by S. D. Perry
If Spock’s theory was right—and his theories almost always were, confound him—Karen Patterson had hooked up with a rogue group of geniuses, convinced that they were going to change the universe. McCoy knew Jim well enough to know that he’d put a stop to their Omega experiment, one way or another . . . but what about Karen? How obsessed was she with what she was working on, what if she wasn’t interested in helping someone she’d barely known in med school?
And how am I supposed to get hold of her to find out?
Jim had been pretty vague about plans, beyond finding the station. The idea was to trace the Sphinx’s recorded trajectory back into the Lantaru sector, and then look for recent particle exhaust from Kettaract’s ship. Assuming they could even find the damned station, assuming that the scientists on board didn’t try to escape when they realized they were found out, what then? Depending on how many people were involved, the Enterprise would either take Dr. Kettaract and his people into custody, or stand guard until a bigger transport ship could arrive . . . but either way, Karen Patterson was probably going to end up in a penitentiary somewhere, and it seemed pretty unlikely that any of those places maintained disease-research facilities.
For about the millionth time since he’d been diagnosed, McCoy felt a surge of guilt, for worrying about himself over everything else, for considering practically everything by how it related to him, to curing his xenopolycythemia. He couldn’t seem to help it. It was either that, or . . .
. . . or face death. Accept that you’re going to die.
He wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t about to give up, not when there was still a chance. When he realized that the ship had dropped out of warp, he headed straight for the bridge.
Everyone was at their stations, the viewscreen showing a big, empty nothing, as expected. McCoy moved to stand behind Jim’s chair, gazing out at the expanse of blackness and stars.
“Anything?” Jim asked.
Spock was bent over his sensors. “Negative. I don’t—”
He broke off, adjusting a knob on the side of his directed console. “Captain, I’m picking up matterantimatter particle exhaust bearing one one seven mark seven.”
“Slow and steady, Mr. Sulu,” Jim said, absently rubbing at his lower lip with the fingertips of his left hand, staring at the screen as though he expected to see something.
McCoy did the very same, and wondered if Karen was out there in the dark, staring back at them and wishing they would go away.
Chapter Fourteen
Kirk watched the screen as the Enterprise edged deeper into the Lantaru sector, thinking about their next move.
Spock had found traces of a postwarp vent, what had to be Kettaract’s ship, but it was dissipating fast—and even if they managed to stop right next to the station, Kirk couldn’t think of a nonviolent way to force them to decloak. No one would be able to transport over, though he supposed they could send over some kind of recorded message . . . he didn’t know about reasoning with Kettaract, but if he could get to Jain, he knew she would see sense.
If she has any say in the matter. She was smart, but Kettaract might have duped her into believing that everything was safe . . . just as he might have sabotaged the Sphinx without her knowing. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he also honestly couldn’t imagine her hurting anybody.
“Adjust to one two zero mark five,” Spock said.
“Yes sir,” Sulu acknowledged, watching his console.
“So what are you planning to do, exactly?” Bones asked, stepping forward to stand at Kirk’s right. “Just fly around until we run into them?”
Kirk didn’t answer McCoy’s sardonic question, his mind going back to the idea of transporting an object through the cloak. It seemed like the best way to contact the station, and certainly the safest. The problem was not knowing the exact coordinates—and even if they got lucky, managed to drop a tricorder or clipboard into an open area on the station, they could end up beaming it into somebody’s closet, somewhere no one would find it. The graviton field made finding life signs impossible; the energy output from the cloaking device was so great that it obscured all direct sensor readings, except for the existence of the gravitons themselves. Even then you had to be looking for them in a specific pattern, and all you’d end up finding if you tried to trace it was—
Of course. The thought was a revelation, the plan instantly in place. If Spock could find it, and Scotty could intensify a transporter beam high enough—
“Spock—using the graviton patterns that Mr. Scott recorded, would it be possible to zero in on the source? On the cloaking device itself?”
Spock straightened, an expression of intense deliberation on his face as he turned to look at Kirk.
“Yes,” he said slowly, frowning. “I see . . . assuming the facility is stationary. But transporting it would take an immense amount of energy . . .”
Kirk felt a flash of triumph at Spock’s response. If Mr. Spock said it was possible, it was possible—and if the power existed, Scotty would find a way to make it happen.
“Full stop, Mr. Sulu, and stand by,” Kirk said, reaching for the intercom. They’d never know what hit them.
* * *
Half an hour. If they could just stay hidden for another half hour, everything would be ready and it wouldn’t matter anymore.
If there’s a God, just give us a few more minutes, please, Suni thought as she hurried to the lab. The starship was less than fifteen thousand kilometers away and closing; there was no question in her mind that having lost the transport’s signature—the only way they could have made it this close—they were sitting there scanning for unusual readings. She had nightmarish visions of the Starfleet vessel shooting a probe into what they saw as an anomaly, maybe directing a charged beam into it and destroying them all, either by directly hitting them hard enough to breach the hull or accidentally tripping off some of the potentially deadly chemicals and equipment they had around.
Kettaract was overseeing the final calibrations to the accelerators, double-checking the photo-multiplier tubes, running back and forth and probably making a huge nuisance of himself when she arrived. She understood his excitement, but he was slowing things up. Until it was time to flip the last switch for the countdown—and the honor was rightfully his—his presence wasn’t required in the lab . . . and when he heard about the ship, he was going to go from being a hassle to being a raving, shouting distraction that they absolutely could not afford.
Please, God, give us a break, I’ll never ask for anything ever again.
Determined not to disrupt anyone’s concentration at such a crucial time, Suni pulled Kettaract toward the door, telling him she needed just a moment to discuss something—
—and before they’d gone two steps, the red-alert panels in the lab started to blink and caterwaul, the alarms resounding through the vast, open space and sounding like the end of the universe. And even through the surprised cries of the scientists and technicians, through her own racing, panicked thoughts and the absolute horror dawning on Kettaract’s face, she realized, deep down, that either God didn’t exist or that He absolutely hated her guts.
* * *
At the helm, Sulu watched the screen closely, wondering what was going to happen. Was a space station suddenly going to appear, like some photographic effect? Or would there be a few seconds, a kind of fading-in while the cloaking device was being transported?
Or will it work at all? So far as he knew, nothing like this had ever been tried before.
The intercom was open, Mr. Spock continuing to narrow the search while Mr. Scott carefully adjusted coordinates, the captain’s clever idea slowly becoming a reality. In front of the ship there was only endless space, and though he tried to discern some sign, some blur or ripple that would give the cloaked station away, Sulu couldn’t see a thing. It was eerie, thinking that there might be hundreds of people just sitting out there, silently watching . . .
“Captain, I’ve narrowed it to one square meter of t
he highest graviton density,” Mr. Spock said. “I will not be able to reduce the area any further.”
“Then that will just have to be close enough,” Captain Kirk replied. “Let’s hope no one’s standing next to it, or they’re going to get one hell of a surprise.”
“Mr. Scott, please readjust the ACB to eleven billion parts per millimeter,” Spock said, “and lock coordinates.”
“Aye,” the engineer responded. “I’ve got her in my sights; just say the word.”
Sulu tried not to blink. It seemed like he could actually feel the intense scrutiny of everyone on the bridge, everyone staring at the main screen, waiting for the captain’s signal.
“Energize.”
Sulu hadn’t even realized that he was holding his breath until a gasp was forced out of him, as a dark, massive wall blocked out most of the stars, instantly, extending away from them for what seemed like forever before curving out of sight. This close the Enterprise was dwarfed by it, a flea on a dog’s back, its sudden, looming appearance a frightening surprise.
Everyone on the bridge reacted, Uhura even letting out a soft oh, but the captain didn’t blink.
“Scotty, I take it we have a cloaking device,” he said calmly, nodding at the helm. “Go to fifty percent magnification.”
Chekov shakily reached for the controls as Mr. Scott responded, a grin in his voice. “Aye, sir. And a goodly piece of a shield-generator console, too.”
A second later the screen blinked and they could see it in its entirety, an immense wheel-shaped station tilted about twenty degrees at its axis. It was a design Sulu had never seen before, the angle and the dark, metallic hull giving it a strangely menacing appearance.
Well, and the fact that it popped up like a monster from under a kid’s bed certainly doesn’t add to its appeal.
“Lieutenant, open a channel,” the captain said.
“See if either Dr. Bendes Kettaract or Dr. Jain Suni is available to speak to us about their experiment.”
If Captain Kirk was pleased at all with the success of his plan, he wasn’t showing it. He seemed almost unhappy, in fact, though Sulu couldn’t imagine why.
* * *
Someone had turned off the alarms, at least, and while Kettaract attempted to calm everyone down, Jain tried desperately to think of a plan. According to Dickerson, the cloaking device was gone. She had no idea how the starship had figured it out, but there it was; they’d lost an invaluable piece of equipment and invited a possibly hostile investigation. Except it wouldn’t matter one damned bit if they could just complete the synthesis.
All we have to do is keep them out for a little while, tell them . . . come on, think, you’re supposed to be good at this!
Tell them we have a quarantine. Something nasty and infectious.
It would work. She couldn’t imagine that any Starfleet captain would want to risk exposing his crew to a disease, and she wasn’t needed in the lab; she could go talk to whoever, cough a few times and spout off something vague about a secret Intelligence project to explain the cloak. It wouldn’t hold up for long, but it didn’t have to. By the time they started asking the hard questions, the countdown would have already started.
Her communicator beeped. She flipped it open as she started walking toward Kettaract, to tell him to keep things moving while she handled it.
“Dr. Suni, this is Chris up in ops.” Chris Bianchi, one of Dickerson’s people. He sounded extremely tense. “There’s someone hailing us from the U.S.S. Enterprise—”
Jain froze.
“—and they’re asking for you by name, you or Dr. Kettaract. They actually said they wanted to talk to you about the experiment. What should I tell them?”
She didn’t, couldn’t answer. It was Jim out there.
How, I was so careful—
Had he followed her? Had it been she, not Kettaract, who’d dared Starfleet to step in by what she’d said, how she’d acted?
Didn’t matter, didn’t, she had to think of something, they couldn’t give up now. If only there was some way she could make him understand—
As quickly as that, she had it. It wasn’t foolproof, but if it worked . . . oh, God, if it worked, not only would Kettaract’s molecule become the miracle it was destined to be, there was actually a chance she might end up with Jim on her side.
“Tell them to stand by,” she said, and went to talk to Kettaract.
* * *
Dr. Kettaract was an older man with a shifty look about him. Chekov knew immediately, the second his smiling, disingenuous face came up on the main screen, that he was not a quality individual.
“Captain Kirk, isn’t it? And I see Mr. Spock is with you . . . I’m Bendes Kettaract.”
“I know who you are,” the captain said sternly. “And I know what you’re doing. This Omega molecule of yours is dangerous, Doctor, and I’m afraid I can’t allow you to continue. I’m also going to have to take you and your team into custody, to face whatever charges Starfleet Intelligence sees fit to bring about.”
You tell him, Captain, Chekov thought. This was probably the man responsible for murdering the crew of the Sphinx, and after using them to steal away Dr. McCoy’s woman. He deserved no sympathy, not a bit.
Kettaract shook his head. “I don’t understand—where did you get the idea that Omega is dangerous?”
Mr. Spock stepped forward. “Sir, your molecule cannot exist. It will destabilize immediately upon synthesis.”
Dr. Kettaract’s true colors showed for just a second, a flash of intense anger in his eyes before he was back to his insincere smile. Like the famous Russian story about the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“I disagree, Mr. Spock. From my original work, yes, I can see why you might think so—but I assure you, it has evolved through the years. And I can prove it to you, if you’ll just give me a chance. I want to invite you and your captain to beam over and see all that we’ve accomplished, how close we are . . .”
He nodded at the captain. “ . . . and I know that Dr. Suni would be more than happy to talk about what this will mean for the Federation. Believe me, Captain—everything we’re doing is to further the Federation’s interests.”
“Does that include killing Jack Casden and his crew?” The captain asked heatedly. “Do lies and murder further the Federation’s interests?”
The doctor hesitated before speaking. “That was a terrible accident,” he said finally, so solemnly that Chekov almost believed him. “You have no idea how sorry I am about what happened to Captain Casden. And I’m willing to talk about going with you to the authorities, to accept my part—but not until you let me prove to you that what I’m working on here is not only possible, it’s about to become reality.”
Kettaract shifted his attention to Spock again. “We are literally just minutes from completion, Mr. Spock. If I can’t prove to you that it’s safe, I’ll pack my things without a fight. But if I can . . .” The doctor smiled brilliantly, his first genuine smile of the entire conversation. “If I can, I hope you’ll all stand with us, to bear witness to the birth of a new era for the Federation, and for the universe as we know it.”
Right. I’ll be sure to put that on my calendar. He shot a quick look at Sulu, who shot the same look right back. It seemed the doctor had been wandering around on the steppes for too long without a hat.
“Stand by,” Kirk said, and Uhura automatically blanked the screen. “Mr. Spock?”
“I will admit to a certain curiosity, Captain. And we’d be able to keep him from continuing his work while we’re there.”
“I’d like to tag along, too, if you don’t mind,” Dr. McCoy said, and Chekov silently applauded when the captain agreed. It seemed that the doctor was going to see his lady friend, after all.
Hope he has better luck than I did with Joanna. Not only had she beaten him at chess, she’d announced her engagement over his fallen king. He’d had to congratulate her twice.
The captain nodded at Uhura, and Dr. Kettaract came back on scr
een.
“We accept your offer, Doctor.”
Kettaract beamed. “You won’t be sorry.”
The captain called Mr. Scott up to take command, and then he and the doctor and Mr. Spock left the bridge, off to see about the false and possibly crazy doctor and his unstable experiment.
Chapter Fifteen
“How much longer?” Suni asked, watching Wesker sniffle at the computer screen, adjusting the meson reads for about the twentieth time. He was a whiz at calibrating for top and bottom quark pairs, but he was easily the slowest member of the team.
“Look at the vertical axis,” Wesker said. “The pion number is still off. Spectrum needs to be broader.”
Suni gritted her teeth but didn’t say a word, stepping back to give him room. Everything else was ready, the team had pushed and the lab was prepped; if anything went wrong because she’d rushed the ion concentration, she’d never forgive herself.
All of the scientists were waiting, some of them already gathering at the clear plexi observation room at the front of the lab where the synthesis would take place. The others were milling around, talking in low voices. The earlier festive air was gone, which was surely best; they could celebrate later, when the molecule was secure in its containment field and all was right with the world.
Her communicator signaled. She already knew who it was and what he was going to say, but hearing it out loud made her stomach go fluttery.
“They’re on their way,” Dickerson said.
Of course they were. She hadn’t doubted for a moment that Jim would accept Kettaract’s invitation, not after what she’d told Kettaract to say about her wanting to talk. She’d been betting that whatever Jim thought of her now, whatever he knew exactly, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard it from her. And it seemed she’d been right.
She turned, walked slowly toward the synthesis setup, seeing it as if for the first time—the well-spaced equipment, the scintillators waiting to be lit, acceleration rings waiting to be injected. It was going to be beautiful in its precision. Once Kettaract hit the switch, the computer would take over, faultlessly measuring the ion ratios before sending the beams through the rings. When the painstakingly perfect beams had accelerated to just the right speed, they’d be released to slam together, meeting inside the magnetic field in the center of the room that would contain the final result. A specialized energy spectrum monitor would kick on the instant the ion beams met, venting the tremendous excess of energy from the chain reaction into subspace, where it could expand harmlessly.
