“Don’t depend too much on anyone in this world because even your own shadow leaves you when you are in darkness.”

Ibn Taymiyyah, (1326)

 

Even the mighty are destined to fall.

Throughout recorded history, there are countless prophetic and telling examples where the potential for catastrophic failure had been implanted into the very foundations of what their creators had taken as solid and enduring principles and structures.

It’s known as the ‘Jericho Effect.’

Taking its name from the eponymous city of ancient Palestine (known as Tell es-Sultan to those that dwelt behind those infamous walls) where, if records are to be believed, in the 10^th Millennium BCE, the urban fortifications that were 2 meters thick and 5.2 meters high were breached by besieging forces of the Israelites by dint of circulating the curtain walls bearing the Ark of the Covenant and blowing mightily on their horns.

Whether this is true is largely a matter for conjecture and myth, but it is a perhaps interesting footnote that stemmed from the supposed footfalls of the ancient antagonist Joshua & his army; that the term ’Jericho Effect’ also came to denote the scientific principle involving mechanical resonance.

In science, as in myth, this is a phenomenon where mechanical resonance can cause physical destruction, with external forces matching the natural frequency of a structure, leading to amplified vibrations that eventually break the material. We’ve all watched with morbid fascination as we have watched a suspension bridge warp and coil like a snake before reaching that point of collapse, to know that this holds true.

Yet the ‘Jericho Effect’ could also be argued to apply to moral and social interpersonal systems. Our conscious actions engender an implicit resonance that, when applied to how we treat and entreat others, can mirror the destructive effects akin to those historical and scientific contexts.

To wit, ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’

(Matthew 7:12 & Luke 6:31. That makes this advice ‘Bible’, so to speak.)

It’s a truism that we could all benefit from remembering to live by and, as the Tal Shiar torturer Major Silak is about to discover, it’s a hell of a thing to die for ignoring.

Major Silak permitted herself a small smile of victory, as the mighty Hunter/Killer units lumbered slowly forward through the ice & driving snow towards the pitiful Starfleet officers, their fate sealed as neatly as the gift wrapping around a gift.

The Tal Shiar agent held the download module in her hands. A dull grey cube some 30cm to a side, within this nondescript looking data storage device lay a gift that would see the fortunes of the Romulan Free State restored to the days of influence and majesty that the Star Empire once enjoyed. The devious military designs and nefarious strategies that dwelt in the memory – engrams of the long – dead Generals that inhabited that virtual War Room, would see conflict unleashed upon an unsuspecting galaxy of the kind never conceived of before.

<< “As much as I’d love to stay and witness your final moments. Captain,” >> The Major smirked as she addressed the defeated figure of Lieutenant – Commander Lane Hanley, as she knelt in the snow cradling her broken arm. The other Starfleet officer stood with the murderous Swarm swirling around her legs, but Silak knew that with the protection that the ‘ghosts’’ of the Northern Compact currently afforded her, that the autonomous weapons system could no more harm her that the hulking Hunter/Killer drones could.

<< ”I’m afraid that I have an appointment with Destiny.” >> Silak laughed coldly.

Her victory was complete.

Silak signaled the Rihanhansu for extraction.

<< This is Major Silak. One for transport. >> She commanded, not even sparing a glance for the security detail that had been eviscerated by the murderous Swarm as the chill winds gradually buried their body parts in a steady accretion of glittering snow.

<< “Copy that Major. Stand by.”>> The transporter chief aboard the D’deridex Warbird encircling high above confirmed and Silak permitted herself a self – satisfied sigh and prepared to leave this forsaken place once and for all.

Her eyes widened in stark disbelief as the download module was surrounded by a gentle diffusion of pale green swirling light, its edges and outline becoming gradually indistinct until it was gone, leaving her grasping hands empty.

<< “This is Major Silak to the Rihanhansu ! “>> The agent raged in growing anger, spittle hitting the inside of her faceplate. << “What is the meaning of this outrage! I will have your heads on a POLE for this insubordination!!” >>

Her ire only grew as she recognized the voice of Commander Navain, CO of the Rihanhansu, as his reply filtered down to her on the surface of the Hellworld.

<< “The Romulan Free State thanks you for delivering this prize safely into our custody, Major. Your sacrifice will be recorded in the ships log and although you fall, generations will be inspired by what you do here today.” >> Navain’s voice held an unmistakable note of satisfaction as he delivered his diatribe with a veneer of  sincerity.

<< “YOU BASTARD! YOU’LL BURN FOR THIS!” >> Silak screamed, her empty hands clutching reflexively at the cold, empty air as she realised that she had been so utterly and comprehensively betrayed.

Like many that suffered under their authoritarian excesses, Commander Navain had no love Tal Shiar and Silak had made a critical misstep by exposing herself so. Now Navain had control of the memory – engrams of the Military Repository and the download module. He alone could claim the laurels for presenting the prize to the High Command and her abuse and intimidation of him and needful sacrifice of his crew let the Commander with no love for her whatsoever.

<< “Not before you, I’d wager.” >> Commander Navain replied pointedly. << “Farwell Major, it’s been anything but a pleasure. Although this parting, at least, makes up for some of it.” >> and with that he killed the channel.

Major Silak was seething and speechless as she stood impotent in her rage.

Her mind raced with murderous thoughts, but before she could utter a word, her thoughts were interrupted by a sound like the chittering of a thousand locusts.

Her eyes widened in horror.

With the download module gone, the temporary protection that had been afforded to the Major from the Northern Compact engrams was suddenly gone with them. Neither the writing black nightmare of the Swarm nor the towering bulk of the two Hunter/Killer Units recognised her as a ‘Friendly’ and instantly re-assessed and categorized her as “Foe.”

With this IFF magic trick complete, the lumbering Hunter/Killer drones did not even have enough time to pause and swing their massive turrets around in her direction, before the Swarm was suddenly upon her – streaming out from around Six of Eleven’s legs like a living nightmare.

Silak barely had time to whisper, << “No!” >> and then she disappeared under the scything flow of the thousands of streaking, razor-ship bodies of the aerostat – drones that made up the autonomous weapons system.

What they left behind was a ragged green – smear of blood and meat. The torturer who had inflicted so much death and suffering in the name of her art, was ironically undone by the cruelty her actions had wrought upon her victims.

There was no one to mourn her passing.

As the Swarm lifted up into the blizzard filled night-dark arctic sky and was lost from view, Six was heard to comment.

=^= How ironic and prototypically Romulan.” =^= The engineer reflected dryly , parodying the Majors recent words and the Romulans propensity for betrayal and in-fighting.

Lane winced as she gripped her broken arm and nodded towards the two gigantic war robots as the Hunter/Killer’s swung their great turrets back towards the Starfleet officers, now that the other target that had suddenly appeared, had just as suddenly been neutralized by an allied weapons system.

=^= “I think it’s a little to early to celebrate, Six.” =^= Lane remonstrated bitterly. =^= “Our problems still seem to be as pressing as ever.” =^=

The bright carelessness of fusion energy began to gather around the capacitors on their cavernous main armaments once more.

~ ”At least the Chief may still survive.” ~ Hanley thought as she stared into the face of certain death for one last time. Lieutenant Harvey’s unconscious form had been left within the relative safety of the bunker-cap entrance. Whilst Six and herself would soon be a smear of component atoms spread across a crater of quickly re-freezing ice, at least some good might emerge from this travesty of a rescue mission.

Six of Eleven turned to face her and Lane took her hand.

=^=  “Captain, I know it was difficult for the crew to accept me, but I just want to thank you for taking a chance and offering me a berth aboard the Kirk. It has been an honor and a privilege serving under you Ma’am.” =^=

Vanya smiled sadly. Human emotion still came with difficulty to the former Borg drone, but somehow the words just felt… right.

Both of the imposing Hunter/Killer’s ground to a laborious halt, the snow swirling around their age  – pocked armored carapaces, from deep with the dark recesses of their barrels, Lane fancied she could see a wavering, bright pinprick of blue light that began to steadily grow,

=^= “”Lieutenant. Six, I…” =^= Lane began, but was suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice cutting through the airwaves.

=^= “Touching as this is people, if there ever was a time to ‘grab your ankles’ that time is now !” =^= Came the triumphant voice of Bohrigm Nil  as the storm clouds parted directly behind them and both Hanley and Six turned just in time to register the battered, but altogether magnificent hull of the USS Kirk as the Shran – class escort arrive overhead and a resonating sonic – boom followed a few seconds later.

~ “Bo !” ~ Hanley’s heart leapt with unlooked-for joy and she dived for the snow, dragging Six of Eleven down with her.

Both Hunter/Killers paused in their tracks. Millenia – old targeting computers assessed the new contact as having a higher threat level and they began to elevate their wicked main armaments toward this new interloper.

The Type – XII Pulse Phaser cannon is a ship mounted rapid-fire point – weapons system with a maximum theoretical output of 9MW, that utilises a rapid nadion effect (RNE) to amplify the output of superconducting crystals to create a coherent and highly controllable bolt of energy to create effects ranging from heating a target to ensuring that it loses molecular cohesion entirely.

They’re designed primarily for operation in space and are highly effective at peeling enemy contacts apart, just like they were made from tissue paper.

The experience of witnessing a Quad Type – XII Pulse Phaser weapons system being utilized within a planetary atmosphere in a tank – busting role, at almost point – black range, is almost indescribable.

The perpetual darkness of the endless arctic night – sky was suddenly lit up as if a star had just gone Nova. Lane’s faceplate instantly polarized, but the silhouetted impression of the Hunter /Killer robots were seared indelibly across the back of her retina’s, despite having her eyelids screwed firmly shut.

The air above them crackled with the fission of atom – dissipation as Ensign Kuta boxed the Hunter/Killers squarely within his targeting reticule and unleashed a torrent of screaming bright hell upon the ancient war-machines.

The thunderous discharge of the massed cannons canyoned and careened across the frozen arctic tundra like a giants exhorting war-cry, as their fire found their targets and decimated the 30 ft tall articulated tanks as if they were snowflakes before a blowtorch.

Her mind reeling from the fury of the assault, Lane Hanley lay pressed hard into the snow and it took her a few moments to realize that the firing had stopped.

Where the Hunter/Killers had menaced, there was no sign. Both colossal war-machines had been wrent asunder by the ferocity of fire unleashed from the Kirk, like a vengeful dragon swooped down from the protesting clouds to scour the land with vengeful flame and reduce its enemies to barren ashes.

Of Major Silak’s remains, those too had been emolliated and evaporated, what vapor that was left after such a furious elemental transmutation that they eventually froze on the night air and returned to the ground as grimy snowflakes.

She rolled onto her back to be greeted by the scarred and wounded underside of her vessel and no sight had ever been more welcome to her war – weary eyes.

The USS Kirk.

The scars of battle were evident everywhere she looked, as was the corrosion that spending the week under the waters of an acid – lake – but somehow Bo’ and the crew had managed to jury – rig the old-girl and get her flying again.

=^= “’Grab your ankles’ ? Really?” =^= She signaled her XO and friend as Ensign Hunter gently angled the manta – shaped craft away from over them and her landing gear swung fluidly down from their recesses to enable a landing in the snow.

Bohrigm’s answer came over the comm and Lane found herself smiling for the first time in longer than she could remember.

=^= “Best I could do in the moment.” =^= The Tellarite send reproachfully. =^= “We can’t all be so verbose & erudite under pressure, you know!” =^= Nil feigned offence.

Hanley laughed, her helmeted head dropping back into the snow as tears of relief flowed down her cheeks and collected at the seal to the faceplate.

A soft tremor ran through the ice-sheet beneath her as the Shran touched down, but Lane knew that their tribulations were far from over. Regretfully, she pushed herself to her feet once more, being careful to cradle her broken arm.

=^= “Bo’ were in bad shape and the Romulans have got the Repository. Tell me that we can make orbit?” =^= The CO demanded as she helped Six to her feet. A hatch was beginning to open on the flank of the Kirk and a Medevac team (in clean suits that looked the polar opposites to their battered-own) were making to disembark.

=^= “We’ve got sub-light only, so we should be able to make orbit. But we only have limited armament capability restored and both launchers are inoperable, so it’s doubtful what we can achieve with that Warbird stalking around.” =^= The Executive Officer responded.

Lane swore inwardly, the stakes were still high and ill- fate seemed to be still arrayed against them. As Six of Eleven went out to meet the medical team (prudently convincing the Swarm that they, too, were friendlies), Lieutenant -Commander Lane Hanley set her mouth in a grim line and replied;

“We have to try Bo’, whatever happens we can’t let that Warbird leave orbit!”