Part 7 (1/2)

”If it is Spock,” she said, ”perhaps it's the first real sign of Vulcan humor rearing its head.”

He smiled, then caught himself and pursed his lips.

Deanna leaned forward. ”You don't want to smile.” It wasn't a question.

He thought on that for a moment anyway, then decided, ”No. How can I smile? We might have lost a Starfleet legend ... and we can't even depend on s.p.a.ce itself anymore. Any other time I'd want to be the one leading this mission ... but right now, this ... these dead zones ... there's something unnatural about them. That's the mystery I want to see through. Not whether or not this is a trap.”

Deanna nodded lightly. ”But if Spock's presence has been compromised and he was captured-”

”They wouldn't be able to get information out of him,” Picard said gravely. ”They'd kill him.”

Romulan Warbird Makluan In Orbit. Merterbis colony Romulan Empire Folan watched as delicate threads of power, invisible to the naked eye but given shape and form by computer enhancement, unraveled from the planet below. On each of five monitors, one warbird apiece, the energy beam connected.

”Impressive, is it not?” Folan asked of T'sart. Too enveloped in her own satisfaction to keep the pride from her voice, she smiled and watched, as if atriumphant general who'd won the final battle of the final war for all eternity.

She glanced back at T'sart. He seemed to look her way only at moments their gazes met, though she was not certain of this. His was an enigmatic visage ofttimes, and today was no different. As his student, Folan had frequently searched his dark eyes for a hint of regard for his student. And occasionally he had some. But it never seemed enough.

”Yes,” T'sart said, and tilted his head into a nod. ”This day has been well-planned.”

He smiled, and at first that elated her, and then she felt its coolness descend over her like a thick, suffocating fog.

Folan nodded back. ”Thank you,” she murmured, and felt her brow furrow just the slightest bit. As he turned toward a console, probably to check some sensor readouts, she turned slowly back to watch the bridge's main viewscreen. ”Initiate the combat tests.”

The centurion nodded, and issued the order to the other vessels.

On the tactical display, a row of the Praetor's finest warbirds swooped down to attack the lead vessel. A vessel that now received its power directly from the planet below. They all did.

This was the future of planetary defense, Folan thought as disrupters pounded into s.h.i.+elds that wouldn't weaken. She was the architect of that future, and she alone.

One pursuit at which her people excelled was the art of war. The games they played today were with full weapons at point-blank range ... and Folan's power transfers were holding up. As if each vessel had the defensive-and offensive-power output of an entire planet.

Already she was considering upgrading the computer subsystems to help reduce a power fluctuation she saw on one monitor a few moments ago. At the same time, Folan was imagining her speech in the Senate as she accepted the Praetor's Military Excellence Award, a decoration that T'sart had been the only scientist yet to receive. As well, she was planning to research the possibilities of creating a power network that would protect not just a planet, but an entire solar system.

If that was even necessary. This feat alone should be enough to make Folan's life a boon. From this point forward, any planet the Praetor chose to defend would be impervious to attack. Taking a planet into the Empire would mean keeping it. Ground would be gained, and never lost, so long as there were planetary power plants to feed the battles.h.i.+ps above. Enemies would fire, and s.h.i.+elds would not fall. Disrupters would strike, and never lose their bite. The possibilities-and her future-seemed limitless.

And then it all toppled.

The lead vessel, the P'tarch, suddenly pitched to one side, her s.h.i.+elds bubbling with energy. Electrical fire crackled back and forth in waves that rolled over one another.

She had not been fired upon. Something was wrong.

The centurion at the helm turned toward Folan. ”Power overload on the P'tarch.”

”Discontinue energy extraction!”

”Overrides are not working, SubCommander!”

The display monitors flashed overlapping problems. All that could go wrong, had.

Folan hunched over her interface to the main computer. She gave commands and cross commands. She tried the most basic of contingencies, and the most outrageous. Many of them should have worked. Some of them didn't have a chance. None of them helped. Panic filled her lungs as if she was drowning. She gasped for an answer.

For a brief moment, she looked back to T'sart. Seeking advice. Perhaps his counsel held a solution, an inkling of an idea. A hint. Anything.

He stood tall in the thunder that was the bridge, an experiment in chaos. Of course he stood tall and unmoving. He was her teacher, and always would be. Within her, she almost wished he would admit this was a simulation and that, while she had failed, she could take the test again.

All too real, and perhaps almost with surreality, he did nof answer her pleaful gaze. All he did was glance back, and then finally say: ”Even the unplanned is planned by all our actions.”

A flash of light pulled her back toward the main bridge viewscreen.

On the display, the P'torch seemed to arch its hull in an explosion. It began a steep fall toward the planet, and was quickly lost in a ball of fire.

Another s.h.i.+p had sped toward the first, attempting a tractor beam. That failed, and yet a third s.h.i.+p joined when it was too late.

”The other s.h.i.+ps!” Folan screamed, as the easy threads of energy that connected them with the planet became thick bars of power. Rolling and shuddering with electrical flame, each vessel ruptured and split. Two singular explosions from within two bright star flashes, that were gone as quickly as they'd come.

Their debris spread out, some into the planet's atmosphere, some toward the Makluan and in all directions.

”s.h.i.+elds!” Folan said with too much hesitation. She'd forgotten that not only was she in command of the experiment, but in command of the s.h.i.+p as well. She didn't want that. She wanted to deflect command to someone else. With most of the s.h.i.+p's officers planet side and the rest under her authority for this project... there was no one to whom she could surrender control.

Except T'sart.

Folan turned again to the aft bridge. He was the ranking office rAnd he was also gone.

She spun around, stumbling from her seat.

”SubCommander!” the centurion called. ”Your orders?”

She pivoted back, saw the large spread of debris that rushed toward the main viewer. ”Evasive,” she roared. ”Full deflectors!”

Another order given too late, she thought, by someone not practiced enough to give it.

Metal crunched through the s.h.i.+elds, and then against the hull.

Darkness followed a flash of light, and smoke filled her lungs.

Folan's future was no more.

Chapter Nine.

U.S.S. Defiant, NX-742O5 Federation Sector 46 Near the Bajoran System ”defi ... come in! we've all main ... wer. Do not.. Doy... read?”

Commander Tins last turned toward Lieutenant Nog at ops. ”That barely even sounded like Colonel Kira. What's wrong with the signal?”

Nog shrugged nervously and sounded overly excited. ”I-I don't know. Something's wrong with the signal at its origin.” Nog had often been nervous in last's presence. Strange, since Ferengi and Bolian had worked together before with some success.