by Peter David
Cray’s right antenna twitched. “Time was of the essence, Commander.”
“Belay that, Number One.” Kenyon turned toward the tactical console. “What’s their status?”
Cray consulted his readouts. “Phaser banks charged and locked. Torpedo tubes loaded. They have not raised shields.” Cray looked meaningfully at Kenyon. “If they mean us harm, they can.”
“Our status?” asked Parsons.
“All departments report red alert. Weapons systems standing by and awaiting the captain’s orders,” said Cray.
Kenyon resumed his command seat. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“Captain,” said Chu’lak, “I read the Romulan vessel as the Hiyll’aeh.”
“Captain, we’re being hailed,” said Hash.
Kenyon took a deep breath and sighed. “The moment of truth. On screen, Lieutenant.”
The image of the D’Deridex-class ship changed to an image of the Romulan bridge.
Kenyon rose from his command seat and strode to the center of the bridge. “Tomalak.”
The Romulan inclined his head and smiled thinly. “Captain Kenyon, it has been far too long.”
“Not long enough,” Kenyon said, his voice barely a whisper.
Tomalak nodded his head sympathetically. “The regrettable incident near Nimbus III, I believe.”
“Regrettable?” said Kenyon, his voice rising, his face reddening. “Regrettable? I lost my ship, Tomalak.” Kenyon paused. “And my wife.”
“As I said, Captain, a most regrettable incident.” Tomalak bit his lower lip, and took measure of Kenyon. “I hope this is not another ‘regrettable incident.’ What explanation have you for your attack on my vessel?”
“Attack? What are you talking about? Your ship crossed the Neutral Zone in defiance of the Treaty of Algeron.”
“The weapon you launched struck my vessel. Even now we are assessing the damage.”
“We fired no weapon, only a sensor probe. Our mission, whether you chose to believe it or not, is to survey primordial bodies in deep space. That our survey happens to be near the Neutral Zone is merely a matter of coincidence.”
“A likely story, Captain.” Tomalak looked off to the right of the viewscreen. “I shall have my navigator double-check our position, and should I find we are on the Federation side of the Zone, we will gladly concede our error and return to our own side.”
“Thank you, Tomalak. I appreciate your candor.”
Tomalak waved his hand dismissively through the air. “Think nothing of it, Captain. Neither of us seeks an interstellar incident, not over an insignificant comet survey.” A centurion stepped into the com image and handed Tomalak a padd. He studied the padd for a moment, looked again to the right, back to the padd, then up toward the viewscreen. “A minor navigational error, Captain, surely.”
Kenyon smiled wearily. “As I thought, Commander. Return across the Neutral Zone, and I won’t make note of this incident in my log.”
“Return?” said Tomalak. “It is not I that has committed a navigational error. It is you.”
Kenyon snapped his fingers twice. “Com channel muted, Captain,” reported Hash. Onscreen, Tomalak mouthed silent words.
“Hash, confirm our position. Which side of the Zone are we on?”
The ops officer’s fingers flew across the console. He turned toward Kenyon. “I’ll want Lieutenant Chu’lak to double-check, sir, but we’re close. Damn close.”
“Which side, Ensign?” said Kenyon with some malice.
Hash shook his head. “We can’t get a clean pulsar read.”
“Chu’lak?” said Kenyon.
“We are within a thousand kilometers, Captain. Which side we are on I cannot determine.”
Kenyon squeezed his nose and breathed deeply. “Damn.” He crossed his arms. “Reopen the channel.”
“Aye, sir. Reopening channel.”
“Well, Captain Kenyon?”
Kenyon shrugged. “We’re double-checking now, but if we crossed the Zone, it was only by accident and not by malice.”
“You violate our sovereign space and attack my ship, and say you have committed an accident?”
“Tomalak, as a show of good faith, we will withdraw to a distance of one light-year.” He turned to Gold. “Take us out, one-half impulse power.”
“On our way, sir,” Gold replied.
“Close channel, Hash.”
“Aye, sir.”
The image of Tomalak’s bridge vanished, replaced by a sensor image of the comet beyond the Hiyll’aeh.
“Think he’ll let us go, Captain?” asked Parsons.
“We can only hope, Number One.”
The Grissom rocked and red alert klaxons sounded.
“Captain,” shouted Cray, “ventral shields are down twenty-three percent! The Hiyll’aeh has fired upon us!”
“There goes our show of good faith,” said Parsons.
Kenyon steeled himself in his command chair. “Helm, increase speed!” shouted Kenyon over the din.
“Aye, sir. Three-quarters impulse,” said Gold.
The ship rocked again. “Aft shields down thirty-four percent,” said Cray.
“Captain,” said Parsons, “we’re no match for them.”
Kenyon rubbed his chin. “I know, Number One.”
“Captain,” said Cray, “phasers and photon torpedoes ready to fire at your command.”
Kenyon stood up, braced himself by planting both hands on the back of his command chair, and glared at Cray. “Dammit, Cray, I won’t instigate a war with the Romulans.”
Cray glared back. “With all due respect, Captain, the Romulans have instigated the conflict. Our duty is to finish it.”
Hash turned from ops. “Captain, the Hiyll’aeh is gaining on us.”
“Go to warp, Captain?” asked Gold.
The ship rocked, and Kenyon steadied himself. “Not yet. Tomalak would just overtake us and destroy us in warp.”
“We can’t outrun them forever, Captain.”
“I know, Number One. Tomalak might break off the attack once we’re out of the Zone, but he’s too tenacious an adversary for that.”
“Captain,” said Mueller, stepping forward, “I have an idea.”
“All right, Lieutenant. Make it quick.”
Mueller cleared her throat. “Turn the ship around, head back toward the cometary nucleus, and plunge the Grissom into the comet. We’ll melt through, the Romulans will think we destroyed ourselves, and then we can effect an escape from the other side of the nucleus.”
Parsons shook her head, causing her bangs to fall over her eyes. “It won’t work, Captain. The Grissom will break apart on impact.”
“If it works for a sensor probe, it will work for a starship,” Mueller said. “Especially a starship, since the hull is heated from the inside already.”
Parsons said, “Captain, the temperature differential from the comet’s surface to the ship’s outer hull will be so extreme that the engine housings will crack open, destroying the Grissom and the Romulans.”
“Captain,” said Mueller, “this will work. A starship can travel faster than light. A starship can do this.”
Kenyon looked from Parsons to Mueller and back.
He made his decision.
“Mueller,” said Kenyon, “the conn is yours.”
“Commander, the Grissom is altering course!”
“What?” cried Tomalak.
“The ship is turning.” T’sae, the Hiyll’aeh’s navigator, looked back to his console for confirmation. “They are heading back toward the Zone.”
Tomalak rose from his chair and crossed the bridge to the navigational console. “The Zone? Why?”
T’sae looked up at Tomalak standing over his shoulder. “Unknown, Commander.”
He studied the Grissom on the viewscreen, fleeing into the black depths of Romulan space. “Helm, bring us about. Increase speed.”
“As ordered, Commander,” replied T’sae.
Elhumne, the ship�
�s weapons officer, called out, “Commander, torpedoes are standing ready.”
Tomalak turned to Elhumne, then at the Grissom on the viewscreen. What was Kenyon doing?
“Centurion,” ordered Tomalak, “fire.”
The Grissom rocked as another Romulan torpedo slammed into the aft shields, throwing Kenyon and Parsons from their seats.
“Bridge,” came Kogutt’s voice over the intercom, “engines are overheating!”
Kenyon toggled the intercom as he pulled himself back into his seat. “Todd, I hear you. We’ll do what we can.” He turned to Cray. “Shield status?”
Cray looked up from his tactical console. “Aft shields down to thirty-four percent. Another photon-torpedo hit may cripple them.”
“Chu’lak,” called Mueller from her seat to Kenyon’s left, “distance to comet’s surface?”
“Two-hundred fifty kilometers and closing rapidly.”
“Gold,” she said, “be ready to execute the maneuver.”
Gold nodded his head sharply. “Aye, sir.”
“Chu’lak, distance?”
“One-hundred fifty kilometers.”
“Tactical,” said Mueller, “drop shields.”
“I must object, Captain,” said Cray.
“Objection logged, Cray. Drop the shields!”
Cray shook his head. “Shields down.”
“Commander,” said T’sae, “the Grissom has lowered their shields!”
“What?” shouted Tomalak. He turned to the weapons officer. “Fire another torpedo!”
“Torpedo launched, Commander!”
“Helm,” ordered Mueller, “all stop and reverse.”
Gold shook his head and stabbed at the contact on his console. “Brace yourselves.”
The Grissom lurched as the impulse engines disengaged and began providing reverse thrust. On the bridge, inertial damping fields kicked in slightly after the engines reversed, throwing Hash and Chu’lak from their consoles and across the deck and jarring others despite their bracing themselves for what they knew would come.
Onscreen, a bright explosion illuminated the comet’s surface. “Torpedo missed us, Captain,” said Cray.
“Too close,” said Parsons.
“Gold,” said Mueller, “go to thrusters.” She looked to Kenyon on her right, and he nodded once. “Take us in.”
“Commander, this cannot be!” shouted T’sae.
Tomalak rushed to his console. “Explain.”
“The Grissom. She is crashing into the nucleus!” T’Sae looked up at Tomalak. “They are destroying themselves.”
“Magnify!” snapped Tomalak, turning to the spectacle of the Grissom on the viewscreen.
Driven forward by the inertial momentum of a two-million-ton starship slowing from one-eighth light speed to barely a kilometer per second, the leading edge of the Grissom’s saucer made contact with the comet’s nucleus.
A comet ordinarily spent its existence in the frozen wastes of deep space, far from heat and light. Only when pulled through the shifting of gravity into the heart of a solar system and past the unholy fusion engine that was the system’s star did a comet resemble anything more than a lumpy bit of icy coal, outgassing ices suddenly made vapor and producing a tail that stretched for millions of miles.
This bleak cometary landscape felt heat for the first time in its existence. Gases that had been frozen for ten billion years, gases that had never felt a temperature warmer than ten degrees Kelvin, vaporized instantly when exposed to the naked skin of the starship radiating heat from within, heat that kept the starship’s crew alive.
A gassy fail rose from the impact site of the Grissom and grew in length and intensity as the ship dropped further into the nucleus, vaporizing even more of the frozen gases.
The Grissom plunged forward.
“What’s happening?” asked Tomalak.
“Sir,” said T’sae, “the Grissom has vanished.”
“Vanished?” Tomalak repeated. The viewscreen showed a hazy bluish glow surrounding the pitch-dark nucleus as the released cometary gases reflected the light of the Grissom’s warp nacelles.
“I cannot be certain, Commander. Sensors are confused by the nucleus’s outgassing, but it appears the ship broke apart upon impact.” T’sae looked meaningfully at the viewscreen. “The Grissom does not appear to be intact.”
“Take us in closer. I want to be certain.”
“As you wish, Commander,” replied T’sae.
“Sir,” said the science officer, “I am reading a buildup of gases within the nucleus.” He turned away from his console and looked at Tomalak. “I recommend we maintain a distance of at least fifteen hundred meters, lest an explosion within the nucleus present a danger to the Hiyll’aeh.”
“T’sae?” said Tomalak, seeking confirmation.
T’sae shook his head. “Vah’thoal overstates the danger, Commander.”
Tomalak looked from one to the other. “T’sae, pursue the Grissom, as far as we must go.”
The nucleus grew in size on the viewscreen, and the blue glow had vanished, leaving the nucleus shrouded in darkness.
The Hiyll’aeh rocked slightly, buffeted by ejecta from the comet’s outgassing. “Report!” shouted Tomalak.
Vah’thoal said, “Chunks of rock thrown from the nucleus, sir. Again, I caution us against proceeding closer until the outgassing ceases.”
Tomalak rose from his command chair, his face turning a deeper shade of green in fury. “I will not allow the Grissom to escape me, Vah’thoal! They invaded our space and attacked my ship! Either we destroy them, or they destroy themselves, but they will not leave Romulan space!”
The bridge lights flashed dim, then came back full. The deck shook, and Tomalak stumbled.
“T’sae, report!” said Tomalak as he fell back into his seat.
T’sae turned in his command chair to face Tomalak. “Sir, we have—”
The Hiyll’aeh shuddered, and the bridge plunged into darkness. Emergency lights came on, bathing the bridge in an eerie green glow, and fans switched on to circulate the still air.
“It is as I said, Commander,” said Vah’thoal. “We have lost main power. The engines were overwhelmed by the comet’s tail. The nucleus’s outgassing has disabled the ship.”
Tomalak rose, crossed the darkened bridge to Vah’thoal’s console, and slapped him across the face. Vah’thoal fell to the deck, rubbed his hand across the base of his nose, and felt blood.
Tomalak then kicked Vah’thoal in the abdomen. “Get this vermin off my bridge.” He turned to T’sae. “How long until main power has been restored?”
T’sae shrugged, a very un-Romulan gesture. “It could be the matter of a few hours. It may be days.”
Tomalak stared at the dark viewscreen. Kenyon had bested him yet again.
The Grissom emerged from the opposite side of the cometary nucleus, a stream of gases trailing her warp nacelles and water boiling away from the engine housings. She flew free again, banked sharply to the right, and came around the nucleus, heading toward Federation space.
“Captain,” said Chu’lak, “we are clear of the cometary nucleus.”
“Excellent,” Kenyon said.
Mueller turned to Kenyon and gave him a slight smile. “Sir, I relinquish the conn to you.”
Kenyon stood and patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good work.” He paused. “Don’t crash my ship again.”
Mueller smiled wider and returned to the engineering station.
“Cray,” said Kenyon, “status of the Hiyll’aeh?”
Cray displayed the tactical plot on the main viewscreen. “Disabled, sir, apparently by the comet’s outgassing as we passed through the nucleus. Their main engines are offline, weapons and shields are down.”
“Should we offer assistance, Captain?” asked Parsons.
Kenyon shook his head. “I would, Number One, but Tomalak is nothing if not resourceful. He’ll be back in business soon enough, and I for one would prefer n
ot to be in the vicinity when he is.” He looked at the disabled Hiyll’aeh on the viewscreen. “He won’t press the incident, with his government or with ours, because nearly losing his ship makes him look bad. If we helped him, that would only be more agony for him.”
Parsons smiled. “You should have been a diplomat, Captain.”
Kenyon smiled broadly. “I’ll leave that to my brother.” He turned to the engineering console. “Mueller, damage report.”
She looked back to Kenyon. “Minor damage, sir. Engineering reports several bulkheads collapsed. Sickbay reports minor casualties and teams are responding.”
Kenyon stood and clapped his hands together. “Mr. Gold, take us out. Mr. Cray, go to yellow alert and keep an eye on the Hiyll’aeh.” He tapped the intercom. “Engineering, this is the captain. Can we go to warp?”
“Bridge, this is McLauren.” She coughed raggedly; Mueller deduced that there was some kind of chemical leak down there. “It’s a bit rough down here right now, but we’ll have the mains back online in about thirty seconds. Just don’t put us through any more risky maneuvers like that.”
“No more today,” Kenyon said with a smile. “Give my compliments to Commander Kogutt on a job well done.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Sir, Commander Kogutt is dead. We had a bulkhead collapse, and he took the brunt of the explosion.” She paused again. “I’m very sorry, sir.”
Kenyon looked at Mueller. “Lieutenant—” he began. There was no need for him to finish this order. She knew what he was going to say. The expression of pain and sorrow that crossed his face told her in a way that words could not. He had lost so much to the Romulans—his ship, his wife, and now his best friend. What more could a man lose?
Mueller nodded. “On my way, sir.” She stepped into the aft turbolift and leaned against the wall. “Engineering,” she said, wishing she had been there all along. If she hadn’t been on the bridge, none of this day’s events would have happened.
Mueller lay on her bunk, staring at her cabin’s ceiling. She had dimmed the lights after pulling a double shift in engineering repairing the damage sustained by the Grissom in the cometary encounter. Physical damage to the ship appeared to be minor, mostly hull plates that cracked when directly subjected to temperatures barely above absolute zero in the comet’s nucleus. McLauren had headed up an EVA team that inspected the warp nacelles and the nacelle struts for signs of damage, but surprisingly nothing more than a hairline fracture in the port strut could be found.
