The Red King - Michael A. Martin [95]
Chief Axel Bolaji pushed the controls forward, sending the captain’s skiff La Rocca deep into Oghen’s distressed, highly ionized atmosphere. Mauve oceans and green-brown continents rose to meet the small craft. Towering columns of fire and smoke colored the dawn sky an angry orange, and quickly grew near enough to force the chief to weave the skiff carefully between them.
Akaar sat beside the chief and brooded on his own recent actions. He had informed Captain Riker only that he was personally joining the rescue efforts and that he was commandeering the skiff, the only Titan auxiliary vessel that hadn’t been committed to the evacuation effort. Until now, the small craft had been held in reserve for use as an emergency lifeboat.
But the current mission met Akaar’s definition of “emergency.”
Accompanying Akaar aboard the La Rocca were Lieutenant Feren Denken, the now one-armed Matalinian who had received his injuries during the raid on Romulus’s Vikr’l Prison, and Paolo and Koasa Rossini, the pair of Polynesian engineers. They were big and strong, which might help if they encountered any resistance.
From the report that Tuvok had made, the people of the town of Lfei-sor-Paric were intent on their own deaths—prepared to sacrifice themselves for their beliefs. And though it went counter to the spirit if not the letter of the Prime Directive, Akaar was determined to prevent them from making that entirely unnecessary sacrifice. The others on the skiff would help him. He didn’t know, nor care whether they were doing it under duress because of his rank, or because they agreed with his line of reasoning.
Denken and the Rossinis had outfitted themselves in the black stealth isolation suits that the security teams had worn during the prison raid on Romulus, and Akaar began to don one as well, though the largest suit available was almost intolerably snug on him. They didn’t need the stealth functions of the suits per se, but the standard environmental suits were all being used at the moment by the engineering crews working on the external retrofitting of the Vanguard habitat. And Akaar’s group needed some kind of protection in order to execute the admiral’s plan.
“Coming up on the enclave, Admiral,” Bolaji said. “Two kilometers ahead.”
Akaar watched the rapidly approaching desert plain, which was now being distorted by flashes of interspatial energy as well as intense heat. Watching the energetic flashes, the admiral thought, Death is indeed coming for you. But so are we.
“Scanning is difficult with all the atmospheric ionization,” one of the Rossini twins said, looking up from a port-side console.
The other Rossini spoke up. “I’m guessing that most of the populace is inside the domed octagonal structure we’ve just picked up. I read at least fourteen life signs there, of various mixed species.”
Akaar pointed toward Denken, who was standing ready at the transporter controls. “As soon as you have the coordinates, Mr. Denken, beam them in.”
A few moments later, Akaar turned toward the aft section and watched the multiple dispersal canisters of anesthezine gas as they shimmered away from the transporter platforms. At such close range, beaming objects down wasn’t difficult, atmospheric ionization notwithstanding. And soon, if all went according to plan, Titan would be able to lock onto and beam up every living thing in the desert compound.
“Hold position above the enclave,” Akaar told Bolaji. “I will signal you when we have the pattern enhancers in place.”
“Yes, sir,” Bolaji said.
As Akaar and the others beamed into the spacious, cathedral-like enclave, they were astonished at the number of bodies they saw arrayed around them. There were a lot more than fourteen people here. Many were slumped over in chairs, while others lay prone on the floor or in the corridors. An attenuated residue of the anesthezine still lingered in the air.
Denken scanned several of the bodies, then looked over at Akaar. “Most of those in the chairs are dead, sir.”
Akaar felt his hearts drop. Had these people been allergic