[Star Trek TNG] - Double Helix Omnibus

  “But that was all your doing,” Crusher insisted. “If you hadn’t read the Indarrhi’s mind and discovered what Thul was doing, we would still be on square one—or worse.”

  Tuvok arched an eyebrow. “I would not have had the opportunity to read the Indarrhi’s mind, as you put it, if you had not led us to Mendan Abbis. Had we proceeded as I wished, we might still be in The Den drinking what passes there for alcoholic beverages.”

  The commander couldn’t challenge the Vulcan’s statement. After all, Tuvok was right.

  “Your methods were…unorthodox,” the ensign allowed. “However, our mission was an unqualified success—and as Surak himself once said, it is illogical to argue with success.”

  Crusher shrugged. “Surak…?”

  “The visionary leader who introduced the philosophy of logic to Vulcan. He was nothing if not practical.”

  Then something else occurred to the human. “What about Grace?” he asked. “I didn’t do her any favors, did I?”

  “You took calculated risks,” Tuvok conceded. “But you did not force her to take them with you. You simply made the opportunity available to her. I believe she would thank you for that, if she were able to.”

  Crusher’s throat constricted. “Maybe.” He peered at his companion. “Anyway, thanks for saying so.”

  “No thanks are required,” the ensign assured him dispassionately. “I am merely stating the obvious.”

  The commander sighed. “Well, maybe I needed to hear the obvious as stated by a Vulcan.”

  Tuvok considered the possibility. “Perhaps you did,” he said.

  In the dark brown depths of the Vulcan’s normally implacable gaze, Crusher could have sworn he saw a flicker of warmth. It was gratifying to know that he had helped put it there.

  “So,” the human said as they streaked toward their rendezvous with the Stargazer,“tell me about your kids.”

  Thul considered his viewscreen, where the Cordracite fleetyard sprawled across several kilometers of orbital space. He wondered if he had ever seen a more lovely sight.

  There they were…a hundred or more Cordracite vessels, from the powerful Predator Class warships with their sharp and unattractive angles to the quicker, more delicate-looking Racer Class reconnaissance vessels. They hung in space as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

  The governor savored the moment. He scanned each vessel in turn, deriving pleasure from its vulnerability, delighting in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be there much longer.

  Finally, he turned his attention to the cavernous drydock facility, where various ships were in the process of being repaired or upgraded or simply maintained. His intelligence reports had told him there were more than two hundred Cordracites manning the station.

  And none of them had registered the Thallonian’s presence. After all, Thul’s ship was outside their rather primitive sensor reach. His intelligence reports had enlightened him in that area as well.

  “Activate the magnetic-pulse envelope,” he said. “Then move into their sensor range. Full impulse.”

  “Full impulse, my lord,” his helmsman confirmed.

  On the viewscreen, the fleetyard gradually loomed larger. The governor smiled. He was enjoying this immensely.

  To this point, it was his agents alone who had planted the seeds of chaos in which his empire would take root. Finally, the Thallonian had an opportunity to plant some seeds of his own.

  There was something exciting about that, something that appealed to the aggressor in Thul. It was the same instinct that had raised him from his modest origins to the leadership of a large and important colony.

  “My lord governor, we have entered the Cordracites’ sensor range,” his navigator announced crisply.

  Thul nodded. Any moment now, he told himself.

  Nakso, his comely communications officer, turned to him. “My lord, the Cordracites are hailing us.”

  Ah, there it was…the first challenge. The governor sat up straighter in his chair. “Put it through,” he instructed Nakso, “but on an audio channel only, as we discussed.”

  “Complying, lord,” the communications officer responded.

  A moment later, the rasping voice of a Cordracite filled Thul’s bridge. “Fleetyard Commander Yov to approaching Melacronai vessel. State the nature of your business in our space.”

  The governor glanced at Nakso again. In accordance with their plan, she made no attempt to respond. After all, they didn’t want to puncture the illusion that they were Melacron.

  “Maintain speed,” said Thul.

  The Cordracite commander spoke again. “Our ships are armed and ready to defend themselves, Melacronai vessel. If you come any closer, we will assume hostile intent and fire.”

  The governor chuckled. “Please do,” he whispered.

  He knew that the Cordracite was bluffing. Had any of those ships been as “armed and ready” as he pretended, at least some of them would have been deployed already—and of course, they hadn’t been.

  Thul had caught them totally unaware. It was an exhilarating feeling, one that raised his senses to a fever pitch. And of course, the best part was yet to come.

  “Repeat,” snapped the Cordracite, and this time there was a hint of urgency evident in his voice, “if you come any closer, we will fire.”

  The governor could almost smell the terror floating rank and musky off the Cordracites at the drydock facility. “Maintain speed,” he said again. He turned to Ubbard, his burly weapons officer. “Range?”

  “Momentarily, my lord,” came the reply.

  Thul eyed the fleetyard. There was still no response, no movement among the ships, though he was sure the Cordracites were scrambling to organize a defense. Unfortunately for them, they would be too late.

  “Range,” his weapons officer reported.

  The governor smiled, anticipating the taste of victory already. “Target weapons,” he said.

  “Targeting,” responded his weapons officer, working at his control panel. He looked up. “Ready, my lord.”

  Now, Thul thought.

  He was about to give Ubbard the order to fire when his navigator spoke up again. “Governor…a vessel is approaching.”

  A vessel? Thul wondered. He turned to Nakso. “Put it on the screen,” he told her.

  A moment later, their view of the vulnerable Cordracite fleetyard gave way to the image of a single ship. What’s more, the governor recognized it—recognized it all too well, in fact.

  It was the Stargazer.

  Cursing under his breath, Thul whirled to face his helmsman. Fortunately, he had taken great care to arm his vessel to the teeth. “Bring us about and prepare for engagement.”

  The helmsman nodded, already implementing the order with admirable efficiency. “As you wish, my lord.”

  The governor turned to the forward viewscreen again. Picard would find himself at a considerable disadvantage, he reflected. He hadn’t learned very much about the armaments of the Stargazer, but what he had learned told him the captain didn’t stand a chance.

  “My lord,” said Thul’s communications officer, “the Federation vessel is hailing us.”

  The Thallonian smiled grimly. “Answer their hail and establish a communications link, Nakso.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” came the officer’s reply.

  Before Thul could draw another breath, he found himself face to face with the image of Jean-Luc Picard on his viewscreen. The human didn’t look at all pleased with the situation.

  “Captain Picard,” the governor said in an affable tone. “What a surprise. I had not expected to see you again so soon. Tell me…did you finish the rest of that delicious wine?”

  Picard came forward until his face seemed gigantic on the screen, the muscles working in his jaw. “I know what you’re up to, Thul,” he told the Thallonian in a voice that cracked like a whip. “In fact, I have been apprised of your entire scheme.”

  The governor felt the blood drain from his face.
br />   “I know about the hired assassins,” said the human, “about your grandiose plan to build an empire of your own, about the treason you intended with regard to your Emperor.”

  Thul absorbed the information. It unsettled him, he had to admit, to know that his intentions had been laid bare. After all, he hadn’t been apprised of any security leak.

  However, he reminded himself, he still had the upper hand.

  “And you are here…why?” asked Thul, allowing a note of disdain to color his voice. “Not in an attempt to stop me, I hope.”

  “That is precisely why I am here,” Picard confirmed, his resolve evident in his eyes. “The game is over, Governor. Stand down and surrender, or I warn you, I will have no compunction about destroying your vessel.”

  The Thallonian lifted his chin. “Forgive my ignorance,” he said with studied calm, “but I thought your hands were tied. Did you not tell me it was the Benniari alone you were ordered to look out for?”

  The human frowned. “Under the circumstances,” he answered, “I don’t think the Cordracites will object if I save their fleetyard and their base crew from obliteration. Do you?”

  Thul chuckled dryly. “I see your prime directive is subject to your convenient interpretation of the circumstances.”

  “No,” said Picard. “It’s subject to reason alone—and reason dictates that only a fool would stand by while you do to this fleetyard what you did to that Melacronai research colony.”

  The Thallonian shook his hairless head. The human had been thorough, hadn’t he? “I will miss your mind, Captain, and that’s not something I find myself saying very often. It’s a shame you and I came down on opposite sides of this conflict. In another life, another set of circumstances, we might have been allies…even friends.”

  The captain shook his head as well—but more firmly. “No, Governor. You and I could not have been friends in any life. You see, I don’t tolerate the company of murderers.”

  Thul was stunned by the boldness of Picard’s invective—not to mention the ringing sincerity behind it. For just an instant, hot shame coursed through him…but it rapidly became anger.

  “All right,” he told the captain, doing his best to keep his voice free of emotion. “Have it your way.” Then he glanced at his weapons officer again. “Target the Stargazer, Ubbard. Weapons to full intensity.”

  “Aye, sir,” came the obedient reply.

  The governor turned to Picard, wishing to see the human’s face as he gave the order. “All stations…fire!”

  Abruptly, the Stargazer was buffeted by twin blasts of fiery blue energy. Her shields absorbed the brunt of the impact, but Thul knew that they couldn’t do that indefinitely.

  “Fire again!” he snarled.

  But this time, the Federation vessel was on the move, veering to the Thallonian’s right. As a result, Thul’s azure bursts missed their target and vanished into the vastness of space.

  The governor smiled thinly. “All right, then,” he said. “I like a game as well as the next fellow.”

  But he was confident that it wouldn’t go on for long.

  “Red alert!” Picard ordered, leaning forward in his center seat. “Lieutenant Asmund, evasive maneuvers!”

  They wheeled as the red glow of the alert lights filled the bridge. A blue burst of energy glowed for an instant on the viewscreen, but the Stargazer managed to avoid the impact this time.

  “Shields down twenty-four percent,” said Vigo, his face grim as he bent his massive frame over a control panel.

  He barely got the words out before another volley struck the ship, sending it lurching dizzily to starboard. It was only the armrests on the captain’s chair that kept him in his seat.

  “Fire phasers!” he bellowed.

  Twin shafts of red fury sped toward the Thallonian vessel. As Picard watched, they slammed savagely into the enemy’s shields.

  “Direct hit,” said Vigo.

  But in the same heartbeat, another barrage from the Thallonian sent the Stargazer staggering to port. One of the aft consoles blew up, spewing sparks and billows of thick, black smoke across the bridge.

  “Report,” Picard demanded.

  “Shields down fifty-eight percent,” the Pandrilite told him, hanging onto his console for all he was worth. He glowered at his monitor, his face bathed in its ruddy glow. “But we barely made a dent in their deflectors, sir. We can’t match their firepower.”

  The captain nodded as Idun Asmund wove her way through an elaborate maneuver, eluding another series of devastating energy discharges.

  “Hard to port, Lieutenant Asmund,” the captain said. “Mr. Vigo, prepare to fire photon torpedoes on my command.”

  The Stargazer dove to the left under the skillful hands of her helm officer. A moment later, the blue blaze of a Thallonian energy blast passed harmlessly beside them.

  The ship was still in the roll as Picard shot a glance at Vigo and cried out, “Now!”

  A rapid volley of photon torpedoes struck Thul’s vessel dead on, detonating when it hit the Thallonian’s deflectors. Picard didn’t need his weapons officer’s report to know he had made the right choice. He could see how quickly the enemy withdrew in the wake of his assault.

  “We made some headway that time,” Vigo reported. He grinned at his monitor. “Their shields are down thirty-eight percent…and we seem to have taken out one of their weapon ports.”

  The captain decided to press his advantage. Given the disparity in their weapons systems, Thul wouldn’t be expecting it.

  “Bear down on them,” Picard told Idun Asmund. “Mr. Vigo, ready phasers and torpedoes. Full spread.”

  “Aye, sir,” said the helm officer.

  “Aye, sir,” said the Pandrilite.

  The governor’s ship was still looping about in an almost casual manner, her flank very much exposed. The captain’s eyes narrowed eagerly as she loomed on his screen.

  “Fire!” he barked.

  Suddenly, the Stargazer hammered her adversary with all the might at her disposal. The Thallonian seemed to recoil from the barrage, ruby-red phaser beams ripping hungrily at her shields, photon torpedoes exploding around her to spectacular effect.

  If Picard was going to win this battle, he told himself, he would do it now or not at all. “Fire!” he barked.

  Again, Vigo unleashed a hail of phasers and torpedoes, tearing apart the enemy’s defenses with overwhelming efficiency. The Thallonian tried to escape, but to no avail. No matter how Thul’s ship tried to elude her, Idun clung to it like a predator worrying her prey.

  One more volley, the captain thought, and it would all be over. One more volley and the enemy vessel would be crippled.

  “Fire again!” he told his weapons officer.

  But no sooner had the words left his mouth than the Thallonian turned the tables. Instead of trying to shake his pursuer, he did the last thing Picard had anticipated…he came about and fired back.

  All the captain saw was a blue-white burst of brilliance on his viewscreen. Then he was catapulted out of his chair like an ancient cannonball. The next thing he knew, he was pulling himself up off the deck, a distinct taste of blood in his mouth.

  He looked about—and didn’t like what he saw. The Stargazer’s bridge had been transformed into a scene out of hell. Control consoles blazed and smoke gathered in dark clouds under the low ceiling. All around Picard, his officers were struggling to get to their feet, trying to shake off the bludgeoning effects of the Thallonian’s counterattack.

  “Casualties on decks six, seven, ten and eleven,” Ben Zoma bellowed, waving smoke away so he could see one of the aft consoles.

  “We’ve lost weapons,” Vigo announced sharply, wiping some blood from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Shields as well.”

  “Propulsion and helm control are offline,” Idun observed grimly.

  “So is navigation,” Gerda added.

  The captain turned to the forward viewscreen. Through the thick, acrid smoke, he coul
d make out Thul’s ship. She seemed to be hanging in space, her portals dark.

  “What about the Thallonian?” he inquired as he made his way back to his center seat.

  “Looks like he’s in bad shape too,” Ben Zoma reported, checking his sensor readings. “No shields, no weapons, no propulsion…” He turned to Picard. “That killer’s in the same boat we are.”

  The captain grunted at the irony—not that he wasn’t grateful for it. “Picard to engineering.”

  “Aye, sir?” came Simenon’s response.

  “How does it look down there?” he asked the Gnalish.

  “Like we’ve been turned inside out,” came the answer. “I’ve got half my people working on restoring propulsion and the other half on the EPS system…unless, of course, you’ve got a better idea.”

  “No,” Picard sighed. “Can you tell me how long it will be before the shields are restored?”

  “A couple of hours?” the engineer ventured.

  “Make it thirty minutes,” the captain told him. He could hear Simenon hiss a curse. “Picard out.”

  Next, he turned to Cadwallader. Her strawberry-blond hair was in disarray, but outside of that she looked all right.

  “Hail the Thallonian,” he told her.

  She nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  A moment later, the ruddy face of Gerrid Thul graced the viewscreen, replacing the sight of his crippled ship. Picard took the opportunity to survey the enemy’s bridge. There was damage there, though the Federation vessel had suffered worse.

  “Ready to surrender, Captain?” asked the governor. He was grinning like a damned jackal.

  Picard feigned surprise. “That’s odd,” he retorted. “I was about to ask the same thing of you.”

  Thul glanced at his bridge and shrugged. “A small setback, I assure you. In the long run, it won’t help you a bit.”

  “We will see,” said the captain, “won’t we?”

  The governor’s smile faded. A moment later, he severed contact. Once more, the image of his damaged ship filled the viewscreen.

  Picard turned to Ben Zoma again. “We know so little about Thallonian technology,” he said ruefully. “If only I had some idea of how quickly they can effect repairs…”