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The Andromeda War
There is a popular perception that the transporter, the most advanced piece of technology in use today, “scrambles one’s molecules,” like scrambling an egg, before reassembling you in some other place.
But of course, that’s not how it works. The transporter targets every subatomic particle, turning matter into energy wavelets of virtual neutrinos. These are then shot piecemeal toward the destination. This requires a lot of energy and a lot of computer memory. The wavelets condensate into particles and force carriers once the added energy is dissipated by the target environment.
A similar technology was utilized by the Kohelut and the Kelvinai to invade the Milky Way. Since a transporter beam travels no faster than the speed of light, the energy probe that originated in the Andromeda galaxy must have traveled some 2.5 million light years before materializing here, creating the Galaxy Gate. There may have been some time travel involved in initiating this process—we can’t be certain.
The Kelvinai arrived through the Gate, and Federation planets were laid waste. The Kelvinai: massive creatures, with up to one hundred forty-four appendages, equally at home in space, air, water, and on the ground. With a distributed brain reaching into each appendage, these beings were nearly impossible to kill. If you managed to cleave a Kelvinai in two, it meant you now had two Kelvinai trying to kill you.
And behind the Andromedans, controlling and coordinating them from Andromeda, the Kohelut, a planet-sized organic computer.
The tide turned in the Federation’s favor when they learned how to control and reverse the Galaxy Gate. Taking their struggle into Andromeda, Starfleet attacked the Kohelut planet itself.
—————
Over the comm, Sovak heard her tactical officer’s voice: “The Zenobia is destroyed.” That meant her starship, the John Brown, was the only heavy cruiser left of the attacking fleet. Not that it mattered at this point.
The three armored runabouts had penetrated the Kohelut planet’s interior, a vast maze of neural clusters, each the size of a city block. Enough memory to control billions of Kelvinai, or to transport tens of millions through the Galaxy Gate. To avoid control by the powerful alien mind surrounding them, the flight controls of the three runabouts were rigged for fly-by-wire.
“Almost there,” comm’d Joth W’hal, Sovak’s XO. A mixed Vulcan and Klingon, Joth was a powerful, indefatigable man, with a dk’tagh-like intellect and a deep reserve of courage.
“I’m right behind you,” Sovak responded.
Over the comm, Sovak heard Beryat Frei scream—an uncontrolled screech, like a man being electrocuted. The hull of his runabout was glowing on her sensor display. He was not Human, and not even from the two galaxies involved in the war, but had proven his worth many times. She had given him a field commission.
“Sovak to John Brown, transport Frei back to the ship. Kohelut has figured out how to get to him. Beryat, lower your shields, lower your shields!”
“We have him,” the John Brown reported.
Sovak said: “Somehow, Kohelut knew that Frei is a coherent energy being. That’s how it got to him. It knows who we are, our weaknesses.”
“Captain,” comm’d Refaeli, the tactical officer, “two Kelvinai on your six, repeat two bogeys on your six.”
The moment the Kelvinai attached to her shuttle, a psychic field paralyzed the Romulan. She could sense the intent of the aliens: to rend her mind. Convulsing and paralytic, she tried to do a barrel roll to loosen the Kelvinai grip. However, unable to fully control the runabout, the shuttle veered and crashed into a ganglion structure. She rebounded off the piloting panel and floated back. Zero gee—they must be near the core, she realized. In the last second before she was beamed out, she saw the two Kelvinai tearing apart her shuttle.
The bridge of the U.S.S. John Brown materialized around her.
“Qohelut knew—it knew I’m Vulcanoid,” she told Refaeli. “They attacked my mind.”
“Nearly there,” she heard Joth’s voice.
Like the humanoid brain, the inner core of Kohelut was sealed away even from its own defenses. And therein lay its vulnerability.
“Give us a countdown,” Sovak yelled into the comm. “We’ll beam you out.”
“We’re synched,” replied Joth, sounding remarkably calm. “But Captain, I’m seeing this through.”
“Joth—”
“Listen to me,” he said, “it’s a great day to die.”
Refaeli announced, “Detonation in four…three…two…”
At the same time, the helm turned to Sovak: “Go to warp?”
“Hit it!” cried Sovak.
The proto-matter reaction propagated from Joth’s runabout—all three shuttles had been carrying the bombs—and consumed Kohelut in a fraction of a second. The planet-sized being collapsed in on itself, then exploded like a nova. The resulting light flare chased the starship as it warped from the star system.
—————
Going Home
The singed and battle-scarred U.S.S. John Brown passed without incident through the Galaxy Gate, leaving behind Andromeda and entering a newly quiet Milky Way. The Kelvinai, without the direction of the Kohelut, withdrew from the sweeping stellar arms of Milky Way, with their densely packed civilizations, to the dark and dusty regions between.
For the first time in several decades, Sovak T’Lon returned to Earth. Since the catastrophe that had decorticated the surface, Starfleet operated entirely from orbit. The planet below, wrapped in night, was utterly dark.
The president of the Federation, a tall fellow named Vihlomi Mok, bowed and thanked Sovak and her crew for their service. Mok was a Ghen, a species Sovak had never even heard of before. Of course, the others could say the same about her new second in command, Beryat Frei.
“Welcome to the Milky Way galaxy,” Mok told Frei. “I’m told you originate in the Triangulum galaxy.”
“My home in Triangulum was annihilated by the Kelvinai,” he replied, appearing for all the world like a human, despite being, underneath it all, a cloud of energy. “All I ever knew in Andromeda was war. It’s time for something different. I hope to be of use here, in Milky Way.”
“The Federation—and Starfleet—welcome all beings of good will,” Mok agreed, smiling.
The Commander in Chief of Starfleet, a massive Klingon named MiH T’eh, pulled Sovak aside.
He said, “U.S.S. John Brown is quite overdue for repair and upgrade. It’s our first priority—that ship lives large in the imagination of the Federation worlds. But Sovak, you should know that there’s a promotion straight to the admiralty in the cards for you. You’ve earned it, and…well, the Joint Chiefs are willing to overlook the, ah, less stellar aspects of your past.”
“Fuck,” the Romulan smoldered.
“Excuse me?”
The Klingon was suddenly looming over her menacingly. After seven years of fighting and killing Kelvinai, she was inured.
“If you guys promote me to admiral, I’ll resign my commission. In fact, guess what, I resign now.”
“Well…I don’t accept your resignation,” T’eh countered.
Sovak clenched her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Just tell me what I have to do to derail this promotion.”
The Klingon grinned, then exploded with laughter, revealing a row of huge, boulder-like teeth.
“I can argue,” he suggested, “that you lack the maturity necessary for the position of admiral, which will make for a solid argument, and that you will be more valuable an asset to Starfleet in the field than behind a desk. What do you think?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
Sovak reached out and touched the side of T’eh’s massive jaw. His eyes widened and his skin flushed.
“Why do I feel like I just drank a crate of blood wine?”
“I just wanted to share my happiness with you,” Sovak smiled.
—————
With the war seemingly over and with her return to the Milky Way, Sovak began to think about C’Mal, the Mirror Universe Ferasan with whom she had shared countless adventures and drunken nights as part of the crew on her old ship, the Talon.
The Ferasan life span was typically a fraction of that of a Vulcanoid. Would she still be alive somewhere in Federation space? Sovak connected to the Starfleet database and searched, finding a location-less comm link. Should she call? Her bravery, so potent in battle, fled her.
C’Mal, tawny and strong, with wide-slitted amber eyes and red streaks like fiery warpaint on her face, always ran hot and cold. Which would answer? Hot, or cold? And had not Sovak, in the decades since, confused the memory of her soulmate C’Mal with that of Mirror Universe C’Mal? That’s the problem with living a long life—so many memories.
Sovak stared at her mirror image in the display. Sixty seven—still young for a Vulcan, right? The hair at her temples had turned gray during the war, and a prominent gray streak ran down her forehead. The unkind light in her office highlighted the crows feet around her eyes as well as her sallow complexion.
She rummaged through her desk drawers and found an orange lipstick, but hesitated before smearing on what used to be her trademark color. She stared at the lipstick, then threw it into the recycle bin.
With the war over, she realized she no longer knew who she was. She used to captain her own pirate ship, dammit. Then when duty called, she rejoined Starfleet.
Going backwards…going backwards.
What were the chances that the call would even connect? Her hand shaking, she punched in the comm-ID and almost immediately C’Mal answered, staring at her wordlessly from the display.
“Did you miss me?” Why did I just say that? Sovak asked herself.
“I take it you’re back from Andromeda,” said C’Mal. Her fur had gotten blonder and her ears had gotten longer. Sovak heard what sounded like snickering. C’Mal turned and shouted at someone, “Shut up! Get out!”
“My work in Andromeda is finished,” said Sovak. “I guess I’m your Milky Way girl.” What the fuck does that even mean? Sovak asked herself, covering her face with her hands. Vulcan mode on, Vulcan mode on!
“Look,” said Sovak, “where are you?”
“I’m on Earth,” said C’Mal. “Are you docked in orbit? I assume so, since there’s no delay. You’re probably orbiting right above me.”
Sovak was confused. “I…I thought the Earth—the surface of Earth—was now a nature preserve. No people allowed?”
“There are exceptions,” said C’Mal. She softened a bit. “Come and see me. I can show you what we do here.”
“We?”
“Yes, the Order. Don’t you know? I’m in charge now, I’m the mother superior.”
“Wait…,” Sovak shook her head and held up her hands, overwhelmed. “You’re a nun? A nun in the Religious Order of Grand Nagal De-Imprecation?”
“Well, Sovak, we’re called the Lethkaites. I should not have to explain that to you. You were there.”
“But,” Sovak cried, exasperated, “a nun? How does that make any sense? You’re not nun material!”
“Oh Sovak, it looks to me like you’re once again a captain in Starfleet…forty years later. I’m moving forward, old friend. You’re the one moving backward.”
That hurt. Vulcan mode, Sovak, Vulcan mode.
“What are the Lethkaites doing on Earth, of all places?” wondered Sovak.
“Why don’t you come down and see for yourself,” insisted C’Mal.
—————
Sovak beamed down to what had once been San Francisco, near the site of the old Starfleet Headquarters. She was accompanied by Beryat Frei, who, having been born in space, had never set foot on the surface of a planet before. The stoney outcrop beneath them faced the Pacific Ocean, which, filling the horizon, murmured sweetly and glistened in the morning light.
“Wow!” Frei exclaimed.
“Didn’t I tell you?” remarked Sovak.
“Wow!” he said again.
Sovak turned to find herself face-to-face with C’Mal ji Mara, who glanced at Frei, then stared placidly at the Romulan.
“Looks quite different to pre-catastrophe Earth, doesn’t it?” she asked.
C’Mal was smaller than Sovak remembered. Her vivid stripes had faded, her fur’s highlights had turned gray, and her once powerful thighs were now slender. In the sunlight, her amber eyes sparkled.
“C’mon.”
They boarded a small open-air shuttle that C’Mal flew over the bay toward forested land. It settled atop a broad parcel of steel, still scorched and pitted from the Kelvinai attack.
“The gardens are over there,” the Ferasan indicated, although there was nothing much to see. “We exercise up here. And we live…,” she tapped her comm twice and a hatch slid aside horizontally to reveal stairs, “down here.”
They proceeded down, into the mellow light of the underground complex.
C’Mal’s voice lowered a notch. “Through there is the meditation hall. And there is the library. The dorms are back that way. The cafeteria, over there.” Several nuns wearing Lethkaite robes wheeled a large wagon of vegetables past them. “Probably dinner,” she said.
“What is this place?” asked Sovak, mystified.
“You still haven’t figured out where we are?”
Sovak shook her head.
“This…,” C’Mal gestured expansively, “is the old Starfleet computer core. Thanks to its shielding, the whole complex survived the catastrophe. Of course, by then it had been completely deactivated to prevent Kohelut and the Kelvinai from taking control of it, and hence the fleet. It survived, ironically, while everyone on the surrounding continent died.”
“You live here then?”
C’Mal nodded. “The Lethkaite Order has always been known for their technical skills, as you know. We maintain this facility for Starfleet, and in exchange, we live here, safe and secure, quiet and undisturbed. A beneficial arrangement.”
They toured the underground habitation level. C’Mal explained that the structure extended down about half a kilometer, to the now silent computer core—the so-called Deep Grid—that formerly serviced both Starfleet and the Federation.
After the evening meal, Frei wandered off to explore, while C’Mal guided Sovak back up to the surface, and up the stairs of a tall watchtower.
“This is where we look out for forest fires,” C’Mal said, adding sheepishly, “We don’t have sensors.”
Sovak peered into the hazy distance at the darkening sky. A chilly wind passed over her.
“Have you been well?” she asked the Ferasan.
“Starfleet provides us with medical care,” said C’Mal.
“You told me one time, or maybe it was the other C’Mal, that Ferasans only live into their sixties…in standard Federation cycles.”
“Yeah, well, the Guardian pulled me forward ten years into this universe, so don’t worry about me. I mean, the only reason Mirror Universe Ferasans lived incredibly short lives is because, you know, we had a big target painted on our back in that universe.”
Sovak nodded, still gazing into the distance. “I didn’t know…whether I should call you when I got back. I didn’t know…I didn’t know how you would respond. I thought about you a lot in Andromeda. It doesn’t make sense, but one of my great regrets in life…is how the other me, the one in the Mirror Universe, treated you. Knowing what I know about my family, and about my mother, I can see how things might have gone differently for me. But that you had to live through that because of…her…me. It’s always…it’s been a weight in my chest, a heavy sadness. And I don’t mean to make it about me. I just—I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” C’Mal responded earnestly. “It took a long time for those memories, those feelings of hatred from the Mirror Universe, toward that woman, to dissipate. I’ve had a long time to think about it. And I don’t want you to hate me. I’m sorry for being such a prick all those years ago.”
Sovak wiped tears from her face, then felt C’Mal standing behind her, wrapping her arms around Sovak’s body. Sovak turned and met her eyes.
“I don’t want anything to happen that you would regret.”
“Well,” C’Mal smiled wryly, “we’re not celibate, you know.”
—————
I Am Identified Kohelut
Hours later, Sovak awoke beneath the starry sky, entangled in a blanket with C’Mal. Sovak’s comm badge, lying atop her clothing, was beeping.
“Seriously?”
She answered, and a hesitant Lieutenant Refaeli spoke: “I’m probably bothering you….”
“Report, Lieutenant,” she said impatiently.
“We transported one of the portable heavy generators down as Commander Frei requested. He said not to bother you with it. It just felt a little weird. A little off, which is why I’m—”
“An antimatter generator?” Sovak glanced at the newly awakened C’Mal. “What for?”
Refaeli was perplexed. “Commander Frei explained that he was just following your orders.”
Sovak closed her eyes and tried to make sense of this.
“The whole facility,” said C’Mal, re-wrapping herself in her clerical robe, “is shielded. They couldn’t have beamed a generator inside.”
Refaeli heard and replied, “We beamed the generator into the shuttle parked on the receiving concourse.”
Sovak, having quickly put on her Starfleet uniform, ran to the opposite edge of the tower with C’Mal and gazed out over the receiving area. There was no shuttle and no generator.
C’Mal looked at Sovak. “There’s a freight elevator on the opposite side of the concourse. If your XO was able to hack access, that elevator goes all the way down to Deep Grid. But why?”
Sovak shivered. “Just before we defeated Kohelut, Frei was attacked by an energy beam of some kind. What if Kohelut hacked Frei? He is an energy being, after all. What if—what if Kohelut is controlling him, just like it controlled the Kelvinai soldiers?”
C’Mal tapped her comm badge: “This is C’Mal. Emergeny: Captain Sovak’s guest, Beryat Frei, is an enemy agent and is attempting to restart the Deep Grid using a heavy generator. He must be stopped. This is not a drill.”
“Refaeli,” Sovak ordered, “I need two phaser rifles and two personal shields.” The items materialized before the two women. “Can you beam us directly inside Deep Grid?”
“Not with the shields up,” he replied.
“The shields weren’t designed to be easily shut off,” added C’Mal.
Sovak asked, “Assuming Kohelut can accomplish this without the passcodes, how long would it take to boot up Deep Grid?”
“That’s your specialty!” C’Mal countered.
“Let’s say half an hour to boot the primary servers, network them, and connect them to the subspace array. Now, how long would it take us to get down there?”
“Not less than ten minutes.”
Sovak addressed her ship again over the comm. “John Brown, when did you beam down the generator?”
“Ten…no, twelve minutes ago.”
“Inform Starfleet that an agent of Kohelut is trying to boot up the Deep Grid in an effort to take control of the fleet. We need to destroy it before it destroys us.”
Dashing back to the underground, the pair were stopped by a panicked nun who told them that the response team was trapped in sabotaged lift tubes, and that the freight elevator was now also non-functional. The secondary emergency response team was attempting to destroy the shield generators that prevented site-to-site transport and which, yes, were themselves shielded.
“Stairs,” suggested C’Mal.
“Stairs,” agreed Sovak.
They quickly outpaced the tactical support group of armed nuns, who could not keep up with either the Vulcanoid or the Ferasan. Sovak joked, “Running side by side, just like old times.”
“That was your C’Mal,” the felinid said breathlessly.
Sovak realized she was right.
Nearing the lower levels, they heard the hum of power and felt the heavy flow of air meant to cool the apparatus.
“This is alpha level,” said C’Mal.
They stepped through the huge physical firewall door, which the nuns left open for expediency, to find a glittering, crackling energy field enveloping both the portable generator and the long row of two-story tall processor units, which were active.
Sovak swung her rifle toward the energy being and pressed the trigger. Nothing happened—the phaser was inexplicably drained. A tendril of energy slapped her body, flinging her against the metal wall with a dull thud. Her limbs were numb—the personal shield was useless.
C’mal gasped involuntarily and floated away toward the generator. She hovered in the air under the harsh emergency lighting.
“C’Mal,” Sovak cried out.
“She is not here,” a brittle, lifeless voice emerged from C’Mal’s lips. “I am identified Kohelut. You deprived me of my control. Now I deprive you of yours.”
“You invaded our galaxy. We were protecting ourselves!”
“But I am the queen,” the being proclaimed. “The Kelvinai grow from the spores I release. You destroyed the queen. So I will propagate using your machines. The old order has fallen, the new order begins.”
Sovak noticed that the phaser rifle in C’Mal’s articulated paw was sparking, recharging itself within the diffuse creature’s intense aura of energy. The felinid swung the rifle toward the generator.
“C’Mal?”
The Ferasan’s strangled voice emerged: “Worth…it.”
A transport initiated.
Sovak found herself back on the bridge of the U.S.S. John Brown, supported by Lethkaite nuns, watching a section of the west coast of North America disappear in an antimatter explosion.
—————
C’Mal ji Mara’s funeral took place in Earth orbit aboard the city-sized complex that was Starfleet Headquarters. M’Vek—Sovak’s son with the first C’Mal—traveled from Ferasa to attend. Sovak’s heart felt for him: at only thirty-three, he had now lost two moms.
Sovak hugged him and said, “Both C’Mals…they were more alike than different, despite coming from two different realities.”
A nun of the Lethkaite Order spoke at the gathering. She was human, with ebony skin and a fountain of dark kinky hair.
“The Andromeda War is over, so far as we know. The leader of our Order, C’Mal ji Mara, gave her life to accomplish an end to war between the two galaxies. To those of us who knew her well, it comes as no surprise that she would cast herself into the flame to quench the fire, that others might continue to live. It was rumored that she came from another universe, a universe of chaos and depravity. But her spirit was indomitable, her will: obdurate, her compassion: boundless. Would that we all came from such a world as hers.”
Sovak looked at M’Vek and rolled her eyes.
The nun continued: “Nine years ago, I lost my husband and my planet to the war and became a refugee. C’Mal took me in and clothed me. Took me in and fed me. I became part of the community. My skills are valued. But still, the pain of my loss burned in me each time I was reminded. But time and memory work together to heal. One day, my husband’s photo filled my display, by accident, and I looked at it and I smiled. The pain is still there, but I can smile now. I can remember him the way he would want me to remember him—with joy.
“And so, despite the pain, that is how I propose that we remember that Ferasan who led us these last few years: with a smile, remembering the happy times. After all, the war is over, and C’Mal played no small part in that, as did her longtime friend Captain Sovak T’Lon.”
Sovak shifted restlessly on her feet. After the impending refit of the U.S.S. John Brown, she was assigned a new mission of exploration: to pass through the Galaxy Gate and onward into the NGC 147 galaxy, a galaxy that didn’t even have a proper name yet. She was ready to leave the Milky Way far behind her.
“Time and memory,” she repeated the nun's words.
The weight of time and memory was crushing her. That's the problem with being long-lived: you have to watch people die, watch worlds change and fade away. Both the evil and the good wither.
The Lethkaite said, “With the war behind us, it is time to concentrate on building rather than destroying. On loving, rather than hating. On peacemaking, rather than fighting. There’s a place for all of us in this galaxy. The time is now. War is ended. Let peace begin.”
END