Star Trek: The Original Series: Rihannsu: The Bloodwing Voyages (87 page)

“The intel people are going to want to make up their own minds about that,” Jim said.

“Yes, Captain. But I would guess that their analysis will not be very different from mine.” Spock folded his arms and leaned back. “The other set of data—” He looked at McCoy. “Doctor, I have read Lieutenant Commander Haleakala-LoBrutto’s initial report on her stay on ch’Rihan, but you have had more recent contact with her. I would appreciate your input as to whether you note stylistic changes in the content. I do not, however.”

“I’ll look at it right away, Spock. But what’s the story?”

“It is a remarkable one.” Spock’s expression, to Jim’s eye at least, got much graver. “There would seem to be some truth in the first data set’s report of rebellion among the Romulan Empire’s worlds. There is indeed such rebellion. But it is far worse than we have expected. The commander has not overstated the case in the slightest; possibly she has understated it, and the first report may have acknowledged rebellion in the first place because it has become impracticable to continue disguising or suppressing the truth. Various of the outermost worlds, which normally have a somewhat less stringent level of government imposed on them by the Senate and Praetorate—for the good reason that it is logistically more difficult to exert such control over great distances—are beginning to move to assert what on Earth once would have been called UDI…”

“Unilateral declarations of independence,” Jim said softly.

“Yes, Captain. The rebellious factions have correctly assessed the central government’s position. It is now too busy handling internal problems closer to home, similar rebellions and disaffections, and most lately the matter of the commander and the lost Sword, to effectively crack down on the worlds farthest away. According to the news which Lieutenant Commander Haleakala-LoBrutto has been given to pass on to us, these more distant colony worlds have become themselves disaffected over recent years by the Rihannsu government’s decision to withdraw its protection from them while continuing to demand ever higher taxes and conscription. And on some of the most distant worlds, where the families who settled were those of the engineers and pilots of the old-generation ships, the disaffection is strongest and is now erupting into the open. On those worlds, so the lieutenant commander says she has been told, the leaders of the movement—if that is the word for it, its organization being loose—have spent years amassing the capital, resources, and manpower to secretly begin building great ships again.”

“Secretly?” Jim said. “That must take some doing, with their bureaucracy. But what kind of ‘great ships’?”

McCoy was already shaking his head. “Knowing those people,” he said, “knowing what I heard about the Ship-clans while I was there—they won’t just be generation ships, this time. They’ll be multipurpose…”

“Warships, then,” Jim said.

Spock nodded. “The outworlds are now intent on their freedom. Their people would largely prefer to remain Rihannsu. But as such, they are also pragmatists, and they know the present government will not let them go without a fight. They are preparing to fight for their worlds’ freedom, and if they cannot achieve this, they intend to lead their people out into the long night again, and never return.”

Jim swallowed. It was nothing less than the beginning of the disintegration of an empire that Spock was discussing so calmly, but Jim knew all too well from history that where one empire fell, another would rush in to fill the vacuum unless something happened to stop the process.

“Several of the great ships are complete already, apparently,” Spock said. “They have been built in orbit and concealed in the asteroid belts of several of the colony worlds where the Rihannsu government’s surveillance is poorest. Several more will be ready soon. And meanwhile, as a result of this—for the leading minds in the movement have seen to it that the news has seeped out—thousands of Rihannsu have begun demonstrating in the cities of the outworlds. And there has been considerable civil disorder associated with the demonstrations, along with destruction or theft of government property. This is information which has apparently been suppressed by the authorities on ch’Rihan until now. Lieutenant Commander Haleakala-LoBrutto says that they have had less success suppressing the larger-scale demonstrations on ch’Havran, but the government continues to attempt to deny what is going on, or to pretend that it is unimportant. Some of the Praetorate know the truth, and have spoken it, but they are not popular.”

Jim thought of the great bear of a man who had towered over him, looking at him so curiously, so speculatively. He wondered if he now understood something of the reason why. “Spock,” he said, “doesn’t Gurrhim tr’Siedhri have Ship-clan connections?”

“Indeed he does, Captain. Normally someone with such close ties would not survive long in the Praetorate, but his hereditary rights to the title cannot be denied, and he wields considerable power because of extensive land holdings on both ch’Rihan and ch’Havran, but more so on the latter world, which also has Ship-clan ties of its own which ch’Rihan does not. He would be seen by the other Praetors, particularly by the ‘ruling’ three, as at least potentially subversive, and a danger to them, but so far they have not found a way to reduce his ‘dangerousness.’”

“Short of killing him,” McCoy said, “which is something that does happen to you sometimes in Rihannsu politics.” He folded his arms, leaned back. “I’d watch how I drank, if I were him, and who poured it out of what bottle.”

“And Ael…” Jim said.

“Ael,” Spock said. “There are apparently many among the Ship-clans who see her as someone they can use as a banner, a rallying point.”

“Knowing the commander,” McCoy said, “I’m not sure who would be using whom, exactly.”

“She would certainly be willing to use this kind of force if it was offered to her in alliance,” Jim said. “But is it really enough, do they really have the resources, to unseat an empire? Spock?”

“The lieutenant commander’s data has numerous lacunae,” Spock said. “The data apparently came to her in some haste, and she passed it on the same way to her superiors in Starfleet Intelligence—whom it will only now be reaching. But the kind of uprising presently taking place is unprecedented in the history of the Imperium. Whatever the final outcome, the Romulan Star Empire as we have known it is about to change forever.”

“This is news we’ve got to get to Ambassador Fox,” Jim said, getting up. “He would get it from intel himself, anyway, but not as quickly. Talk about timely…”

“It is,” McCoy said. “In the case of the first set of information, of course, the timeliness is obviously planned.”

“Yes. Now we’ve got to figure out which way they think we’re going to jump as a result of it.” He headed out. “Spock? Let’s go see if the ambassador’s available.”

He wasn’t, but this hardly came as a surprise to Jim, considering what the events of the next day were going to entail. All they could do was leave a copy of the information and a précis with Fox’s assistant at his office aboard
Speedwell,
and head back to
Enterprise
to wait for the proceedings to commence. Jim went to bed and dreamed uneasily of things exploding in the darkness, and of the light of the nearby star suddenly beginning to balloon out at him in the unnerving way it had at 15 Tri.

He was up earlier than necessary and found Spock already on the bridge. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Jim said.

“No more than need required,” Spock said, rather absently, as he was looking down his scanner at the moment. “There have been other matters in need of my attention.”

Jim sat down at the helm and rubbed his face. “Anything interesting?”

Spock straightened up and stepped down toward the center seat, where he stood looking at the viewscreen. It was showing
Mascrar
and not much else, which was no particular surprise, considering the thing’s size. “The Romulan vessels,” he said, “have been evincing a considerable amount of scan activity since they arrived.”

Jim made a face. “Looking for Ael, I bet.”

“It would seem a logical conclusion,” Spock said. “Though one might reasonably expect them to be more circumspect about it.”

Sulu looked over his shoulder. “Maybe they think there’s no point in trying to hide it at all,” he said, “since the level of surveillance around them is going to be so high anyway, and also it’s what everyone would
expect
them to be doing.”

Spock let out what would have sounded like a sigh of mild frustration in a human. “It can often be difficult to tell what a Romulan is thinking,” he said, “even in mind-meld. Or rather, what he means by what he is thinking.” He kept gazing at
Mascrar
as if attempting to see through it into the Romulan ships and possibly into their crews’ brains.

“Well, keep an eye on them,” Jim said and stretched. Behind him the turbolift doors opened, and Uhura came in. “You’re on shift early, Commander.”

She gave him a smile that suggested she knew his reason for having jumped his own on-shift time by an hour or so. “If I’ve got to be on tenterhooks about what’s going on over there, sir,” Uhura said, “I may as well be that way up here as at breakfast. And up here I won’t drink so much coffee.”

Jim gave her an ironic look as Spock went back up to his station. “Well, let me give you something to do besides contemplate your blood caffeine level, then. Spock, those new comm ciphers are in place, aren’t they?”

“The ones for use at the present time,” Spock said, “yes, Captain.”

“Good. Uhura, are you certain that they’re properly implemented?”

“I ran them through a full test cycle last night,” Uhura said. “Everything seemed fine.”

“Good. Then hail
Ortisei
for me, would you? I wouldn’t mind a word with Captain Gutierrez.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Jim sat and watched
Mascrar
rotating gently for a few moments.
It’s not like we wouldn’t have suspected they’d be looking for her,
he thought.
They obviously want advance notice of her coming into range. The only question is, What use of that information are they preparing to make? They wouldn’t dare try to attack her under all our noses. They’re seriously outgunned…

…aren’t they?

“Ortisei
is answering, Captain,” said Uhura.

“On screen,” Jim said.

Mascrar
disappeared, to be replaced by the bridge of another starship of
Enterprise
’s class. In its center seat sat a big, broad-shouldered man with broad, open features and very cool eyes; longish auburn hair was neatly bound back while he was in uniform. “Afterburner,” Jim said, “how are things?”

Captain Harold Gutierrez sat back in the center seat, stretched his arms out in front of him with the fingers interlaced, and cracked his knuckles.
“Dead quiet at the moment,”
he said,
“but in this neighborhood you’d expect that. How’re things closer in to the primary?”

“Heating up,” Jim said. “I won’t spoil any surprises for you, but you should expect a package from Fox and the team this morning. Some interesting reading in there.”

“I just bet.”
Gutierrez made a slightly sour face, and Jim controlled the urge to smile. This was another of the commanders in Starfleet who had acquired something of a reputation for quick action in a crisis, and a gift for finding a crisis to exploit, so much so that Jim could entirely understand why Fleet hadn’t wanted him here on site with both Helgasdottir and Danilov: fighting would have broken out spontaneously, as unavoidable as the results when you mix nitric acid and glycerin.
“So when do the fireworks start?”

“They’ve already started, I’m told. Major formal ‘representations’ will be made shortly, but both sides already know what these are, apparently. What we’re going to be expecting is reactions to the representations. Which is why I thought I’d call.”

“So I suspected. No, everything’s fine here, Jim,”
Gutierrez said.
“All’s quiet on
Bloodwing.
I spoke to Commander t’Rllaillieu about half an hour ago, in fact.”

“And?”

“No problems,”
Gutierrez said,
“except that I think she’d dearly love to present herself right in front of her people’s noses to see how far out of joint they get.”

“I can imagine. Well, don’t let it happen without Danilov saying the word,” Jim said, “or we’re all going to be in the soup together. Meanwhile, how’s the new baby?”
Ortisei
was Harry’s second command;
Raksha
had been decommissioned out from under him because of advancing age and a warp engine that kept malfunctioning when no one could figure out why.

“She’s a honey,”
Harry said.
“The rough edges are pretty much sanded off now. My chief engineer thinks we can start doing some customizing now.”

“Uh-oh,” Jim said. “Keep a close eye on her. You never know what they’re going to install down there when you’re not looking.”

Harry snorted.
“As if I get a say. But she and the commander were swapping busted-engine stories, and—”

Jim shook his head, smiling. “Trouble already. Well, look, Harry, while you’re keeping an eye on the two of them, don’t neglect your sensors to the outward. My science officer tells me that certain ships not a million kilometers from here are doing a lot of scanning.”