“The captain and Halak do their job,” said Kodell, his hands flying over his controls, bringing the transporter on-line, “I’ll do mine. Like you said, I’m good.”
“Excellent.” She turned away as Kodell ordered a medical team to the transporter room. “Bulast?”
“Still nothing from T’Pol.”
Bat-Levi debated a half second. “It can’t be helped. We don’t have the time to waste. Mr. Kodell?”
“Vent tubes five, seven, and eight at maximal capacity.”
“Stand by to vent. All available power to the shields, Mr. Kodell, I don’t want them to so much as burp. Glemoor, arm photon torpedoes one and four. Proximity detonation.”
If the Naxeran had any reservations, he didn’t show them. His movements were quick, economical. “Photon torpedoes armed. Three-second delay.”
“Mr. Castillo, on my mark, bring the ship about, hard starboard, reverse course, and accelerate to warp two. Take us right down their throat, Mr. Castillo.”
She saw Glemoor nudge Castillo and wink. “Hold onto your hat,” Glemoor said.
“Uh-huh,” said Castillo, his tone clearly indicating that, perhaps, he ought to kiss his ass good-bye instead.
On the viewscreen, Bat-Levi saw the brown star loom closer and closer. The plasma streamers, the ones created by the tug of the neutron star, unfurled like the thick bodies of twin serpents.
“Almost,” she said, and her good hand gripped the arm of her command chair. She felt the hard edge of plastic polymers bite into her skin, but the pain was good.
“Cardassian’s closing,” said Glemoor. “Six thousand five hundred kilometers. Six-three.”
The ship bobbled, righted. “Passing into gravity well,” said Glemoor. “Cardassian right behind, four thousand nine hundred kilometers, taking the bait, pushing his speed up! Three-eight, two-nine…he’s close enough for a shot! One thousand kilometers!”
“Now!”Bat-Levi was on her feet. “Kodell, vent tubes five, seven, eight! Drop shields!”
“Venting! Dropping shields!”
“Bulast, signal the captain and Commander Halak! Glemoor, fire photon torpedoes, proximity detonation!”
“Torpedoes away!”
Bat-Levi’s teeth were bared. “Kodell, activate transporter! Mr. Castillo, hard starboard, go to warp two… now!”
“Aye, hard starboard!” Castillo reflexively grabbed onto his console. “Reversing course! Warp two!”
The space around the ship elongated then compressed upon itself as the warp bubble initialized. And then everything happened quickly and precisely the way Bat-Levi had imagined. The Enterprisehurtled starboard, its nascent warp field intensifying, expanding the gravity well of the brown star, and then the Enterprisewheeled about, shooting past the Cardassian and literally dragging gravity with it. The expanding wavefront slammed into the Cardassian; Bat-Levi watched the scout shimmy, stagger. And then, the coup de grace: The Enterprise’s photon torpedoes detonated. The plasma streamers whirling off the brown star ignited into a fury of red plasma flame that propagated forward and back. The brown star flared and bulged and began to break apart.
The Cardassian’s hull sheered, split—and then the Cardassian scout imploded.
“Yes!” Castillo cried, pumping his fists like a maniac. “Yes!”
It was the cue everyone on the bridge had been waiting for. The bridge erupted in relieved laughter, Bat-Levi’s included. Glemoor preened his frills over and over, and Castillo kept whooping, “Yes! Yes!”
But Kodell—Bat-Levi suddenly froze—he hadn’t said…the captain…
“Kodell,” Bat-Levi said, urgently, turning so quickly her servos squalled, and she almost lost her balance. “Kodell, report! Did we get them?”
“Commander.” Kodell was standing, hands clasped behind his back and quiet triumph written on his face. “Confirm transport, five individuals—alive and well.”
Oh, thank you, God.Bat-Levi felt weak and she backed up, groping blindly for the command chair, swiveling the chair so she could sit. With the smallest of sighs, Bat-Levi slid back, and her servos, for once, didn’t make a sound. She felt eyes on her, and she looked up—and into Kodell’s smiling face.
“Well done, Commander,” he said. “And all without firing a shot—more or less.”
Gaining. Talma had pushed the T’Polengines into the red but still the distance between her and the Cardassian scout was dwindling by the minute. Gaining—she ground her teeth together—the Cardassian was gaining!
Just ahead, she saw the great dense ball of the nebula cloud, its pink and purple colors more intense, the entire cloud more substantial now so close to the neutron star whirling at its heart, being fed by plasma streamers coursing from the brown star.
The Enterprisehailed again, but Talma ignored them. She’d listened to their twaddle: something about her dropping shields the instant they went to warp so they could beam her aboard. She’d cut off the transmission, finally. What, did they think she was that gullible? Probably blow her out of space the moment her shields were down.
Well, she’d take care of herself, thanks. Talma found every spare ounce of auxiliary power and re-routed to the engines. If I can just get inside that nebula, I’ll lose that Cardassian, and to hell with Garrett’s ship. She wouldn’t have a lot in the way of sensors and her tactical would be fried, but the trade-off would be worth it. The Cardassian would be blind; and then she’d hang there and bide her time.
T’Poledged past the outer fringes of the nebula; minute particles of dust and debris scoured her hull. The computer warned, in polite Vulcan, that the radiation level outside the ship would reach lethal levels in sixty minutes. Talma told it to shut the hell up then gave a more refined command, in Vulcan. She watched the random flashes of energy radiating through the nebula like the flow of neural energy through a network of nerves and dendrites. Almost there—her eyes fixed on the screen, as if willing the nebula closer would make it so— just a few more seconds, and I’m safe.
And because she’d told the computer to can it, and because her gaze was riveted upon her viewscreen, Talma didn’t see the other Cardassian scout disintegrate; she didn’t know that the Enterprisehad gone to warp; and she most definitely did not register the flow of ignited plasma rippling from the exploding brown star and propagating itself along the plasma streamers being pulled toward the neutron star until the nebula was a ball of plasma flame—and that was much too late.
All she could do then was scream, and even that was lost as T’Polflashed, vaporized, and was gone.
She would have taken some comfort in knowing that, a split second later, the Cardassian found that it was much too close indeed.
The wall of fire expanded. It tore through one planet. Then two. A few minutes later, the third planet shuddered and convulsed and died.
And on to the fourth.
His throat was so dry he could barely draw a breath. Chen-Mai’s broken wrist throbbed, and he’d tucked it into his suit. But every step jolted bone against bone, and once he’d fainted, fallen. Awakened to find that he’d gashed open his forehead so that he had to blink blood out of his eyes. Still he dragged himself through the maze of tunnels and blind alleys, going by feel, groping along the walls with his good hand. And then, because he was so frightened, he started running, fell, clawed his way to his feet as his wrist screamed in pain, and then fell again. This time, he couldn’t get to his feet, because the ground was moving.
What was happening? The ground was alive; Chen-Mai felt the rock jolt, ripple as if composed of something liquid, not solid. An earthquake. No—Chen-Mai tried to get his mind to work rationally— not possible, the planet was dead, it was dead, the planet was dead!