Текст книги "Kobayashi Maru"

Автор книги: Andy Mangels

Соавторы: Michael Martin
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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Mayweather scowled down at his controls for several minutes, trying not to allow himself to return to the depths of his personal darkness. He hadnt been able to sleep for days, and could barely eat. But he knew he needed to keep his focus strong. He needed to concentrate on his duties, to lose himself in them, now more than ever before. Come on, Travis, keep it together and concentrate.He could almost hear his mother alternately admonishing and encouraging him, just as she had all through his life. He would have given anything to hear her speak to him again, even if it was only to scold him for leaving his quarters looking like an explosive decompression accident.

He heard the door to Captain Archers ready room slide open, and turned his head to see Commander TPol exiting the room, with Captain Archer a few paces behind her. The Vulcan woman appeared even more dour than usual, but she didnt look in Mayweathers direction, perhaps deliberately so. Whatever was going on at the moment, Mayweather thought it likely that it had nothing to do with either him or the fate of the Horizon.

Captain Archer, however, glanced his way as he stepped onto the bridge, then looked away again a moment later, seeming to survey the bridge. Mayweather was glad his back had been turned to the captain over most of the last three days; he hadnt agreed with Archers decision to leave the Kobayashi Marudefenseless when hed ordered Enterpriseto withdraw.

I would have found a way,he thought. Theres always a solution, and turning and running isnt it. Leaving helpless people behind to diecant be the solution.

It didnt help that the Kobayashi Maruwas a freighter, like the Horizon,or that Mayweather had made casual friends with the Marus first mate, Arturo Stiles, when Enterprises crew had helped the fuel hauler with her repairs last week near Altair VI.

Captain Archer just left them to die.

As he sat at the helm of Archers ship, Mayweathers mind wandered, not for the first time, back to the question that bothered him the most: Would Archer have abandoned the Horizonas callously as he had the Kobayashi Maru?

And with that gnawing question remaining unanswered, he wondered whether he could ever again really have faith in his captains decisions.

Archer looked out across his bridge as he exited his ready room behind TPol. The first crew members eyes he caught were those of Travis Mayweather. The helmsman had seemed distraught for days, understandably concerned about what had become of his family after their vessel had seemingly disappeared. Archer had tried to learn anything he could about the freighters whereabouts, but had run into dead ends everywhere hed looked. He had even reached out to the shadowy Agent Harris to see if the man in black knew anything, aware that even by asking him, he was taking on a debt that would have to be repaid someday, probably in blood. Unfortunately, the spymaster had failed to furnish any hard information, or even conjectures that Archer hadnt already considered.

Archers gaze moved across the rest of the bridge, taking in each of his officers. D.O. was there, once again pulling a double shift, and Hoshi Sato looked over from her station, a look of expectation on her face; since she was in charge of monitoring the subspace bands, she would know when something very big was happening, usually before even he did. Ensigns Malvoy and Prince turned from their posts, and even the MACO guards he had assigned to bridge watch swiveled their heads to look toward him. Malcolm Reed was the last to lift his gaze from his consoles displays, where he appeared to have been running computations or battle simulations.

If Reed was as clued in to what was about to happen as Hoshi appeared to be, Archer was confident he was already creating some entirely new battle tactics.

All across the bridge, the air seemed charged with tension and anticipation. The entire crew had been on pins and needles over the last thirty‑six hours, ever since the incident at Tezel‑Oroko and the destruction of the Kobayashi Maru. The reports now circulating through the interstellar media and Earths newsnets, combined with Starfleet memos and general scuttlebutt, had ratcheted up shipboard anxiety levels to an almost unbearable peak.

The turbolift doors opened, and Doctor Phlox exited onto the bridge, his wide‑eyed expression of surprise undimmed. Archer had asked him to come up, so that Archer could address his senior staff all at once. Their simultaneous presence called attention to the gaping hole he still felt inside because of the absence of Trip.

Archer continued surveying his bridge, and seeing the expectancy of those who had looked up to him for so long, he wondered how they really felt about him now. He knew that some of them must have resented the decision he had made regarding the Kobayashi Maru; though it did little to expiate the guilt he felt when he considered what had become of the Maru,he still drew comfort from the knowledge that his crew and his ship had remained intact solely because of what he had done that day. He clung to that, particularly when he thought he glimpsed an accusatory glare, or overheard a snippet of conversation that would suddenly break off as he entered the galley or stepped out of his ready room or his quarters.

If ever a crew needed an inspiring speech from its captain, now was the time. But Jonathan Archer found that he could muster neither the words nor the thoughts necessary to rally his people to face the challenges that lay ahead. There were no trumpets to sound, no cry of “Charge to yell, no steed to ride up and down the ranks of his troops, no saber to thrust into the air as he tried to brace them for what was coming.

Now the heading for Enterprise,for Starfleet, for the Coalition, and for mankind itself, was about to change drastically.

Archer spread his hands wide and hesitated for a moment, catching his breath and steadying his voice.

“Its begun.

EPILOGUE ONE

Tuesday, July 22, 2155 The Depths of Tezel‑Orokos Kuiper Belt

T UCKER AWOKE GRADUALLY, feeling something hot on his cheek. A swipe of his hand brought some relief, but also sent pain coursing through his system. As soon as the burning stopped in one area, however, he felt two other inflammations ignite the nerves of his skin.

Opening his eyes warily, he saw the reason why. His body was crumpled on the floor, underneath a console on the deck of Sopeks Romulan bird‑of‑prey. The console itself was throwing an intermittent shower of electrical sparks in various directions; some of them had landed on his face, causing his minute but painful burns.

His hearing began to return along with his equilibrium as he sat up gingerly, wondering when he would be rendered unconscious again. His last memory was of pushing the Romulan ships throttle hard to starboard, directing the helm right toward one of the nearest icy cometary bodies of Tezel‑Orokos Kuiper belt, and hed felt the blow to his skull. He could recall nothing more.

Looks like I missed all the fun,Trip thought, wincing as he made a halting attempt to stand. The ship must have collided with one of those icebergs.He thought for a moment of holovids hed seen re‑creating the seagoing Titanicdisaster of the early twentieth century, and developed a ludicrous mental picture of a dinner jacket‑clad Romulan string sextet playing below decks.

All around him on the dimly lit bridge were the unconsciousor perhaps deceasedbodies of Sopeks crew. Sopek himself was crumpled against a far wall, a splash of green above his head that was smeared down to the spot toward which his face was turned.

Trip limped over to one of the instrument panels that still seemed to be in working order and attempted to read the gauges he saw there. The main ships systems appeared to be completely down, so he knew that sensors were useless, but the artificial gravity and life‑support systems were still functional, if only at one‑third efficiency.

If he hadnt been in such pain, Trip supposed he might have chuckled at the irony of the situation; the arrenhehwiuatelecapture system hed learned about that the Romulans were using to hijack ships apparently left the imprisoned crews similarly barely alive, though not in control of their vessels. Unfortunately, that system apparently hadnt been installed on Sopeks ship, so he had no chance to destroy it now. But Trip realized with a start that he could at least stop thisship from causing any further trouble.

From what he knew of the layout of the upper decks of this particular type of Romulan vessel, the second level had two escape pods. He prayed that at least one of them would be operational before he began to enter commands manually into the redundant auxiliary system.

He heard a sound behind him and saw one of the female bridge crew members sitting up, a disruptor pistol clutched in one shaky hand.

“Get away from those controls, the young Romulan said, her words slurred slightly as she appeared to have bitten partially through her lip during the impact.

Trips eyes flicked to the side, and he saw another disruptor lying on the deck near where he had gotten up. Why didnt I pick that up before?he asked himself silently. As he dove for the weapon, he heard the sizzle of an energy blast go past his falling body, connecting with part of the metal framework of the bridge. His attacker didnt seem overly concerned about hitting the sparking control systems; Trip reasoned that either shed expected the equipment to be able to take it, or else she was just in shock and not thinking clearly.

Hitting the deck hard, he snatched up the disruptor and aimed it quickly in the general direction of his attacker, squeezing off two quick blasts. By the time he blinked, he saw the Romulan woman sliding downward against the wall, a gaping hole burnt through the right half of her head. Trip turned away quickly; the blast may have cauterized the wounds, but that hadnt stopped some of the remnants of the insides of the womans skull from dislodging with a wet plop. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on keeping his suddenly buoyant gorge from rising any higher.

Holding the disruptor protectively in one hand now, Trip continued entering the string of commands the woman had interrupted. As he finished, he heard another member of the bridge crew coming to, noting that this mans back was to Trip.

I dont want to do this,Trip thought, though he knew the situation was inescapable. What made killing the crew with a disruptor any worse than rigging their ship to explode after he escaped? Theyhad planned to kill not only everyone whod been aboard the freighter he had seen earlier, but also the crew of Enterprise,and God only knew who else to boot. Besides, if I dont kill them, then theyll chase and kill me, not to mention a whole pile of others.

He pulled the trigger, shooting the Romulan down before he could finish getting up. His unarmed foe slumped facedown on the deck, dead. Despite his repeated efforts to convince himself that this was necessary, Trip felt ill.

Time to go,he thought as his fingers entered the final commands into the override system. Stepping over the bodies on the deck, he neared the hatchway and ladder that led to the secondary levelthe turbolift, or its Romulan equivalent, was downand opened it.

Before he made his descent, he moved quickly over to Sopeks body, kneeling beside it to feel for a pulse. The mans respiration was shallow, but Trip could tell that he was still alive, if only barely. Of all the people on this ship,he might be useful to keep around,Trip thought, though he knew what he was doing was dangerous in the extreme.

Grabbing Sopeks collar, he dragged the mans limp body over to the hatch, then clambered down the ladder to the secondary deck below. Reaching up, he pulled the Romulan down the hatch, awkwardly catching the heavy man against his upper torso as the body toppled onto him like an extremely heavy rag doll.

Panting from his exertions, Trip suddenly heard noises coming from somewhere. The bridge deck, orthis deck?he wondered as an adrenaline rush of fight‑or‑flight intensity sharpened his senses until he felt certain he was really alone in the narrow companionwayand quickly oriented himself. Noting that the escape pods were located near the back of the corridor, he began dragging Sopek toward one of them.

“Halt!

The order came from a Romulan man who had appeared around a corner from the other direction in the corridor. Trip couldnt tell whether or not the man was armed.

“Go to hell, Trip said, firing his disruptor at the man. The bolt hit the bulkhead near his would‑be assailant, and as the Romulan ducked out of the way, Trip let loose three more disruptor blasts as quickly as he could.

Working quickly, Trip yanked Sopek the rest of the way in a few steps, pulling him into one of the cramped escape pods with him. He smiled as he noted that the pods launch controls worked independently of the main ships systems, which stood to reason for something that was used only during times of shipboard emergency. Slamming his hand down on a control, he sealed the pods hatch, as well as the pod bay hatch beyond the escape pods hull. As the hatches closed, he thought he saw the Romulan man approaching from the end of the corridor. Trip didnt even flinch, knowing that the man was too late to stop them now.

Working quickly, Trip entered the commands he thought would activate the pods ejection system, and saw, to his relief, that his assumptionsbolstered by the knowledge hed gained about Romulan spaceship technology over the last few monthshad proved to be correct.

All the onboard systems lit up as Trip felt the thrusters firing, the sudden acceleration shoving him against the wall of the pod as the little escape vehicle moved quickly away from the crippled bird‑of‑prey. Trip considered his options now. One pistol, one hostage, minimal impulse thrusters, and no powered hull‑plating.He knew it was a meager list of assets, but it was better than what lay behind him.

Almost a minute passed before Trip felt a concussive wave bash into the hull of the pod, and the reinforced transparent aluminum viewport filled with a light so brilliant that he had to shield his eyes with his arm. The bird‑of‑prey had just self‑destructed, right on schedule, instantly consigning everyone hed left aboard her to the Romulan equivalent of hell.

Trip turned and rummaged around in a small supply box until he found some cables, which he used to bind Sopek. Using a trick Malcolm had taught him, he bound the mans hands to his neck rather than behind his back; if Sopek woke up, any attempt he might make to untie himself would be entirely conspicuous. He also bound the mans feet together at the ankles and knees, attaching one end of the cord to a nearby box of small tools. Let Sopek try to surprise me now,he thought, satisfied at his preparations.

Finally allowing himself a moment to relax, Trip looked down at the man, trying to ascertain which part, if any, of Sopeks story might be true. Was he a Romulan who had infiltrated the Vulcan military structure? Or a Vulcan who led a Romulan paramilitary insurgency group? Or was he a free agent who was playing both ends against the middle for some other not‑yet‑revealed purpose?

Of course, the fact that Trip had brought Sopek along with him didnt guarantee that hed receive any forthright answers from the man. And he had more immediate problems, such as not knowing enough about what was happening in fairly close proximity to the escape pods thin skin. For all he knew, the Klingon ships Sopek had known were coming were still embroiled in a pitched battle against Enterprise. Or, Enterprisehad won. Or,he thought, a wave of dread slowly cresting within him, she might havelost. He had never gained any degree of control over the psychic link that sometimes seemed to enable him to communicate with TPol, but he knew he couldnt feel her now.

Dont you go thinking that way, Charles Anthony Tucker the Third,he thought. After all, “Gracie Tucker hadnt raised him to be a defeatist. Or a nihilist. But she also didnt raise you to shoot unarmed Romulans in the back,something deep in his mind said, something that felt like guilt. He pushed the thought aside, but something else his mother had told him as a child took its place.

She had read to him regularly at night before bedtime, often from books of fairy tales and fables. One particular fable came to him now, about a frog that carried a scorpion across a river. When theyd gotten halfway across, the scorpion stung the frog, poisoning him. As they slipped beneath the water, the frog asked the scorpion why he had stung him, knowing that they would both drown.

“Because its my nature, the scorpion said. “You knew I was a scorpion when you picked me up.

Was Sopek the scorpion and he the frog?

He cursed whatever had possessed him to agree to come to Romulus in the first place, the pride that had let him believe that he could stop these people. The Romulans were scorpions and vipers, and living beside them, hiding among them, he was becoming like them. He had not died from the poisonous stingat least not yetbut knew that he had been poisoned all the same.

But instead of experiencing death, he had undergone a metamorphosis. And whatever he was developing into was not something he thought his mother would recognize, even if the master surgeons of Adigeon Prime were to bob his pointy ears and restore his original human appearance in every detail.

A light on the escape pods small, simple instrument panel began flashing green, the Romulan color of danger, and this was followed instantly by a shrill beeping. Trip turned away from Sopek and read the instruments, then peered out the narrow viewport to try to get a better sense of what was causing the proximity alarms to go off.

Dead ahead, far too close now for the maneuvering thrusters to miss, was a dark shape illuminated only by the escape pods external running lights. Despite the devices slow tumble relative to the pod, and the fact that it was visible only as a silhouette, Trip recognized it immediately from his studies of Ehrehins files.

It was one of the many gravitic mines that the Romulan military had deployed throughout this region over the past several decades in their never‑ending effort to discourage the Klingons.

And the escape pod was about to smack straight into the damned thing.

How do I keep getting myself into these situations?Trip asked himself, perhaps for the final time.

Then he closed his eyes and thought about TPol.

EPILOGUE TWO

Day Forty, Month of KriBrax The Hall of State, Dartha, Romulus

T HE DECURION FINISHEDhis report, snapping to attention the moment he finished speaking.

Valdore so loved when his subordinates did that, as if they were puppets who could speak only when hechose to permit it. “Khnairu rhissiuy,he said, thanking the young man for his report. He dismissed the soldier by returning his salute, then leaned back in his chair, turning his head to favor Nijil with a broad smile.

“Its all going according to my plan, Valdore said. “The arrenhehwiuatelecapture system is working flawlessly. The assault on Isneih had been a brilliant success. The small settlement there had fallen quickly to the Vulcan vessels Valdores forces now controlledships that the Vulcan Defense Force had deployed in the system to protect Vulcans interests in the planets scientific outpostand even now his soldiers were setting up a beachhead in the system, from which Valdores forces would mount their next wave of attacks against the so‑called Coalition of Planets. The pangs of conscience he had felt in the wake of the deaths of so many on Coridan had faded, tucked away behind a barrier made of stuff as stern as the walls that the Vulcans built up around their emotions.

From a recess below the surface of his sherawood desk, he pulled out the bottle of carallunwine again. Luxuriating in the moment, he poured himself and Nijil two glasses of the amber liquor. Passing one to the scientist, he said simply, “Drink.

Of late, something in Nijils manner had made Valdore feel ill at ease. He wasnt certain what it was precisely, and he had been unable to find any evidence that the brilliant scientist was anything but a loyal supporter who would rather cut his own throat with the green ehrieurhillhglass from the carallunbottle than betray his master. But somethingstill tickled the hairs at the back of the admirals neck.

Soon, he would create a level of comfort with Nijil in sharing a celebratory toast to Valdores successes. And one day, when I deem it most appropriate and necessary, you will drink, my ally, and I will not,Valdore thought. And then we shall see what secrets you are hiding.

“My only disappointment, Valdore said, moving a sip of the sour liquor around in his mouth as he spoke, “is that we never succeeded in capturing control of either one of Starfleets NX‑class starships.

Nijil nodded gravely. “We still do not know precisely what happened to Columbia. She may well still be intact. If so, we will have other opportunities to determine whether she is more vulnerable to the arrenhehwiuathan Enterpriseproved to be.

“When the fleet strikes in full against Seichi, we may yet learn Columbias fate, Valdore said, smiling. He stood and walked over to the rounded window, outside of which the turrets and spires of the city speared the sapphire sky and framed the Apnex Sea beyond. “And we will no doubt soon make another run at Enterprise.

The war he had just begun would be a glorious one for the Romulan Star Empire and for Praetor Dderidex. But he had been setting up his own plans as well as he moved the Praetors agenda forward, with no small amount of aid from one very well‑placed and trustworthy agent in the Tal Shiar. An agent he felt he could trust as much as he trusted anyone other than himself, or perhaps Nijil, or even the late, lamented Centurion Terix.

When the time was right, and the Empires victory had become all but inevitable, he would finally make his move. TLeikha, the First Consul who had once had him cast into one of the Praetors stinking dungeons, would pay for her crimes, as would the Senate that had ratified her decision.

And even Dderidex himself will tremble.