“Do you have a better suggestion?” Spock asked mildly.
McCoy squinted blindly into the light. At the moment, he did not. Sighing, he held out his communicator. The blond lieutenant snatched it from his hand and began to frisk him.
“Hey,” the doctor complained, as the search proceeded roughly up his leg. “What is this? I’m not in the habit of carrying concealed weapons.”
Mendez did not answer. The lieutenant finished with McCoy and turned his attention to Spock. At the end of it, he reported back to the admiral. “They’re not carrying. anything, sir.”
It was definitely not what Mendez wanted to hear. He turned impatiently to his prisoners. “All right, where is it?”
Was he asking about Sepek’s body? McCoy glanced sideways at Spock. The Vulcan wasn’t answering, so the doctor kept his mouth shut.
“The R-virus. Where is it?” Mendez took a threatening step towards them. “I assure you, I will do whatever’s necessary to retrieve it.”
McCoy frowned. Maybe he wasn’t looking for Sepek’s body, but for something else.
He nodded to his aide, who raised the phaser and seemed to be very serious about firing it.
“There isn’t any virus,” the doctor blurted. Fine prisoner of war you’d make, McCoy. “If there is, we don’t know where”
The admiral’s voice was filled with sarcasm, but beneath it, McCoy sensed, was desperation. “Then what are you doing on Tanis? Sight-seeing?” He nodded at the blond man. “Go ahead, Jase. Kill them.”
“Wait!” McCoy raised his hands in a don’t-shoot gesture, aware of Spock’s disapproving gaze on him. “We were looking for a body—a Vulcan researcher.” Hands still in the air, he turned to Spock. “What was his name?”
“Sepek,” Spock answered in a quiet voice, looking mightily disgusted at the doctor’s cowardice.
“I’m afraid you’re rather late for that,” Mendez said matter-of-factly. “His body has been destroyed.”
Spock closed his eyes.
Mendez moved closer. “The R-virus. This is the last time I’ll ask.”
“But there isn’t” McCoy began.
Angered, Mendez cut him off. “Do you think we’re stupid? Adams is a sick and desperate man; I have no doubt that he told you about our agreement that if anything went wrong, he would preserve a sample at any cost and hide it on Tanis so that it could be retrieved. But he’s hidden it too cleverly; we haven’t been able to find it. And you know where it is.”
Spock and McCoy simply stared at him, unable to answer.
“We have weapons down here, do you understand? You both are willing to die nobly to protect your ship and your captain, but if you don’t give me the virus, I’ll blow the Enterprise out of orbit before I kill you both.”
“My God,” McCoy whispered, paling. There was no way to warn Jim.…
“We came to retrieve Sepek’s body,” Spock said calmly, “and nothing more.”
The lieutenant glanced at his superior. “It almost sounds like they’re telling the truth, Admiral.”
Mendez scrutinized them both for a moment, then an odd expression—regret? McCoy wondered—crossed his face. “I had hoped to avoid this,” he said heavily, and flipped Spock’s communicator open. "Enterprise, come in, please.”
Kirk’s voice, hot and strident. “Admiral, if anything has happened to my people”
“A commendable attitude, Kirk,” Mendez answered, quite serious. “Nothing has happened to your people. Nothing will happen to them if you do as I say.”
“Just like nothing happened to Quince Waverleigh.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Mendez snapped. “If you want your people to live, you’ll stop with the accusations.”
There was a pause, and then Kirk said, grudgingly, “What do you want me to do?”
“The R-virus,” Mendez said. “You have it. I want it.”
“You’re wrong, Admiral. The R-virus was destroyed by the decontamination system on Tanis.”
“You’re a bigger fool than I thought if you believe that,” Mendez snarled. “And if you expect me to. You have Adams. By now, he’s told you about the hidden sample. He knew I’d come looking for it and him, and he’s told you where it is to try to protect himself.”
There was a pause on the other end of the communicator.
McCoy resolved never to volunteer for anything again that is, if he made it through this one. “Admiral,” Kirk finally said. His tone had changed abruptly, acquired a negotiating wheedle. “I have no way of knowing if that’s true unless you give me five minutes to question Adams.”
“Take six,” said Mendez. “After that, your men are dead.”
How very generous of you, McCoy wanted to add, but decided it would be better to hold his tongue.
“Captain.” Sulu in the background, his voice clear and urgent. “I’m picking up a slight distortion on the screen.”
“Magnify viewscreen.” A pause, then, in clipped tones, “Red alert. Shields up, helmsman.”
The klaxon sounded. “Aye, sir.”
“Kirk,” Mendez thundered. “Don’t try it if you want your men to live.”
“I’m not trying to pull anything, dammit,” Kirk answered hotly. “We’ve got a visitor here. Expecting anyone?”
There was a snap as Mendez closed the communicator and lowered his light, and McCoy, the beam’s image still imprinted on his retina, blinked sightlessly while a strong arm circled his neck and someone shoved a phaser into his back.
The doctor heard the whine of a transporter. Well, hell, this is it. Jim was taking an awfully big chance and beaming them up to the ship a bigger chance than McCoy would have taken. Mendez was certain to make good on his promise to kill them. McCoy braced himself and wondered detachedly what being dissolved by a phaser blast felt like. For that matter, could one be dissolved while caught in a transporter beam?
A technological double-whammy. I always knew that damned transporter would get me someday. He scrunched his eyes shut, rather uselessly because he couldn’t see anything anyway. Either he would feel the phaser blast first, or the unpleasant moment of dizziness he always felt in the transporter beam. He was betting on the phaser.
But the dizziness swept him. Bad enough to die without having to do it in the middle of a transporter beam. He waited for the blast sure to follow, but none came. The whine reverberating in his skull ceased, the bright aura dissipated. The phaser was still pressing against his spine. The doctor tensed, expecting full well to find himself smack in the middle of a standoff, with himself and Spock the most likely losers. He expected to see the familiar interior of the Enterprise’s transporter room, lined with the red tunics of the entire security force.
The room was crowded with security personnel, all right. But the uniforms were the wrong color, a matte silver mesh. McCoy blinked, stunned. By no means had he expected to find himself in the transporter room of a Romulan ship.
The grip on his throat loosened as the blond lieutenant fired his phaser, almost hitting one of the Romulan guards. It took McCoy less than a second to realize that every Romulan in the room was aiming a phaser directly at the lieutenant. What did it matter to them if McCoy accidentally got in the way? He took a deep breath and pulled down with all his strength.
It was enough to break free of the distracted lieutenant’s grip. McCoy threw himself onto the floor and rolled. Even with his eyes screwed shut, he could see the blinding blast from the Romulan weapon, could feel the searing heat down the length of his back. He heard an excited yelp: Mendez. McCoy lay there, too stunned to move, until an incredibly strong grip pulled him to his feet. Spock, he thought at first, then opened his eyes to a collarbone covered by dull silver metal.
He almost looked behind him for the lieutenant, but stopped himself. There would be nothing left to see.
The man on the bridge’s main viewscreen was long-faced, dark-haired, elegant. It was not just the upswept brows and ears that reminded Kirk of his first officer. There
was something about the eyes, the bridge of the nose; he could have been Spock’s second cousin.
“Captain Kirk,” he said politely and with supreme confidence, without the help of the universal translator. His accent was near-perfect; only a trace of too little aspiration in the k sounds, too much trill in the r, gave him away as Romulan. That, and the dull silver mesh uniform with the black sash at the shoulder. “I am Subcommander Khaefv.”
Kirk wasted no time on diplomacy. His heart was still hammering in his chest from the sudden realization that McCoy and Spock were on board the Romulan vessel. It took all his self-control not to immediately ask whether they were all right. “Subcommander, you have violated the Neutral Zone Treaty, committing an act of war. You have kidnapped my men, showing that your intent is aggression. If anything happens to them, the Federation”
Khaefv smiled, unaffected. “No one has been harmed, Captain. We could certainly debate ownership of this particular area of space with you, but in any case, we have not violated the spirit of the treaty. Our mission is one of rescue, not aggression.”
Kirk’s scowl deepened as he tried to second-guess Khaefv’s motivation. Obviously, Romulan intelligence must have heard that the Federation had developed a bioweapon against them. Despite his outer calm, Khaefv was probably on a suicide mission to recover or destroy the microbe at any cost. “We have detected no other Romulan vessels in this area. Certainly no crippled ones. There’s no one here for you to rescue.”
“On the contrary. We have come to free a political prisoner from the oppressive Federation regime. Someone on board the Enterprise a Dr. Jeffrey Adams.”
Kirk laughed out loud. “A political prisoner? Dr. Adams is accused of murder. That’s hardly a political charge. And I seriously doubt he’ll go with you.”
“I regret having to contradict you again, Captain. Dr. Adams contacted us to request the rescue.”
“I refuse to believe it.”
“There is one way to find out. Why don’t you ask Dr. Adams?”
In the outer office of sickbay, M’Benga was incredibly ecstatic, so much so that the flashing yellow alert beacon and the scowl carved into Kirk’s forehead failed to discourage him.
“Captain.” His tone was one of delight at serendipitous coincidence. “I was just about to call you again. I tried during the red alert, but the board was jammed. We gave Christine Chapel the serum, and it’s stabilized the anemia.”
“A cure?” Kirk was still frowning. Certainly he was happy for Chapel, for Stanger, maybe in some distant humanitarian part of himself happy for Adams—but right now he couldn’t afford the time to show it.
“Close to it. They’ll need regular doses of the medicine for a while not a one-shot cure, but an eventual one. It definitely suppresses the virus’ action.” M’Benga rattled on happily.
“The Romulans have got McCoy and Spock,” Kirk said. “Adams signaled them to come here. He’s trying to cut a deal.”
It worked. M’Benga stopped smiling, closed his mouth, and stared at the captain. Kirk felt bad doing it this way, but it was fastest—and there was very little time. He hadn’t known exactly how he was going to get Adams to cooperate until this very moment.
“Have you given it to Adams yet?” he asked M’Benga.
The doctor shook his head. “Not yet. But I was just about to administer it to him and Stanger. It won’t interfere if you want to question him.”
“Give it to Stanger. I want to talk to Adams first.”
M’Benga’s reaction was swift. Kirk had never seen him in anything but a pleasant mood, but now something hard crept into the doctor’s expression. “The man is dying, Captain. He’s dangerously ill. It would be unethical for me to withhold treatment.”
“Let me talk to him first,” Kirk repeated. He held back his growing frustration. He’s as bad as McCoy.
“I’d rather not.” A muscle under the smooth skin of M’Benga’s jaw twitched.
“I could order you,” Kirk said, without emotion. He did not like having to say it, but there was no time for a discussion of ethics.
“And as acting chief medical officer, I could override your order.”
“Five minutes,” Kirk said in a humbler tone. “Do you think he could make it five minutes? Especially since we’re talking about saving two lives?” He didn’t count Mendez.
M’Benga sighed and stroked his jaw as if to soothe all the tension from it. “You have a point there, Captain. But only five minutes. Then I go ahead and administer the serum to him.”
“One last thing, Doctor. I promise not to physically harm Adams, but I’m going to have to use scare tactics on him.” He looked intently into M’Benga’s black eyes. “Spock and McCoy’s lives.”
M’Benga sighed. “I won’t interfere unless you hurt him, Captain.”
He put on an infrared visor and gave one to the captain. Kirk followed him from the office to the darkened corner of the treatment area where Stanger and Adams were held. The Andorian ensign was standing guard this time, anxiously watching Stanger, who seemed to be resting more calmly now. The man has a lot of friends, Kirk thought.
Adams lay on his bed looking gray and shriveled.
“Adams,” Kirk said softly, as M’Benga went a few beds over to Stanger. He could hear a delighted exclamation from Lamia as the doctor explained the drug.
Adams opened one dull eye and glanced up listlessly, then closed it.
“Dr. M’Benga is administering a cure to Mr. Stanger,” Kirk said in an exaggeratedly pleasant tone. “It stabilizes the anemia.”
Adams’ eye opened again. “A cure?” he whispered.
Kirk grabbed a handful of fabric on either side of Adams’ neck and pulled him to a sitting position. It was cathartic, pleasurable, good to be able to scream with hatred at the man. “Your ride is here!”
Adams made a small squeaking sound.
“You miserable liar!” Kirk thundered. The others in the room had grown very quiet. “They’re here, just like you’ve always planned it! Where is the R-virus they’re asking for? Where is it?” He shook until he could hear Adams’ teeth clicking together.
“Stop it!” Adams moaned.
“Go to the Romulans, then! Sell them the R-virus. Sell them the H-virus, too—why not? You’re a walking lab culture. Because it doesn’t matter! We’ve got the cure for it right here. Too bad you’ve got to leave with the Romulans. Let’s see if they’re in such a hurry to find a cure just for you!”
Adams was making a strange gasping sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob.
Kirk lowered his voice. “You’ll be dead by morning, Adams.”
The terror in Adams’ eyes gave him a twisted pleasure. “No”
He forced himself to speak calmly, though it was difficult. He didn’t want to stop shaking the man; it would have been so easy just to raise his hands to the thin throat and squeeze. “The Romulans have two of my men. And if you don’t do everything I tell you to now, I’m going to send you to them without the drug and let you die.” He paused. “If they don’t kill you as soon as they get a blood sample from you.”
That much was true and surely Adams must have considered it himself. Kirk glanced to one side and saw M’Benga frowning, his arms knotted in front of his chest. It was probably all the doctor could do to hold himself back.
As bad as McCoy.
Shaking weakly with dry sobs, Adams pulled the amulet from his neck and handed it to Kirk. “Take it. Take it.”
Kirk stared. “What’s this?”
“The R-virus,” Adams whispered. “Sealed inside. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Take it. Give me the drug.”
M’Benga rose, but Kirk shook his head at him and handed him the pendant. To Adams he said, “I need you to talk to the Romulans for me. They say you want political asylum in the Empire. Tell them they’ve made a mistake. Tell them to leave.”
“All right. Just give me the shot.”
“You killed them, didn’t you? The other researchers?”
“Yes,” Adams hissed through gray, cracked lips. “I killed them. Lara first, and then Yoshi. In arranging the ‘accident’ for Sepek, I inadvertently exposed myself to the mutated form of the virus. Sepek died quickly, but I wasn’t as lucky. The hunger” He twitched painfully. “When they were all dead, the hunger stayed. I realized I would starve to death alone, so I sent the distress signal. I couldn’t help it. Give me the shot.”
Kirk leaned closer. “And what you’ve said about Mendez is it all true?”
“All true.” His head lolled weakly on his neck. “Please”
Kirk looked at him without pity, thinking of Yoshi, of Lara Krovozhadny, of Lisa Nguyen, of Chapel and Stanger. "After you do as I say.”
They used the viewscreen in the doctor’s office and had Uhura relay a channel down to sickbay. Adams was so weak that his head fell back against the headrest of M’Benga’s chair. The doctor stood to one side with the hypospray ready.
Adams was desperate enough to do a convincing job. Subcommander Khaefv listened expressionlessly and said, “This is all very interesting. However, we feel that Dr. Adams has been coerced into a change of heart, if I am using the idiom correctly. Since you clearly have no intention of turning him over to us, I have no choice but to order the execution of the prisoners.” He signaled to his communications officer to close the channel.
“Wait!” Kirk leaned toward the screen. “There’s no longer any point in trying to play games, Subcommander. Why can’t we bargain truthfully?”
Khaefv folded his hands patiently and said nothing.
“We have the R-virus,” Kirk said, hoping like hell he wasn’t getting in over his head. Khaefv seemed young for a subcommander, so it was a safe bet he got there by being shrewd. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? So you can develop a cure, neutralize the threat? Although"” he swung the pendant in front of the screen—I guarantee this is the only live culture remaining.”
Khaefv’s placid expression didn’t even flicker. “We want that, and Dr. Adams.”
“Because he harbors the mutated form deadly to humans. But as a bioweapon, its use is now limited. We’ve found a cure.”
Bloodthirst Page 24
