“How do you know you can trust me?” he asked her.
With an expression of angry defiance, Marinta tugged back her hood, grabbed Kirk’s right hand, placed it on her face as she positioned her own hand on Kirk’s katra points.
There in the street, surrounded by shoppers, watched by gawkers, she gave the ancient incantation.
“My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts…”
Kirk felt the familiar onslaught of telepathic contact. “But you’re Romulan…” he gasped.
“Our minds are one,” Marinta intoned.
And then Kirk felt his thoughts and her thoughts entwine and blend and both participants shared the presence of Spock in their lives and their minds.
He was the common ground that bound them together.
The common ground that let Marinta know she could trust Kirk, that let Kirk know he could trust her-a Romulan who believed in the unification of her people and Vulcans, who had worked for that cause, worked for Spock, trained in the Vulcan disciplines, and found within her mind the ancient talents that reached back through time to when Romulans and Vulcans had been one and the same.
Kirk broke the contact. He had seen and sensed just enough, and felt no need to progress to greater depths of intimacy.
But one clear emotion rang loud and true as he took his hand from Marinta’s face.
“You loved him….”
She didn’t deny it.
And then a spotlight blasted down on them from overhead and Kirk heard amplified voices bellow: “Outworlders, remain where you are. You are under detention.”
The authorities had arrived.
Authorities who could not be trusted.
16
U.S.S. ENTERPRISE 1701-E, MERCURY
STARDATE 58564.6
They all wore medical monitors now. No one was allowed to move through the Enterprise unescorted. By order of Provisional Starfleet Command, Mercury, three crew must be present at all times. Anyone found alone or with only one other companion was subject to be stunned on sight.
In the awkward silence of the turbolift, Riker voiced his disapproval. “This is unacceptable.”
Picard kept his eyes straight ahead. “I agree.” He sighed. “But given that we’re dealing with shapeshifters, can you think of any other way to ensure our security?”
Riker shook his head. Troi placed her hand on his arm.
He knew she meant it to be comforting, but the gesture did the opposite. All Riker could see was the white manacle his wife wore on her wrist. They were all captives. What made it worse was that they were captives by their own choice.
The turbolift doors swept open onto the bridge of the Enterprise. Picard nodded to the three security personnel stationed between the turbolift alcoves, and Riker was appalled at how easily and automatically he and Picard and Troi raised their right wrists to show that their monitors were still in place, establishing their somatic continuity.
“We’re going to the ready room,” Picard told the lieutenant leading the security detail.
The lieutenant nodded as if giving permission.
Riker knew it was useless to object, or even comment.
In the ready room, La Forge, Crusher, and Worf were waiting.
There was an empty chair beside them and it brought Riker a pang of loss as he thought of Data. The android’s absence was deeply felt. The knowledge that he had sacrificed his existence to save Picard’s life gave some solace, but not enough.
La Forge stood to greet Riker with a handshake. “You’re looking well, Captain.”
“A new spinal cord will do that,” Riker said. He turned to his Klingon friend, now in a regulation Starfleet uniform. “Worf.”
“Captain.”
The two men had exchanged a wealth of emotion with those two words, both pleased to see each other again. Both glad that whatever the overwhelming menace facing the Federation in these dark days, at least they were confronting it together.
Then Riker gave a small smile to Doctor Crusher as he saw the medical tricorder in her hand. “Shouldn’t you be off duty?” he asked. “You pronounced me cured six hours ago.”
Crusher shut the tricorder. “It never hurts to be cautious.”
Picard took his seat behind his desk. The others recognized that as a sign Picard’s meeting had started, found chairs.
“To begin,” Picard said, “any questions regarding our orders?”
“Are we allowed to question them?” La Forge asked. He said it as if making a joke, but Riker knew there was truth in those words.
Picard clearly recognized that truth as well. He treated La Forge’s comment seriously.
“Geordi, Starfleet has never faced such an overwhelming threat. The enemy doesn’t have a fleet we can attack, no homeworld we can isolate. We don’t even know how they move from one location to another. They have no weapons systems we can target, or even create defenses against. Fighting them is… like fighting smoke.”
Riker understood all that. He was certain everyone in the room did. But prosecuting a war wasn’t his objective right now. Neither was it Starfleet’s.
“My concern,” Riker said, “is that I don’t believe our current orders are sustainable.”
“Probably not,” Picard agreed. “Not in the long run. But we do need to secure ourselves.”
“With a systemwide embargo?” Riker asked in frustration. “Isn’t that the obvious purpose of these attacks? To shut down interstellar traffic?”
“And in that they have been successful,” Picard said.
“Then aren’t we simply helping the enemy achieve what they set out to do?” Riker asked. “I’m reluctant to take a course of action that’s been dictated by whoever’s attacking us.”
Picard didn’t offer an argument, which made Riker guess his mentor didn’t have one.
Instead, Picard asked a question of his own. “What would you suggest, Will?”
Riker had to consciously shake off his reluctance to confront his old friend as an equal. He had been Picard’s executive officer for more than a decade, and old habits died hard. But now they were two starship captains, face to face.
Riker spoke his mind.
“The first thing I suggest is that we don’t give up. We don’t do what the enemy wants us to do. Ending interstellar travel… putting a shipping embargo around every system… that’s the same as cowering in a cave.”
Riker paused to give Picard a chance to respond, but Picard kept his silence.
Riker continued.
“To start with, according to Doctor Muirhead’s analysis, we have at our disposal dozens of ships with outmoded warp cores that presumably won’t be affected by whatever’s causing the malfunctions for at least a week. Let’s use them to make the enemy attack at a time and place of our choosing, so we can fully analyze their tactics and technology.”
Riker paused again and this time Picard did have a question.
“How do you propose we invite such an attack?”
“Use the Titan as bait,” Riker said. “Install a new-model warp core, ferry her out to interstellar space, then we’ll power it up while surrounded by other ships, sensors at full resolution.”
Picard dismissed the idea. “We’ve lost too many ships already. Even with only impulse propulsion, the Titan is crucial to maintaining the embargo around this system.”
“The Titan won’t be in danger, Jean-Luc. We already know her core-ejection system works. At worst, we lose another core. At best, we figure out how the enemy manages to attack.”
“And then what?” Picard asked.
Riker looked at his other friends in the room, saw no signs of support or of disapproval. Everyone, even Troi, appeared willing to let the two captains have their discussion uninterrupted.
Riker proceeded with his explanation. “If we learn something from the attack, then we have a starting point for developing a defense.”
“And if we learn nothing more than what we’ve already learned from eyewitn
ess accounts and sensor logs from hundreds of other attacks, what happens then, Will?”
Riker had seen this sharpness in Picard before, but never directed at him.
Picard answered his own question. “There’s a strong possibility that by the time your plan could be put into effect, the escort vessels with their outmoded warp cores will finally have become vulnerable. In which case, we’ll have another handful of ships lost to us, stranded between the stars, needing years if not decades to reach port at slower-than-light velocities.
“And each ship we lose like that is one ship fewer to defend this system. To defend Earth.”
“Defend against what?” Riker asked, and he instantly regretted raising his voice.
Picard’s response was swift.
“Romulan warbirds are not affected. The theorists believe that the transwarp conduits used by the Borg are not affected. Those are two enemies of the Federation that’ll be able to travel faster than light, and we can’t discount the possibility that there are others-either those responsible for the attacks, or those eager to exploit our new weakness.”
Riker didn’t want to argue. He only wanted a discussion of the facts. Careful to keep his tone calm and reasonable, he began again.
“All right, Jean-Luc, let’s see where Command’s plan leads us. We set up an embargo around the system, ostensibly to keep the enemy from reaching us. We have the Titan, the Enterprise, a hundred other ships, all take up stations in the Oort Cloud, ready to intercept and check every vessel that comes our way.”
Picard nodded, confirming what Riker knew: The scenario matched the general idea of Starfleet’s strategy.
“If we do that,” Riker said evenly, “Romulan warbirds will drop out of warp at the orbit of Mars and attack Earth while our ships are still light-hours away. Is Command really willing to risk that possibility?”
Picard responded with the same measured calculation, appearing equally reluctant to argue with his former officer, as if he, too, regretted the momentary tension that had flared between them.
“You’re forgetting that other ships are on picket duty at every major facility in the system. If the Romulans do decide to attack, Starfleet Intelligence believes it could take them months to organize. We’ll use those months to build our own singularity-drive vessels.”
Picard paused as if considering how much more to reveal, then added, “A crash program to perfect warp-conduit drive is also under way. Command is confident that within two years, we’ll have regained interstellar capability.”
“Two years of hiding,” Riker said. It was hard to keep the disappointment from his voice. “Leaving ourselves open to whatever the next step is that the enemy has planned.”
Picard regarded him sternly, offered his own interpretation. “Two years to rebuild our fleet so we can face the enemy on more equal terms.”
The two captains studied each other in silence for a few moments. Picard glanced at the others in the room. “Feel free to add your thoughts to the debate.”
Worf didn’t hesitate. “Captain Riker is correct. The only way to meet this attack is with a counterattack, while we still have the resources to do so.”
La Forge sounded almost apologetic. “I think we should attempt to draw out the enemy, too. Two years is way too optimistic for thinking we’ll be able to duplicate the Romulan drive. We don’t even know how they contain their nanoscale singularities. And there’s speculation that they don’t manufacture the singularities, they capture them. That means we’ll have to have a different form of interstellar propulsion to go hunting for singularities in order to develop the Romulan version.” La Forge shrugged. “From an engineering standpoint, I think we’re looking at anywhere from ten to twenty years to achieve that goal.”
“However long it takes,” Doctor Crusher added, “at least we’ll be safe.”
Everyone looked at her, waiting for her to explain her statement.
“All the enemy has done is take away our ability to travel at warp. Even in those systems where no warp capability at all exists, we haven’t heard of any follow-on attacks. So maybe that’s all the enemy wants. They’ve achieved it. And now they’ll leave us alone.”
Riker couldn’t blame Crusher for preferring a strategy that might lead to lower casualties, but he knew she was wrong. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I think that’s a naive assumption.”
Then Riker heard Troi take a deep breath and knew what was coming. She did that in preparation for all the times she disagreed with him.
“On the contrary,” Troi said, “I think Starfleet’s taken the correct approach.” She spoke directly to Riker-not as his wife, but as a Starfleet officer. “I understand your frustration.” She turned to Worf. “And I understand the need to feel as if we’re doing something, striking back.” She looked to La Forge. “And I know that Starfleet’s schedule for developing a totally new system of faster-than-light propulsion is based as much on optimism as on reality.
“But Captain Picard’s right. We don’t have the resources to embark on a risky plan that, in addition to just not working, might result in losing more ships.”
She saved her summation for Riker. “The enemy’s intent seems to have been to keep us out of interstellar space. As hard as it is to admit it, they succeeded. But as Beverly reminded us, there’s no indication of any follow-on attacks on individual worlds. So let’s bide our time, rebuild our fleet, and strike back when we’re fully prepared-from a position of strength, and not desperation.”
Riker knew there was no point in continuing. Picard might have been swayed if those present had been in agreement. But a three-three tie among people Picard knew and trusted, with strong arguments on both sides, was a recipe for staying with the original plan.
He nodded at Doctor Crusher, repeated the same words she had said to him when he had entered the ready room. “It never hurts to be cautious.”
Worf grunted, letting the others know exactly what he thought of that particular sentiment.
Picard laid the subject to rest. “I promise you, Will-if the malfunctions stop spreading to the older cores, leaving us with at least some warp capability, I’ll present your plan to Command. We should know in two weeks or so.”
In the end, Riker knew, he and Picard weren’t equals. Picard was part of the Provisional Starfleet Command. Riker wasn’t.
“Thank you,” Riker said.
He gave Troi a smile of resignation, saw the questioning look in her eyes, and not for the first time was relieved that though his Betazoid wife could sense his emotions, she couldn’t read his mind.
17
THE GATEWAY, VULCAN
STARDATE 58564.6
For Kirk, this was not a question of mere survival.
It didn’t matter if Marinta had been claimed by paranoia and the arriving Vulcan authorities were legitimate. It didn’t matter if every word she’d spoken was true. Either way, Kirk knew that if he allowed himself to be captured here and now, Joseph would be lost to him.
So his goal was simple.
He would not be captured.
He held one hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the glare of the overhead spotlight, scanned the confused onlookers who dropped back unprotesting as the Vulcan security officers moved forward, encircling their prey. There was no break in that circle. No logical escape.
Which meant only the illogical was left.
Kirk grabbed Marinta by the arm to keep her by his side, then rushed the closest officer, shouting at him to Move! Move! Move!
The Vulcan hesitated, startled by Kirk’s unpredictable response. That momentary lapse, only a heartbeat in length, gave Kirk his advantage. He swung up his elbow and clipped the surprised Vulcan’s helmet, sending him spinning.
Maintaining their momentum, Kirk propelled Marinta through the shop door in front of him, and at once they were enveloped in the cloying scents of ripe fruit and animal droppings.
They were halfway down the first aisle of counters displaying local sandberrie
s when Kirk heard the first hum of a phaser beam. Its warbling pitch told Kirk it was set to stun.
Instantly, he dove to the side, pulling Marinta with him, both of them sliding behind a teetering stack of net crates kept upright by a battered antigrav cargo loader.
More phaser beams buzzed through the air and now Kirk could hear cries of confusion in languages other than Vulcan as customers scattered for cover.
A small explosion flashed on the other side of the sprawling shop and instantly the overhead glow fixtures went out. Kirk decided that another phaser blast must have hit a power node.
Now the only light came through the doorway and window slats facing the outdoor marketplace, reducing the Vulcan security officers to ominous silhouettes against the pale orange illumination of the filtered streetglows. The officers were in constant motion, attempting to intercept and check each escaping customer.
Kirk touched Marinta’s arm, signaling to her to move with him deeper into the shop, behind another row of display tables.
From their new hiding place, Kirk looked up to see thin shafts of blue light spike through the loose boards of the ceiling. The shafts were slowly changing their angle as whatever flying craft they originated from took station over the shop. From the movements of the light, it was clear the craft was positioning itself to hover directly over them. Somehow, they were being scanned.
It was time for a new strategy. Then the sound of mewling startled Kirk. It came from somewhere near the shopkeeper’s desk. He glanced back to see two Tiburons huddled there, their pale, bald heads glistening. Behind them, a wall of small cages held hungry, insistent domestic sehlat cubs, each no larger than an Earth puppy. This was a pet distribution outlet; the fruit was animal feed.
The new strategy came to Kirk at once. He held out his hand to Marinta, whispered urgently, “Your IDIC.”
Whatever training she’d received, Vulcan or not, Kirk appreciated that it had been thorough. Without hesitation, Marinta handed him the simple metal trinket that was in reality a sophisticated biosign generator.
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