“My elder sister and both brothers.” She said the words as if they were a mantra, or something that motivated her. He was sure that was exactly what they were, as in his experience, that was the Klingon way.
“As a prelude to the war, the Romulans tried to drive a wedge between the Federation and the Empire. I guess they hoped both to weaken any resistance to their expansion, and to stave off Federation interference in their . . . king-making with the Duras.”
“Interference which, thank Kahless, happened.”
“Yeah. What the Romulans did was to abduct a Starfleet officer. They used psychosurgical techniques to program him to assassinate a Klingon governor, and spark hostilities between the Federation and the Empire. The EM bands that linked his brain and his prosthetic vision device were used to control him.”
“You.”
“Me.”
“But you . . . you didn’t kill any governor?”
“No. I didn’t even know what I was doing, I didn’t remember being a prisoner of the Romulans . . . All I remembered was taking a really fun vacation on Risa.”
“We are siblings in pain,” Qat’qa said slowly. “I understand. May I speak freely?”
“Granted.”
“I did not give you permission to call me Kat.” She shrugged. “An oversight, which I correct now. Please feel free to call me Kat.”
“Thank you, Kat.” La Forge meant it from the bottom of his heart. He knew how seriously Klingons took the matter of names. “Now, we have some Romulans to rescue.”
The crew of the Stormcrow could hardly breathe between the leaking coolant and fire suppression gas contaminating the atmosphere. Static from the communications system provided an appropriately hissy accompaniment. The chairman wondered whether she would asphyxiate before the singularity at the heart of the warp core crushed the ship.
“Ten minutes,” Voktra said, too coolly. The chairman couldn’t help wondering if there was some Vulcan blood in that one. Without warning, the static broke up into fragments of speech. For a moment the chairman thought she was hallucinating, but then she saw that Voktra was also hearing it.
“. . . len . . . r spon . . . call. I repeat, Romulan vessel, this is the U.S.S. Challenger responding to your distress call.”
A Federation ship, the chairman thought. It would have to be, wouldn’t it? She sought out Voktra’s eyes, and saw hope there. She nodded slowly to Voktra, accepting the inevitable. “Hail them and apprise them of our situation.”
Voktra collapsed to her knees, slamming them painfully into the hard transporter pads, as soon as the beam freed her. She was one of half a dozen Romulans who stumbled off the pad, gasping for breath.
She had waited to be one of the last ones off, to be sure that as many people were evacuated from the ship as possible. She knew it would take a while for the toxins to get out of her lungs. But now she could breathe again. A human with four pips on his collar—the captain—and strange eyes, which she quickly recognized were cybernetic implants, helped her up. “We’ve got sixty-eight survivors, including yourself. Is that all of you?”
Voktra shook her head, but it was a tiny motion. “Our passenger would not leave until all other survivors had been rescued.”
“It looks to me as if that’s what’s happened. Your passenger doesn’t need to go down with the ship.”
“No.” Voktra raised her communicator. “Chairman, this is Engineer Voktra. All survivors are now aboard the Federation ship. Are you ready to transport?”
“I’m ready,” the resigned voice came back.
A shiver ran down La Forge’s spine as he helped Voktra toward a waiting medical tech, but he couldn’t quite work out why. “Bring their passenger across,” he ordered the ensign at the transporter console. He wondered what sort of VIP passenger wouldn’t be first off. One they might not want in Starfleet hands, perhaps.
As the Romulan VIP shimmered into form on the transporter pad, La Forge understood why he had this sense of foreboding. It was the voice that he had found familiar, and now the sight of the uncharacteristically straw-colored hair shaped in the familiar Romulan bob. He knew the face that he would see, even before she turned around to face him.
“Captain La Forge,” Sela said, with a rather strained but wolfish smile. “Always a pleasure.”
Under Kat’s assured hands, Challenger swept up and out of the Neutral Zone and made a brief jump to warp. The hull of the Stormcrow flashed and burned, and then crumpled into oblivion.
Chairman Sela wasn’t someone that Geordi would have chosen to walk on Challenger’s bridge, but she was, like it or not, a high-ranking member of a foreign government, and therefore entitled to full diplomatic treatment and respect. He quickly escorted her to the conference room.
“Thank you for saving our lives,” Sela began. “Now, I formally request that you take me and the crew of the Stormcrow to rendezvous with one of our vessels in the Neutral Zone. I presume you have notified Romulus as well as Starfleet about this incident.”
“We have.” Geordi wanted to get straight to the point. “What were you doing in the Neutral Zone?”
“I only really need to give you my name, rank, and service number.”
“How about I tell you what you were doing.” She gave him a faux-encouraging smile, so he continued. “According to our sensor reports on your warp trail, you were out of control, heading for the pulsar. That means either engine failure or sabotage. Since the ship was a well-used design, I’ll vote for the latter.”
“Well done, Captain La Forge.” She sounded genuinely impressed. “A political accident, shall we say.”
“You must have a lot of enemies, especially among engineers.”
“Suffice it to say that a full investigation will get underway as soon as I return to Romulus. And, all things being equal, that had best be soon. I don’t think the Senate will appreciate my absence any more than your government would appreciate the chief of Starfleet Intelligence being a guest of ours for an extended period. They have a tendency to get—”
“Antsy.”
Sela laughed, but couldn’t deny it. “Perhaps it could go easier for you—for Starfleet as a whole—if I could speak to my government, and reassure them about my safety.”
La Forge nodded. “Of course.” That was a perfectly normal right that visiting dignitaries had. It was hard to think of Sela as a dignitary, but, in all legal ways, she was. Chairman of the Tal Shiar was at least the equivalent of a cabinet position in the Federation’s government, as far as he could tell. “I’ll have my first officer arrange that immediately, and the same for the ship’s crew, if they want to let their families know they’re all right, and if your government allows it.”
“They’ll allow it. The Stormcrow’s crew have at least one friend in high places.”
“It must be a good job, being chairman of the Tal Shiar.”
“Oh, it is.”
“And stressful when people arrange accidents for your ships.”
She gave him a coquettish look that dripped insincerity. “So many professions have an associated risk of injury. Anyone who’s been in the military is used to such things.”
Within the hour, Chairman Sela was in touch with Praetor Kamemor, who was still on Glintara. La Forge had promised her that any connection she made would be secure and not monitored by Starfleet, and she at least believed that he believed that. Sela hadn’t risen to the chairmanship by being so naïve; she knew that everyone was monitored by someone.
“Chairman Sela,” Kamemor said. “I’m relieved to see that you’re safe.”
“I am, but the Empire has lost a fine ship, Commander Marist, and many members of the Stormcrow’s crew.”
“Commander Marist?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Ah, great pity. He was one of our more reliable captains. What happened, Sela?”
“I’d like Director Vellil to look into that,” Sela said carefully. “Formally,” she added.
“I’ll pass tha
t along to your staff, assuming I haven’t just done so,” Kamemor said with a crooked smile. “We must arrange your return. I’ll have Commander Varaan meet the Challenger at a set of coordinates suitable to both us and Starfleet. Proconsul Tomalak knows the best channels to arrange it.”
“I understand, Praetor.”
Carolan pressed the door chime to the ready room, and entered when La Forge called her through. “News from Starfleet?” he guessed aloud.
“Coordinates to rendezvous with a Romulan ship in twenty-four hours. It’ll take that long for their ship to get here, but we’re only two hours from the rendezvous.”
“Plenty of time to complete our scan of the system, then,” Geordi decided. “So long as Sela keeps out of our hair, that’ll suit me just fine.”
A pair of security guards escorted Sela to sickbay. La Forge stood next to Nog until they were gone.
“While Rasmussen was untrustworthy,” Nog said, “Romulans are far worse.”
“It won’t be for long,” La Forge promised. “Carolan has notified both Starfleet and the Romulan ambassador. As soon as we’re done scanning this system, we’ll arrange their repatriation home.”
“Until then, Captain, I’d like to keep all security staff on double shifts until they’re gone.”
“That’s probably for the best.” La Forge stepped away, casting a glance to see how Qat’qa was reacting to Sela’s presence. The Klingon woman was studiously facing front, like a statue. That too, La Forge thought, was probably for the best.
He stepped into the turbolift and went to engineering. There, Vol was cursing while trying to feel his way around a circuit, which he couldn’t possibly see, inside a wall. Scotty was working on what looked like a class ten probe’s guidance unit, but he came over when he saw La Forge.
“Are ye looking for Leah?”
La Forge couldn’t deny it. “Is she here?”
“Upstairs.” Scotty indicated the upper balcony around the warp core. “She’s fiddlin’ with the injectors, I think.”
“Lucky her.”
“The pressures of command gettin’ to ye? Or just the presence of the Romulans on board?”
“Take a wild guess, Scotty.”
“Don’t worry. The Romulans will probably keep quiet, but,” he added, “only so long as they know ye’re watching them like a hawk. And I don’t mean letting them think you’re watching. I mean properly watching.”
“We are. Nog’s doubling all security shifts.”
Scotty nodded approvingly. “That wee Ferengi’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’ll keep things right.”
La Forge nodded, and took the little platform lift up to the balcony.
Leah saw him, and immediately put down her tools and stood up from the panel she had been working in. “You seem . . . tense.” Tense, depressed, and sliding back toward that obsessive look that she’d learned to recognize since he came back into her life.
“Yeah, it’s . . .”
“If Scotty didn’t think you could handle the stress, he wouldn’t have appointed you captain.”
“Yeah.”
“And if Starfleet didn’t think you could handle it, they wouldn’t have approved the appointment.”
“Yeah.”
“And I know you’ve been in worse situations than having a ship full of rescued Romulans.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to say anything except ‘yeah’?”
“Y-Yes. It’s not just that they’re Romulans, it’s . . . her.”
“Sela.” La Forge nodded. Leah wasn’t crass enough to jokingly suggest that Sela was an ex from hell, but the thought crossed her mind. She knew better. “She looks a lot like your friend, Tasha.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Tell me.” He still hesitated. “Geordi . . . We had secrets from each other when we first met”—a generous way of putting it—“but not since. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”
“I know you will, it’s just . . . It’s something that I can’t really understand. Or remember.”
“Remember?”
“You know about my being a prisoner of the Romulans, and being programmed like a remote to assassinate a Klingon governor?”
“Yes.”
“She’s the one who did it.”
Leah was too stunned to think of a suitable response. Going to visit Sela with a plasma welder didn’t sound particularly suitable, thought it was a very attractive idea. “I’m so sorry . . .”
“She was in command of the mission, and gave the orders. She didn’t perform the surgery.” He ran a hand across the top of his head.
“You know what they say. No good deed goes unpunished.”
“So I’ve heard, thanks for reminding me.”
Leah’s expression softened, and she took him by the arms. “Geordi.”
“I know.”
“I just can’t really say it to her the way I’d mean it, without causing a diplomatic incident that the Federation Council wouldn’t really thank me for.”
“Female of the species, huh?”
“On this occasion, yes.”
“It’s not just who she is that’s bothering me—it’s what she is now. Chairman of the Tal Shiar.”
“That’s a big-picture player.”
“It’s one they’re not going to let stay with us for long,” Geordi said. He fell silent, wondering just how much trouble the disappearance of such a high government figure would cause.
30
Challenger circled Pulsar Alpha Six-Four at one-quarter impulse power. Both governments had agreed that this was a suitable location for a Romulan delegation to come and recover their people.
“There’s not a lot of the Romulan ship left,” Nog reported from his tactical console. “The wing that was severed in their crash is the only piece larger than a slip of latinum.”
“Thanks Nog.” La Forge turned to Sela, who was waiting with a pair of the Challenger’s security guards just outside the turbolift. La Forge shivered, thinking that she looked like she belonged on the bridge. Whether because of Romulan arrogance, or because she looked so like her mother, who had once held the Enterprise’s tactical position, he wasn’t sure. “Do you want us to tractor the wreckage we’ve located? We can bring it in for you if you—”
“No.” It sounded like an order rather than a response, and he actually felt the tiniest glimpse of an urge to follow it. Maybe it was a remnant of what she had once done to him. Maybe she was testing to see how much of the conditioning remained.
“It’s your choice,” Geordi said with a shrug, “but the offer’s there.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at the main viewer, where the pulsar turned rapidly. “I think I’d best see the warbird’s crew now. I’m sure they’re being treated well.”
“They are.” La Forge bit off the urge to make a point about Starfleet treating its captives civilly. He didn’t want her to see that kind of reaction from him. “The injured are in sickbay, and we’ve turned cargo bays two and three into makeshift accommodations. These officers will take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Anywhere? That’s very generous.”
“Anywhere within reason.” He nodded to the security guards, who escorted Sela into the lift. He was relieved to see her go, and surprised to find that he had dug his nails into his palms without even noticing.
Leah, in what had been the counselor’s seat on the Enterprise, leaned in toward him as he took his seat. “Captain,” she whispered for his ears alone. “Maybe whatever hit them might still be in the vicinity. Considering the state of the Romulan ship, any such mystery vessel might also be damaged.”
“Or destroyed.”
Leah shook her head. “I think if it was destroyed we’d have found wreckage from it as well as the Romulan ship.”
“Unless all the wreckage went into subspace.”
“There’s a subspace element to whatever these things are, but they can’t exist just in subspace, or the Romulan ship
could never have sustained that kind of physical damage.”
“Fair point.”
“If it’s damaged, it might be leaking energy, or radiation, or plasma, that we can search for or track. And that’ll be the best way to look, because it’s probably either cloaked or otherwise not immediately recognizable.”
“The Romulans obviously didn’t see it coming,” La Forge agreed.
“It probably traveled on further, and maybe it didn’t stop at all, but any energy leakage will be more discernible as we move away from the site of this explosion.”
“I agree, Qat’qa. Plot a search pattern. A spherical expanding spiral search.”
“Apple peel, sir?”
La Forge was momentarily surprised at Qat’qa’s comment, then laughed. “Exactly. Engage search pattern apple peel, on one-quarter impulse.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I’ll adjust the sensors to scan for subspace kinetodynamic energy signatures,” Leah said, rising from her seat. “That’s the most likely wake this thing will have left.”
“Make it—” Geordi caught himself. What Picard would do was one thing, but what Picard would say was another. “Go right ahead.”
“Chairman Sela, almost lost?” Gell Kamemor still couldn’t believe what had happened. If the Tal Shiar chairman was one thing and one thing only, she was secure. She had had to be, as her position was vital to the Empire. “What happened?”
“We’re not certain yet, Praetor,” Proconsul Tomalak replied. “We know that the vessel she was aboard was sabotaged, and sent out of control. The intent seems to have been to crash the ship into a pulsar, with the chairman aboard. An overthought assassination plan, in my opinion. Not efficient.”
Kamemor frowned and said, “Could there have been Federation involvement in the sabotage?”
“We know the saboteur was Director Jano Vellil of the Tal Shiar’s technical directorate. He claims to have acted to avenge the late chairman Rehaek, but if he colluded with Federation agents to do so, our interrogators will soon find out,” Tomalak promised.
Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic Page 30
