He has a point. We can’t stand by and do nothing, not while the Klingons are sniffing around.There simply was too much at stake.
Finally, Nogura nodded. “I agree, it’s worth the risk.” Looking to Xiong, he said, “Gear up, Lieutenant, and dress warm. You’re heading back to Erilon.”
28
INTERLUDE
Anger, an emotion she had not felt in some time, filled the Wanderer, her mounting rage made all the more acute because she remained powerless to act on it.
The arrogance of theTelinaruul continues unfettered.
After several tentative probes into the Void, she had returned weakened and even discouraged by her seeming inability to break the limitations imposed on her by the absence of the First Conduit and those who controlled it. Once again finding temporary solace on the dead world that had belonged to the Tkon, the Wanderer had regained enough of her depleted energies that she was able to sense disturbances within what should have been the lifeless, dormant system of Conduits. At first, she had allowed hope to wash over her, thinking for a fleeting moment that the Enumerated Ones had returned, but such anticipation was quickly dashed as the Wanderer realized that what she had detected was not the bold, unequaled power of those to whom she pledged eternal loyalty. That strength and those who wielded it were still lost to her, absent from this spatial plane and perhaps never to return.
Instead, what the Wanderer felt were the most fleeting permutations, hesitant and clumsy efforts that carried with them a familiar tinge, one she detested. The Telinaruulonce again were attempting to gain access to technology they could not possibly hope to understand. Focusing her mind toward the source of the activity, she realized that the Telinaruulhad returned to one of the planets on which they had discovered a Conduit, the ice-bound world where she had first encountered them. She vowed not to underestimate them again. The intruders would pay for their insolence.
While she once had believed without exception in the supremacy of the Shedai, the Wanderer now was forced to admit that the Telinaruulwere not to be so easily dismissed. In their unchecked lust to obtain the secrets of the Shedai, the infiltrators had overcome the confines of their vastly inferior intellect and made tangible progress in the brief span of time since their arrival in this region of the galaxy. The very nature of their primitive life-forms and their simple incompatibility with Shedai or even Tholian physiology would continue to present the most formidable obstacles, but based on her previous skirmishes with them, the Wanderer believed them capable, in time, of finding some means of bridging that gap.
Of course, without the First Conduit to provide guidance and oversight, the individual portals located on different worlds throughout the realm of the Shedai were all but useless. Therefore, any inroads made by the Telinaruulto understand and exploit Shedai knowledge and technology would remain limited.
Would they not?
That uncertainty now fueled the Wanderer, driving her to regain her former strength and free herself from her self-induced isolation. Only then could she carry on with her singular purpose of defending that which belonged to the Shedai, acting in their stead until they chose to return.
They will not return.
From some distant point in the void, another presence called to her, intruding upon the Wanderer’s thoughts. The voice of the Apostate reached across space and time, taunting her.
You are alone, as you always will be. Those to whom you pledge loyalty are gone. They will not save you. Their time has passed, as has yours.
The Wanderer felt anger grip her once more, just as the Apostate knew would happen. Despite herself, she could not hold back her own response.
You, too, are alone.
She sensed the Apostate laughing at her bravado. You possess much courage and spirit for one so young. Then again, I also remember how you fled like a frightened child when I gave you the opportunity. When we meet again, do not hope for similar leniency.
Before the Wanderer could summon another reply, she felt an abrupt disturbance in her thoughts as the link with the Apostate was severed. Wherever he was, he had tired of the exchange. Though weakened, he remained confident in his abilities and his purpose, dismissing her as though she did not exist.
The Wanderer seethed at his arrogance, her frustrations made all the worse by the knowledge that she was powerless to refute him.
Pushing away her irritation and striving not to dwell on the Apostate, the Wanderer instead marshaled the still-pitiful energies under her control, beginning the arduous task of preparing for yet another journey.
29
There was hot, Pennington decided, and then there was Vulcan.
The initial merciless blast of midday desert heat had caught the journalist in the face the instant the Yukon’s passenger-access hatch cycled open, and things had only worsened after that. Even now, hours later and with the sun low on the horizon and just beginning to slip behind the distant range of mountain peaks, the temperature remained uncomfortable. It was at least somewhat tolerable here when compared with the stifling heat that seemed to envelop Vulcan’s capital city, Shi’Kahr, earlier in the day. Pennington also knew that the heat would abate as sunset turned to night, but that seemed small solace at the moment.
“We’ve been here eight hours,” he said as he paced the width of the small, sparsely furnished reception room in which they had been directed to wait. “I think I’ve already lost ten bloody kilos in water weight.”
Sitting in one of only two chairs apparently designated for visitors, M’Benga reached up to wipe perspiration from his face. “It takes some getting used to, that’s for sure. When I interned here, it took me almost two months before I was fully acclimated, and that was after running five kilometers in the heat of the day, every day during my lunch break.”
Such a notion held absolutely no appeal for Pennington. Frowning, he asked, “Don’t you medical types have some kind of pill or something?” He rubbled the spot on his right arm where, a few hours earlier, M’Benga had injected him with something from his portable medikit. “I mean, you can give me something to help me breathe in this ghastly climate, so you’d think someone would dream up something that’d help you deal with the heat.”
“It’ll be better after the sun goes down,” M’Benga replied.
Upon assuming standard orbit, the Yukonhad been directed by Vulcan Space Central—the organization tasked with overseeing all spacecraft traffic above and around the planet—to land at the main spaceport on the outskirts of Shi’Kahr’s bustling metropolis. With the personnel transport secured at a Starfleet landing bay and its three-person crew having received orders to report to the Starfleet liaison office in the capital city, M’Benga had arranged for himself, Pennington, and T’Prynn to be sent via transporter to a point five kilometers outside the village of Kren’than, the settlement Sobon now called home. Local tenets prohibited most modern technology within the commune’s borders, necessitating the use of conventional transportation from the beam-in point.