Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [109]
“We started hailing them right after the sensor web detected their launch from Remus,” Vale reported. “Their only response has been to drop their cloaks.”
Which means either that they know there’s no longer any point to maintaining their cloaks, Riker thought. Or that they’re about to attack Romulus.
Or both.
Riker leaned forward as he studied the image on the bridge’s panoramic central viewscreen. The cloud-streaked blue-brown orb of Romulus stood out in sharp detail, the curving shadow of its terminator temporarily consigning half of the planet—including Ki Baratan—to darkness. Two of the planet’s four airless, rocky moons were visible as well, each of them in half phase, poised on the twilight boundary between day and night.
Beyond lay the pockmarked orange hellworld of Remus, which appeared to be only a quarter the size of Romulus because of its relative distance from Titan. Though it was co-orbital with Romulus, Remus had an eternally broiling day side as well as a perpetually frozen night side. Less than half the planet’s bright side was visible, dominated presently by its ever dark and frozen hemisphere.
Harsh white sunlight glinted off the gray-green hulls of what appeared to be dozens of vessels, which were flying in formation and dropping in a long graceful arc from un-inviting Remus toward the cool blue world that Titan orbited. The incoming fleet’s trajectory confirmed that it had just crossed the shallow gulf of cisplanetary space—a span scarcely larger than the distance between Earth and Luna—that separated Remus and the fleet’s obvious target, the surface of Romulus itself.
Vale quickly consulted one of the consoles built into the arm of her chair. “None of these ships are on the cutting edge of Romulan design, Captain. Most of them are Amarcan-class warbirds. Some appear to be Klingon cast-offs that might be K’t’inga-class or even old D-7s. There are even a few horseshoe-crab–shaped birds-of-prey that have to be at least a hundred years old.”
“They must be decommissioned ships, then,” Riker said, nodding his understanding. “Mothballed long enough ago that the Romulan military wasn’t keeping a close enough eye on them during the last few sudden management changes in Ki Baratan.”
Vale shrugged. “Maybe so, Captain. But wherever the Reman crews got these ships, they’re relatively well armed—and they outnumber us nearly six to one. They’re more than a match for us, maybe even with our Klingon escorts.”
“They’re charging their weapons systems, sir,” Keru said, his voice steady, though pitched a bit higher than his customary baritone. “And their shields are going up.”
“Alert the rest of the convoy,” Vale said to Keru.
“And tell the commanders of the Phoebus, T’rin’saz, and the Der Sonnenaufgang to get their ships into a higher orbit,” Riker added. “They’re not equipped for combat, and I want them out of the line of fire.”
“Aye, sir,” Keru said, already working the companel.
Riker turned toward Vale and noticed then that her gaze had drifted, just for a second, toward a conspicuously blank space on the bulkhead beside the main turbolift. It was the spot they had reserved for Titan’s dedication plaque, once the captain and first officer finally agreed on exactly what they wanted to have engraved on it.
“How could the Romulan military lose track of so many warships?” Deanna asked, shaking her head incredulously.
“This kind of thing has happened before,” Riker said. “After the Cold War of Earth’s twentieth century, a lot of questions were asked about the whereabouts of Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, as well as its stockpiles of weapons-grade nuclear material.”
“Mr. Keru, any sign of Romulan planetary defenses?” Vale asked, turning toward the aft tactical console.
The large Trill shook his head. “I’m picking up a gabble of planetside communications, Commander. The local defenses are trying to respond, but they seem to be in disarray.”
“Just as they probably have been ever since Shinzon’s attack on the Senate,” Riker said.
Glancing aftward, the captain saw that Akaar was standing