Sulu had then taken Pytheas into orbit, to the coordinates specified by Linojj. He and his team saw nothing there, but they held the padd up to the viewport, as instructed. They allowed it to play through once, and then a second time.
Just after they’d begun a third playback, a probe had appeared before them, as though it had just emerged from behind some hidden fold in space. It sent a transmission to the shuttlecraft, and specifically to Captain Hikaru Sulu, informing him that Linojj had read his message. In her response, she expressed surprise and satisfaction at the news of his crew’s survival, as well as concern for Enterprise’s own missing officers. She also asked what she could send through the portal to the Excelsior crew, most especially to aid in the medical care of her captain.
From there, Sulu had begun a dialogue with Linojj, starting with all of Chapel’s requests for medical equipment and supplies. He then told the Enterprise first officer about his daughter’s final words to him. He suspected that Demora’s reference to “Ad Ja Harr’man” had been to her former captain, John Harriman. Linojj agreed, and said that she would pass along the message to him, despite its inscrutable—and possibly nonsensical—content.
That had taken place three days earlier. Within twelve hours of informing the Enterprise first officer of Demora’s message, Linojj had received a response from Admiral Harriman’s posting, Helaspont Station. His reply was brief: “Maintain position and initiate subspace radio silence. Continue to support all Starfleet personnel lost on the other side of the portal. Help is on the way.”
As Sulu regarded the unconscious and badly wounded form of Demora from across the shuttlecraft cabin, he could only hope that the help Harriman spoke of would arrive in time to save his daughter.
♦ ♦ ♦
Acting Captain Xintal Linojj had wanted the ship’s entire senior staff—other than Commander Buonarroti, who remained otherwise occupied—to attend the meeting, but she sat at the conference table in Enterprise’s observation lounge with just one other person: Admiral John Harriman. She hadn’t seen her former commanding officer in several years. He looked well: both his lean body and long face had filled out some, replacing the boyish quality he’d previously retained with a more mature appearance. His brown hair had gone gray, and though it had receded a bit, she thought that, together with his blue-gray eyes, it gave him a flinty countenance.
“Your chief engineer reports that preparations are nearly complete,” Harriman said. He had arrived at Rejarris II ten hours before, aboard U.S.S. Cassiopeia. Rather than its regular complement of five hundred thirty-five, it carried a skeleton crew of twenty-three, including the admiral as its commanding officer—a fact Linojj almost found suspicious, since she knew the Constellation-class vessel’s current captain, Gabe Márquez. The commander had known John Harriman a long time, though, and she trusted him. More than that, he had responded to the message she’d sent to him with greater haste than she’d expected, and she knew that he’d come to rescue Demora Sulu and Hawkins Young and the surviving crew of Excelsior.
At least, she thought she knew that. Captain Demora Sulu’s cryptic message to the admiral—that she had confirmed an “Odyssey solution”—sounded positive to her, if also slightly mysterious. And Linojj certainly couldn’t argue that those words hadn’t brought Harriman racing to Rejarris II. When she had spoken to the admiral after he’d first arrived, she’d asked about the phrase. He deftly moved the conversation in another direction without actually answering her question, and, coupled with her inability to find any Starfleet references to Odyssey in the library-computer, she concluded that the term actually carried significant—although perhaps classified—meaning.
“Once my engineers and computer technicians have transported back to the ship,” Linojj asked, “what are your orders, sir?” Upon Cassiopeia’s arrival, Harriman had enlisted a team of Enterprise personnel to assist him aboard his vessel. He had initially declined to discuss his intentions, causing Linojj to harbor paranoid delusions about Starfleet Intelligence sending him on a covert mission to destroy the portal, consequently stranding Captain Sulu, her father, and all the others on the other side permanently. Harriman’s occasional participation in SI operations had long been rumored. The admiral must have perceived her concerns, though, because he’d then volunteered that he aimed to do everything he possibly could to bring all the marooned Starfleet personnel home.
“When Commander Buonarroti and his teams return to the Enterprise,” Harriman said, “the twenty-two crew members I brought with me will transport over with them.”
Linojj felt her eyes involuntarily narrow. It sounded as though the admiral would leave Cassiopeia empty of any personnel, but a starship could not safely pilot itself, at least not for long. Even if Harriman planned to send the vessel uncrewed through the portal, and even if he had devised a ready method for Hikaru Sulu to get aboard, Linojj didn’t understand how that would allow the starship to bring its passengers home. She feared that the admiral’s “solution” to the plight of Demora Sulu, Ensign Young, and the Excelsior crew would be to provide them a vessel on which to travel, leaving them on their own to find their way home—or simply to find a comfortable place to make a new home.
Odyssey, Linojj thought. She had believed the lone reference to the word that she could find irrelevant to the current situation, but she’d read that the ancient human literary work told the story of an epic journey. Could that be what Captain Sulu intended? Linojj asked herself. Did she discover where the portal had sent her and conclude that a long starship journey could eventually get her back to the Federation?
“Once your crew and the Cassiopeia crew are aboard the Enterprise,” Harriman continued, “you are to maintain subspace silence and travel to Helaspont Station. Once you’ve offloaded the Cassiopeia crew, I want you to contact Starfleet Command and provide them with a detailed account of everything that’s happened at Rejarris Two.”
“Sir?” Linojj said. “You haven’t informed Starfleet Command already?”
“Further,” Harriman said, completely ignoring the question, “you are to deliver to Command my recommendation that the Rejarris star system should be designated a hazard to navigation and rendered off-limits to Federation traffic.”
“Yes, sir,” Linojj said, “but . . . you’re not coming with us?”
In response, Harriman looked away and shook his head, then took a deep breath. His reaction seemed completely divorced from what Linojj had just asked him. When finally he gazed back at her, he said, “Commander, I will not be returning to Helaspont Station aboard the Enterprise. I am taking the Cassiopeia through the portal in order to recover Captain Sulu—both Captains Sulu—Ensign Young, and the remaining crew of the Excelsior.”
“By yourself, Admiral?” Linojj asked, incredulous. It pleased her that Harriman obviously must have the means of reversing the direction of the portal, but the notion of one man piloting a Constellation-class starship sounded like madness. “I know it will only be a short journey through the portal, but there’s no guarantee of the conditions on the other side, or how long it will take to get the Excelsior crew aboard—or if one person can even do all of that.”
“That’s the effort that Commander Buonarroti has been leading,” Harriman said. “Once complete, I will be able to control helm, navigation, the impulse engines, and the transporter from a single station.”
“Even if you centralize control,” Linojj argued, “that’s a lot for one person to take on.”
“As you mentioned, it will only be a short journey through the portal,” Harriman said. “After I’m through and established in orbit, I will begin beaming people up to the ship, specifically bringing aboard crew who can take over all those functions from me.”
“Begging the admiral’s pardon, but it’s been more than a decade since the Excelsior crew have operated a starship.”
Harriman actually smiled, although Linojj didn’t know what she’d said that could have been considered even remotely amusing. “Xintal
,” he said, “I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve sat at the helm of a starship, but I’m confident that my training, abilities, and experience haven’t deserted me.”
“But you brought a minimal crew with you on the Cassiopeia,” Linojj noted. “Why can’t you bring them with you, simply in the interests of prudence? Or even some additional Enterprise personnel, just to ensure you don’t encounter any problems that you can’t overcome?”
Harriman did not answer immediately, and he appeared to consider what he would tell her. “Because,” he finally said, “the portal operates only in one direction.”
“Admiral, I assumed that if you chose to travel through the portal, you had a means of returning through it,” Linojj said. She glanced through the ports in the outer wall of the observation lounge, where Cassiopeia kept station nearby. At the aft end of its thick saucer section, two pair of warp nacelles connected to it, one above and one below. “Otherwise, why would you do this?”
“Because there may be another way to bring everybody home.”
Linojj thought about that. “The ‘Odyssey solution’ Captain Sulu spoke of.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Harriman said. “Please consider Sulu’s position in Starfleet and her security clearance. There is classified information that she is in possession of, that I am in possession of, that you are not, and I’m afraid it has to stay that way.”
Linojj thought about that, but one detail of the admiral’s unspecified plan troubled her more than any other. “Sir, you’ve implied that you won’t take anybody else with you aboard the Cassiopeia because there’s only a possibility that you can return. Aren’t you risking the sacrifice of your life? Your career? Your colleagues? Your friends?” She deliberately did not mention family, as she knew that he had no living blood relations; his parents had both died, all four of his grandparents, and even his lone sibling, his older sister, Lynn. “And what about Amina?”
The last question seemed to strike a nerve. “The discussion is closed,” the admiral said. He pushed back from the conference table and stood up. “Everything I’ve told you is classified.”
“You haven’t told me anything,” Linojj pointed out, frustrated. She desperately wanted to recover Demora Sulu and Hawkins Young and the Excelsior crew, but not at the risk of permanently stranding even one more person. She stood up and faced the admiral, deciding to take a chance at being charged with insubordination, relying on their personal relationship to convince him of her good intentions. She reached out to him across the corner of the conference table and placed her hand on his shoulder. “John,” she said, “please reconsider your—”
The up-and-down notes of the boatswain’s whistle interrupted her. “Bridge to Commander Linojj,” said Kanchumurthi.
She took her hand from the admiral’s shoulder and activated the intercom set into the table. “This is Linojj,” she said. “What is it, Commander?”
“Sir, there’s a Starfleet warp shuttle approaching at high speed,” Kanchumurthi said. “It’s just relayed a priority-one message from Starfleet Command.”
“Transfer it here,” Linojj said.
“There are no audio or visual components to the message,” Kanchumurthi said. “It’s text only.”
Linojj eyed Harriman, but the admiral appeared as uncomfortable with the situation as she felt. “Read it to me, then,” she said.
“ ‘Enterprise and Cassiopeia are ordered to maintain their positions until a courier arrives aboard Antilochus with new orders,’ ” Kanchumurthi read. “ ‘Signed, Admiral Los Tirasol Mentir, Chief of Starfleet Operations.’ I have verified the authenticity of the message.”
Harriman placed both hands on the table and leaned heavily on them. He looked frustrated, perhaps even angry. “Commander Kanchumurthi,” he said, “what’s the registry of the shuttle?”
After a beat, the communications officer said, “NCC-Twenty-Two-Twenty-Three, assigned to Helaspont Station.”
“One of the new shuttles,” Harriman said, more to himself than to Linojj. Then, to Tenger, “How long before it arrives?”
“At its current speed, fifty-three minutes.”
Harriman nodded. “Before the Cassiopeia will be ready to go,” he said. Again, he did not seem to be speaking to anybody but himself. “Commander Kanchumurthi, I want to be informed as soon as the shuttle is on its final approach to the Enterprise.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Keep me informed as well, Commander. Linojj out.” She deactivated the intercom, then looked to Harriman. “Do you know what that’s about, Admiral?”
“Maybe,” he said reluctantly, then amended his response: “I think I do.”
After everything that Harriman had told her—and all of the things he had not—the arrival of orders from Starfleet Operations carried by a courier raised her suspicions even higher. “Admiral,” she said, “are you conducting this mission without proper authority from Starfleet Command?” Linojj had no desire to arrest Harriman and place him in the brig, but she also could not allow a rogue operation by a lone admiral—even one she considered a friend.
“I am a part of Starfleet Command,” he said.
Stretching the purview of your admiral-at-large position just a bit, Linojj thought.
“I am acting on recognized and defensible authority.”
“Then why is a warp shuttle heading this way with new orders?” Linojj demanded, challenging him.
Harriman seemed to deflate. “I have an idea why,” he said, “but it’s not what you think it is.”
“Do you intend to follow the orders we’ve just been given, to maintain our positions?” Linojj asked. “Do you intend to follow the new orders when they arrive?”
“I’ll keep the Cassiopeia here and wait for the orders,” Harriman said. “I don’t want to hang any of this on you, Xintal.”
“That’s not what this is about,” Linojj snapped back, her voice rising. She took a moment to calm herself. “I’m sorry, Admiral, but this isn’t about me. It’s about you running a rogue mission and putting lives in danger.”
“One life,” Harriman admitted. “My life.”
“It doesn’t matter that it’s your life,” Linojj contended. “You are a Starfleet asset. We need you.”
“Right now, Demora needs me,” Harriman said quietly. “And Hikaru.”
“John, don’t you think I want to bring them back, too?” Linojj asked him.
“Of course you do,” he said. “Listen, right now, my orders to you still stand. We’ll also obey Admiral Mentir and wait for our new orders. Then we’ll go from there.”
“I don’t need to lock you up in the brig, do I, Admiral?” Linojj asked him.
“Not yet,” Harriman said, and the quick smile he offered returned a boyishness to his face. “But I’ll let you know when you do.”
Linojj left the admiral in the observation lounge so that he could contact the crews aboard Cassiopeia. The Enterprise’s first officer headed for the bridge. Despite Harriman’s assurances, she realized that she could not possibly predict what actions he would take in the next couple of hours.
♦ ♦ ♦
Harriman waited outside the airlock door, tapping one hand anxiously against the side of his leg. He had trouble sorting out all of the emotions he felt: disappointment, anger, frustration . . . and, of course, love. He knew that when Antilochus’s hatch opened in Enterprise’s hangar deck, a Starfleet officer would disembark carrying orders from the chief of Starfleet Operations—orders that Amina had made happen, and that would unquestionably seek to prevent him from attempting to recover Demora Sulu and the other Starfleet personnel trapped on the other side of the portal. He understood why Amina needed to stop him—she loved him and he loved her, and they had built a strong, happy life together—but he couldn’t believe that she had acted on that need.
Beside the airlock door, an indicator light switched from red to green, signifying that he could safely enter the hangar bay. He tapped a
control, and the door opened before him. He stepped past it and waited for it to close. Through the rounded, rectangular port in the second door, he saw the warp shuttle sitting in the middle of the landing deck, its hatch folding down to form an access ramp. He worked a control and the airlock door glided open with a mechanical thunk.
Harriman strode quickly along the marked gangway that led to the shuttle. He had made it halfway to Antilochus when the officer conveying new orders to him from Admiral Mentir appeared at the top of the access ramp. It was Amina.
“John,” she said when she saw him, her eyebrows lifting in obvious surprise.
Harriman marched the rest of the way to the shuttle as Amina descended the ramp. They met just as she stepped onto the deck. She held a padd in one hand. “What have you done?” he demanded, taken aback by the ire he heard in his own voice. He also identified something else that he felt: betrayed.
Amina regarded him coolly. She stood just a couple of centimeters taller than he, and she stared levelly at him, her dark eyes deep and alive, but also wary. “Permission to come aboard, Admiral,” she finally said, her tone flat despite the archness of her words.
“There’s nothing funny about this,” Harriman told her.
“No, John, there isn’t,” Amina said. “These are our lives. This is our life together.”
“And so you went to Mentir to stop me?” he said. “How could you?” He turned and walked several steps away, his frustrations mounting. He spun back around to face her, raising his arms beseechingly. “You know that I have no choice but to do what I’m doing.”
“We always have choices, John,” Amina said. “And no, I don’t completely know what it is that you’re doing because you can’t or won’t tell me. But if I’m supposed to know that you have to do this, then how can you accuse me of trying to thwart you? You’ve known me for as long as I’ve known you—almost twenty years now. If I’m supposed to know you, then shouldn’t you know me, too?”
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