We conclude with Kirk, Spock, Chekov, and the crew of the Sotek traveling to the Romulan homeworld in a last-ditch effort to extract Jennera before she is executed by Commander Zarred.
Click here to read “The Clearer Path” Part One
Click here to read “The Clearer Path” Part Two
Click here to read the prequel, “Star Trek: A Passion For Peace”
“Star Trek: The Clearer Path” Part III
Phil Giunta
CHAPTER SIX – ONE WEEK LATER
Doctor Sarah Lipinski was a quiet young lady.
So much so, in fact, that she had garnered a reputation for poor bedside manner during her brief internship at Starfleet Medical. Truth be known, she had been shy practically all her life.
Now, as the ground team made their way through ch’Rihan’s capital district, Lipinski was simply too amazed to say anything.
Despite her Intelligence training, which was supposed to have prepared her for anything, the doctor was having a difficult time coming to terms with the very ground on which she walked—enemy ground. She almost felt guilty at the thought as she wondered, from a clinical perspective, what her two companions were experiencing. From the look on his face, Tivun was obviously feeling a certain sense of awe at truly seeing his homeworld for the first time. As for Baren, no doubt there were family ties that had been abruptly severed over twenty years ago. Under the circumstances, though, Lipinski decided not to ask about it.
Currently, the group was headed for the planet’s largest military prison where Baren suspected that Jennera was being held until her execution. Their lack of knowledge as to exactly when that was to take place added an even deeper sense of urgency to their task. The prison was located approximately forty-eight kilometers southwest of the capital district. Baren led them through a maze of government buildings toward the business sector where they hoped to acquire a ground car.
At one point, their journey brought them to an open courtyard surrounded by four ancient stone buildings of uniform architecture. Abruptly, he stopped and with a reflective expression, stared toward the center where a group of young Romulans was quickly gathering.
“Is there a problem?” Tivun asked.
“Mark this place well,” Baren said in a solemn voice. “Your father died here.”
Tivun said no more has he followed his mentor’s gaze. By this time, the continuous stream of people that nearly filled the courtyard could not be ignored. From among them, one leaped onto a retaining wall at the far side, opposite the ground team. He began shouting something at the others and raising his fist in the air. The crowd, apparently fueled by his words, responded in a chant that quickly increased in fervor.
“A traditional practice among Romulan youth?” Spock inquired.
Baren shook his head. “Not when I was their age, but then that was a long time ago.”
“Let’s get closer,” Tivun suggested. “I’m not sure what they’re saying.”
“I do not think that would be wise,” Spock said. “We cannot involve ourselves in matters that will distract us from our goal.”
“He’s right,” Baren agreed. “Remember who we’re here for, Tivun.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
The foursome continued on, giving the mob a wide berth. They were not halfway across the courtyard before the air above them ignited with disruptor fire. The chanting was immediately replaced by shrill screams as people scattered in a tidal wave of panic.
From atop the surrounding buildings, Romulan troops trained their weapons down upon the throng while several more squads rushed into the courtyard from all sides.
“We must leave now,” Baren warned as he and the others forced their way through the melee. Unfortunately, their escape would not be so easy. Around them, a full-scale riot was ensuing. The protesting youths started lifting stones from the gardens and hurling them at the soldiers. Still others went so far as to physically attack. Both actions resulted in unfavorable results as the ground troops opened fire.
Doctor Sarah Lipinski had never seen such carnage. For her, incidents such as this were experienced only through Academy history lessons. Screams of pain echoed each other as bodies trampled one another, fleeing for their lives. Those who were not knocked to the ground vanished in the green glow of disruptor beams, the stench of disintegrated flesh permeating the air.
As the ground team made their way out of ch’Rihan’s capital district, Lipinski was simply too scared to say anything.
***
Aboard the Sotek, orbiting far above, Pavel Chekov shook his head at the computer’s ninth attempt to translate the data on Romulus’ planetary defense grid. With each subsequent pass, there was pathetically little progress. What he had been able to determine was that the grid was comprised of a network of satellites positioned in geosynchronous orbit above ground-based power stations. From there, instructions such as software upgrades and minor directional changes were uploaded and diagnostic information was received.
The challenge was to decode those transmissions enough to be able to duplicate them perfectly. At that point, Chekov theorized that he could select any satellite and instruct it to power off, thereby creating a ‘hole’ in the grid. Of course, he would not know which one to choose until the ground team was ready to beam back. Which in turn meant that he would have only one chance.
Seconds passed as the computer began its thirteenth attempt. Ignoring the random few beeps indicating newly translated data, Chekov turned from the console and rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was not until the sound increased in frequency to an almost uninterrupted string that his head snapped up. While his attention became riveted to the screen, he wondered why everyone considered thirteen to be such an unlucky number.
***
Nightfall found Spock running alone through a drab, littered cul-de-sac, having broken away from the raging exodus just minutes before. Once he realized that he had been separated from the rest of the ground team, the Vulcan immediately began calculating the odds of success were he to retrace his steps and attempt to locate them. The ratio that he came up with was not favorable.
Looking back to ensure that no one was in pursuit, he ducked into the shadows beneath a stone footbridge as still more of the panic stricken horde fled to safety above him. Reaching inside his jacket, Spock removed his communicator. Flipping it open, he set it to a predetermined frequency and pressed a button on its side. Instantly, a flashing green light indicated that a signal had been sent. Spock released the button and waited for the reply.
A full minute later, his communicator beeped. “Spock here.”
“Glad to hear you made it out alive,” Baren’s voice responded, his breathing strained.
“Indeed, what is your present location?”
Spock ignored the reply as he snapped his communicator shut and crouched behind a support pillar. Despite the fading stampede overhead, the Vulcan’s superior hearing caught the sound of approaching footsteps to his left. Within seconds, the newcomers were visible.
“Spock, we lost your signal. Are you there?”
“No, I’m here.”
The ground team spun in unison as Spock stepped into the dim amber glow of the streetlights shining down from the bridge.
Baren crossed his arms and glared mockingly. “I won’t even ask how you managed to find one of the most popular hiding places in the city.”
“Were time permitting, I would explain. However, under the circumstances we should be on our way.”
“That may not be a good idea,” a voice called from behind them.
As its source stepped into the light, Spock recognized him as the one who incited the crowd in the courtyard. He introduced himself as Sandor.
“The soldiers will be on patrol at least for the rest of the night,” the young man continued. “A mass execution is scheduled for tomorrow evening in the courtyard. They want to be sure nothing interferes with that.”
“Was this the reason for your protest earlier?” Spock inquired.
Sandor nodded. “Several members of our cause were arrested last week for demonstrating in the capital. The Praetor wants to make an example of them.”
“We’ve been… out of touch for some time,” Baren said cautiously. “What exactly is your cause?”
The young man snickered and rubbed his neck tiredly with his uninjured hand. “It isn’t even worth discussing at this point. I can’t imagine how many friends I just lost back there.”
“Clearly, all of you were willing to risk your lives to voice a unified opinion on whatever issue you’ve taken with the government,” Spock observed. “It seems to have struck a very deep chord with someone.”
“Deeper than you know,” Sandor agreed. “Roughly a generation ago, you may remember a senator named Novan who was executed for his philosophy that someday, far in the future, the Romulan Empire could finally come to peace with our Vulcan cousins and possibly reunite the two.
“Of course, this disturbed the Praetor greatly because it would also entail peace negotiations with the Federation which was out of the question. However, the death of that senator sparked an underground movement which has slowly gained strength through the years.”
Spock and Baren glanced at each other. Tivun’s attention was riveted.
“Please, spare me any comments about the folly of youth.” Sandor waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve been leading this noble crusade for two years now but after today I’m not too certain that this dreamer’s dream will ever see reality.”
“Did you come alone?” Tivun asked.
Sandor nodded towards one of the tunnels behind him. “There are more of us in the passage, some injured. The government has been watching all of the doctors that have shown us even the slightest sympathy.”
Hearing that, Lipinski shifted her gaze to Baren. Morally, she couldn’t just walk away though as an officer, she would if ordered to do so. Despite the protest Baren expected from Spock, the team leader nodded.
“I assure you, they’re not watching us. Lead the way.”
***
It was not until the small hours of the morning when fatigue finally settled over most of the group huddled in the tightest of the cul-de-sac’s corridors. To pass the night, Baren decided to take the opportunity to catch up on twenty years of lost time, tactfully questioning Sandor on recent events while taking caution not to reveal too much about himself or the others.
Once Tivun and Lipinski finished treating minor bruises and lacerations, the ground team took their leave of the protesters, wishing them well before departing to continue their mission. By the time the four reached Raikal province just beyond city limits, dawn was rapidly approaching. Star flecked darkness was slowly washed away by the pastel hues of sunrise.
Ahead of them, the military detention center lay tucked among a surrounding landscape of gnarled trees, creeping vines, and treacherous rocky slopes.
“If you’ll pardon the expression,” Baren began. “This is the only logical place they would be holding her.”
Spock’s expression betrayed a slight frown as he observed the layout of the compound—or lack thereof. The building itself was little more than a huge dark green titanium cylinder standing perhaps ten meters in height. Four guard towers encircled it, each fully manned in addition to those patrolling the perimeter. Such measures seemed extreme for a facility so small. Clearly, there was more here than met the eye.
“What you are seeing is merely the entrance. The prison itself extends fifty-five meters below the surface. Inside the base of each guard tower are bays for the ground cars that transport prisoners to and from the detention center. In most cases, no matter which way they’re going, it’s usually the last time they ever see the light of day. This prison is over seventy-five years old. Before I left, there had never been a successful escape.”
“If we can verify Jennera’s presence there,” Spock said. “Then we may be forced to tarnish that reputation.”
***
Arriving to begin his patrol, the perimeter guard for the detention center’s southeast side made a cursory visual scan of the immediate area before starting off on his usual rounds. So accustomed was he to the unchanging view that he did a double take before noticing the lonely figure sitting atop one of the smaller hills several meters beyond the security shield.
Puzzled, the guard gripped his disruptor rifle and started off towards the slope. He pressed a button on his belt as he neared the edge of the forcefield and it deactivated just long enough to allow him through. In minutes, he reached the bottom of the hill and raised his weapon at the middle aged man who didn’t even seem to notice the intrusion.
“Identify yourself,” the guard ordered.
The man lifted his head slowly and glanced down. “Trust me, I’m no one important.”
“I will not ask you again.”
Suddenly, the guard slumped to his knees as a hand thrust out from behind him and grasped the base of his neck.
“Have it your way,” Baren quipped as Spock lowered the guard to the ground. “Though I wonder if I should be embarrassed by this impressive display of Romulan security.”
“It seems much more has changed during your absence than you realized,” Spock suggested.
Ethically, no Vulcan would dare perform a mind meld without the explicit consent of the other party. Any other way would be considered a reprehensible violation. In this instance, it was the only possible course of action. Wasting no time, Spock spread his fingers over the left side of the man’s face and closed his eyes. Taking care to ignore all other images and thoughts in the Romulan’s mind, he sought only the information he needed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Aye, lad, it looks like ye’ve almost got it.”
Standing behind Chekov at the Ops panel, Scotty watched as a partially decoded Romulan computer program scrolled up the screen.
“Got what, Mister Scott?” Kirk asked, as he and Dresden moved up beside the pair.
“A possible vay to beam the ground team off the surface,” Chekov answered as Scotty stepped to one side, allowing the commanding officers a full view of the focus of their attention. “Thirty minutes ago, one of the defense satellites in a geosynchronous orbit above the southern pole suddenly shut down. Almost immediately, diagnostic code was transmitted from the surface to bring it back on-line.
“Sensors recorded the transmission and the computer has decoded over eighty percent of it. Once it’s finished, I should be able to manipulate the program and send instructions to one or more of the satellites, forcing them to power off when needed.”
“Effectively creating a hole in the shield,” Kirk concluded. “Good detective work, Mister Chekov.”
Dresden, however, was not so optimistic. “What was the response time from the surface?”
“Five and a half seconds,” Chekov replied somberly.
“I can only bring up three at a time,” Scotty reminded them.
Kirk and Dresden exchanged concerned glances before all gazes slowly turned toward the engineer who nodded in resignation. “Aye. Just say when and I’ll do me best.”
***
Having returned to the capital district, the ground team once again took refuge in the cul-de-sac, long since abandoned by Sandor and his followers. Considering the information he extracted from the mind of the prison guard just hours ago, Spock estimated that it would not be long before they crossed paths once again.
Mere moments after the four ducked beneath the footbridge, a low-pitched beeping echoed in the tight passage. Almost in unison, Spock and Baren produced their communicators and flipped them open.
The team leader spoke first. “Ground team, here. Your timing is impeccable.”
“Status report, Baren,” Dresden’s clipped tone was unmistakable.
“We found the prison where Jennera is being held.”
“Any way to get her out?”
“Negative,” Spock answered. “Further, she is scheduled for execution in the capital district as part of a public display. If we are to attempt to liberate her, that would be the optimal time.”
“When?” The question was from Kirk.
“One hour, twelve minutes. We are within walking distance of the site.”
“Good. It appears that Mister Chekov has found a way to beam you back,” the captain informed them.
“There’s only one problem,” Dresden continued. “Provided that you can rescue her, you’ll have to get outside the city before we can beam you up. Lifesign readings are too dense where you are. The sensors can’t differentiate yours from anyone else’s.”
“Understood,” Baren confirmed. “Anyplace in particular?”
“That’s on you. Just get as far from the general population as you can. Sotek out.”
Tucking his communicator back into his tunic, Baren grimaced. “That should be easy enough. We’ll simply snatch Jennera from their grasp and take a leisurely stroll out to the countryside.”
“I hate to complicate matters,” Tivun chimed in. “But I’m staying on ch’Rihan.”
Baren froze. Spock raised an eyebrow. Lipinski merely stared in awe.
“I want to continue what my father started here,” the young Romulan explained.
“Do you want to die like him, too?” Baren asked.
“I’m willing to take the risks. These are our people-”
Baren pushed his way past Spock to stop within inches of Tivun. “Of whom you know nothing! Sandor and his crusade cannot succeed in this day and age. Maybe someday, but not now. There is a dark, violent history between the Empire and the Federation. One that this Praetor and this Senate will not soon put behind them.”
“I’m not asking your permission, Baren.”
“Fine!” The team leader threw his arms up in disgust. “Just wait until your mother finds out!”
***
With the approach of dusk, an almost tangible wave of nervous excitement flowed through the growing crowd of onlookers. That excitement increased in intensity as three prison transports came to a halt just beyond the courtyard’s main entrance and settled onto the street. Instantly, a dozen armed soldiers filed out of the lead shuttle and marched in. Needing no further incentive, the spectators dropped back without hesitation.
Among them, Tivun and Lipinski observed the proceedings while somewhere out on the street, Spock and Baren did the same. All were waiting for the opportune moment to take action on a desperate plan they hashed out only thirty minutes before. One that Spock was quick to note did not have the odds in its favor.
Once the soldiers had completely lined the perimeter of the courtyard, the occupants of the remaining two transports were escorted in. Their hands bound behind them, seven prisoners dressed in gray uniforms were prodded and dragged to the center of the square and forced to their knees.
With the doctor in tow, Tivun weaved his way through the onlookers, shoving his way frantically to the front of the throng. The barrel of a disruptor rifle aimed at his head stopped him cold, but it did not matter. The pair need not have gone any further to see what they needed.
And what they saw escalated Tivun’s anxiousness to near panic.
Each prisoner was wearing a featureless black mask covering their entire head, effectively hiding their identities. Tivun wondered if this detail was an oversight on Baren’s part or a new practice in the Romulan legal system. Either way it was irrelevant now, as was their plan.
“Citizens!”
Tivun looked up as an assembly of military officers took up position directly across the courtyard on the other side of the prisoners. The one who had spoken was presumably the leader. His matted gray hair, chiseled features and abnormally large eye patch made him an intimidating figure.
“By order of the Praetor,” the man continued. “Effective immediately, this district is under a state of martial law. As I speak, soldiers are being disbursed to every street in the city. For this, you can thank insurgents like those you see before you.”
“You’re more than welcome!”
His mind racing for a new strategy, Tivun was at first oblivious to the shouted reply from somewhere deep in the crowd. It was not until he was nearly knocked to the ground by a rush of bodies that he recognized the voice.
Sandor.
What happened next was hardly more than a blur of motion and sound. Scores of protesters emerged in mass seemingly from nowhere. They poured in from the streets, out of the crowd, and still more leaped over the retaining walls. It appeared that the ground team was not the only group with a desperate plan. Weapons fire erupted from every corner of the square, and not solely from the guards. This time, Sandor and his people were well prepared for the resistance they encountered.
“Come on!” Tivun yelled as he and Lipinski darted out toward the prisoners. By the time they reached them, two had been struck be stray disruptor beams and had disintegrated before their eyes. At the top of their lungs, the pair called Jennera’s name.
A muffled voice screamed a reply as they began removing the masks from the captives’ heads and untying their wrists. It was a short reunion for mother and son as Tivun and Lipinski lifted Jennera to her feet and helped her toward the courtyard’s main entrance. After hasty expressions of gratitude, the remaining prisoners scattered to join the attack.
“We are we going?” Jennera asked.
Before anyone could answer, one of the transport shuttles suddenly burst into the courtyard and came to an abrupt stop directly ahead of the trio, effectively blocking their exit. There were no other avenues of escape as all around them, a battle raged and every second threatened to increase the casualty rate by three.
Pondering their next move, they found themselves unable to do little more than stare at the craft—until its front gun turrets rotated in their direction. At that moment, their next move was inarguably decided.
“Down!” Tivun ordered.
At once, all three dove to the ground just as a barrage of energy beams lanced out above them. Risking a glance behind him, Tivun watched as a contingent of soldiers—who had been running headlong for the transport— were quickly dispatched. Swallowing hard, he traded puzzled expressions with Jennera and the doctor before the side door of the floating vehicle slid aside, revealing the familiar face of their team leader.
“I suppose you think you can just lie around and wait to be rescued!”
***
The first impression that Chekov received from the activity on the long-range sensors was that they were in dire need of recalibration. After a level four diagnostic disproved that notion, there was cause for mild alarm.
“Keptin, I’m picking up a series of energy discharges from the surface, fluctuating vildly. It appears to be veapons fire.”
Kirk rotated his command chair to face Ops. “Can you pinpoint it?”
“It’s originating from the capital district,” Chekov frowned. “There must be a small var going on down there!”
At that, the captain moved from his seat and rushed over to communications. “Sotek to ground team.”
“Spock here.”
“Report, Mister Spock.”
“We have successfully retrieved Jennera and are nearly beyond the city limits.”
“What the hell happened down there?”
“It is a long and rather involved story, Captain,” Spock replied. “However, it will have to wait. We are currently engaged with our pursuers.”
“What is your heading?”
“Approximately twenty one thousand kilometers southeast of the capital.”
“Stand by.” Kirk pointed to Chekov who began a passive sensor sweep of that vicinity.
“I have them,” the commander announced, though not without a slight look of consternation. “But the defense shield isn’t making it easy to track them on the low frequency channel.”
“Do your best, Mister Chekov,” Kirk said. “Try cross referencing their position with that of the satellites and see if you can determine which one we need to take offline. When you get it, give me a tactical view on the forward screen.”
The captain turned his attention back to the comm panel, contacting the transporter room and filling in Dresden and Scotty on the ground team’s progress.
***
“Is that what you call what we barely escaped from back there? Progress?!” In the back of the prison transport, an exasperated Jennera glared at her son in disbelief. “Baren was right, this peace movement doesn’t have a chance and if you cared about our family at all, you wouldn’t do this!”
“What family?” Tivun retorted. “You say all we have is each other, but if you truly believed that, then where were you the past ten years?”
A hundred explanations ran through Jennera’s mind, but not one of them could adequately answer that question. Consequently, Tivun took her silence as an opportunity to press his case.
“I don’t blame you for not being there while I was growing up. Even then, I understood what your reasons were. You made a decision to do something that you felt strongly about. For that, I hold no grudge. My point is that right here, right now, I am making a similar decision. I guess I’m not much different from you in that way.”
Jennera reached out and gently placed her hands on her son’s shoulders. “I just don’t want to lose you like I did your father.”
Tivun nodded. “I understand that. If circumstances don’t work out for me here, I’ll find a way off ch’Rihan and back to the Federation. I promise.”
Seeing that neither side would relent, mother and son simply embraced. The tender moment that passed between them was to both a lifetime in coming.
All too soon, that moment came to an abrupt end when the two were violently torn apart as their pursuers opened fire, sending the transport spiraling fiercely out of control.
***
On the main viewscreen aboard the Sotek, a black and yellow tactical grid displayed the relative positions of the ground team and the nearest corresponding satellite in geosynchronous orbit above that region. No sooner had Chekov matched the two than the small green triangle representing Spock’s communicator signal suddenly blacked out.
Kirk wasted no time in trying to raise the ground team but after five unsuccessful hails, it was clear that something had gone terribly wrong.
“Transporter room to bridge, we just lost their signal.”
The captain slammed a button on the comm panel, making no effort to hide his growing agitation. “We’re on it, Colonel. Stand by.” And shut up.
Sitting silently at the helm up to this point, Major Kwan turned to face her companions on the bridge. “If it helps at all, I noticed that the ground team seemed to stop moving just before their signal cut off.”
Kirk almost dismissed the observation until he was reminded as to why the ground team was moving in the first place. “Mister Chekov, at their last known position, were they far enough from the general population to easily get a lock on their lifesigns?”
“I don’t see vhy not,” Chekov shrugged. “Prowided I can shut down the satellite.”
“No better time than the present, Mister Chekov. Transmit the signal.”
“Aye, sir.” His hands moving deftly over the Ops console, Chekov hesitated for a brief second before executing the final command. “Transmission complete.”
All heads turned back to the tactical grid and the glowing red bar marking the satellite in question. When the indicator remained illuminated for over a full minute, Chekov’s face fell. Instantly, he began reexamining the code he constructed, trying to avoid the expectant stares of Kirk and Kwan. Finally, he looked over and grinned sheepishly.
“I guess it lost something in the translation.”
***
Spock awoke to the whirring sound of a medical tricorder and hissing of a hypospray against the side of his neck. Opening his eyes, he immediately realized that he was no longer inside the transport but reclining flat on the ground beneath a canopy of trees. Far behind them, the crumpled remains of the transport lay in a smoking heap. Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, but not without some much needed assistance from Lipinski.
To his left, Jennera and Tivun were hunched over the bloody, still form of Baren. Spock need not have asked the doctor for her prognosis. It was sadly evident. However, the opportunity to mourn was interrupted by the humming engine of another transport in the distance.
“I need his communicator,” Spock requested. “Mine is lost.”
With a nod, Jennera reached into Baren’s tunic and removed his. Accepting it gently from her, Spock flipped it open to contact the Sotek but it was immediately evident that the unit was damaged beyond use.
“We need to move,” Spock reminded everyone. “When they find no bodies in the wreckage they will certainly begin searching the vicinity.”
“We can’t just leave him here,” Jennera said.
“I’ll take care of him,” Tivun offered, placing his hand atop hers. “I’ll see to it that he’s buried honorably. Now go, all of you.” He held up his right hand, fingers parted in the middle. “Live long and prosper.”
Spock returned the gesture, while Lipinski gave him a quick kiss and wished him luck. Touching the side of her son’s face, Jennera said her final good-bye and as her hand slipped away, so did the world around her.
***
When she rose to her feet, Jennera was still accompanied by Spock and Lipinski but found herself now facing a tall human male dressed in a severe black jumpsuit.
“Colonel Dresden, Starfleet Intelligence,” the man introduced himself hurriedly. “You are aboard the Sotek orbiting Romulus.”
Still very much distracted by personal matters, the very idea of what she had just heard did not sink in immediately.
“Mister Scott.” The colonel turned toward the heavyset older man behind the transporter console. “Two more.”
“Negative,” Spock said. “Baren is dead and Tivun decided to stay behind.”
“Like hell!” Dresden swore. “I didn’t come here to trade one life for another. Mister Scott, can you establish a lock on his lifesigns?”
“Bridge to transporter room, the satellite it powering up.”
“Acknowledged,” the intelligence officer replied. “Stand by. Mister Scott?”
“I’m pickin’ up almost a dozen Romulans in that area,” the engineer shook his head. “I can nae differentiate that quickly.”
“Transporter room, the satellite is back online. Did you get them?”
Jennera paid no further attention as she stepped away from the others. A dozen Romulans in the forest, only one of whom was her son. Frustrated by her own powerlessness, she leaned against the bulkhead and closed her eyes.
“Tivun,” she whispered.
***
“K’Tel, report.” Communicator in hand, Commander Zarred stepped away from the empty hulk of the crashed transport, his anger rising steadily. After months of intricate planning, the momentous effort to redeem himself before the Praetor had degenerated into a debacle in a matter of hours.
“Nothing, sir,” the woman replied.
“They could not have traveled far. Surely, at least one of them had to sustain injuries.”
“Possibly,” K’Tel concurred. “We are moving down the slope into the valley. I will report any findings immediately.”
“Very good. Zarred out.”
Zarred.
The familiar name had been brought up only once, years ago, when Baren revealed to Tivun the truth about his father’s fate. Never did he expect to cross paths with this man and doing so now added a certain mixed sense of fear and wonder to his predicament. Luckily, the soldiers had not thought to simply look up during their search, nor were they carrying tricorders to scan for lifesigns. It was to be, after all, a simple execution.
Perched on one of the highest branches of a yodim tree, Tivun had observed them since their arrival, after having had the gruesome task of hiding Baren’s body. His only option was to hope for an opportunity to escape undetected but circumstances did not appear to be in his favor.
At the moment, he watched as Zarred turned his attention back to the transport. Peeking inside, the commander frowned before reaching deep into the overturned craft. Seconds later, he emerged with a small gray rectangular object. Tivun could not determine exactly what it was since Zarred stood with his back to the tree. It was not until the older man turned to peer into the surrounding forest that Tivun identified the item as Spock’s communicator.
From inside his jacket, Tivun pulled a disruptor pistol just as Zarred raised his own communicator presumably to address his squad leader—but the only sounds they heard were a brief scream of agony echoing through the valley and the departing engines of their transport.
EPILOGUE
Clasping the flap of her uniform jacket against her right shoulder, Jennera stared at her careworn reflection in the mirror for a few moments longer. The thought of returning to Starfleet Academy on Earth should have been comforting, but the feeling was harshly diminished in light of what she had lost since returning to Renar Prime.
Her heart sank as the consequences of past decisions came back to haunt her, decisions that now seemed so blatantly self-centered. The delicate balance between career and family had been all too quickly shattered, leaving her emotionally paralyzed and doubting her priorities.
But it was far too late now to act on those doubts.
Though she could not have anticipated the recent events that brought her to one of the most desolate moments of her life, the results seemed ironically fitting.
Shaking herself from her dark reverie, Jennera hefted her duffel bag and for the final time, headed for the door of what had once been her home. Without even a glance back, she boarded the awaiting Starfleet shuttle outside. During liftoff, the Galileo seemed perceptibly sluggish at first, as if carrying more than just the physical weight of its passenger.