Reed consulted his displays. “It’s definitely superluminal. If I hadn’t been scanning for it in the subspace bands, I wouldn’t have been able to make sensor contact with it at all.”
“So it’s definitely a ship,” Archer said. “I’ve never seen any natural phenomenon that could break the warp barrier.”
T’Pol rose from the science station, where she had been hunched over her hooded scanner a moment earlier. “The object is moving at nearly warp five,” she reported.
Slightly less than Enterprise’s maximum speed. So there was still at least a theoretical possibility of intercepting it.
“Can you identify it?” Archer said.
T’Pol briefly consulted her scanner’s display once again, then said, “Negative, Captain. This ship’s configuration and warp signature match nothing currently in our database, including anything known to be used by the Romulans.”
Damn,Archer thought. This ship must have come from some Romulan client world whose ships we’ve never encountered before. These sneaky sons of bitches really can do a fine job of covering their tracks.
Archer turned back toward the helm. “Travis, how soon can we engage the intruder?”
Mayweather glanced down at his console. “Approximately two minutes and fifteen seconds, sir.”
Glancing back toward the science station, the captain saw T’Pol shaking her head bleakly as she anticipated his next question. He slammed his hand on the intercom button on his chair. “Archer to Burch.”
“ Burch here, Captain,” answered the interim chief engineer.
“Lieutenant, I want you to give me all the power you’ve got.”
“Aye, sir.”
But even as he listened to the escalating whine of the engines and felt the increasingly agitated quaking of the deck beneath his boots, he knew he was engaging in a useless exercise. Enterprisesimply wasn’t going to reach Coridan Prime in time to stop what was coming.
All he could really do was watch.
He knew that he had tried his best, just as Trip had done. Just as every member of this crew had done, as always.
Only this time, everyone’s best simply wasn’t going to be good enough.
Centurion R’Kal i’Rrhiol ch’Chulla finished locking down the S’Task’s helm controls with shaking, sweaty hands. Then she said a final prayer to all the gods of Erebus.
Now there could be no turning back, no matter how strongly her fear assailed her. Her duty to the Empire discharged, R’Kal quietly committed her daeinos aehallh–her immortal soul–to the sacred destination that awaited it in the next world….
Unencumbered by the ceremonial mask that tradition demanded he wear at all diplomatic functions, Ambassador Lekev sagged wearily against the railing in one of the small, private observation chambers aboard the Coridan Defense Frigate Krekolv.For the duration of the current crisis, Lekev and other key officials in Coridan Prime’s government–including Chancellor Kalev herself–would remain aboard the Krekolv,high above the devastation that could rain down on Coridan Prime at any moment.
Lekev looked out the wide window at the planet far below. For now, Coridan Prime clung to its familiar appearance of serenity. As ever, the cloud‑streaked blue world continued turning slowly on its axis, basking in the rays of Coridan’s single red dwarf star. But the planet, neatly bisected by its nightside terminator so that half of the hemisphere facing Lekev was draped in darkness–relieved in tiny bright spangles and glowing gossamer streaks by the lights of distant cities and high‑ways–seemed to be holding its collective breath, as though anticipating the unthinkable.
Almost directly between the planet and the Krekolvlay the complicated array of interlocking modules, docks, and mechanical armatures that comprised Coridan Prime’s principal starship construction and repair facility. Several vessels, ranging from small to quite large–all of them evidently not being used in the current planetside evacuation efforts because they were either under repair or still being built–were currently docked at the huge complex, which was slowly drifting across the terminator toward the planet’s night side as Lekev watched.
Lekev had never been so weary before in his life. But he had also never before felt as though his labors had been so thoroughly worthwhile. Ever since Jonathan Archer’s warning of an imminent, massively destructive Romulan attack had reached the news media and Coridan Prime’s Chancellory, Lekev had become an integral part of Chancellor Kalev’s defense and evacuation team. He had spent the past two days helping to coordinate the government’s evacuation efforts, personally herding thousands of children, women, and elderly people onto transports for much of that time.
Of course, even a world as wealthy as Coridan Prime lacked the resources to conduct a full‑scale planetary evacuation in a matter of mere days. The central world of the Coridan system, which supported more than three billion people, was simply too populous to allow such a plan to be carried out effectively. However, it was at least conceivable to move many millions of people to the regions of the planet considered least vulnerable to the aftermath of a catastrophe like the one about which Archer had warned them.
Though he felt some justifiable pride in the government’s alacrity in handling the crisis, the ambassador was well aware that factors other than the welfare of Coridan’s people had influenced the chancellor’s quick response to the looming disaster. With her government now on extremely vulnerable footing because of Coridan’s ongoing civil upheavals, Chancellor Kalev had no choice other than to appear to be decisive and strong.
And although Lekev wasn’t at all sanguine about Chancellor Kalev’s self‑serving political motivations–Lekev had always considered her an inveterate opportunist, forever pandering to her people’s lowest common political denominator–he harbored no doubts about his own purpose: he had simply been determined to do everything he could to save as many lives as possible.
“Ambassador.”
Lekev turned toward the voice, leaving Coridan Prime slowly turning behind his back.
“Yes, Chulev?” the ambassador said to his unassuming young assistant, who seemed to have conjured himself out of thin air just inside the observation chamber’s door.
Chulev bowed his head deferentially. “The last of the chancellor’s cabinet members are finally on board, Mister Ambassador. Captain Solnev plans to move the ship to a higher orbit now, as a safety precaution.”
“Thank you, Chulev.”
“Sir, do you think the Coridan Defense Fleet stands any chance at all of intercepting the attack?”
Lekev offered his aide what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “There’s alwaysa chance, Chulev.”
Certainly there was a chance of detecting and stopping this lethal but so far invisible threat that was now headed straight for Coridan Prime at many multiples of light‑speed. A threat that could arrive at any moment, and from any direction, far faster than any eye could register it.
There was indeed a chance. But even with two full days of advance warning, that chance was as infinitesimally small as the Coridan system was gigantically large.
“Is there anything else, Chulev?” Lekev said.
Chulev nodded. “I also came to see if there was anything further you required of me before I retired for the evening.”
Lekev hadn’t thought about it until just now, but he imagined that faithful young Chulev had probably not gotten any more sleep than he himself had over the past two days.
“No, no, nothing, Chulev. Thank you. Go now, and get some rest.” If you can,he thought.
Chulev nodded again, then turned back toward the door.
Another thought suddenly occurred to Lekev. “Wait, Chulev.”
Chulev paused in the doorway. “Yes, Mister Ambassador?”
“Your family, Chulev. Do you know if they were able to get out of Uridash City?”