STAR TREK: TOS - Final Frontier

by Diane Carey

  “It’s the nature of the malfunctions that bothers me, Captain.” George pressed. “We squeaked out of the first one with luck and a toothpick, and we’re not out of this one yet. I’m saying this ship is pure platinum to the Romulans. If they’ve been infiltrating Starfleet—”

  “Spies? No ...”

  [154] “If they have,” George insisted, “then they already know about the starship and it would be inconceivable for them not to try to get her. Deny that.”

  “I’m not denying that part. But the people who worked on this vessel and those who are on it now have been cleared and cleared and cleared. You and Drake are the least cleared people we have.” He swung a finger from George on one side of him to Drake on the other. “George, this isn’t the time to argue about it. We have a bigger problem to deal with,” April added.

  “I’m telling you it’s all the wretched same problem.”

  April gave him a small please-back-off nod and shifted again in the chair. He felt as if he was sitting on spikes. Pain pounded in his back and legs, as though his wounded head sought to displace the responsibility. He pressed a clammy hand against his knee and fought to keep control. “Carlos, ship’s status, please.”

  “Warp drive down, no word of degree or of repair progress yet ... sensors and deflectors under repair ... short-range sensors almost available ... and the Romulans demanded that we identify ourselves and our intent,” Florida said.

  “And what did we say to them?”

  “We didn’t give our identity,” the helmsman answered. “We told them we were in their space by mistake and will get out as soon as we fix ourselves ... and that we’d defend ourselves without hesitation.”

  April slouched back and rubbed his face with one hand.

  “Oh, George,” he moaned.

  “Just dealing with the situation as it stands, Captain,” George told him firmly. “We know about Romulans.”

  “We know about them seventy-odd years past, George, can’t you accept that? That many years—”

  “Captain,” Sanawey interrupted, “message coming in from the Romulan vessel.”

  April turned in spite of a clenching pain in his neck. “Translate, quickly.”

  “Yes, sir.” The astrotelemetrist tapped his console buttons, then squinted as he listened to the readout in his earphone. “ ‘Attention visitor ship ... message understood ... advise if you need assistance with repairs or casualties. Please specify your home space so we may communicate more efficiently.’ And they’re standing by, sir.”

  [155] “There you are,” April said. “Utterly benevolent. What do you say now, George?”

  George frowned. He had no intention of backing down.

  April understood his expression. “Well, it’s just what we would say in the reverse situation, isn’t it?”

  George leaned toward him and widened his eyes. “That’s what bothers me.”

  “Carlos, you say we have no way to navigate back to Federation space without help from them?”

  Florida fidgeted. “That’s the assessment, sir, for now. Even once long-range sensors are repaired, it’ll take a while to determine our location. Longer than they’ll wait, probably.”

  April sighed and shook his head. “Then we have no choice. We’re going to have to tell them who we are.”

  “Robert,” George gasped, “we can’t! We don’t dare!”

  “Why not?”

  “All they remember about the Federation is a war that they started and that ended in a draw. You know what this ship looks like!”

  “Yes, it looks like revenge. But that’s exactly my point. The war happened decades ago, George. The only way we’re going to get past it is to be honest with them, tell them that this ship is an exploration vessel on a rescue mission—”

  “And hope they believe it? I wouldn’t believe it,” George told him.

  April took a moment to compose himself. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its strength. “What possible harm can it do to tell them who we are?”

  George moved closer and lowered his own voice, empathizing with April’s weakness. “I’ll tell you what harm. First, it gives them precedent for firing on us as hostile aliens. Second, it gives them the technical advantage of knowing our physiology. What kind of air we breathe, how much pressure we can take, what we’re inclined to do, what we’re afraid of—”

  “I suppose that’s true,” April admitted. “But how could they know those things? We’ve not had any contact with them in all this time. We don’t know what they look like, and they don’t know what we look like.”

  George moved around the command chair, feeling the eyes of everyone on the bridge, their intense curiosity about his next words. He never took his eyes from April’s. “I’m not going to assume that,” he [156] said. “I’m going to assume they know more about us than we think they do.”

  “All that does is pile bricks on top of the wall,” April said. He didn’t want a galactic conflict at his feet. “Carlos.”

  Florida shook himself out of the trance. “Sir?”

  “When the sensors come up, don’t scan their vessel. I don’t want our emissions misinterpreted. We have to make an act of friendship. With our shields down, they can detect our energy flows.” April paused then, thinking his strategy through. Even the effort of speaking caused his head to pound. “Shut down power to the lasers.”

  Without moving more than his hand, George grasped the captain’s forearm and sharply said, “No.”

  Words were becoming less and less adequate. George’s gaze demanded that April remember why he had risked so much to bring George Kirk here. Exactly why.

  “No,” George repeated, this time in a whisper.

  April held his gaze, then wavered: “Carlos, belay that last order.”

  Florida hunched his shoulders and sighed in relief. “Lasers still viable, sir.”

  The captain wiped his forehead and turned to George. “Technically, we certainly are invading their space, don’t forget. They have every right to suspect us. We have no right at all to aggress.”

  “We have to be prepared to defend ourselves,” George insisted. “They’re clever, and they’re ruthless. These are the same people who attacked a defenseless starbase and murdered two thousand people. Two thousand people massacred in one attack, Captain.”

  “So long ago, George. We have to consider—”

  George rolled his eyes and smacked the arm of April’s chair with a flat palm. “Damn you, Robert, you always lead with your heart!”

  He spun away from the command chair and grasped the bridge rail as though he meant to shake it. Above him, Drake and Sarah Poole watched in stiff silence.

  “Claw,” April began softly, “prepare a message in their language.”

  “Go ahead, sir. The computer’ll translate for you.”

  “Thank you.” He tried to straighten in his seat. On the arms of the command chair, his palms grew moist. “This is Captain Robert April of the United Federation of Planets ...”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “WE AWAIT YOUR reply ... Captain April out.”

  Silence on the bridge of Imperial Swarmbird Raze dominated for several seconds. It reeked of astonishment, and of fear.

  They would have admitted to the astonishment.

  Kai was the first to speak. “Earthers!” he gasped. “Our old enemy resurfaces!”

  From the command chair, Idrys stared at the giant white ship from which the message had come. “Then it’s true,” she murmured. “They rise.”

  Ry’iak burst toward the command center. “We must move against them immediately! We must fire on them while they’re still damaged!”

  Idrys deflected the panic on the bridge with order. “Gunners! Prepare main arsenal. Target the Earth ship’s main thrusters and bring power directly to our weapons sensors. Prepare to fire!”

  “Countermand!” T’Cael roared.

  Kai and the centurion were already clambering to carry out the first order. Only
when the Field-Primus elbowed his way between them, grasped them both by the arms, and pulled them away from the weapons console did they realize his determination. “I said countermand,” he growled.

  Ry’iak, his face flushed jade with rage and indignation, blurted, [158] “This is an outrage! This is an extreme emergency and we must take action against our known enemy! Subcommander, fire on the enemy!”

  T’Cael broke away from the two men he held in his grip and rounded on the Praetor’s eye. “You imbecile! You dare challenge me openly on the bridge of my flagship?”

  Quivering, Kai peeked at the Primus to say, “If this battleship is here, the Federation must be amassing along the treaty boundary. They must be!”

  “They are our enemies, Primus,” Idrys reminded cautiously. “They are of Earth—”

  “They have not said Earth,” t’Cael snapped, still glaring at Ry’iak.

  “The Federation, Primus!” Kai said, breathless. “Earth is their base. It is an Earth ship.”

  “When have you heard them say Earth?” t’Cael said, nailing him with a glare. “A lifetime of service has passed since those wars, Subcommander. The captain of that ship made no reference to a home planet. Obviously he feels his ship is more than one planet’s property.”

  Kai’s face turned brassy with excitement. “Primus, I beg you consider! Their captain speaks of peace and rescue missions and navigational mistakes, but no one could make a mistake so vast as to land them in our home space, where their claws can sink deep and quick. He is bluffing! He damaged his ship and now he stalls for time, and we dare not give it! He can want the time for only one reason—invasion!”

  Ry’iak nodded furiously. “Their damage is our advantage. We must use it immediately.” Puffed up with self-importance, he stepped past t’Cael to address the bridge gunners. “Ready the weapons as you have been ordered. We will defend the Empire against her invaders.”

  “You are the invader,” t’Cael said. He smacked his hand against the shipwide intercom and his voice boomed throughout Raze. “This is Field-Primus Kilyle. By authority of the Exordium of the Imperial Code, I now invoke the Master Dominion Pandect for Martial Crisis. From this moment onward, the commanders must be obeyed on threat of death. Any disobedience, no matter how trivial, is considered an act of treason under the Pandect. Any officer questioning the orders of a superior will be executed. As supreme commander of the Second Swarm, I invoke the right to instantly sacrifice any dissenter among the personnel of the Swarm until further notice. Such is the law of the Empire.” He straightened, the power of the Exordium making him [159] formidable, and leveled a finger at Ry’iak. “You will leave the bridge.”

  Eyes wide with shock, Ry’iak had no response. Stunned by t’Cael’s knowledge of imperial crisis law, he was compelled to obey or be instantly and legally killed in the name of solidarity. He shook with rage. If he uttered so much as a word, and t’Cael decided to take that word as defiance, there would be death on the bridge.

  Guttering like a candle in the wind, Ry’iak bottled his rage, pressed his lips into a line, and stiffly walked off the bridge.

  Idrys watched him go; t’Cael ignored him. When the lift panel closed behind him, she turned in satisfaction and punched her intercom. “Enforcement Division, send four guards to the bridge. Master Dominion Pandect is now in operation.”

  Primus Kilyle was once again gazing out at the Federation ship, as though Ry’iak was nothing but a bug he had wiped from one of his plants and forgotten. For a few moments, Idrys merely watched him, her respect deepening.

  “Subcommander,” she addressed him then, and waited until Kai looked at her, “prepare a message to the Swarm ships identifying the intruder and informing them of the alert condition of the Pandect.”

  From her side, t’Cael spoke firmly. “No.”

  She twitched. “Primus?”

  “No communications with other vessels of any kind without my specific order.”

  “But if a message is sent to us from the Swarm or the mothership—”

  “Am I unclear, Commander?”

  She tensed. “No, Primus. You are understood.” She nodded to Kai. “Close communications to anyone other than the Federation ship.” She felt her muscles tighten. She’d almost slipped, almost said Earth ship. Such a mistake would have undermined Primus Kilyle.

  The Primus seemed to sense her discomfort. With a calming breath he explained, “If they can monitor our communications, they’ll know we’re alone and at a fighting disadvantage. We dare not appear afraid. A rodent can stand off a threat by pretending it’s not afraid. The Swarm is on the way. Telling them won’t bring them here any sooner.”

  Very cautious now, Kai came to stand beside Idrys, making sure to keep her as a buffer between himself and the Primus. “May I respectfully suggest that this appearance could be part of a simultaneous attack along the treaty zone, my Lord Primus.”

  [160] T’Cael never took his gaze from the intruder ship. “It’s possible,” he said with a sigh. “Then why have they not fired upon us and moved onward? Why do they negotiate with a single ship when only the distance of a few light-days separates them from the heart of Rihannsu civilization, where they can destroy our governmental bases as they will?”

  “They say they’re damaged.”

  “They say that,” he echoed thoughtfully. “I cannot believe this is an invasion maneuver. It simply has none of the signals.”

  The bridge crew kept their opinions to themselves, partially because of the Pandect, partially because of the Primus’. No one wanted to be an example.

  “You’re not sure, are you?” Idrys asked, keeping her voice down.

  “Nothing is sure. But humans are a complex people. I can deal with that.” He moved toward the biggest viewscreen and narrowed his eyes at the ivory beast hanging in space before him. “They call us Romulans.”

  The word was distasteful and unflattering, awkward-sounding in their language. The bridge crew shared a grimace.

  “If I may suggest ...” Kai began again, just as carefully.

  “Yes?”

  “If indeed they are damaged, and since we are alone ...”

  Vented of his anger, t’Cael glanced at the subcommander, then turned fully to him. “If they are damaged, then this is our greatest chance.”

  “Yes, Primus!” Kai gasped.

  “You don’t understand,” t’Cael told him, and couldn’t resist a twinge of amusement as Kai suddenly pressed his lips together, trying not to appear afraid or defiant. “Subcommander, look at that vessel. We must take that ship, not destroy it. If they have a fleet of those, what do you think our chances will be? Will we ever have an opportunity like this to gain possession of their technologies? Look at it!” He swept his hand along the viewscreen. “Everyone here could be a hero. It’s worth the risk, don’t you think? Worth a little time, a little pretense? Besides, what glory will there be in the battleship’s destruction if the Federation goes on to destroy the Empire with technology we allowed to slip away because we were afraid?”

  He let his words sink in.

  While the crew’s eyes turned to that vast ship, Idrys watched t’Cael. [161] He was up to something more complex than his words told. But what? And dared she ask?

  “Prepare a message to the mothership,” he was saying, “but don’t send it yet.” He folded his arms and stalked to the viewscreen. “Humans are naive. They tend to trust first and learn later. By telling us their identity, they give us the upper hand.”

  “You know all about humans,” Idrys agreed.

  T’Cael smiled modestly. “No one knows all about anything, Commander. But I do have a few insights about them that I can turn to our favor. One is that they tend to trust what they can see face to face.”

  The bridge personnel turned in curiosity, but no one said anything.

  Finally Idrys broke the silence. “Face to face?”

  T’Cael wrapped his arms around his chest. “I will offer to meet with their captain. I’l
l invite him to visit our ship. I will stall for time until the Swarm arrives and pretend to speak peace while gaining information about their real intentions.”

  “They’ll never trust us,” Kai said, perplexed.

  “They may,” t’Cael corrected. “For humans, the emotion that is fed is the one that grows.”

  He paused, letting the truth sink in.

  Then he said, “And ... we will have a hostage.”

  The addendum rang around the bridge, drawing the glances of the crew, first in awe, then in approval. Loyalty, for all the talk of the honor it supposedly brought and its theoretical importance in their culture, was a fleeting thing. For the moment, at least, they were his again. All he needed do was hold them long enough to complete his plan, or this leg of it.

  “Commander,” he invited, “if you will.”

  Idrys nodded, suppressing a smile. “Centurion, invoke tie-in to the Federation vessel.”

  “Message coming in, Captain.”

  Sanawey sounded nervous.

  “Translate it, please, Claw,” April requested.

  “No need, sir. It’s in English. He wants to speak to you.”

  April turned and looked quizzically at the astrotelemetrist. “Put the gentleman through.”

  Sanawey touched his audio system and nodded at April.

  The captain straightened in his chair and watched the Romulan ship in the viewer. “This is Captain April. Go ahead, please.”

  [162] “My greetings to you, Captain. This is the supreme commander speaking. It is my honor to address you in your own language.”

  “Thank you, Supreme Commander. Do you have a suggestion about our rather awkward situation?”

  “I do. In our culture, voices do not adequately represent people. I suggest you and I meet in person, as an act of good faith, to assure us both there will be no hostility. I offer that you visit my ship. I will convey your greetings to our Supreme Praetor and deliver my regards to your government. Will you meet with me, sir?”

  April couldn’t resist a glance at George, who was rigid with suspicion a few steps away, but who didn’t so much as flinch at the strange suggestion. Around the bridge, no one else moved either. Expressions ranged from surprise to perplexity.