Nidal seemed to let that sit for a while. She nearly turned away, then said, “Enterprise’s pursuit does not improve our engines. We must limit our speed.”
“Do not,” warned Tibis, and the others stirred.
“Mustn’t.”
“Maintain.”
“Maintain.”
“Reduce.”
“Listen to us.”
“Listen.”
“Maintain.”
“Reduce.”
“Stay vigilant.”
“Kirk pursues,” Tibis cautioned.
“Counter him.”
“Confound him!”
“Maintain speed.”
“Reduce speed!”
“Deal with Kirk now.”
“Cripple Kirk.”
“Maintain!”
“Stop Kirk,” Tibis ordered. “He must be stopped.”
“Stop him.”
“Stop him.”
“Yes, stop him.”
Zhatan nodded to them. “Stand by to reduce speed to level eight,” she told Nidal. “We will delay Kirk. Or, with luck, stop him.”
SWISHING THE COFFEE around the cup by rolling it in circles, Kirk watched as a lick of steam rose from the black liquid.
It was his second cup. Uhura was still on her first. Palamas had tea but she’d left it untouched.
At the center of the briefing room’s long table, the tri-viewer showed a rolling list of data that at this point had become a blur to the captain.
“Here’s something interesting,” the communications officer said, looking up from the data slate she’d been monitoring.
“What?” Kirk stood and reached out a hand as she brought him the slate.
“I’m not sure it’s pertinent,” Uhura said, “but it explains a lot.”
The captain scanned the data, smiled, then handed it back to her and sat down. “It does, yes.”
Palamas cleared her throat. “Want to share with the class?”
“The Maabas aren’t babes in the woods,” Kirk said, bemused. “They knew the Kenisians were around—or suspected it, at least. Which is why a treaty with the Federation became so important.”
“And you’re not surprised, sir?” Palamas said.
With a chuckle, the captain explained, “Why would they all of a sudden change their minds and push for an expedited agreement? I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“They must have known we might find this,” Uhura pointed out. “But they gave us full access to their records. They could have deleted that part of the archive.”
“We would be left with a data hole that they would have to explain,” Kirk said. “It was a brave move.”
“They need us,” Palamas said empathetically.
Kirk nodded and took a sip from his coffee cup, then set it on the table and began again. “Let’s try a different tack.”
Seated in front of the computer console, Uhura looked up. “I’m certainly ready for a new approach. I don’t feel we’ve learned much.”
“I’m still not sure what we’re looking for, sir,” Palamas said.
“As I told the doctor, I’m hoping,” Kirk said tiredly, “we’ll know it when we see it.”
“We know,” Uhura began, “the Maabas found the planet twenty-four hundred years ago.”
“Twenty-four hundred thirty-three years,” Palamas corrected.
“Thank you,” Kirk said with a smile.
“Forgive me, Captain.” Palamas cradled her tea in both hands and took a small sip. “Historians and dates,” she explained.
Kirk nodded his understanding. “Over two thousand years ago the Maabas landed on this planet. They migrated to the same locations where the Kenisians had built their civilization,” the captain said.
“Temperate areas, land which could be cultivated, near resources, potable water sources,” Uhura added.
“Which is how they found the Kenisian ruins,” Palamas said, taking another sip from her tea.
“Correct.” Kirk rose and began to slowly pace the room. “They find the ruins—most of them aren’t hard to find—and, being a highly technological people, they wanted to study them, learn from them.”
“But they don’t,” Palamas chimed in, “at least not at first.”
“You’re right,” the captain agreed. “They’re war weary.”
“They cannibalized what technology they could find,” Palamas added. “The earliest histories are personal diaries and private archival footage.”
Kirk nodded. “A society in survival mode.”
“In some ways the personal is a more interesting history,” Palamas said. “Unfiltered by official historians. Unedited.” She turned toward Uhura. “Lieutenant, can you find the archive labeled one-four-three-four indok?”
Uhura nodded toward the tri-viewer as a shaky recording taken thousands of years ago began to play. A mother sat cradling her crying baby as the wind kicked up and people ran for shelter.
The baby was long dead. Her great-great-great-great-great-grandchild was long dead too. But her progeny had survived and thrived, and now were being threatened along with a large swath of the galaxy.
“Who is that?” Kirk asked of the vid.
Uhura checked. “Archive recorded by Arublis Pa’atar Maalganq.” She looked up. “No information on the mother or her child.”
“They’re long since dust,” Kirk said quietly.
“The Kenisians aren’t,” Palamas said. “From what you have told us, sir, some of the same ones who lived then are alive in other people’s minds.”
“Whoever attempted to conquer them got more than they bargained for,” Uhura said. “They created an eternal enemy.”
“They did,” Kirk agreed. But who were they? He stalked back toward Uhura and flipped a switch. “Computer.”
“Ready,” the computer replied in a voice that was a cross between respectful and bored.
“Access all Maabas databanks and cross-reference against Federation historical records.”
“Working.” There was a short pause. “Ready.”
“According to the archaeological investigation conducted by the Maabas, how long was the planet uninhabited before they arrived?”
“Working.”
Kirk felt a smile tug at his lips. He knew he was on to something. He wasn’t sure what, and maybe it was just the excitement of posing a question they’d not asked before. But if the answer spurred on another question, and another after that . . .
A few chirps and the computer continued. “Maabas Archaeological Institute estimates between two hundred fifty and three hundred years.”
“That would mean Zhatan’s people lived there about three thousand years ago,” Palamas pointed out, but the computer disagreed.
“Incorrect.”
“Explain,” Kirk demanded of the computer.
“Archaeological evidence suggests third race between Kenisian and Maabas habitation.”
“Damn.” Kirk slapped the back of his right hand into the palm of his left loudly enough that Uhura, startled by the sound, blinked her eyes. “Conquerors conquer for a reason.”
“Resources,” Palamas told Kirk. “Computer, extrapolate from sensor data and archives. Has Maaba S’Ja been stripped of natural resources?”
“Working. Negative.”
Kirk shook his head and began pacing again. “If you can manage warp speed, the resources you need move from basic elements to dilithium and rodinium.”
“The planet isn’t rich in either and never was,” Uhura pointed out.
The captain nodded and bit his lip thoughtfully. “What if . . . what if the Maabas and the Kenisians are somehow connected?”
“How?” Palamas asked.
Kirk motioned to Uhura. “Star charts—show me where the Maabas came from, in relation to their current system.”
Uhura nodded toward the tri-viewer. “On-screen, Captain.”
A graphic of the sector displayed. One area was labeled “Maaba S’Ja system” and another was
tagged “Former Maabas system.” They were relatively far apart and seemingly unrelated.
“Cross-reference, Starfleet survey reports, all planets in this sector with signs of previous but not current civilization, or . . .”—Kirk paused, searching for the right phrase—“or current civilizations that have undergone interstellar war within the last six thousand years.”
“Working.”
Slowly the graphic was populated with flashes, red dots appearing first over one system, then another, and another, until there was a wide line of indicators which cut a path across the sector.
A cold shiver danced down Kirk’s spine. He heard Uhura’s intake of breath, and when he glanced at Palamas, she looked ill.
“How many lives,” she asked quietly, “across how many worlds, do you suppose?”
The captain shook his head and slumped down into the seat next to Uhura. He didn’t want to give voice to a number. Too many zeros, too much death.
“The Maabas and the Kenisians were displaced by the same conquerors,” Palamas concluded.
A guess, Kirk thought. But an educated one.
“Why?” Uhura’s question was pertinent, but unanswerable.
“The powerful often crave more power.” The captain shrugged, looked at his coffee cup across the table, and decided against reaching for it.
Despite the sour feeling about what they’d learned, Kirk knew they were on to something. What answers it might give them he wasn’t sure, but the more information they had, the better. “What did they want?” the captain asked himself quietly.
“Perhaps the same thing Zhatan wants,” Uhura offered. “Revenge?”
“Zhatan didn’t want revenge against the Maabas,” Palamas said. “Even if it seemed like it at first.”
“That’s it, Lieutenant. That’s exactly it,” Kirk said.
“Sir?” Palamas looked to Uhura for a clue but she just shrugged.
“What if,” Kirk began, and his face flushed with the exhilaration that he finally had a grasp of the situation, “na’hubis was not developed by the Kenisians. Or maybe it was. Maybe this conquering race learned about it, decided to steal it.” He was all over the place, and so he paused, took in a breath, and slowly released it. “Whatever the case, the Kenisians didn’t care about the planet as much as the nu’hubis.”
“Na’hubis,” Uhura corrected, always the linguist.
Kirk nodded. “The na’hubis represents horrific power.”
“If you’re looking to destroy an entire space sector,” Palamas said, “what good is it to anyone who wants to live in it?”
“A bargaining chip,” Kirk said, placing his hand out as if an actual item sat on it. “Zhatan said they thought na’hubis could be harnessed, if properly controlled.” He closed his hand quickly as if grasping something before it fell.
“The destroyers look for it,” Uhura picked up a stylus from the table and tapped it on her lips absentmindedly, “and when they don’t find it—because the Kenisians have hidden it—they search other worlds in this sector.”
“They took what they wanted, and destroyed what they didn’t,” Palamas whispered sadly. Repulsed by the thought, she shuddered.
“Maybe they considered themselves naturally superior. Maybe they’re different enough they don’t respect life-forms like us.” Kirk paused, setting that thought aside. “Whatever the reason, something changed, because we’ve never heard of them. For whatever reason, they retreated at some point, or returned home.”
“But now,” Uhura said, “the Kenisians have found them.”
“We need to find them.” Kirk stood. “And get there before the Kenisians do.”
As Kirk started for the door, the red alert lights began to flash and the bosun’s whistle sounded. “Bridge to Captain Kirk.” Sulu’s voice sounded urgent.
The captain spun toward the nearest table comm and mashed the button with his fist. “Kirk, here.”
“Sir, sensors detect incoming attack.”
“How many contacts?”
“Hundreds, sir. Hundreds.”
TEN
“Platforms three and four in that section are empty, Commander.”
Zhatan nodded. “Thank you, Nidal.”
“There were a few still loaded in platform two, I sent those as well.”
Acknowledging that with only a sigh, Zhatan steepled her fingers in thought. In thoughts.
“Feel no guilt.”
“He was against us.”
“Against us.”
“He would stop us.”
“Kirk would end us if he could.”
“No, he is a good man.”
“We have not killed him. Just delayed.”
“He may yet survive.”
“When he pursues again it will be too late.”
“He could die.”
“They should die.”
“They shouldn’t.”
“If Kirk is gone, Spock may not help us.”
“He will because it is logical.”
“He will not if he is aggrieved.”
“Enterprise should be destroyed for our safety,” Tibis counseled.
“No. They are of good character. We touched Kirk’s mind.”
“He would stop us.”
“He is a fool.”
“We should hope for his death.”
“We could have made sure of it.”
“No! That is not our place. He has not sinned against us.”
“Stopping us is sin.”
“He will not stop us.”
“He cannot! We must prevail,” Tibis said.
“We will.”
“We will prevail.”
“We will.”
Sighing again, Zhatan turned away from Nidal when she saw her first glancing back at her.
“What troubles you, Commander?”
“Nothing,” Zhatan said. “There is simply much to consider.”
Leaving her station, the first came up to the command chair. “Please,” she whispered. “Confide in us as you once did. We see you are torn, and we can help.”
Flicking a look at the bridge crew at their stations, then back to Nidal, the commander shook her head. “We should debate our decisions with you, here, on our bridge?”
“We aren’t asking you for debate,” her first said quietly. “We ask that you use us to help order your thoughts. You are so closed now. You never used to be this circumspect. Not with us.”
That was true. In all the years they’d known one another in their current physical forms, even before their relationship had blossomed, Zhatan had used her first as a sounding board. That was why she’d named her as first. But when Nidal testified alongside Alkinth, and used personal, private conversations against Zhatan at the hearing, things had changed.
Yes, Nidal had apologized. Yes, Zhatan had forgiven her, in word if not in deed. But the pain of that time remained. How could she now confide in one who had betrayed her?
How could the commander also keep from confiding in her first?
“We are torn,” Zhatan admitted. “As we’re sure you are also.”
Pleased at the confession, Nidal smiled. “Less so than you, we think, but yes. We can see it both ways. Kirk is a hindrance, and the Enterprise is a powerful vessel.”
“We don’t wish him dead. Most of us do not,” the commander said.
“We know that.” Nidal touched the arm of the command chair rather than reaching out for Zhatan’s hand. “You have given him a chance at life, and that is something.”
Eyes cast sadly down, the commander shook her head. “And yet those in us who wish him ill are pleased at the prospect he shall not survive.”
“We all bear such a burden,” Nidal reminded her.
“Which of those in your heart,” Zhatan said, looking up, “were conflicted about your past wrongs?”
Sighing, her first turned away. “Always back to that.”
As Nidal returned to her station, Zhatan regretted picking at the scab just as they
seemed to have moved past it, if even for just a moment.
We’re sorry, she thought, but didn’t let the words pass her lips.
“BATTLE STATIONS. Battle stations. All hands, battle stations.”
As quick as the tubolift was, to the captain it wasn’t fast enough. He burst onto the bridge and was at the command chair in four steps. Uhura had been behind him but by the time he turned to look, she was at her station.
“Hail them, Lieutenant. Warn them off.”
“Aye, sir.”
Sulu was already at the helm when Kirk stepped off the lift, and he’d likely been there since calling red alert.
“No reply on any channel, sir,” Uhura told him.
He didn’t think there would be. “Tactical,” Kirk ordered, and the main viewscreen switched to a graphical view of their relative position and the hostiles around them.
Hundreds of hostiles. Incoming.
At the center of the screen was an icon indicating the Enterprise. Spread out before them, hundreds of small dots, maneuvering wildly closer.
“Identification?”
“None,” Jolma said, his voice just this side of panic. “I mean, unknown, sir.”
“Evasive, Sulu?”
“Unsuccessful. They blocked our path—accelerating toward us.”
“How many exactly?” the captain asked.
“Sensors indicate,” Jolma paused to check, “two hundred and seven, sir. Power signatures similar to the Kenisian vessel.”
That was not a surprise. Kirk looked back to the young man at the first officer’s usual station. He considered replacing the ensign with Chekov, but wanted to keep his best navigator in place. Every officer was once a raw bundle of nerves. Jolma’s training would compensate.
“Life-signs?” Kirk asked.
Peering deep into the sensor cowl, Jolma shook his head. “No readings. Could be shielded. Would be cramped, though. Each is spheroid, just over three meters in diameter. Mass is twenty-five thousand, two hundred kilograms.”
A lot of mass in a small package.
“They’re highly energized,” Sulu added, subtly reminding Jolma that the captain didn’t hear the ensign’s first report because he wasn’t on the bridge.
“And very fast,” Chekov said.
“I don’t read weapons.” Jolma turned and looked to Kirk, who shook his head.
Crisis of Consciousness Page 14
