by M S Murdock
"How does the Enterprise fit in?"
"Because of your unique knowledge the Enterprise has been chosen to investigate."
"I was afraid of that. We're going to go 'pokin' in there'?"
"We have to. We've got to be prepared. In case of the worst."
"Did Star Fleet even consider the fact that intrusion might provoke the worst?"
Kirk could tell from the commodore's expression the thought had occurred to him, but he was forced to carry out official directives.
"Commodore, did you request the Enterprise?"
"I suggested her, yes."
"Why?"
"As I said, you've had more experience with the Romulans than anyone else … and, frankly, you're more apt to stop a war than start one, if past actions count for anything. Jim, this is a dangerous situation. I concur with Star Fleet that we need to know what's going on, but out here we balance on that Neutral Zone tightrope from day to day. Neither the Romulans nor the Federation can handle a war. It would mean destruction for both sides, with the Klingons picking up the pieces. You were my best bet to pull off an intelligence operation and still maintain balance."
Kirk was unexpectedly touched by Yang's confidence in him. He made a quick but penetrating reappraisal of the starbase commander. The man radiated competence and good humor, but beneath it the captain detected a surprising strength of will. Yang Li was not a frustrated office clerk dreaming of line duty. He was pursuing the career he wanted. It was obvious he considered Starbase Eight a bastion for peace.
"Jim, you've got to go in there and find out what's happening!"
"You're not sending us across the Neutral Zone!"
"No, no, no. You are ordered to patrol its boundaries and pick up any information you can. That includes questioning all traders and transient ships you might encounter. The situation is disturbing—the Romulans seem to be in a self-created state of seige. You see why I need you, why I can't give you time to repair a minor annoyance like that computer. Besides, Connors is the only one with the kind of technical know-how to do the job—and he's down with an awful cold."
Kirk gave in.
"All right, sir. We'll make the best of it. Thank you, sir."
He left the commodore's office feeling uneasy and frustrated. As he walked out the door he heard Yang humming the opening phrase of an odious popular song called "Love in the Afternoon." He growled.
Spock had taken the news with restraint and he had envied the Vulcan's philosophical acceptance of the inevitable, wishing it were his. Then he noticed a haunted look in Spock's eyes and reminded himself that stoicism and indifference are not at all the same. And the Romulan problem didn't make a malfunction any easier to live with. Kirk swiveled his command chair toward the computer station where his first officer was staring into the viewscreen with characteristic concentration. Blue light sparkled on his hair and cast an eerie pallor over his strong, Vulcan features. Chekov, hands clasped behind his back, was peering over Spock's shoulder. Kirk pulled himself out of the command chair and went to stand behind Chekov.
"Anything, Mister Spock?"
"Nothing, sir. Somewhat unusual."
"But not entirely unexpected."
Spock looked mildly surprised, but declined to comment on the captain's statement.
"Nevertheless," he continued, "there is no microscopic fuel residue in the area. We know the Romulans sometimes enter Federation space using their cloaking device. While they cannot be sensed when the device is operating, fuel residue can now be detected and analyzed to determine its source. It stays in the area for some time. There is absolutely none."
"Then the Romulans have not crossed the Neutral Zone recently," said Chekov.
"Correct, Ensign. Nor have they patrolled it. Our sensors are accurate to approximately two thousand point three five six kilometers beyond its width. Moreover, there have been no traders, smugglers or spies in the area. This section of the Neutral Zone is deserted."
"That confirms Commodore Yang's information," said Kirk. "Lieutenant Uhura, have Doctor McCoy and Mister Scott meet us in briefing room two. You have the conn. Mister Spock. Chekov. Sulu."
Uhura's voice floated over the intercom.
"Mister Scott and Doctor McCoy meet the captain in briefing room two."
The Captain headed for the turbo-lift, his officers behind him. Helm, computer and navigational stations were smoothly filled by alternate personnel.
"You don't think they're thinking about attacking, do you?" asked Chekov.
"Deck three," said Kirk and looked sharply at the navigator. "We don't know, Ensign. That's the problem—we just don't know."
They stepped into the briefing room on the heels of the Chief Surgeon and Chief Engineer, Doctor Leonard McCoy and Lieutenant-commander Montgomery Scott.
"Gentlemen," acknowledged the captain as they sat down. "As you know, the Enterprise has been ordered to patrol the Neutral Zone. What you don't know is the Federation has reason to believe a major upheaval is occurring within the Romulan empire. Reports over the last few months indicate the Romulans have become completely insular. We are ordered to patrol the area, questioning all traders or passing ships. We're here to observe. But I won't minimize the danger. We're wandering in the dark. We don't know what's out there."
"Did Star Fleet Command have any ideas?" asked Chekov.
"The official opinion seems to be that the Romulans are marshalling their forces to attack the Federation."
There was a moment of stunned silence so profound the ship's engine noise was distinctly noticeable. It recalled her alter ego as a ship of war.
"Is there any evidence …" began Sulu.
"Not really. Just rumors. That's why the Enterprise has been asked to investigate."
"We all know the Federation Council has a tendency to exaggerate—could they be jumpin' the gun?" asked Scotty.
"There is an extant aggressive element," commented Spock.
"I'd say the hawks and doves are fairly evenly matched. The Romulans are definitely up to something. Commodore Yang is worried—worried enough to specifically request the Enterprise for this mission because we've had more experience with the Romulans than anyone else."
"Jim, is there a chance they really are mounting some sort of offensive? I can hardly believe they'd risk an all-out war."
"Doctor. The Romulans are a violent, warrior race, and their sense of discipline serves their militaristic purpose. Their one desire is the expansion of the empire. The recent Romulan/Klingon alliance may have given them the impetus they needed to attack the Federation."
Spock's voice was dry, baldly stating a probability no one wanted to face. Kirk frowned, his lips pursed in concentration.
"I think that possibility is what the Federation Council fears. But … it feels wrong somehow."
He paused, intent on his thoughts.
"If the Romulans were mounting an all-out offensive against the Federation they'd try to take us completely by surprise. But they've already aroused our curiosity … and they don't seem to care. Then there's the Klingons. The Romulans seem to have withdrawn from them, too. They may be allies, but neither one trusts the other. An offensive against the Federation just doesn't fit in."
"It would allow the Klingons an inordinate amount of freedom," acknowledged Spock.
"It's almost as if they're running scared. There must be some other reason … Scotty. According to intelligence reports the Romulans have not been trading outside the empire. How long can they continue to power their fleet on estimated existing fuel?"
"Not long. No more than a solar year. Of course, the Klingons could be supplying them—that'd make quite a difference."
"Spock, estimate length of time the Romulan empire can survive without outside contact."
"Assuming they have no Klingon assistance, and that they conserve fuel and supplies to the utmost … approximately two point three-five solar years. They are not a wealthy people," he added.
"And if they didn't conserve?
If, for instance, they were mounting an all-out offensive?"
"Then they have adopted a most unwise course. They cannot sustain an extended military encounter. Their only hope would be to crush the Federation immediately—and they have lost the element of surprise needed to accomplish that."
"Exactly."
"What it all comes down to is that this is probably some sort of internal disturbance," said McCoy.
"Evidently, Doctor. And the choices are limited …"
The intercom whistle cut into Spock's sentence.
"Captain." Uhura's voice was urgent. "There's a Romulan vessel directly ahead of us—on our side of the Neutral Zone!"
"Looks like the Romulans have found us," commented McCoy.
"On my way," answered Kirk. "Red Alert!"
1 "Tomorrow Is Yesterday"
Chapter 3
Kirk stepped onto the bridge in time to see the golden Romulan bird of prey fade from the viewscreen.
"Status," he snapped as Spock moved to his computer station and Chekov and Sulu leaped for their chairs.
"The Romulan appeared directly in our path. It made no hostile moves, but wouldn't respond to our attempts to contact it. The ship held position directly in front of us and faded from sight just as you arrived, sir," reported Uhura.
"They've activated the cloaking device. Mister Chekov, plot estimated course from the direction they were headed. Anything, Spock?"
"Nothing, Captain. According to our sensors the Romulan ship does not exist. The Kelley device does not yet detect fuel residue."
"Estimated course four-two-o-seven-mark-five. Phasers aimed and ready, sir. Widest angle of dispersion?"
"No … he hasn't taken any action—except to disappear. We'll wait. If he gets far enough away we can pick up that fuel residue and follow him—and just maybe he'll lead us to a few answers. Lieutenant Uhura, inform Star Fleet Command a Romulan ship has been sighted on the Federation side of the Neutral Zone, that it has as yet made no hostile overtures and we are continuing to monitor the situation."
"Yes, sir."
Uhura's elegant brown fingers flew across the communications board, driven by the urgency of their message.
S'Talon stood on the bridge of his ship. Though the cloaking device had been activated he still had full visual contact with the Federation vessel. She hovered in space, her pylons spreading like great wings. Much of her power lodged there. Destruction of one of them would easily disable the ship—once her shields were destroyed. If it became necessary to act, they would be his target.
"Commander."
S'Talon looked down at his navigator.
"Yes, Argelian."
"I have identified her, Commander. It is the Enterprise."
"Kirk?"
Argelian nodded.
S'Talon could not conceal the fire leaping in his eyes. Kirk! Oh, to engage the man in battle! He longed to test for himself the human who had twice bested the empire—once in military acumen1 and once in a battle of wits.2 To take Kirk … it was a military triumph to excite the most blasé line officer. His fantasies came to an abrupt end as he recalled his mission. Kirk would not be easily duped. His reactions were not always predictable … he had been known to flout Federation policy. S'Talon realized his task would be more difficult than even he had anticipated.
"Argelian, you will observe the Enterprise with special care. I do not think Kirk will initiate attack, but he seems to have a talent for the unexpected. You will tell me immediately of any change, anything unusual."
"Yes, Commander."
"Commander, the Enterprise is trying to contact us," interjected the Raptor's communications officer.
"Make no response." S'Talon thought a moment and added, "Can you pick up their transmission without violating the cloaking device, S'Teer?"
S'Teer adjusted his instruments, maintaining the delicate balance which kept the ship invisible. He gave a short, sharp nod.
"I believe so," he answered.
He cocked his head, straining to pick up the faint transmission filtering through the Raptor's defensive screen. S'Talon knew he was taking a chance by ordering the transmission monitored, but Kirk's presence had thrown him off balance. He wanted desperately to know what the captain of the Enterprise was thinking.
"They demand to know what we are doing here," replied S'Teer. "They wish to know why we have violated the Neutral Zone and they demand that we leave Federation space immediately."
"The accepted challenge," murmured S'Talon.
"Now they ask if we are disabled. They urge us to reply, stating that if our entry into Federation space is accidental we need not fear retaliation. The message ends with an ultimatum: if we do not depart immediately they will be forced to consider our presence an act of war, unless we can convince them of our inability to move."
"Very good, S'Teer."
"Weakling!" snorted Argelian. "One of the empire's ships in the same situation would have wasted no time on useless chatter. It would have blasted the invader out of existence."
"You underestimate them, Argelian—particularly this one. Do I have to remind you he has defeated us on two occasions?"
Argelian subsided, but discontent still clouded his features. Argelian's reaction was symptomatic of the unrest growing in the ship's crew. Most of them were young and this waiting game S'Talon was playing grated on their nerves. They wanted action and spoil. He could not blame them. There was little glory in what they were attempting—even if they succeeded, only the Praetor would know, and he would not be grateful. S'Talon had few illusions about his commander. He knew the Praetor would claim any credit and place those who knew better in some backwater of space … if they were lucky.
"We will wait, Argelian. By that we may lure Kirk into believing we actually are disabled. An element of surprise we can ill afford to miss."
"Soon we will not be able to power the cloaking device."
"In spite of that—we will wait."
The crew of the Enterprise also waited. The minutes ticked by, each one adding to the strain of not knowing. Kirk's fingers drummed a silent flourish on the arm of his command chair. Uhura chewed on her scriber. Finally the captain's voice cracked the tension.
"Spock?" he questioned.
Spock frowned and adjusted the controls on his console.
"A moment, Captain."
He checked the computer viewscreen and adjusted the controls again. The frown wrinkling his slanted brows deepened.
"Spock?" Kirk's voice was becoming impatient.
"The sensors detect no fuel residue in the immediate area except our own."
"Then he hasn't moved. He's sitting there."
Kirk leaned back in his command chair and stared into space.
"Is he a vulture or a Judas goat?" he muttered to himself. The stars supplied no answers to his question and the silence lengthened as he considered the situation.
"Helm, reverse course. Let's try getting him to follow us."
"Aye, sir," replied Sulu.
"Warp factor one," said Kirk as the Enterprise moved away from its Romulan counterpart.
"They run, Commander! Like beasts before the pack, they flee death's claws!"
"Your triumph is premature, Argelian. You forget that is the Enterprise. Kirk does not flee … of that we have ample proof. No, he tries to lure us into pursuit. We will remain here and await his return."
"Shall I deactivate the cloaking device? It has already consumed much power …"
"No. We will remain invisible. He wishes to make us betray ourselves, but I will choose the moment of our confrontation."
"Yes, Commander." Argelian's voice dripped venom. "May I ask what justification you intend to use to explain your decision not to pursue the enemy vessel?"
"No, you may not."
S'Talon's shoulders stiffened, but he did not take his eyes from the Enterprise.
"Your duty, Lieutenant, is to obey."
"My duty, Commander, is to the empire."
"Yo
u can best serve the empire by your obedience to me. That will be all, Lieutenant. You are fortunate this discussion is tolerated. You will continue to monitor the alien."
"Acknowledged, Commander."
The lieutenant's surly voice mirrored the rebellion in his dark eyes. S'Talon could feel anger at his back like a slowly mounting wave. Though he knew most of the crew shared Argelian's feelings, he was not at liberty to reveal the nature of the mission to them. Let them think him mad. Then, if by some mischance they were captured, the Federation might be persuaded the whole incident was a mistake, a wild exploit headed by a madman. He smiled, the irony of his position as amusing as it was dangerous. The Federation would travel double leagues to prevent war. He knew that. With luck, his crew might be regarded as hapless victims of insanity. And they would reveal nothing because they knew nothing. Satisfactory.
Half hidden behind the communications panel, Livius watched the exchange between commander and navigator. He lounged negligently on the console, playing with the controls. The anger mounting against S'Talon was genuine, but it had been fostered. A gentle nudge here and there could do wonders toward undermining authority, and he was adept in the exercise of the technique. His sly eyes caught the commander's and he smiled, turning innocently back to his work.
"Little weasel," murmured S'Talon under his breath. He was aware the Praetor's nephew was aboard the Raptor as a spy, that every word exchanged had been recorded for the old dragon's benefit. The knowledge annoyed him. Not for one moment did the Praetor forget his own interests. With the empire itself in jeopardy, he still played at cat and mouse.
"Commander!"
His centurion's low voice brought him out of his reverie. He looked up at the viewscreen and suppressed a smile. His eyes gleamed in triumph.
"The Enterprise returns."
"Thank you, Centurion. As predicted."
