Cloak

by S. D. Perry

  There was also the specific nature of the Sphinx’s involvement. It seemed logical that the fatalities of Captain Casden and his crew were caused by their discovery of Dr. Kettaract’s machinations; the abrupt death of Captain Darres certainly supported the theory . . . but how they had discovered the doctor’s plan was still unclear. The possibility that they had stumbled across it by chance seemed unlikely. And if the unidentified man on the Sphinx was responsible for that ship’s doom, who had killed Captain Darres?

  “Spock, wait up!”

  Spock turned and saw Dr. McCoy hurrying down the corridor. He held a piece of paper in one hand, and by his posture and expression seemed quite anxious.

  “Are you going to see Jim?” the doctor asked, upon reaching him. A logical assumption; his quarters were just around the next turn.

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “So am I,” the doctor said, uncharacteristically amiable. “I found something that might have to do with the Sphinx—well, technically Chekov found it. I asked him for a favor, I wanted help looking for this old friend of mine, and it just turned up.”

  Spock cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure the story behind this discovery is most exciting, Doctor. Apparently more so than the discovery itself.”

  The doctor made a familiar, thunderous face. “That’s what I get for trying to tell you anything. Look, it turns out that this friend of mine, she’s a doctor, and a few other top-notch research scientists and the like disappeared not so long ago, after they were picked up by the Sphinx.” He held up the piece of paper. “Seven in all.”

  Highly intriguing. “May I see that, Doctor?”

  Dr. McCoy handed him a list of the missing scientists’ names . . . and after reading them, it was clear that at least two of the unexplained elements of his hypothesis now had to be recategorized.

  “Doctor, I believe we need to speak with the captain immediately,” Spock said, and as it occasionally happened, Dr. McCoy did not disagree.

  * * *

  Kirk sat staring at the monitor, hoping to God that he was wrong, vaguely wishing for his earlier feelings of frustration and discouragement.

  He had been frustrated after Uhura showed him what she’d uncovered. The coded data chip, the thing that was supposed to clear up the mystery, that was going to explain everything, had turned out to be nothing more than a copy of the Starfleet Charter. It was in the files of every ship and every starbase. And after taking it back to his quarters for a quick, hopeful scan, searching for concealed messages, he’d felt on the verge of giving up. No evidence, no answers, no progress, a ship and her crew destroyed, his friend and mentor dead. His unofficial investigation was officially dead in the water, and unless Spock had something up his sleeve, Kirk didn’t know how to move forward.

  Still, Darres had coded the thing for a reason. With nothing better to do, Kirk cued it back to the beginning and read, searching every sentence for some hidden meaning, feeling his disappointment slowly and steadily gather strength . . . until he found it. Found something, anyway.

  Deeply troubled, he was still gazing blankly at the monitor when someone signaled at his door. Without thinking about it, Kirk snapped the monitor off before inviting his visitor in.

  Two visitors. Spock and McCoy came in together.

  “How was your trip, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked, forcing what he’d seen in the Charter out of his mind.

  For now.

  “Successful, Captain,” Spock said. “Between my discussion with the Romulan commander and the information I’ve just received from Dr. McCoy, I believe I now understand the connection between Dr. Kettaract and what happened to Captain Casden’s ship and crew, as well as to Captain Darres. And if I’m correct, we may have very little time in which to act.”

  Bones was scowling. “Then why don’t you spit it out?”

  “I am attempting to do so, Doctor, and if you will allow me to—”

  “Knock it off,” Kirk snapped. “Spock, report.”

  “My hypothesis is this,” Spock said calmly. “The Sphinx was sabotaged by someone attempting to prevent it from leaving the Lantaru sector, where there is an illegally cloaked Federation station. There, Dr. Bendes Kettaract is leading a team of scientists in an attempt to synthesize an Omega molecule, the same energy source he postulated early in his career, which theory indicates will not maintain stabilization and is therefore exceedingly dangerous. Captain Casden probably learned of the cloak when he transported part of Kettaract’s science team from Deep Space Station R-5 to the Lantaru station, approximately two months ago.

  “It appears that the Sphinx traveled to the Lantaru station several times, Casden operating under the belief that his orders were from Starfleet Intelligence and highly classified—but that at some point, he recognized them as fraudulent and decided to disclose Dr. Kettaract’s work and location to Starfleet.

  “I believe that he confronted Dr. Kettaract at the cloaked station, and that Dr. Kettaract arranged for the sabotage of the Sphinx. The deaths of Jack Casden and his crew may have been accidental. Dr. Kettaract’s work is nearing completion; therefore, he only meant for the Sphinx to be lost for a brief period, long enough for a planted rumor to taint Casden’s credibility, so that his claims would not immediately be believed.

  “From the evidence, there are a number of unidentified people supporting Dr. Kettaract’s work. At least one of them willing to kill to maintain its secrecy, as is evidenced by the allegedly accidental death of Gage Darres. I believe it likely that a careful network of misinformation, built by an unscrupulous few, has even made unwitting participants of Starfleet officers.”

  My God.

  Bones looked just as stunned as Kirk felt, the complexities astounding, the repercussions frightening—that all those people might have died just so an obsessed scientist could indulge his paranoia. Some of it was a total surprise, but because Spock was the one telling him, Kirk didn’t waste time on disbelief.

  “Why do you think he’s working on Omega?” Kirk asked.

  “Because of his history, and because of who he has most recently chosen to work with his team. Medical theorists and mechanical engineers, primarily, who will study the physical effects of his creation and begin seeking ways to employ its power.”

  “Why the rush?” Bones asked. “How do we know he’s really that close?”

  “Because he believes that he is,” Spock said simply. “And because of the message that he received last night, from someone named Hermes. The importance that was placed on the first name, John instead of Tom—I believe it was a code. In Earth mythology, Hermes was the messenger of the gods. I don’t know the significance of the first names, but I suspect ‘John’ meant that they were to return to the station immediately. Presumably because the experiment has reached a crucial stage.”

  They.

  “And considering the possible consequences if he should actually achieve synthesis,” Spock continued, “it is incumbent upon us to stop them as soon as is possible.”

  “How serious are we talking about?” Kirk asked.

  “A precise classification is not possible, as the molecule has never existed,” Spock said. “The result of the inevitable destabilization may only be the destruction of the station itself . . . but depending on their containment methods, it is conceivable that an expanding energy field could form in subspace, severely damaging that continuum within an indefinite but possibly extensive range.”

  Kirk hesitated only a second, just long enough to absorb the immensity of what Spock was suggesting, to calculate whether or not they could beat Kettaract—

  —and Jain, amazing, beautiful Jain—

  —back to his station. Probably not, but they could come damned close.

  He thumbed the intercom switch.

  “Kirk to engineering. Mr. Scott, get the engines ready. We’re going back to the Lantaru sector, and we’re going to need warp eight.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Suni had suspected that some of the other doctors a
t the station were getting cold feet, she’d seen it coming for weeks, so she was prepared for a hitch or two when they finally docked. In between yearning thoughts of Jim and her own excitement—they were literally hours from synthesis—she’d spent most of the trip home coaching Bendes on how to handle it.

  As soon as they boarded the station, stepping into the cool, antiseptic-scented brightness of what had once been a cargo bay, she saw that it was more serious than she’d figured. Most of the team was waiting to greet them, excited and impatient for the culmination of their hard work, but there were six conspicuous absences.

  “Welcome home, Doctors!”

  John Connolly was wearing a huge grin, much bigger than his brother’s, standing next to him. Tom Connolly had been betting all along that the pressurized chemical vat prep would be a total failure, a bet that his younger brother had taken him up on. It had been Suni’s idea to use their names as signals, on the off chance that the station needed to contact them at the summit.

  “John, not Tom,” Kettaract said, smiling. “What did you win?”

  “It’s not what he won, it’s what I lost,” Tom said good-naturedly. “Top billing in the history books to my younger brother, thank you very much.”

  Every one of the sixteen assembled scientists and technicians laughed, a sound of barely suppressed jubilance, the very air electric with a sense of gleeful accomplishment. She was glad to see them so excited, they deserved it. A few of them had been with Kettaract since the very beginning, when he’d been working out of an abandoned warehouse on a nonaligned planet in the Taugan sector. Before he’d met the people she worked for.

  “Where are the others?” Kettaract asked.

  “Cafeteria,” John said, his smile fading slightly. “When they realized how close we are . . . it’s not that they don’t believe in you, Bendes, they’re just scared.”

  “Now that it’s actually happening, I think they just can’t believe it,” Wesker piped up, sniffing loudly. The physicist seemed to have a perpetually runny nose. “It’s a kind of denial. Fear of success.”

  Suni had to smile. Success in this case meant fame and fortune, while failure likely meant death; she doubted very much that they were terribly afraid of succeeding. The problem was faith, as it had been all along. Faith in Bendes, faith in themselves.

  “I believe I could use one last meal before we forever change the course of history,” Kettaract said, initiating more laughter. “Let’s all go. I have a few things I want to say, to everyone.”

  The group broke into couples and trios as they trooped out into the station’s interior, chatting happily at each other. Suni hung back a little, watching them. It was amazing to see, after so many months, years, of knowing them as pale, solemn people, always with clipboards in hand, always frowning.

  I probably looked the same way, skulking around this cavernous, empty station with no real life, calculating and recalculating the probabilities over and over. . . .

  Not anymore, not ever again. She’d done her part, as a scientist and as a motivator—running equations, keeping her contacts informed, teaching Bendes how to inspire his team. Taking care of problems. When the cloak had become available, she’d been the one to talk him into it, pointing out how close they were, how they couldn’t afford to be interrupted.

  She had kept the project going, all in the name of making the Federation into what it should be. With the power of the Omega molecule backing it up, there would be nothing to stand in the way, nothing to keep the Federation from its altruistic goals—uniting all worlds, creating peace and prosperity for every living being who wanted to be a part of it.

  Not a bad way to have spent her time . . . but she was exhausted, tired of accepting the harsh responsibility for so many of the setbacks and mistakes, tired of carrying Bendes and the others through their tantrums and doubts.

  Let’s not forget the loneliness, Jain, her mind whispered cruelly, all those days and weeks and months of secrets. She didn’t need a reminder; it wasn’t possible to forget. Not even Kettaract knew who she really was.

  But after tonight, everything changed. There’d be a few weeks of initial research before they officially went public . . . which meant she’d be able to get away for a week or two while the med docs and engineers started in, to take a real break. There was no way anyone would begrudge her that.

  A week or two with Jim Kirk, she hoped—fulfilling the promise of that lingering kiss, definitely, but she thought there could be more. It would be a chance to find out . . . and even if nothing lasting came from it, she wasn’t going to be worrying about having wasted her time, relaxing with an attractive, strong, honest man, maybe even telling him a few of her less compromising secrets. The irony really was something, considering his part in collecting the cloaking device that concealed the project. . . . not that he ever needed to know about that.

  But I could talk about my work on the molecule. He’s Starfleet, he’d be thrilled. In another hour or two, it wouldn’t really matter if the truth got out about Kettaract’s work. It just meant there’d be more people glorying in their success.

  The renewed thought of what was about to happen made her heart pound. As she followed the others into the cafeteria, she could barely resist a sudden urge to dance. It was happening, it was finally happening.

  The six scientists who were already sitting in the cafeteria were grouped together anxiously, huddled over cups of coffee. They watched their colleagues march in with carefully neutral expressions, but they couldn’t hide their body language, the rounded shoulders, the lowered heads. Suni felt sorry for them; if she had any doubt that Bendes Kettaract could pull it off, she’d be scared, too.

  “Everyone, take a seat, please,” Kettaract said, walking toward the front of the room. “I’d like to say a few words.”

  Suni silently willed him to remember at least some of her extensive advice. It should be fine, he was in too good a mood to go off on one of his tears, as he’d done only the night before. She still couldn’t believe that he’d been stupid enough to draw so much attention to himself, without even knowing how close they were to finishing.

  Anyway, he can hardly screw up. Everyone here wants to believe.

  “It appears that tonight’s the night,” he said, smiling widely. A few people applauded. “And it seems appropriate for me to stand up and tell you all how proud I am, that each of you is here with me, now. I know it hasn’t always been easy, but you stuck it out; you studied the work, you saw its integrity . . . and you made sacrifices in your own lives to come here, to live and work with me on my dream. And that’s made it your dream, too.”

  Sounds like he actually listened for a change. He’d touched on the solidity of his work, added a note of humility and an acknowledgment that they’d all suffered a little. Exactly as she’d suggested.

  “I realize that there’s some concern out there, some nervousness,” he continued, “and I think that’s only natural. The awesome power of Omega is nothing to take lightly . . . but neither is the importance of what we’re doing here. Is there a risk? Of course, though we all know that it’s infinitesimal. But changing the course of history . . . well, that’s a risky business. And I believe, absolutely, that we are about to get a huge payoff for taking a very small chance.

  “We are about to create a universe of possibility for our children, and our children’s children . . . for the future of every Federation citizen. Peace, forever.”

  He had them, the doubters. Suni could see it in Kaylor’s eyes, in Patterson’s face, in the way Angelo was puffing out his chest. It was exactly what they needed to hear.

  Kettaract smiled, shaking his head. “Look at me, making speeches. All I really wanted to do was say thank you, so . . . thank you. And thanks for listening.”

  More applause, laughter, shouted you’re-welcomes. If Suni didn’t know better, she might actually think he was a humble man; he hadn’t bothered mentioning that in private he referred to most of them as lackeys, insisting that on
ly a handful were actually competent . . . but then, that probably wouldn’t set the right tone for Kettaract’s big day.

  Suni liked several people on the station. She’d taken pride in the work she’d done to contribute to Kettaract’s molecule, and she believed deeply in the ultimate objective, giving the Federation the power it deserved . . . but at the moment, tonight was all that mattered, and all that she really cared about. She’d been teamed with Bendes Kettaract to get results, and after nearly three years of hard work, she was finally going to prevail.

  She was still thinking as much when she saw Dickerson motioning at her from the doorway. Kubaro Dickerson headed up the small group who kept the station’s essentials running, and was the only other person on board sent by the experiment’s supporters since Max had gone.

  As soon as she reached him, he pulled her into the hall. He was uncharacteristically nervous, his expression worried, a small tic at the corner of his left eye.

  “There’s a ship out there,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Instantly, Suni’s happiness dried up. “What? Federation? How close?”

  “Starfleet, Constitution-class,” he said. “It’s about eight hundred million kilometers out, but it looks like they’re headed in this direction.”

  “No problems with the cloak?”

  Dickerson shook his head. “No—but what the hell are they doing out here?”

  Suni didn’t answer. She was too busy mentally cursing Kettaract for his inflammatory rant back at the summit, practically begging for Starfleet to check him out.

  It seemed that somebody had decided to take him up on it.

  * * *

  McCoy postponed the last of the crew physicals for a day, knowing that he was too preoccupied to do a good job. He paced sickbay instead, not sure what he should do.