The Brave And The Bold Book Two Part 3

Voyskunsky smiled. "Hit it, Ensign."

The following morning, Captain DeSoto found his first officer in the main shuttlebay along with Lieutenant Tuvok. The former was holding a tricorder, the latter a phaser rifle, and both were standing near the Shuttlecraft Manhattan. The shuttle had seen better days: phaser scars marred several parts of the hull. As the captain entered, Voyskunsky said, "Now fourteen centimeters up and six centimeters to the right."

Tuvok fired the phaser at the hull of the Manhattan without bothering to take any measurements. DeSoto had no doubt that the resultant phaser blast was right where Voyskunsky instructed it to be in relation to another phaser scar.

"How goes the deception?" DeSoto asked.

"Almost finished," Voyskunsky said. "Next one should be across the port bow, say a forty-five-degree angle."

Tuvok turned to look at the lieutenant commander. "That would not be consistent."

"I beg your pardon?"

DeSoto smiled. "Let me guess, Mr. Tuvok-you're about to point out that the next logical phaser blast would be across the starboard bow, as that would be the standard Starfleet tactical procedure when firing on a small vessel taking a standard evasive course, yes?"

"That is correct. If we wish the Maquis to believe that I stole this shuttle from the Hood-"

"Then the phaser scarring should match the pattern that we'd follow. Not everything in the field is by the book. Commander Voyskunsky, Lieutenant Dayrit, and I sometimes improvise these things. Besides, we'd know that you, logical person that you are, would follow a textbook evasive course."

"And we're the kind of people who like to throw people off by reading the book backward," Voyskunsky added with a smile.

"The Maquis would not necessarily be aware of your-proclivity for improvisation." Tuvok hesitated briefly, and DeSoto suspected the Vulcan was searching for an appropriately diplomatic way of putting it.

Voyskunsky nodded. "Maybe. And it's true, there are no known Starfleet defectors in the Maquis who served on this s.h.i.+p. A testament, I'm sure, to our fearless leader's ability to inspire loyalty," she said with a nod to DeSoto.

"If you're trying to suck up after last night's game, Commander, it won't work," DeSoto said with a chuckle.

"Noted, Captain." Her face growing more serious, Voyskunsky continued. "On the other hand, for all we know they have informants in Starfleet, and even here on the Hood-or at the very least, someone I may have served with on the Excalibur or that Manolet served with on the Discovery. I'd rather we erred on the side of personal consistency."

"And if Lieutenant Commander Hudson or one of the other Maquis examine the Manhattan and question this anomaly?"

DeSoto shrugged. "Then you tell them the truth. Adds versimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Let us hope that, unlike Pooh-Bah's, my narrative is believed."

Laughing, DeSoto said, "I wouldn't have pegged you for a Gilbert and Sullivan fan, Lieutenant."

"I am not. However, during my first tenure in Starfleet, I served under Captain Sulu on the Excelsior. He was-inordinately fond of The Mikado, and there were several performances of it on the s.h.i.+p during my time there." Tuvok spoke with as much distaste as he could muster.

"In any case," Voyskunsky said, "if you'd be so kind as to fire across the port bow at an angle of forty-five degrees?"

"Of course, Commander."

As Tuvok took aim, Voyskunsky tapped the tricorder against her chin. "That raises an interesting question. Legend has it that Vulcans never lie."

"Extreme generalizations are not logical," Tuvok said after firing the phaser, "as it only takes one counterexample to disprove them. However, deliberate falsehood is frowned upon, yes."

"And yet you're going to have to tell the Maquis that your family was among those lost in that rockslide on Amniphon. Now, the rockslide itself destroyed most of Amniphon's computer records-in fact, that's the biggest argument that it was artificially induced by the Carda.s.sians rather than natural, since the damage was so specific-but the fact is, your wife and children didn't die there. Are you going to be able to say they did?"

Tuvok lowered the phaser rifle and regarded Voyskunsky. DeSoto noticed no change in his att.i.tude or demeanor-but then, I probably wouldn't. According to Tuvok's file, during the time between his two tours with Starfleet, he had undergone the Kolinahr ritual. DeSoto didn't know all that much about Vulcan disciplines, but he did know that Kolinahr resulted in a much deeper repression of emotions than even the Vulcan norm.

"My first duty, Commander, is to Starfleet. You can be a.s.sured that I will follow that duty wherever it may take me. Now then, if you please," he said, once again raising the rifle, "what is the next shot?"

Before Voyskunsky could answer, the intercom beeped. "Bridge to Lieutenant Tuvok."

"Go ahead."

"You have a personal message from Vulcan, sir."

Tuvok looked at DeSoto. "May I take this in the shuttle, Captain?"

"Of course."

Setting the rifle on the deck, Tuvok moved toward the shuttle hatch, opened it, entered, and closed it behind him for privacy.

Voyskunsky grinned. "Speak of the devil and the devil calls you on subs.p.a.ce-a.s.suming that is his wife or one of his kids calling."

"Probably. I take it you're concerned with Tuvok's cover story."

"Just want to make sure. We've had enough legitimate defections that he should be able to blend in fine. And we certainly created enough of an isolinear trail that any checks the Maquis do will turn up fine. I'm worried about two things: whether or not he can sell the cover story, and whether or not he won't be one of those defections."

DeSoto blinked. "Why are you worried about that?"

"Tuvok left Starfleet once already, some seventy-three years back. I don't want to risk a repeat performance."

"I wouldn't worry," DeSoto said, putting a rea.s.suring hand on Voyskunsky's shoulder. "His record is spotless. I'm sure he'll do his job and do it well."

She nodded twice. "You're probably right, sir-I just want to be sure."

"Understandable. By the way-is there something going on between you and Commander Cavit that I should know about?"

"That you should know about? No, sir."

DeSoto smiled. Nicely handled, he thought. An honest answer without actually giving any information."If you say so."

The shuttle hatch opened. Tuvok stepped out and picked up the rifle.

"Was the news good, bad, or indifferent, Lieutenant?" DeSoto asked with a smile.

"The news was personal, Captain. I would prefer not to go into any more detail."

"Of course," DeSoto said. "Carry on, you two. Let me know when you're ready to leave."

Gul Eska hated rain.

As he left home for his usual morning walk to the office, he found himself suddenly pushed by a heavy wind and pelted with enough rain to soak his garments and hair in seconds.

One of the reasons he had fought hard for the a.s.signment to Nramia was that it had mild weather-rain was a rarity in the capital city of this Carda.s.sian colony near the Federation border. No, Nramia was a planet that had nice, hot weather. The red sun beat down on the planet like a lover's embrace. It was paradise.

For months, Eska had supervised the military installation on Nramia as well as the six hundred thousand colonists who lived peacably on the surface. Krintar grew on Nramia, a rare plant that was the primary ingredient in halant stew. No replicator had ever been able to match the exquisite flavor of natural halant stew, and people would pay through the neck for krintar roots, so by administrating Nramia, Eska was sitting on a latinum mine.

Some pointed out that he would have been better off taking on a few s.h.i.+pboard a.s.signments, but as much as Eska hated bad weather, he hated no weather even more. The idea of spending his time trapped inside a duranium can with nothing but recycled, sterile air to breathe filled him with loathing. True, many lived their whole lives in artificial environments, whether on s.h.i.+ps or on planets with unbreathable atmospheres, but that didn't mean Eska had to live that way. He could barely call that living. No, he wanted the dirt of a planet beneath his feet and the warmth of a real sun beating down on his face.

On Nramia, he had that.

Until the day it started raining.

Eska had heard that the Federation could actually control the weather, to a degree, on their planets. While Carda.s.sia had nothing quite that sophisticated, their ability to predict the weather was near absolute. The meteorological system on Nramia had never been off by more than a few degrees in temperature here, a bit off in the speed of the wind there.

Never had the system neglected to predict a rainstorm.

Certainly, not this kind of rainstorm. Oh, it rained periodically in this area of the continent, but nothing like this.

It was coming down in sheets, a heavy wind blowing hard enough that the rain seemed to be coming at him sideways.

Eska's home was only a five-minute walk from the office complex where he had his seat of power. Picking up the pace, he ran the rest of the way, covering the distance in less than a minute. Grateful for his Central Command training, he wasn't even winded when he reached the door.

When Eska had taken over the administration of Nramia, he had had the military headquarters moved to this building. Though it was considered an eyesore by most-it was from a period in Carda.s.sia's architectural development that many considered negligible, and indeed most examples of it throughout the Union had long since been demolished-Eska rather admired it. The entire facade was made of one-way transparent aluminum. n.o.body could see in, obviously-that would be a security threat-but every room in the building had a glorious view of the capital city. Better still, throughout the day they could see the sun providing its glorious warmth.

Except for today, of course. Today, all they saw were the streaks of rain on the windows.

Eska was greeted at the door by his two aides with a towel and a refresher. Inside the lobby of the complex, the staccato rhythm of the rain pounding on the transparent aluminum was a constant undercurrent. It reminded Eska of being on board a s.h.i.+p. Whenever he traveled, the thrumming engines always seemed ridiculously loud and made concentration difficult. He never understood how anyone could grow accustomed to such constant noise. Now, with the even more intrusive noise of the rain, he wondered again.

The taller of the aides, Glinn Coram, shook his head and smiled. "Were we transported to Ferenginar without anyone telling us, sir?"

"I'm starting to wonder," Eska said, toweling his ears. They were so waterlogged that Coram had sounded like a staticky subs.p.a.ce comlink. "Find out what's going on. Get in touch with the meteorological center. This-" He was interrupted by a ma.s.sive thunderclap of a type he hadn't heard since he was stationed on Chin'toka IX during monsoon season. "-should not have happened," he finished in a harder voice.

"Yes, sir."

To the shorter, fatter aide, he said, "Doveror, do a full sensor sweep of the entire planet. Tie in to the satellites. I want a full picture." He had to raise his voice even higher, as the rain was growing more intense by the minute. No longer staccato, the rain was a virtual wall of sound slamming against the building.

"Yes, sir," Glinn Doveror said in his squeaky voice. Most found him irritating and difficult to listen to, but he was also a most efficient aide, so Eska put up with it.

"And call Gul Evek and tell him to get a s.h.i.+p over here, just in ca-"

Eska's words were interrupted by another thunderclap, but this time it was immediately followed by an earsplitting shattering sound, as an entire section of the transparent aluminum collapsed, shards flying through the air, propelled by the wind and no longer held in place by the structure of the building. Even as his ears cleared of that noise, it was replaced by exclamations of pain ranging from quick shouts to lengthy screams. Shards of transparent aluminum were all over the floor of the lobby, and probably elsewhere in the building.

Then Eska felt like he was being pelted with stones. The rain had turned into hail and was now coming into the building. Raising his arm to protect his eyes, Eska ran toward the turbolift bay at the inner portion of the building. He didn't even bother to look to see if Doveror or Coram followed.

As it happened, they did, which he knew only because they entered the turbolift with him. "Operations," Eska said as the door closed. "Something is wrong."

"The weather is certainly a bit aberrant," Doveror said gravely.

"Aberrant!?" Eska almost grabbed Doveror by the neck ridges. "'Aberrant'is a few extra centimeters of rain per year. The first hailstorm in the recorded history of this continent is not 'aberrant.' Thunder intense enough to shatter our allegedly unbreakable windows is not 'aberrant'! Someone is attacking us, and I want to know who."

Coram fixed his commanding officer with a dubious glance as the turbolift doors opened. "Attack? That seems unlikely, sir."

Eska stepped out of the lift into the large room. Consoles lined three of the walls, and a large round desk sat in the center. The fourth wall was taken up with a viewscreen. Currently on that screen was an image of the capital city, which was a chaotic jumble of snow, sleet, freezing rain, hail, and wind. "Weather patterns don't develop like this naturally," Eska said, pointing to the viewscreen, "and they certainly don't develop out of a cloudless sky."

One of the glinns sitting at the main operations table said, "Sir, we're picking up-something in orbit."

Eska threw his towel angrily at Doveror, who fumbled to catch it, and approached the table. "Define 'something,' Glinn."

"I'm afraid I can't, sir," she said. "We can't get a firm fix on it. It's probably a s.h.i.+p, but-" Her eyes widened. "Sir, it's firing on the orbital defense satellites!"

"Return fire!" Then Eska frowned. "Why didn't the satellites challenge that s.h.i.+p immediately?"

"Not sure, sir-best guess, the indeterminate readings were too anomalous for the computer to register as a threat. Honestly, sir, I probably wouldn't have bothered reporting it to you if not for everything else that was happening-and because the weather changes matched when the reading appeared in orbit." She peered at her display. "Sir, all orbital defenses are down!"

Eska was about to say that that was impossible, that one anomalous reading shouldn't be able to take out six satellites, but he was interrupted by the shaking of the entire room. Loose items fell to the floor, and several people followed the objects. Eska was not among those, as he gained purchase on the edge of the center table even as his footing was momentarily lost.

When the ground settled, he turned to the glinn. "That was a lightning strike, sir," she said in a very small voice.

"That was lightning?" Eska obviously needed to revise his estimates on what was impossible.

"Yes, sir." She peered down at her console, then looked back up at Eska. "The subbas.e.m.e.nts are still structurally sound, but the infrastructure of the aboveground portion of the building is compromised."

"Evacuate the building immediately."

"Sir, I don't think they'll be any safer out there. The winds are now at two hundred-"

Eska's head swam. "They're still safer in the open than inside a fifty-story building that's about to collapse!"

"Yes, sir."

He whirled to face Coram, who was now at a communications console. "Get me Evek!"

"Waiting for his reply now, sir," Coram said in a surprisingly calm voice. It made Eska realize just how hysterical he was starting to sound.

Eska turned to the viewscreen. People, both civilians and Central Command soldiers, were running out of the building. You could tell the difference only by what they were wearing, as they all had the same panicked look as they dashed about madly. The building itself was quite literally a sh.e.l.l of its former self. Its roginium superstructure was all that was left-the transparent aluminum had been blasted away, as had the plastiform that made up the interior walls.

If this place is collapsing, Eska thought with horror, then the rest of the city's buildings will be dust before this is over. And we have no defenses.... Eska silently cursed whoever was responsible for not a.s.signing any s.h.i.+ps to Nramia. He could hear whichever idiot Central Command bureaucrat it was now, going on about how the orbital defenses were more than sufficient for the job....

"Sir," Doveror said, "reports are coming in from all over the planet. This peculiar weather is not limited to the capital. The polar regions are registering temperatures several orders of magnitude hotter than usual. The ice up there is melting, and computer projections are calling for dangerous floods within a day or two. The tropical regions are suffering blistering heat with no humidity, the desert regions are getting ma.s.sive rainfall-"

"I get the idea," Eska muttered.

Then, to Eska's relief, the image of Gul Evek came on the screen. Carda.s.sian heads tended to be rather rectangular, but Evek's countenance was downright boxy.

"What can I do for you, Eska?" Evek said distractedly, looking down at some readouts even as he spoke.

"We need to evacuate Nramia."

Everyone whirled toward Eska at that. Eska couldn't blame them, as he was as surprised as any of them at the words that had come out of his mouth, but it was the only sane course of action.

Evek looked up sharply at that. "Excuse me?"

"Something in orbit has wiped out our defenses and is causing deadly weather all over the planet."