Looking about the damage-stricken bridge, she could not keep her gaze from finding N’tovek. Even in death, she still could discern some of the same peace and vulnerability she had observed while watching him sleep. Once more she felt a pang of sorrow grip her heart, made all the worse from knowing that she never again would enjoy the pleasure of observing her lover in repose, to say nothing of the other joys the younger man had managed to bring to her otherwise lonely, duty-bound life.
“What happened?” she finally asked after a moment, looking to Ineti for guidance and answers. “Only massive tectonic stress could have destroyed a planet like that, but our sensors detected nothing? That’s ludicrous. How could Darjil or…” She shook her head as a sudden lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it before continuing. “How could he or N’tovek miss something like that?”
“They didn’t,” Ineti said, moving around from the far side of the central hub, taking a moment to offer a paternal pat to Darjil’s shoulder before continuing over to her. “No sensor scans detected anything unusual about this planet, save for the Klingon presence. It’s only been in the last dierhathat we received indications of anything untoward occurring down there.”
Sarith nodded. The power readings, while significant and emanating from multiple points around the planet, had come as something of a surprise, particularly given Darjil’s original report, which showed the indigenous population as being a preindustrial society. The only technology in existence had belonged to the Klingon garrison that had usurped the native civilization, though that in itself also was a mystery.
While her initial assessment had been that the Klingons perhaps had claimed this planet to act as a base to support ship operations within the sector, even casual scrutiny revealed the problems with that theory. The Talon’s sensors had detected no hints of ship maintenance facilities, for instance, not so much as a lone orbital drydock. Likewise, there were no indications of planet-based refining or manufacturing installations.
“Those power readings,” Sarith said after a moment. “They were far above anything the Klingons could have generated with the equipment of theirs that we detected. Could they have found something else? Something unknown even to the local population?”
Pausing to consider the idea, Ineti nodded. “I suppose it’s possible.” Then he shrugged. “We’ll never know for certain, though.”
Tempted to chastise her friend for stating the obvious, Sarith instead grunted an acknowledgment of the subcommander’s observation before turning back toward the rest of the bridge. The ache in her ribs was announcing its presence with relish now, but she ignored it. Ineti must have seen the wince she could not hold in check, however, and leaned forward.
“Let me call the physician,” he said, concern swathing every word. “You do not look well.”
Sarith waved away the suggestion. “Later,” she replied as she saw Darjil turn from his station and look to her with what appeared to be an expression of puzzlement clouding his bloody, soiled features. “We have much to see to first.” To the centurion, she asked, “What is it?”
“Commander,” Darjil said, “before the planet exploded, our sensors were operating in both passive and active modes, at least so far as the cloak would allow. I missed it before, but it seems that the sensors registered a low-level energy signature connecting the different sites on the planet where we detected the unexplained power readings.”
Her brow furrowing in confusion, Sarith shook her head. “They were connected? Like a network?”
The centurion nodded. “Correct, Commander.”
Sarith’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A global, interconnected weapons system?” If true, it was an impressive achievement, unlike anything she had ever seen before. No race encountered by the Romulans had ever displayed technology on such a scale.
Releasing a tired sigh, Ineti said, “So, was a similar weapon used to destroy the planet, or was it merely a colossal, tragic accident?”
“Even if it was misfortune, the potential for such power to be weaponized cannot be ignored, particularly if it’s in the hands of an enemy.” If a civilization located in the Taurus Reach possessed or was developing weapons technology capable of destroying entire planets, then prudence demanded that their potential threat to the security of the Romulan people be investigated with all due haste.
Unfortunately, Sarith reminded herself, the only Romulans in a position to report this prospective hazard were here, with her, aboard a wounded and dying ship stranded several lifetimes away from home.
29
In the privacy of her quarters aboard the Endeavour,Atish Khatami stared at herself in the mirror as she tugged at the hem of her new tunic, pulling it more tightly against her body. The wrap-around-style top was tinted in a light green that struck her as a little less harsh against her brownish skin than did her former yellow uniform, while offering a nice contrast to the black trousers she had opted to wear. She smoothed her fingers against the flap of fabric running from the tunic’s V-neck and cutting diagonally across her chest. Just for a moment, she wondered whether the design seemed more provocative than professional.
Then, using the back of her hand, she brushed her thick black hair to one side and revealed a set of gold braids sewn in sweeping arrowheads into the tunic’s shoulders.
You’re not ready for this, Tish.
Upon the ship’s arrival at Starbase 47, Khatami had presumed that word about a new captain would be forthcoming from Starfleet Command—that the starship might be routed away from the Taurus Reach on orders to pick up its new commanding officer before returning to Erilon.
Those orders never came.
Instead, Commodore Reyes had simply appeared on the bridge the morning of the Endeavour’s departure, ordering the communications officer on duty to open the ship’s intercom so that he might address the entire crew. Standing before the main viewer, his voice carrying forward the authority he seemed to wear with the comfort of a favored shirt, the commodore without preamble read aloud from the folder he had brought with him the orders from Starfleet Command promoting Khatami to the rank of captain as well as assigning her as commanding officer of the Endeavour.
Certain that the color had drained from her face even as her fellow bridge officers slowly broke into a round of what she perceived as stunned, polite applause, Khatami had stood unmoving while Reyes offered her a narrow-eyed, tight-lipped grin.
He outfoxed me.
Following her interview with members of the station’s JAG contingent regarding the incident on Erilon—a process that, based on the questions she was asked, seemed to her to be little more than an attempt to assess any possible negligence that might have contributed to Captain Zhao’s death—Khatami had been summoned to Reyes’s office for what she thought would be her official briefing on the future of the Endeavour’s command. Instead, she had found herself reviewing his greatly expedited repair schedule for the ship, the majority of it executed by station personnel while her crew rested, only then to slip into nearly an hour’s worth of swapping humorous and admiring tales regarding the career and achievements of their mutual friend Zhao Sheng. She had been dismissed from the meeting with the question of Zhao’s successor—and her role with regards to that person—still unanswered.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He was sure I’d turn it down if given the chance. Maybe I would have.
Maybe Ishould have.
Khatami knew that she possessed the skills and the intellect to perform the duties required of a starship captain. Indeed, her entire career to this point had unfolded in anticipation of this moment. So, why now was she grappling with insecurity even as the Endeavourmade its way back to Erilon? Why was she plagued by an inner demon that ate away her self-confidence, tormenting her thoughts and emotions, telling her that the trust of those around her in her ability to lead was misplaced? Each time Khatami watched one officer lean over and whisper to another, she wondered if they saw through the façade of calm and control she to this point had managed to affect, exposing her for the fraud her inner voice told her she was.