, accelerating and superheating as they entered the atmosphere. She watched as they divided into pairs before separating, four double contrails cutting swaths through the still-dark sky and the dense cloud cover.
The first vicious jolt came moments later. Alarm indicators streamed through the Conduit to her, reaching out from points within the planet’s global information network. Immediately she felt the loss of connection to one of the defense system’s vital hubs, then sensed the decline in her control over the rest of the system. The sensation was repeated twice more in rapid succession as more of the ship’s torpedoes found their intended targets and detonated, laying waste to yet more support facilities.
When the fourth volley struck, the Wanderer had no choice but to withdraw from the defense system, leaving it behind in a desperate attempt to preserve herself. Even as she redirected her consciousness to other areas of the thoughtspace, she felt the demise of the protective network, collapsing in on itself as the physical structures and equipment that supported it fell victim to the barrage of fire raining down from space.
Struggling to retain some semblance of focus on what little of this world’s Conduit anchor point remained, she observed that only a few of the key systems were available to her. Even her access to her remaining Sentinels had been compromised, her essence now feeling the effects of their disconnection from the Conduit and thusly vulnerable to her aggressors’ weapons. She could do nothing about that now, just as she was unable to manufacture and deploy replacements for those guardians which already had been lost. Those areas of the thoughtspace remained unavailable to her, and reestablishing an interface to those channels would take far more time than she believed remained to her.
Once again, the Wanderer felt fear at the realization that she was on the brink of being overcome by these Telinaruul. All the Shedai held dear on this world, everything for which they had prepared as part of her people’s vision to return to power, might be at stake if left in the hands of these savage interlopers.
Only one option remains.
28
With each strike of the Zin’za’s torpedoes, Kutal released a deep, wolfish laugh of unrestrained satisfaction.
“Continue bombardment!” he shouted to Tonar. “I want every one of those sites reduced to burning cinders.” A tactical overlay displayed on the main viewer showed him the current assessment of the orbital attack’s effectiveness, and he nodded in approval at what he saw. Of the sixteen sites determined to house active power sources which had come online as of their own accord, six of them had apparently been destroyed thanks to Tonar’s skilled marksmanship.
Whatever the ancient planetary defense system possessed in raw power, it seemed obvious to Kutal that it appeared to be lacking in something as basic as a means of protecting itself from attack. Perhaps the original designers had believed their offensive capabilities to be so superior as to nullify the ability of an enemy to counterattack. While Kutal could grasp and even admire such audacity, there was a fine line to be drawn between confidence and foolhardiness, and it appeared this world’s long-departed original inhabitants had chosen to travel on that divider’s wrong side.
Such are the fortunes of battle.
Kutal knew he was taking a risk by releasing the full fury of his vessel’s armaments, given the apparent importance the High Council placed on the plethora of ancient structures and artifacts littering the planet, which presumably also would include any weapons technology that might be hidden down there. Still, whoever or whatever now commanded the weaponry being used against his ship as well as the garrison on the surface could not be allowed to escape punishment for their actions. Those on the planet below, or by extension beings native to the Gonmog Sector and unfamiliar with the political realities of neighboring regions, would learn at Kutal’s hand the imprudence of daring to challenge the Klingon Empire.
It’s long past time we announced our presence in this sector with due authority.
“Adjusting orbit to bring us in line with the next set of targets, sir,” Kutal heard his helm officer report, and on the viewer he noted the angle of Palgrenax shift as the Zin’zamodified its position over the planet. The tactical overlay highlighted sites that already had fallen victim to the battle cruiser’s weapons; bright red circles were superimposed on the computer-generated map of the world’s natural topography.
“Sensors are continuing to register subterranean power sources,” Tonar called out. The tactical officer turned from his console to regard Kutal. “It appears there are redundant systems which are coming online to compensate for the primary targets we’re destroying.”
His brow furrowing as he rubbed his chin, Kutal nodded at the report. “Perhaps those original designers were not so shortsighted, after all. Factor the new targets into your firing scheme and relay revised coordinates to the helm.” To Lieutenant Kreq at the communications station, he asked, “Any contact with Morqla or the garrison?”
Kreq replied, “I’m unable to reach the governor, Captain, but I am continuing to get scattered reports from other officers on the ground. The battles continue, both with jeghpu’wI’as well as the new enemy. There are accounts of many casualties, though no reliable estimates as of yet.”
The report did nothing to assuage Kutal’s growing concerns. What was going on down there? Where had the strange attackers on the surface come from? Did they live underground, somehow shielded from the scrutiny of his vessel’s powerful sensors? Had they arrived from elsewhere, perhaps in another ship he somehow had failed to detect? Who controlled the mammoth network of weapons which had been deployed against his own ship? What other capabilities did they possess?