The Wanderer shared ephemeral visions of her battles with two different kinds of Telinaruul, one ending in defeat, the other in the calculated sacrifice of a treasured world. The Telinaruul grew strong while we slept, she cautioned. No longer confined to their planets, they harness subtle fires and traverse the stars. They are dangerous. Images etched in strokes of lightning depicted a shattered Conduit on a smoldering orb. The work of the Kollotaan, explained the Wanderer. They have grown more defiant, more difficult to yoke—but also stronger and more focused. We must subdue them. Properly dominated, they will serve us well. The reach of the Conduits will grow tenfold.
Thousands of swelling pulses of agreement outnumbered the few rumbles of discontent—all of which, the Apostate noted, came from his partisans. Though the Apostate believed the Wanderer’s grandiose vision to be hopeless, he kept his own counsel as the Warden injected himself into the gathering’s discussion. In numbers the Telinaruul hold an advantage, counseled the defender of the Shedai. If we are to subdue them, we must avoid a war of attrition. Overwhelming force is our best option.
Burning with fires older than the First World itself, the Avenger added her opinion. One demonstration will not be enough, she insisted. If the Telinaruul are as powerful as the Wanderer claims, they will need to feel our wrath many times before they learn to obey.
Our strength is not yet equal to such a task, warned the Maker. To challenge the Telinaruul with sufficient authority we must be prepared to marshal the entirety of our power. It is time to rekindle our Conduits and seed them with the Kollotaan.
Assent coursed through the Colloquium, burying the minority of dissident voices consigned to its periphery. The Herald sounded a cautionary note: The Kollotaan will resist.
Those who do will be destroyed, replied the Maker. Those who remain will echo our voice—and help us teach the Telinaruul to fear a new master.
Part Two
The Bright Face
of Danger
9
“Dropping out of warp in thirty seconds,” reported Lieutenant zh’Firro. The Andorian pilot checked her readings. “We will slow to sublight approximately one hundred million kilometers from the fourth planet.”
“Very good,” said Captain Nassir. “Bridy Mac, get ready to power up those new mods.” Throwing a sardonic glare in Xiong’s direction, he added, “And let’s hope they work.”
The second officer nodded from the tactical station on Nassir’s left. “Aye, sir.” She started flipping switches and bringing the new stealth systems online. Nassir had listened to Xiong explaining to Bridy Mac that the new screens were like a dampening field for Shedai sensor frequencies. It all had sounded very reassuring until the young lieutenant admitted that the technology had never been tested in the field.
Not until now, Nassir thought, grinning at his own gallows humor. “Theriault, can you get a reading on that Tholian ship?”
“I think so,” she responded. Her attention was focused into the blue glow from her sensor hood. “Main power is online….No sign of damage.” She recoiled slightly from the hood, adjusted her controls, and looked again at the sensor display. “No life signs, sir. It’s a derelict.”
Nassir glanced at Commander Terrell, who stood to the right of the captain’s chair. The first officer affected a dubious expression. “Interesting,” he said to Nassir.
“Exactly the word I’d choose,” Nassir said with gentle sarcasm. “Where do you think they are? On the planet?”
Terrell shrugged. “Not exactly their kind of environment.” In an ominous tone he added, “For all we know, they’re still on their ship.” Nassir took his XO’s meaning clearly: Maybe the Tholians are dead. He looked left to Xiong. “Your opinion?”
Xiong peered at the main viewscreen, where the slow pull of starlight retracted into the placid vista of a starfield. “Hard to say, sir. Tholians have environment suits that could let them explore the surface, but it doesn’t make sense that they’d send the entire crew. But seeing as their ship hasn’t been fired upon, it’s possible they’re here as guests—which could mean that their hosts have prepared a habitat for them on the surface.”
“Optimism,” Nassir said. “How refreshing. Either way, this simplifies a few things. At least now we don’t need their permission to make orbit.” He leaned forward. “Sayna,” he said, addressing the helm officer by her preferred nickname. “Take us in, full impulse.”
Entering the commands, zh’Firro replied, “Full impulse, aye. Estimating twenty-one minutes to orbit.”
He craned his head to look past Terrell, toward the science station. “Theriault, keep one eye on the planet and one on the Tholian ship. If either one makes so much as a blip—”
“Send up a red flag,” Theriault cut in, knowing his orders by rote. “Aye, sir.”
The captain swiveled his chair toward tactical. “Bridy Mac, arm phasers, just in case.” McLellan acknowledged the order with a nod. Nassir turned back toward the main viewer and sighed with amazement. “I still can’t get over how damned odd this system’s orbital mechanics are,” he said. “What kind of technology would it take to manipulate a solar system like this?”
Theriault looked up from the science station. There was a note of concern in her voice. “Actually, sir, I don’t think this system was manipulated at all.”
Nassir couldn’t contain his look of surprise. “You don’t think this aberration happened naturally, do you?”
“No, sir,” said Theriault. “What I mean is, maybe someone made this system like this from the beginning.” With a tilt of her head toward the main viewer, she said, “Permission to put my data onscreen, sir?”
“Granted,” Nassir said. As a low aside to Terrell, he added, “This ought to be interesting.”
“Exactly the word I’d choose,” Terrell joked, parroting the captain’s earlier retort.
A computer-generated image of the Jinoteur system appeared on the main viewer. “In most star systems,” Theriault said, “there’s at least a small degree of variation in the apparent geological ages of the various planetary bodies. Gas giants form quickly, terrestrial planets more slowly, and so on. In this part of the galaxy, a Class F main sequence star like Jinoteur would be about four billion years old. So its planets ought to be anywhere from four billion to three-point-five billion years old. But they’re not.” She switched the image to a series of side-by-side graphs. “Every planet and satellite in this system is approximately half a million years old.”
That caught the attention of everyone on the bridge. McLellan turned from the tactical station, zh’Firro looked up from the helm, and Nassir, Terrell, and Xiong all lifted their eyebrows in wonder. Xiong found his voice first. “Half a million years? With a thriving M-class ecosystem on the fourth planet? How’s that even possible?”
The redhead held out her empty hands and said, “I just found the what and the when, sir. The who, how, and why are gonna take a little bit longer.”
“Good job, Ensign,” Nassir said. “Keep working on it, and let me know what you find.” The captain looked at Xiong and Terrell. “Now, call me nosy, but I’d like to have a look inside that Tholian cruiser.”
Xiong smiled. “So would I, sir. I studied Tholian physiology at the academy, and I visited their habitat on Vanguard after they recalled their diplomats—but I’ve never had a chance to see an environment of their own making.”