by David Stern
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Pike asked Spock.
“No,” Spock said. “I wished to inform you that your logs have been confiscated by Admiral Noguchi.”
Pike nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“It does not?” Spock looked surprised; so did Number One.
“No.” Not given what he’d told Noguchi earlier about Kritos and Hexar. And speaking of Kritos …
He turned and saw Yang—skin several shades paler than it had been earlier—backing away from the Klingon.
He also saw Dmitri—who had been talking to Hardin and her security team—walking straight toward him.
“I cannot help but overhear,” Vlasidovich said, looking just as angry as Kritos had earlier, “that computer aboard Enterprise is bugged? Is this true?”
“Yes,” Pitcairn said.
“No,” Spock said.
“Why was I not informed of this?”
Pike’s officers were silent.
A slow, strained smile broke out on Dmitri’s face. After four years at Starfleet Academy together, two of them as roommates, Pike had become an expert at reading the wide variety of his friend’s smiles. This one was the “I’m so angry I do not trust myself to talk” kind.
“It doesn’t sound like something anyone was sure of, Dmitri,” Pike said, trying to smooth things over. “Now, Number One, what was it you wanted to tell me?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “You’ll recall before you left for the Orion ship, I had drawn your attention to a structure on the surface of Fifty-five-Hamilton—”
“You’re talking about Building Eight,” Pike said.
Number One blinked. “Yes.”
“Kronos,” Pike said. “You found out about it.”
She looked at him, then over at Spock. “Yes,” she said.
“Kronos?” Dmitri frowned. “What is this Kronos?”
“What we were investigating on the planet’s surface, Captain,” Number One said.
“Another thing you do not tell me about. Is there perhaps more?” Dmitri, Pike could see, was on the verge of blowing up again. That wouldn’t do. “Some other bit of information you might see fit to share with your commanding officer, although perhaps you think that since Captain Pike is back—”
“Not for long,” Pike interrupted.
Everyone turned to him.
“Sir?” Number One asked.
“I’m not staying. Captain Kritos and I still have work to do.” He gestured over his shoulder at Black Snow.
“Work?” Dmitri frowned. “What kind of work?”
“Not work at all. Pleasure.” Kritos bared his teeth. “Vengeance.”
“You are going back to the Orion ship,” Dmitri said.
“Exactly.”
“Back to Karkon’s Wing ?” Chief Pitcairn asked. “Why?”
“As I said, there is blood to spill.” Kritos glared at Spock. “Green blood.”
“I must point out that Orion blood is red, Captain Kritos,” Spock said.
Kritos growled.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Pitcairn said. “Why are you going back to the Orion ship?”
“Because they’re the ones who attacked Starbase Eighteen,” Pike said.
“The Orions?” Pitcairn looked doubtful. “Sir, are you forgetting that recording from the command tower—Commodore Higueras, the two Klingon warbirds …”
Kritos growled again.
“Make as much noise as you want,” Pitcairn snapped. “The facts are—”
“Not facts,” Pike said.
“Sir?” Pitcairn asked.
“Those sensor readings—they weren’t real. They were images created by the Orion vessel.”
“Ah.” Spock nodded. “That would explain—”
“The Orions created sensor images sophisticated enough to fool our instruments?” Pitcairn asked. “How?”
“I don’t know. Which is why we’re going back,” Pike said.
Kritos cleared his throat. A reminder.
“Sorry. One of the reasons we’re going back,” Pike clarified.
“And the other?” Dmitri asked.
Pike sensed Kritos tense behind him. “This is private,” the Klingon said.
“You’re going to have to tell them about it at some point.”
The Klingon growled.
At that instant, the shuttlebay doors opened, and Yeoman Colt entered, carrying a tray full of food. Pike saw the steaks—smelled the steaks—and smiled.
“Yeoman,” he said, stepping forward out of the crowd. “Over here.”
Colt saw him, and her eyes went wide as saucers.
Nobody had told her, Pike realized.
“Captain Pike,” she said, and her mouth dropped open.
Then she dropped the tray. Then she fainted.
TWENTY-TWO
They salvaged the steaks. Yang gave Colt a hypo, and she woke up, red-faced and apologetic. She looked at Captain Pike and started to cry. Then she excused herself. Spock left with her, going to get a second round of drinks from the crew’s mess. When he got back, Captain Pike and Kritos were sitting on top of one of the ship’s cargo containers, plates on their laps, eating with gusto. He brought them their beverages.
“Should we not have a table brought in?” Captain Vlasidovich said. “Ship’s services can do easily.”
“Not necessary,” Pike said. “We’re almost finished here.”
As if on cue, Kritos set his plate down on the floor and belched loudly.
“Salutations to your chef, Vlasidovich,” the Klingon said, standing. “And to the animal who died to provide my food. A good death.”
“I will tell the former, to be sure,” Vlasidovich said. “The chef is Captain Pike’s man.”
“Yes. Of course.” Kritos nodded. “Will you two duel for command of Enterprise now?”
The two captains looked at each other, then both laughed.
“No. That’s not how we do things in Starfleet,” Pike said.
“Except at Academy.” Captain Vlasidovich smiled. “Golding simulation. You remember, Christopher?”
“How could I forget? Loman kicked your ass.”
“After he kicked yours.”
“No, first Michaela kicked mine.” The two men smiled again.
Number One frowned; she looked confused. Spock was confused as well.
“I do not recall any Golding simulation at the Academy,” Spock said.
“Before your time.” Chief Pitcairn turned to Captain Pike. “Come on, sir. Finish the story. How did you survive?”
“Luck. Plain and simple,” Pike said. “The torpedo blew out Magellan ’s starboard port, took half the pilot’s console with it as well. I managed to lower the radiation shield on that side of the shuttle just before the power went. That kept me from getting sucked out into space. And then …” He nodded toward Kritos. “He showed up.”
“That’s quite a coincidence,” Number One said, echoing Spock’s own thoughts.
“No coincidence at all,” Kritos growled.
“You were tracking the Orions,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Starbase Eighteen,” he said. “I knew they were responsible.”
“So this is why you stole Black Snow? To follow them?” Captain Vlasidovich asked.
“Yes.”
“And while you were following the Orions, you came on Captain Pike,” Number One said.
“Yes. Exactly.” Kritos bared his teeth—in a smile, Spock realized—and slapped Captain Pike on the back. “Lucky for you, Pike! Lucky for you!”
“Excuse me, sir,” Spock said to Captain Pike. “After the torpedo attack, you were able to restore atmospheric integrity within the shuttle?”
“No. I was not.”
Spock frowned. “I do not understand, then. In the time before Captain Kritos rescued you, how were you able to—”
“Breathe?” Pike pulled something out from the pouch on his belt; it
took Spock a second to recognize it.
“A bronchial shunt.”
“Yes. Dr. Boyce had brought along a spare for Ben. Commander Tuval.”
The mention of the missing officers abruptly changed the mood in the room.
“The other members of the landing party, sir,” Number One began. “Do we know if any—”
“We were in the middle of a—a reception of sorts when everything fell apart. When I lost contact with you.” Pike shook his head. “I lost sight of Lieutenant Hoto. I don’t know what happened to her. Smith and Ross I saw die with my own eyes. Ben …” Pike nodded grimly to himself. “He’s gone, too.”
“And Collins?” Number One asked. “Dr. Boyce?”
Pike was silent a moment. “That,” he said finally, “I’m not sure about.”
“You think they might still be alive?” Chief Pitcairn asked.
“Possibly.”
“Almost certainly, in my opinion,” Spock said.
“And why is that?” Captain Vlasidovich asked.
“Because of Kronos.”
“Again with this Kronos.” Vlasidovich looked at him and then at Captain Pike. “I believe it is time for me to find out what exactly this word means.”
“Yes,” Pike said. “I believe it is.”
Then the captain, to Spock’s puzzlement, looked at Kritos.
The Klingon looked down at the ground. “I do not wish to speak of this,” he said.
Pike laid a hand on Kritos’s shoulder. “This is private. What you’re concerned about, it’ll go no further than the five of us.”
Spock glanced around the little circle they’d formed—Pike and Vlasidovich, himself, Number One, and Chief Pitcairn.
“I give you my word,” said Pike.
“If Christopher Pike gives his word …” Vlasidovich shrugged. “You have mine, too.”
“And mine,” Number One said.
Pitcairn nodded. “Yeah. Same goes for me, I guess.”
“I, too, give my word, Captain Kritos,” Spock said, “and you may rest assured that Vulcans do not swear such oaths lightly. However, I must add the proviso that should the information you reveal regarding Project Kronos turn out to be information that if allowed to remain secret could potentially cost lives, there is the probability that I would come to you and ask to be released from my oath, so that—”
“Mr. Spock?” Pike interrupted.
“Yes, sir.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Spock looked at the captain. There was something odd going on here. “Project Kronos, sir,” he said.
“Yes,” Pike said. “I understand that. But what sort of danger were you referring to?”
Kritos was looking at him now as well, also looking perplexed.
“The danger inherent in any sort of biological-warfare program, sir.”
Pike’s eyes went wide. “Biological warfare?”
Kritos’s eyes went wider. “Biological warfare?”
He cursed so quickly that the translator couldn’t keep up. He used words Spock hadn’t heard since working as an interpreter during some of the more sensitive sessions of the Gorengar negotiations.
“This conversation is ended,” Kritos said, backing away. “Our truce is ended, Pike. You have been lying to me.”
“Whoa,” Pike said. “Easy. Explain why you think biological warfare is involved, please, Mr. Spock.”
Spock—aided by Number One, who had done most of the research involved, after all—did so.
They’d barely gotten started before Captain Pike cut them off, shaking his head. “You jumped to conclusions,” he said.
“Kronos is not about biological warfare?” Spock asked.
“Good Lord, no,” Pike said.
“Then why all the secrecy?” Number One asked.
“It’s a very controversial program,” Pike said. “The Empire thought it best to proceed behind closed doors, which I understand entirely.” He nodded toward Kritos, who had calmed down visibly once more. “Apparently, the Council felt the same.”
“Federation Council?” Captain Vlasidovich asked.
“Yes.”
Spock was well and truly confused now. “Sir. Kronos, if it does not refer to biological weaponry designed for battle against the Klingons, then what—”
Pike looked to Kritos once more. “Will you explain?”
“Bah. I am a warrior, not a scientist.” The Klingon looked around the circle, as if daring any of them to defy that assertion.
“We understand that,” Pike said.
Captain Vlasidovich nodded. “Yes. Your reputation precedes you.”
Kritos furrowed his brow. “Vlasidovich of Excalibur ? Are you mocking me?”
“No, Captain. Not at all.”
The Klingon glared a moment longer. “Very well,” he said, and stood a little straighter. “Kronos. It is the brainchild of scientists. Doctors and geneticists. Chemists and biologists.” He uttered a disparaging term then, one that the computer translated as “lab coats.” Close enough, Spock supposed, although the term as he understood it from his service as an interpreter had a considerably “earthier” meaning.
The Klingon language database, Spock reflected, needed updating.
“It is biology, Vulcan. You were right about that. But not warfare. It is about the helix.”
“The helix,” Spock said. “You refer to DNA. Genetic material.”
“Yes. Project Kronos is all about the helix. About the fact that between you and you”—Kritos pointed to Spock and Pike—“and between you and me”—he pointed to Pitcairn and then himself—“the helix is much the same.”
“Virtually identical,” Spock said. “A fact to which I owe my very existence.”
“Meaning what?” Kritos asked.
“Meaning I am half-Vulcan, Captain. The other part of me is human. I am the product of cross-breeding between species, which would not be possible without a remarkable degree of genetic congruence. Am I to understand that Kronos is an attempt to utilize those genetic similarities—”
“Wait a second,” Chief Pitcairn said. “You mean Kronos is a breeding experiment?”
“No!” Kritos snapped.
Spock shook his head. “That is not what I was suggesting, Chief.”
Pitcairn looked confused. “Then what …”
Captain Pike cleared his throat. “As I understand it, Kronos is—was—an attempt to pool our knowledge about the DNA we all share. To use what we’ve each learned—about diseases, aging, and mutation—to set up a common database, to see if we can’t help each other find ways to treat some of the more difficult medical conditions. Do I have it right, Captain?”
Kritos nodded. “Yes. Basically.”
“Geez.” Pitcairn shook his head. “What’s the big deal about that? Why all the secrecy?”
“Chief.” Captain Vlasidovich shook his head. “You must remember, there are reactionary forces within the Federation. Those who would prefer not a common agenda but one in which voice of mankind is first. And loudest. To suggest we and our enemies are one and the same—”
“Exactly.” Kritos and Vlasidovich stared at each other.
“Well. Now that we know what Kronos was,” Number One said, “why did the Orions destroy it?”
“Yeah,” Pitcairn chimed in. “And how’d they find out about it in the first place?”
“That’s a good question, Chief.” Pike smiled. “It’ll be at the top of my list when I talk to Liyan. As for why they destroyed it, they didn’t. Not entirely, at least.”
“Not entirely.” Pitcairn shook his head. “What’s that mean?”
“They stole it. Parts of it, anyway. Personnel, equipment—”
“Personnel? You mean there are survivors?” Number One said.
Pike glanced over at Kritos, who frowned and looked away.
“Absolutely,” Pike said.
Spock waited for him to elaborate, but the captain did not.
Kritos, meanwhile
, was still looking down at the ground. Shifting his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the topic being discussed. Very interesting.
“Well, this explains their interest in Dr. Boyce,” Pitcairn said. “They needed him to operate that equipment.”
“That’s what I think,” Pike said.
“That’s why you think he’s still alive.” Pitcairn shook his head. “Crazy. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get him. Go get what they stole.”
Silence greeted the chief’s remarks.
“We can’t do that, Chief,” Pike said.
“Why not? Last time I looked, somebody attacks you, you got every legal and moral right—”
“May I remind you Klingons have armada, Chief Pitcairn,” Captain Vlasidovich said. “Waiting within Adelson. The second we cross into Borderland—”
“You can tell ’em why we’re going, though.” Pitcairn turned to Kritos. “Right?”
Kritos glared at him.
“Not right, Chief,” Pike said. “Kritos is persona non grata with the Empire right now.”
“Right. I forgot. Black Snow.” The chief glanced over his shoulder at the cloaking device.
“Is clear what needs to be done,” Vlasidovich said. “What I am not understanding, Captains, why are you here now? What brings you back to Enterprise ?”
Pike smiled. “Besides the steak, you mean?”
“Yes.” Vlasidovich smiled as well. “And pleasure of my company, of course.”
“The Orion vessel,” Kritos said.
“What about the Orion vessel?” Vlasidovich said.
“The situation there is difficult.”
“Elaborate, please.”
“Difficult,” Kritos said, a little louder. “Complex. Complicated.”
“How so?”
“There’s fighting aboard the ship. Two separate incidents we’ve witnessed while flying alongside,” Captain Pike said, stepping between the two of them. “Widespread the first time. Much shorter the second.”
“Fighting aboard the ship?” Number One said.
“Picked up some chatter, too. The tallith—Liyan—is apparently not as popular as she would have us believe.”
“So you need reinforcements, sir,” Number One said.
“Yes.”
“And the Klingon vessel is only a two-person craft.”
Pike nodded. “Exactly.”
“Ah. You need bigger ship,” Vlasidovich said.
