Chapter Ten
If this is to end in fire
Then we should all burn together
Watch the flames climb high into the night
Calling out father oh stand by and we will
Watch the flames burn auburn on
The mountain side high
~ I See Fire, by Ed Sheeran
USS Europa
“Transwarp systems reading nominal,” Askok reported stolidly from Engineering.
“No fluctuations in output since that last adjustment, Captain.”
“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” Wu replied. “Excellent work,” she added, closing the comm-link to the engine room.
“Maintaining course,” Lightner updated from the Flight Control station. “Our velocity is the equivalent of warp nine-point-nine-nine-eight. ETA to last known coordinates of the Amon cube is twenty-six minutes.”
“Fifty-five light years in a little under two hours,” Georgia Kirk murmured from the XO’s seat with a disbelieving shake of her head. “Impressive.”
“Thank you, Mister Lightner,” Wu answered smoothly, gratified at the calm and professional nature with which her people were handling this most critical mission. She had nerves enough of her own, and hiding that from the crew was taking a great deal of effort. A jittery crew would only have made the situation that much worse.
Wu turned to inspect A’lasha as the Vulcan woman perused a data padd in the mission specialist’s seat to Wu’s immediate left.
“If you keep staring I just might start to blush,” A’lasha noted laconically, still engrossed in the contents of her padd.
Wu frowned at the woman’s cavalier response to her scrutiny. “Don’t make me regret bringing you along…” her frown deepened. “I don’t even know what to call you. Do you 31 types even have ranks? Do I call you ‘agent?’”
Finally looking up from her reading, A’lasha offered what at least appeared to be a genuine smile. “My name will be sufficient, Captain.”
Wu was able to spy a glimpse of the padd’s contents, a list of
Europa’s available Alpha Weapons. “What’s your assessment of which weapons system will be the most effective?”
“Personally, I’d go with the zero-point flux initiator, followed up by the gravitic shearing field, should a
coup de grâce be necessary.”
Wu nodded slowly, all the while trying to feign an indifferent air about carrying out what amounted to an act of genocide. “I hope Lar’ragos’ weapon worked as advertised. I’d rather not engage the Amon at full strength.”
A’lasha cocked her head approvingly. “That’s a wise choice. At full strength, they’re the most cunningly brutal warriors I’ve ever seen. They put the Klingons and Jem’Hadar to shame. Even my own people at the height of their martial prowess never came close to Amon levels of lethality.”
With a minute shake of her head, Wu muttered
soto voce, “To think Sandhurst thought he could tame them.”
“He very nearly did,” A’lasha confessed quietly. “It wasn’t until we’d transitioned into the Large Magellanic Cloud that everything went to hell, Captain. He and I… we both underestimated the Amon aversion to making war against their own kind. According to them, that trait was engineered into them by their designers. Whether that was factual or a societal legend we-”
Their conversation ceased as they both registered the sudden presence of three officers standing in front of the command center chairs. Counselor Liu, Lt. Commander Pell, and Lieutenant Kirk.
“This is a terribly inconvenient time for a mutiny,” A’lasha quipped.
Ignoring their guest’s joke, Liu fixed a serious expression on Wu. “Captain, if you have a moment, we’d like to speak with you in private. It’s important.”
Wu’s hesitation was necessarily brief, and she stood to tell Lightner that he had the conn before leading the trio into the ready room. Wu entered first, surprised to find Dr. Reskos and Lieutenant Verrik already seated and waiting in the two chairs across from the desk. Wu recovered smoothly, gesturing for the others to take seats on the couch along the wall as she slid in behind the desk. “We’re short on time, so I hope you’ll be quick about this.”
Kirk, Liu and Pell all remained standing. The counselor and diplomatic officer both looked to Kirk, and the acting first officer announced, “Captain, we’d urge you in the strongest possible terms to reconsider this course of action.”
Wu cocked her head thoughtfully. “I’m acting under orders, Lieutenant. I wasn’t aware I had any choice in the matter.”
Liu spoke up. “Your orders equate to committing genocide, sir. That act is a violation of no fewer than seventeen different Starfleet regulations, operational protocols, and Federation laws. As Starfleet officers, we have a moral obligation to refuse such illegal orders.”
“The Skorrah and the Amon declared war on
us.” Wu’s eyes darted between the five officers facing her, but her voice betrayed little emotion. “The Skorrah have committed acts of wanton genocide, to include the destruction of Ferenginar. Billions have died at their hands. If you’ll recall, the Amon just ambushed us, their allies, killing over a thousand Starfleet and Klingon personnel in the process.” Wu stood slowly, planting her hands atop the desk and leaning forward towards her subordinates. This time her voice lowered a full octave. “And, oh yes… they murdered our captain.”
The last three words seemed to hang in the air, encased in a sheath of icy scorn.
Liu’s Adams apple bobbed as his next argument died in his throat.
Pell was less cowed than her compatriots by Wu’s frosty mien, and pressed on. “The whole of their species can’t be held accountable for the decisions of their leadership.”
“Unfortunately for them, the whole of their species inhabits a single ship.”
Kirk tried again. “If Section 31’s weapon worked, they could already be compromised. By demonstrating mercy, we could well turn the Amon back—“
“We’re done here,” Wu cut her off mid-sentence. “I’m following strict directives from our chain-of-command, and I had to twist Captain Ebnal’s arm to be allowed to lead this mission in his stead. As it happens, I’m in full accord with my very explicit orders. In case one or more of you are hazy on this point, let me be absolutely clear. I intend to put the Amon to the sword. All of them.”
Pell crossed her arms defiantly, her jaw muscles working furiously as she fought to reign in her boiling emotions.
“Dismissed,” Wu commanded. “Resume your battle-stations.”
Nobody moved.
Verrik spoke for the first time, “Captain, we are obligated by our oaths and our duty to refuse illegal and immoral orders. That being said, if you insist on pursuing this course of action, we will have no choice but to relieve you of command.”
“On what authority?” Wu scoffed acidly.
Reskos stood from the couch, as always appearing like a skinny teenager out of place in a Starfleet uniform. His android body however belied his millennia of experience as a healer. “As chief medical officer, I can attest that your willingness to commit an act of genocide is suggestive of a mental instability. I can and will remove you from duty pending a full psycho-physical examination.”
“One that I’d support as ship’s counselor,” Liu added.
Wu’s expression hardened and she looked pointedly to Kirk. “Regulations demand that the first officer must be in agreement with the CMO in such circumstances.”
All eyes then focused on Kirk who did her best not to shrink under the combined weight of their gaze. “I… reluctantly agree with the doctor’s assessment, sir.” She dipped her head for a brief moment before bringing her eyes back to Wu. “We can’t do this, Captain. We’re better than this. We
have to be.”
Wu leaned forward farther as she barked, “The Amon are an existential threat! What don’t you understand about that?”
“As were the Xindi, the Romulans, the Klingons, the Borg, the Dominion and the refugee crisis,” Verrik recited implacably. “Yet we’ve survived them all without sacrificing that which embodies the best of the Federation.”
“Destroying them may be unavoidable, despite the best of intentions,” Wu snapped.
“It may come to that, certainly,” Liu conceded. “But at least we can say afterwards that we pursued all available alternatives before condemning an entire species to death.”
“Ebnal’s orders were explicit, I cannot willfully violate them.”
Pell observed, “Ebnal’s a warrior, or the closest thing the Federation has to one. He wouldn’t hesitate to commit genocide if he thought it was in the Federation’s best interest. If you’re trying to use him for legal or moral cover, I’d suggest you reconsider.”
Kirk held herself a little taller. “The Alpha Weapons can only be deployed with the first officer’s counter-authorization, Captain. I’ll have to be in full agreement with their use.”
Wu glowered at her assembled officers. “You could all be court-martialed for this.”
“We know,” was Kirk’s succinct reply.
In a last effort, Wu offered, “Captain Lar’ragos himself tried to destroy the Amon with his last act.”
“Lar’ragos may have been a good captain,” Pell answered, “but he was a horrible person. His life and death are a cautionary tale, not a call to action.”
The captain sat back into her chair with an air of resignation. “Fine. So, my mutinous officers, how do we play this from here?”
Verrik said, “We will not act against you so long as you pursue alternatives to annihilating the Amon in good faith, Captain. However, if you attempt to destroy them in a situation where we feel it is unnecessary, we will stop you.”
Wu cocked her head thoughtfully. “And what about A’lasha? With her Section 31 overrides she can easily take control of the ship and launch the Alpha Weapons without our help or consent.”
“She’ll have to be neutralized,” Verrik stated coolly.
* * *
The energy bloom swept across the mighty cityscape, erasing it utterly and leaving the area that had hosted the great metropolis for millennia utterly devoid of structures. Where great towers had once reached skyward, now only meadows and meandering streams remained, pristine and unsullied by the hand of sentient ambition.
In the ornately decorated viewing bay, Liana Ramirez looked on, an expression of mild satisfaction on her features. She turned to appraise the troubled look in Romulan Admiral Ch’alveris’ eyes.
“You’re telling me the city in this simulation has been excised from our collective timeline?”
“No,” she corrected. “The entire Tenaur’i civilization has just been erased from the time-stream by a very precisely controlled causality paradox. They never were. Every molecule of every artifact is gone, every interaction their species had with any other civilization now has never occurred.”
The Romulan officer appeared to struggle with the concept. “Temporal mechanics has never been my specialty, but if this was real, wouldn’t we have been affected by the alterations as well? How could I remember destroying a species that never existed?”
Ramirez inclined her head, ceding the point to her Romulan counterpart. “In an actual deployment, your ship would be surrounded by special temporal shielding that would safeguard you from changes to the timeline.”
“Amazing,” Ch’alveris breathed, nearly overwhelmed at the ramifications of such a weapon.
Ramirez glanced back to the control station where Annorax sat, scrutinizing the simulated weapon’s readouts with his customary intensity. “Problems?”
“None so far,” he responded distractedly. “Temporal incursion appears successful. No sign of counter-indications. The temporal shockwave is spreading outward to encompass the furthest reaches of Tenaur’i expansion. Last to go will be the faintest echoes of their first, most primitive radio transmissions.”
Ramirez smiled brightly. “The swan song of a doomed people; how poetic.”
Ch’alveris suppressed a shudder at her cavalier dismissal of the annihilation of an entire people, even if it were only a theoretical exercise. The idea that she could potentially extinguish a species for no other reason than as an example of the weapon’s power, and by extension, her own, troubled him more than he would admit. “I am duly impressed, Baroness,” he offered warily. “Would it be possible to bring them back once the deed was done?”
“Back? Goodness, no!” Ramirez chortled. “That involves a far greater degree of precision, Admiral. As the old adage goes, it is always easier to destroy than to create.”
He turned slowly to confront her. “If such technology could be weaponized, it would alter the balance of power in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.”
Ramirez inclined her head towards a coterie of Romulan scientists waiting patiently to speak with Ch’alveris. “Granted, this simulation was designed to demonstrate what a fully realized weapons-system could accomplish, but if you’ll take a moment to confer with your science personnel, they’ll doubtless inform you that we’ve already achieved proof-of-concept.”
Ch’alveris stood, brooding silently as he tried to determine if such a thing were actually possible. He gestured for the lead scientist to approach. The man stepped close and then leaned in towards the admiral, keeping his voice in a low, almost conspiratorial whisper. “Sir, utilizing the photonic-isolation chamber we constructed to the Baroness’ specifications, we’ve run a full analysis of this technology.”
“And?” Ch’alveris prompted, finding himself hoping this would prove a dead-end.
The Romulan scientist struggled to contain his wonder and excitement. “They did it, sir. The temporal field they generated completely extinguished the target photon from the time/space continuum. All interactions between that photon and its quantum-entangled counterparts ceased. Most amazingly, this entanglement breach occurred both in the present and retroactively.”
“Meaning?” the admiral prompted.
“Meaning, sir, the technology checks out. Our proof-of-concept parameters have been met.”
Ch’alveris frowned. “I don’t understand, Doctor Tolann. Just because the field can compromise a single photon, how does that prove anything of note?”
The scientist spared an enthusiastic glance at his counterpart before turning back to the admiral. “Sir, the ability to selectively edit a single particle from the time/space continuum verifies that the concept is sound and can be weaponized. The only difference between deleting a solitary photon and deleting the entirety of the Klingon Empire is simply a matter of degree. It would require an enormous power source and incredibly specific targeting algorithms, but this proves that it can be done.”
The admiral found the idea highly unsettling. “What manner of power source would be required?”
“There are a number of possibilities,” Tolann replied thoughtfully. “The energy release from an intentional subspace rupture, deploying a gravitic d-sink into a naturally occurring quantum singularity, or perhaps harnessing the energy from either a collapsing or exploding star.”
Ch’alveris broke away from the scientist and once again stood facing Ramirez. “I must admit to being at a loss, Baroness. Our only prior contact with you was your attack on a number of our war-birds during the Federation’s first contact with a refugee species. Your temporal weaponry proved especially lethal in that encounter. Now, however, you peacefully invite us to this demonstration, and then offer us technology that if properly exploited could give the Star Empire unchallenged control of nearly half the known galaxy.”
Ramirez nodded in silent agreement with the admiral’s assessment.
“Why?” Ch’alveris asked pointedly. “Entropy and the pursuit of gain are the only two constants in the universe, Baroness. I do not trust in the idea of pure altruism.”
“You are most correct, Admiral,” Ramirez answered. “I am in desperate need of a fleet of warships to assist in the capture of an installation in the orbiting galactic mass known to the Federation as the Large Magellanic Cloud. I believe your people refer to it as Calanda's Eye. Control of this installation could also give unparalleled strategic advantage to whoever seizes it.”
Ch’alveris appeared nonplussed. “You wish the installation taken, but you do not want to control it yourself?”
“My interest in this whole affair is solely with the fate of a single human, Admiral. So long as I take custody of that individual, all other assets seized during this operation will be the property of the Romulan Star Empire.”
Ch’alveris considered her for a long moment, his mind awash in strategy and tactics. “Let’s say I did accede to your offer, Baroness. How do you propose we coax either the Skorrah or the Starfleet/Klingon task force to open another aperture to Calanda's Eye? We cannot communicate with them across such vast distances. Do we simply sit in the Alanthal system and hope that they return there at some point?”
“Simple,” she answered with a knowing smile. “We will cloak your ships and follow the task force through the portal when they originally departed for the other galaxy some days ago.”
His countenance suggested that the admiral thought she was raving mad. “And this would be accomplished how?” he asked dubiously.
She gestured to the surrounding temporal apparatus. “For someone who can orchestrate this, Admiral, mere time travel is child’s play.”
* * *
this was some intense writing. I like how Wu has evolved from stiff-upper lip to kick arse. I really would love to see Romulans slugging it out with Starfleet Marines and Klingons.
