Troop Module Aloga-One
Approaching the Darvus Straits
Spock meditated.
Or he tried, at least. His father had told him that a Vulcan could meditate anywhere. Near mummified in his battlesuit, Spock had trouble believing that. The ingenious suits’ internal mechanisms worked in many ways to comfort their occupants and keep muscles from cramping during inactivity. But the Boundless armorers had only designed a few postures for resting positions: all seated, never reclining—or kneeling.
Spock had no personal quarters, either. His battlesuit was his billet, never removed while on alert. And they were always on alert these days. In the weeks since his transfer, he had participated in three more battles, including two assaults on Shivane.
The first return had been even more catastrophic than Spock’s initial visit, with the landing repulsed almost immediately and a troop transport from another carrier destroyed. The next assault had been different, with Kormagan acting in concert with another Boundless wave. Numbers had made a difference, allowing her forces to infiltrate the Rengru outpost and disable the shields. Spock and his fellow troops had been quickly extracted in advance of a rain of photon torpedoes from the sky: no meager nuclear weapons here. Spock doubted anyone would ever know either party had visited Shivane.
The third action had taken place in space, with Spock and his squad utilizing their jetpacks on EVA to seize a Rengru spacedock. After Kormagan’s carriers cleared the space fighters—there was no better term for the small, disruptor-armed shells with engines that the Rengru zipped around in—the station’s occupants had been “cleansed” via acid grenades delivered by Boundless infiltrators. Dilithium crystals and other resources had been harvested before torpedoes destroyed the station.
On none of the occasions had Spock been forced to kill a Rengru, as his fellow warriors had often done. He worried that it was only a matter of time before he would be made to follow suit. The creatures weren’t giving him much choice. The Rengru fought opposing ships and hovercraft with whatever weapons they had, but when encountering personnel, their tactics changed. As Spock had first seen on Shivane, the Rengru sought to envelop Boundless warriors, piercing their headgear with a peculiar appendage that functioned like the biological equivalent of a powered auger.
They were certainly intelligent, architects of a society that had somehow reached the stars. But all else about them remained a mystery. They had never responded to any of his attempts to communicate.
The experiences had been troubling for one taught to value peace. He had participated in battles while aboard Enterprise; the starship was heavily armed, perhaps too much so for its own good. But Starfleet’s mission was to avert conflict, not seek it. The Boundless seemed to exist entirely to fight—and their veterans thought nothing of it, considering their reasons perfectly logical. Had he not seen what the Rengru did to those they fought?
And while Spock had only participated in offensives while under Kormagan, he had been assured that the Rengru attacked the Boundless just as often. The troop module he was in was on its way to protect Boundless positions in the nebular region known as the Darvus Straits. The point of view of the Boundless might not be correct, but it did rest on some evidence.
For one who lived a life devoted to peace, Spock was more than familiar with conflict. The logic extremists, whose bombing of the Vulcan Learning Center nearly killed Michael Burnham, continued to use violence. How different were they from the Boundless, who did not feel remorse about the steps they took? Wasn’t “feeling” the thing he had been told to avoid for so long?
No, he thought—trying to focus again on the candle-flame image he had asked his headgear’s interface to project before his eyes. Living beings could create a fire to burn for a purpose, some reasons worthwhile, others not. So, too, did they create conflict. It was still moral to question, to challenge, the use of force. And if he could not refuse to serve the Boundless, he could still try to moderate their violence, even as he considered means of escape.
Outside, he heard the troop module braking. They had arrived at the Straits—and the next engagement. He dispelled the candle image and headed for his deployment station. It was time to fight. Again.