To the best of Xiong’s knowledge, the nearest Starfleet ship to Jinoteur was at least twelve days away, perhaps more. There were a few well-trafficked star systems close by, but most of them were under Klingon control. A Starfleet rescue seemed unlikely to arrive before his suit ran out of air and power.

Maybe the Tholians have transporter technology, he thought. If I can figure out how to work it, I could beam down to the surface. Before he could get his hopes up, his inner pessimist spoke up. What if they don’t have transporters? Even if they do, would you even recognize one if you saw it? And how are you going to run it by yourself? Dismay started turning into paralysis. He looked around the compartment and studied the various interface surfaces and noted that there were no buttons, levers, or switches that he recognized. Maybe they interface directly with their technology, the way that Shedai did on Erilon. If so, jury-rigging my way off this ship just got a hell of a lot harder.

A triple-beep tone over the comm channel indicated that an encrypted Starfleet distress signal was being received. Xiong poked at the large frequency toggle on the arm of his suit until he locked in the secure emergency channel. McLellan’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Vanguard, this is Sagittarius! We’re attempting an emergency landing on the fourth planet. We need antimatter. Repeat, we need antimatter! Stand by for final coordinates!”

Knowing the ship hadn’t been destroyed reassured Xiong slightly, but he still had his own predicament to cope with. He started walking back up the sloped passage. His next destination would be the ship’s command center. I might not understand things up there any better than the ones down here, he figured, but it’s the best place to start looking for a way out.

Before this mission, Xiong had seen Tholian bodies autopsied, he had studied several theories about their social structure and technology, and he had on a few occasions interacted with live Tholians who were garbed in amber-hued silk envirosuits. Not one iota of that experience had prepared him to be trapped alone inside one of their battleships.

First time for everything, he told himself as he reached the intersection and doubled back toward the bridge. I just hope this doesn’t turn out to be my first time getting myself killed.

The Maker’s rage burned like the heart of a blue star. The ship should have been destroyed instantly! How did it survive?

Fear and recrimination pulsed through the legion of the Nameless, who recoiled and thought only of evading the Maker’s wrath. The Avenger and the Warden, denied the haven of retreat, stood together in the face of the Maker’s fury.

The Telinaruul ship had unique defenses, the Warden insisted. They came prepared to thwart us.

Absurd. Blue-spark images raced through the air, drawn with the fires of the First Conduit, directed by the Maker’s will. Our power should have vaporized that speck of metal. Instead it has trespassed on the surface, defiled our sanctum. How?

Hostile speculations buzzed through the shared mind-line of the Colloquium, but there was no sound but the distant crash of thunder and the soft slashing of rain outside the Colloquium.

The front rank of the Serrataal parted for the Wanderer, who approached the Maker, wrapped in hues of submission and fealty. I sensed resistance in our mind-line, the Wanderer said. When the moment came to work our will upon the Telinaruul, one among us opposed the will of the others. We have been betrayed.

The Maker reviewed the mind-line, relived the attack on the ship, this time opening her senses to the subtleties in the ebb and flow of power through the First Conduit. It was as the Wanderer had said. A defiant will had undermined the others, had diluted and diffused their power, enabling the ship to survive.

When she turned to confront the Apostate, he did not flinch or avert his focus. He stood proudly even as she accused him.

You interceded for the Telinaruul, declared the Maker.

I did. There was no shame in him for what he had done.

A series of violent images communicated the Maker’s wishes to the Avenger, whose corporeal avatar dissociated, freeing her essence to speed its overland journey to the downed ship.

To the Apostate the Maker explained, You have only delayed the inevitable and prolonged the Telinaruul’s suffering. Never have we permitted their kind upon the First World. Their presence will not be tolerated now. She summoned the others to join in her rebuke of the Apostate and marshaled their combined strength as if it were her own. One-third of the Serrataal refused her entreaty; they seemed poised to oppose her until the Apostate signaled his surrender to her judgment, which she pronounced without delay. I banish you from our Colloquium. Return only when you are ready to don the colors of a penitent.

As the Apostate’s physical form dissolved into separating tendrils of dark vapor, his reply resonated ominously throughout the Colloquium: That day will never come.

10

Captain Nassir turned his chair aft as he heard the door to the bridge open. Ankle-deep dirty water surged between Master Chief Ilucci’s feet and across the deck onto the bridge. “We’ve got a hull breach topside,” Ilucci said as he stepped inside, water dripping from his sodden coverall.

“Amply demonstrated, Master Chief,” Nassir said. “Are your people all right?”

Ilucci answered as he surveyed the damage to the bridge’s overloaded consoles. “Torvin’s hurt. He’ll live, but Doc Babitz says he’ll be down for a few hours.”

The captain nodded. An injured crewman wasn’t good news, but he was relieved that Torvin’s injuries appeared to be the extent of serious casualties from the attack and the crash. “Keep me posted, Master Chief. And get that breach sealed.”

“Will do, Skipper.” Ilucci pulled an access panel off the starboard bulkhead and poked his head inside the gap.

Nassir got up from his chair and sloshed across the shallow flood to McLellan. “Bridy Mac, bring Sorak’s team and Medic Tan Bao to the cargo bay. We’ll meet you there.” McLellan gave a curt nod and made a quick exit. The captain looked to the rest of the bridge crew. “Everyone else, with me.”

He led them off the bridge to the port ladder, then down to the cargo bay. Only a few trickles of water had yet found their way to the ship’s lowest deck. As soon as the rest of the bridge team had finished descending the ladder, Nassir began issuing directions. “Clark, Sayna, break out the lures Xiong brought aboard. Theriault, help me unpack the signal dampeners.”

They opened the crates and had their contents ready to go by the time McLellan and the field scouts clambered down into the cargo bay. Sorak, as usual, skipped any preamble and cut to business. “Captain, a large energy reading is moving toward us, from the north. It will reach us in less than ten minutes.”

“I expected as much,” Nassir said. “Here’s the situation. Without main power, the ship can’t defend itself. Whatever’s coming at us, we need to lure it away from here, with these decoys Xiong developed. We’ll split into pairs and head in different directions.” He pointed as he named each person. “Sorak with me. McLellan with Tan Bao. Theriault and Niwara. Razka, go with zh’Firro.”

Nodding at the devices sitting in the open crates, Nassir continued, “One person from each pair take a decoy, the other take a signal dampener. Get as far from the ship as fast as you can; draw the thing’s attention. If it gets too close, activate the decoy’s propulsion circuit and let it go. Then use the dampener to hide yourselves. Clear?” The landing party nodded.

The captain turned to Terrell. “Clark, you’ll have the conn. Stay with Dr. Babitz and the engineers. Once we’re ashore, have Ilucci seal the top deck and scuttle the ship. You should have enough battery power to run a dampening field for about a half-hour. If we’re lucky, the thing’ll be gone by then.”