Текст книги "Serpents Among the Ruins "

Автор книги: David George

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

“He drifts in and out of consciousness,” the doctor said. “I can take you to him, but I’ll have to ask you to stay no more than five minutes.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sulu said.

Van Riper reached back to a console and set the silver device down, then moved past Sulu and led the way to an alcove at the far end of the section. They stopped at the threshold, and Sulu looked in to see the admiral’s indistinct shape beneath a sheet, the low arch of a respirator circling his chest; she could not see his face. “Five minutes,” the doctor whispered gently, and then left.

Sulu moved slowly into the alcove, making her way to the head of the biobed. As she passed the respirator—the sighs of its operation haunting in the quiet room—the upper section of the admiral’s body came into view. Sulu’s hand automatically came up to her mouth, as though stifling the gasp that she consciously held back.

Gone was the Blackjack Harriman of her memory. The sturdy, broad-shouldered admiral had been replaced with a fragile skeleton of a man. His robust features had slackened and paled, the medical coverings wrapping his head and one side of his face seeming to have more substance than did his sickly flesh. His one visible eye was closed.

Sulu peered down at the admiral with a mixture of horror and pity. She had come here for her friend, not with any specific agenda in mind, but simply because she believed that she should. As she stood here, though, she felt grateful that she’d found the admiral sleeping.

Still, she didn’t want to leave right away. She glanced around and saw a chair against the wall, and she picked it up and set it by the head of the admiral’s bed. She sat down to spend the five minutes here that the doctor had granted her.

The rise and fall of the respirator’s sounds filled the small area, an elegy meted out in mechanical breaths. For the first time in a while, Sulu thought of her mother, thought of sitting by her sickbed, keeping a vigil night after night. The hours had seemed interminable at the same time that they’d raced unflaggingly toward her mother’s death.

Next to the admiral’s respirator, Sulu saw several of his fingers not covered by the sheet. She considered taking his hand, just as she had so often taken her mother’s during those final days. She wanted to do it, thinking that it might somehow serve her friend, but she couldn’t. Not only did she feel no connection with this man, but she had built a strong resentment of him over the years, knowing how he had willfully failed his son. On so many occasions—

A sound like sandpaper rasping against wood interrupted her thoughts. She looked over to see that the admiral had awoken—or perhaps he had been awake, but had only now opened his eyes. Sulu met his gaze, but he couldn’t seem to focus on her. His eyes—rather, the one eye not covered—appeared glassy and vacant. As she watched, his thin, grayish lips parted, and another scratchy mutter issued from them.

“Admiral Harriman,” she said quietly.

His lips moved again, and this time, they emitted a weak voice. He seemed to speak a single, unintelligible word, something that sounded to Sulu like Fron.

“It’s Commander Sulu,” she said. “From the Enterprise.”

Blackjack’s mouth slowly formed the last word she’d said, though he only gave voice to the third syllable: “Prise.”

Inane questions such as How are you?and Can I get you anything?crossed Sulu’s mind, and she discarded them at once. “I’m here—” she started, but couldn’t complete the statement because she really didn’t know why she’d come here.

“Enterprise,”Blackjack said again, most of the word audible this time. “Sulu.” His eye seemed at last to find her.

“Yes,” Sulu confirmed. “That’s me.”

“Your father,” Blackjack said, “violated regs.”

Sulu couldn’t stop from smiling. She understood the incident to which the admiral was referring—the incident that had resulted in the estrangement of Blackjack and his son—but her amusement came from what she knew she would say.

“Yes, my father violated Starfleet regulations,” she agreed. “Many times.”

“A cancer,” Blackjack said.

Sulu felt the smile fade from her face. In an instant, she thought of countless ways to respond to the admiral, from citing the details of her father’s long and illustrious Starfleet career, to simply saying how much she loved him. Instead, she decided to give the dying man before her another chance to find peace. “I’m here,” she said, “for your son.”

Blackjack said nothing for a moment, and Sulu thought that he might not have heard her, but then: “Johnny.”

“Yes,” she said. “John Harriman Junior.” She paused, and then said, “He’s worried about you. He wants you to get better.” She waited for the admiral to respond, but when he didn’t, she added, “He loves you.”

Blackjack remained quiet. As Sulu watched him, though, a spark of life seemed to enter his eye, and she realized that a tear had formed there. Joy filled her heart at this moment that she could bring to her friend– ifthe captain returned from his mission.

“Johnny,” the admiral said again. “Weak. Undisciplined. Un grateful.”

Sulu’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Immediately, though, shock gave way to anger. She had come here for her friend, but she had also tried to ease the senior Harriman’s suffering, to bring him some closure with his son. She thought she’d reached the admiral, but…

Sulu stood up. Once more, a myriad of things to say to Admiral Harriman occurred to her, and again, she said none of them. “Goodbye, Admiral.” She turned and left the alcove, stopping briefly to thank Dr. Van Riper before exiting the infirmary.

As she strode through the corridor, headed for the hatch that would take her to Enterprise—and beyond it, to Foxtrot XIII—she thought of John and his long estrangement from his

father, thought about the complex and unreconciled feelings her friend had been dealing with lately. She didn’t know why the admiral was the way he was, but she understood that there must be a reason. A terrible sense of sadness swept over her—not for John, but for his father, a joyless, pitiable man who, even as he lay dying, could not find a place in his life for love.

Time grew short.

Admiral Aventeer Vokar sat in his raised chair at the rear of Tomed’s bridge, staring ahead at the becalmed starscape on the main viewscreen. At the first indication of containment failure, he’d directed the ship dropped from warp and brought to station-keeping. With the engines shut down and the great thrum of their operation now absent, Tomedlay in space like a voiceless, wounded animal.

Below Vokar, the bridge crew searched for answers. He had ordered the grating automated alerts silenced, leaving only the sounds of the officers working their consoles. The yellow glare of the emergency lighting threw the scene into bleak contrasts, imparting to it a cold, two-dimensional aspect. Vokar observed, quiet and utterly still, waiting for the information that would dictate his next actions.

Inside, he raged.

He did not suspect Federation subversion; he was certainof it. The sudden deterioration of the singularity containment field would have been indication enough, but the simultaneous breakdown of the ship’s external communications provided virtually unassailable proof. The two systems—containment and communications—shared no common circuitry, flouting the realistic possibility that they would go down independently and at the same time, along with their backups. He did not know how the sabotage had been perpetrated, but he knew beyond doubt the identities of the perpetrators.

“Admiral,” Subcommander Linavil said, her voice just loud enough, just untamed enough, to betray her dread. Vokar looked down and to his left, to where she stood beside an engineer feverishly operating his console. “They can’t stop it,” she declared. “They think they mightbe able to slow the loss of containment, but it willfail completely.”

“For how long can the engineers delay it?” Vokar asked.

“They’re not sure,” Linavil said. She took several steps away from the console and toward Vokar. “Minutes, maybe hours. But they may not have even enough time to determine if they candelay it.”

Vokar nodded, carefully keeping his fury in check. He glanced at the chronometer set into a small display in the arm of his chair. If nothing could be done, then twenty-five minutes remained before the quantum singularity that powered Tomedwould be free of its cage, an insatiable force that would demolish the ship.

No crewmember was more than seven minutes away from an evacuation pod, Vokar knew. That left a margin of safety, but a small one. After the crew had escaped, there would still have to be time enough for the ship, via preprogramming, to be sent out of the area and then stopped somewhere; the singularity could not be permitted to slip its bonds while at warp velocity, for the resultant devastation would easily reach back far enough to obliterate the crew.

Vokar looked back up at the viewscreen, barely able to stifle the scream forming behind his lips. Reluctantly, he gave the order. “Abandon ship.”

Linavil acted immediately. “Navigator,” she said as she strode purposefully across the center of the bridge, her body movements now reflecting decisiveness and strength, Vokar noted, and not concern or fear. “Plot a course away from here, and away from any space lanes. Helm, preprogram the ship to travel the new course at warp eight, beginning six minutes prior to projected containment failure, and ending one minute prior.”

The officers acknowledged the orders and set to operating their consoles. “Intraship,” Linavil said, continuing across the bridge until she reached the communications station. As the officer there worked her controls, Vokar made another decision.

“Subcommander,” he said.

“Sir?” Linavil said, turning to peer up at him.

“Myself, you, Akeev, and Elvia and her top two engineers,” he said, “we go last.” He would provide Elvia, Tomed’s lead engineer, and Akeev, the ship’s lead science officer, as much time as possible to find any kind of a solution. If the containment failure could be delayed until they reached the nearest repair base, then another containment field could be erected about the singularity.

“Yes, sir,” Linavil said, and she looked over to where Lieutenant Akeev manned his sciences station. Vokar saw him acknowledge with a nod the unspoken question: Did you hear the admiral’s order?As Akeev returned his attention to his panel, Linavil reached across the communications console and touched a control. “Bridge to Lieutenant Elvia,” she said.

Several seconds passed. “This is Elvia,”a female voice finally said, sounding beleaguered.

“This is Linavil. We’re about to abandon Tomed.You and your top two engineers will remain aboard and continue to work on slowing the containment collapse until ten minutes before it will fail.” Vokar knew, as Linavil must also, that several evacuation pods were within a minute of main engineering. “Report any progress immediately.”

“Acknowledged,”Elvia said. “I’ll keep T’Sil and Valin with me.”

“Out,” Linavil said, and then she told the comm officer once more, “Intraship.” When the channel had been opened, she made the announcement to the crew. “This is Subcommander Linavil. By order of Admiral Vokar, all hands abandon ship. I repeat: All hands abandon ship. This is not an exercise.”

Vokar watched as the crew—but for Linavil and Akeev—quickly secured their stations and began an exodus for the evacuation pods. Vokar waited until the last of the departing officers—helm and navigation—had left, and then he stood from his command chair and descended to the deck. In just moments, the bridge had been deserted.

“Normal lighting,” he said. He did not see who, but either Linavil or Akeev complied with the order. The illusory quality lent to the bridge by the yellow emergency lights vanished, as though reality had somehow been injected back into the scene.

Vokar walked forward, past the flight-control consoles, and glared at the main viewscreen. He concentrated on controlling his wrath. How did they do it?he asked himself in frustration. He had been right not to trust the Federation, of course: not about the test of metaweapons that they denied; not about the so-called hyperwarp drive; and not even to travel to and from Algeron within Romulan space. No, he hadn’t trusted them—had nevertrusted them—but neither had he believed that the security of the flagship could be compromised like this.

On the almost-empty bridge, the tap of Akeev’s fingertips on his panel, and the occasional tones emitted by the sciences station, failed to fill the void left by the absent crew. Vokar waited to hear something from Akeev, or from the engineers working directly on the containment field, but he knew that he wouldn’t. Before long, they would all have to flee the ship too.

Minutes passed.

Why?he asked himself. Why would the Federation want to destroy just one Romulan vessel? Yes, Tomedwas the flagship, but the risk that they must have taken to attempt this within Romulan space seemed too great. UnlessTomed wasn’t the only vessel attacked. Perhaps the Federation has commenced a war, perhaps—

Movement streaked across the viewscreen. Vokar saw the cylindrical evacuation pods—half a dozen, a dozen, more—as they rushed away from Tomed,taking the crew to safety. “Time,” he said.

“Fifteen minutes until containment failure,” Linavil answered from somewhere behind him.

“How did they do it?” Vokar asked as he watched more evacuation pods racing out into space. He heard the metallic toll of footfalls, which ended as Linavil stepped up next to him.

“I don’t know, Admiral,” she said, clearly understanding who he had meant by they.

“How?” he asked again. He turned toward the first officer.

“We never docked at Algeron. We stayed in orbit about it specifically to maintain ship’s security.”

“I know, sir,” she said. “The shields have been raised from the moment Enterprisecrossed the Neutral Zone into our territory until the moment it crossed back. They couldn’t have—”

The instant Linavil stopped speaking, Vokar knew that she had figured it out. “What?” he demanded.

“When Enterprisesuffered the problem with its sublight engine,” Linavil said, “we prepared to transport their crew aboard. I lowered the shields, for just a few moments, until the crisis had passed.”

Vokar resisted the urge to strike her where she stood. He saw Linavil’s fear of him in her eyes. “Decoyed,” he said. He peered past Linavil. “Akeev.”

“Sir?” the science officer said.

“How long would it take to do this in this way?” he asked.

“To sabotage the containment field and its backups, external communications and its backups?”

“I’m not sure, Admiral,” Akeev said. “I’d have to—”

“Minutes?” Vokar spoke over him. “Hours? Days?”

“Hours at least,” Akeev said. “Probably days.”

Vokar looked back at Linavil. “They’re still aboard,” he asserted. “Which means that they’re not attempting to destroy the ship; they’re attempting to seize it.”

Linavil’s eyes went wide. “Lieutenant, full internal scans,” she said. “Find the intruders.”

“Working,” Akeev said as his hands flew across his console. “The sensors show only six life signs,” he reported a moment later. “All Romulan.” But he continued operating his controls. “Broadening search for secondary indications,” he said.

Vokar waited. “Time,” he said to Linavil.

She walked over to the nearest console and glanced at its display. “Twelve minutes,” she said.

“Sir,” Akeev said, looking up from his station to face Vokar. “Sensors are picking up a statistically significant heat fluctuation that could be caused by intruders.”

“Where?” Vokar wanted to know.

“Lower engineering deck, port side,” Akeev said, then checked his console again. “In a maintenance connector.”

“They’re somehow cloaked,” Vokar said, sure that they had found the Federation saboteurs. “But they’re here.”

Linavil’s features shifted, her emotions moving from a fear of reprisal for the blunder that had allowed intruders onto Tomed,to a desire for retribution.

“Get the weapons,” Vokar said.

Minus One: Serpents

Commander Drysi Gravenor scratched at her ear, trying to eliminate an itch where the pointed Romulan tip had been attached to her flesh. She glanced up from her scanner and across the equipment junction at Lieutenant Vaughn. He leaned with his back against the bulkhead, his posture revealing his fatigue. A sheen of perspiration coated his features, even as two beads slid down the side of his face, leaving quicksilver trails behind. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

The time aboard Tomedhad been hard on all of them, Gravenor knew. The heat, the closeness in the equipment junctions and conduits, napping in abbreviated shifts, subsisting on condensed emergency rations—all had taken their toll. In addition, the complexity and arduousness of their tasks had pushed each of them, while the importance and pressure of successfully completing their mission had never left their minds. And right now, they’d reached one of the most critical stages of the operation.

Gravenor checked the display on her Romulan scanner. Fiber-optic lines swept from the back of the device and into a cluster of exposed circuits within the bulkhead. She’d secured a connection to the ship’s helm, and while she hadn’t yet taken control of it, she monitored its function. Tomed’s helm officer had programmed it to engage six minutes before complete containment failure, taking the ship away from the evacuated crew and leaving them behind in safety. Once that had happened, Captain Harriman would slow the degradation of the containment field—it could not be stopped—and Gravenor would head the ship toward Federation space.

The chronometer on the tricorder told Gravenor that in just four minutes, Tomedwould go to warp. By that time, the entire crew would have vacated the ship, allowing her and Vaughn and Harriman to finish their mission. With full control of the ship, they could—

The display on her scanner jumped. She’d been observing Tomed’s helm readouts, monitoring the programmed flight settings and the status of the warp drive. Now the set of Romulan characters marching across the display told her something different than they had only seconds ago. She quickly read through the new text, and saw in an instant that everything had changed.

Gravenor raised her arm and activated the Romulan communicator encircling her wrist. As she did so, she saw Vaughn straighten and push away from the bulkhead, his attention firmly on her. “We’ve got a problem,” she told him, and as though confirming that fact, she risked contacting Harriman. Until now, they’d refrained from using their communicators, which could have betrayed their presence aboard Tomed.“Aerel to Ventin,” she said, employing the names of two of the Romulan crew that they’d chosen for themselves should the need arise.

“Ventin,”Harriman responded at once.

“The ship is no longer programmed to go to warp,” she said. “Flight control has been transferred from the computer back to the helm station on the bridge.”

Silence followed, only a second or two in duration, Gravenor was sure, but the time seemed to elongate for her. She awaited Harriman’s orders, anxious to take action. “Check internal sensors,”Harriman said at last. “How many are left aboard?”

Gravenor worked her scanner. She had established a link to the ship’s internal sensors as a contingency measure, and she accessed that connection now. She executed a high-level scan, casting a shipwide net for Romulan life signs. “Six of the crew are still aboard,” she reported to Harriman. “Three on the bridge, three in engineering– wait.Some of them are now on the move.”

“Take control of the helm,”Harriman ordered. “Get us away from here.”

“Aye,” Gravenor said simply.

“I’ll do my job,”Harriman said, obviously meaning that he’d do as planned, reducing the rate of decay of the containment field. “I’ll rejoin you shortly. Out.”

Gravenor deactivated the communicator, then dropped her hand back to her scanner. She brought up the helm readouts on the display, studied them for a moment, and then went to work. In only a short time, she had taken over operation of Tomed’s flight-control systems. Utilizing the course the Romulan navigator had earlier plotted and programmed into the computer, Gravenor engaged the ship’s warp drive.

The deep hum of the faster-than-light engines rose in the equipment junction. The throbbing character of the sound differed from that of Enterprise’s steady drone. Here, the pulse seemed like the beating of Tomed’s singular heart.

As Gravenor worked, Vaughn stepped up beside her and peered at the scanner display. She waited enough time for the ship to be beyond the reach of the limited sensors in the escape pods, then adjusted Tomed’s course and increased its velocity to warp nine. “We’re on our way,” she said to Vaughn. She accessed the ship’s internal sensors again, wanting to check on the location of the Romulans. She saw that the three of them in main engineering had left that location and now headed in this direction. It would not take long for them to reach—

The display went blank.

Gravenor coolly worked the controls of the scanner, even as she understood what had happened. She checked both the device itself and its connection to the ship’s circuitry, confirming her suspicion: her access to the sensors had been severed. “They found us,” she said to Vaughn. She activated the communicator wrapped around her wrist and raised it once more toward her mouth. “Aerel to Ventin,” she said. “They found us.”

“Get out of there,”Harriman ordered. “You know your jobs. Out.”

As with any special operation, alternative courses of action had been established wherever possible. Being discovered at this point, with Tomedalmost entirely abandoned by its crew and now streaking away toward Federation space, Gravenor’s duty would be to prevent the Romulans from taking control of the warp drive. If she and Vaughn and Harriman were to succeed in their mission, they could not allow the ship to be stopped, slowed, or diverted.

Gravenor reached forward, grabbed the bundles of fiber-optics, and ripped them free of their connections to the Romulan circuitry. After disengaging the lines from her scanner, she stuffed them into the bulkhead. Beside her, Vaughn had already reached down and retrieved the access plate, which he replaced as soon as she had moved away. When he turned to face her, she said, “Proceed as planned, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Commander,” he said. The muscles of his face had tensed visibly, and he looked serious and concerned. But young as he was, Vaughn didn’t give in to panic—and wouldn’t, Gravenor felt certain. If she had believed otherwise, she would not have selected him for this assignment.

“Go,” she said. Vaughn drew his disruptor, then turned and climbed into a conduit. Gravenor attached her scanner to its holder at her waist, then reached for her own weapon. As Vaughn’s legs and feet disappeared from view, she whirled and scrambled into a different conduit, headed for Tomed’s main engineering section.

As he watched Linavil stride to the weapons cache, Vokar stepped up to the nearest console—the navigation station—and opened a comm channel. “Vokar to engineering,” he said.

“This is Elvia,”replied the ship’s lead engineer, rushing through the words, her voice loud. She sounded harried, and perhaps also annoyed. “Admiral, we have only a few—”

“Cease your work, Lieutenant,” Vokar interrupted. “There are intruders aboard. Arm yourselves and proceed to the lower engineering deck, port side, maintenance connector—” He looked over at Akeev for the location.

“Connector forty-seven,” the science officer said. Vokar repeated the information to Elvia.

“Admiral,”she said, “we haven’t been able to slow the containment loss. My engineers and I were just about to head for the evacuation pods.”

“I’m aware of that,” Vokar said, fighting back anger at having his orders questioned. Linavil started back across the bridge, he saw, three disruptors in her hands. “The source of the containment problem has been located, and another crew is making repairs. I need you and your engineers to arm yourselves and find the intruders. You’re closest to them.”

Elvia did not respond immediately, and Vokar thought that she might not respond at all. Obviously fearing the collapse of the containment field and the unleashing of the quantum singularity, Elvia might simply flee the ship, choosing to suffer the consequences of her cowardice later. But then she said, “How many intruders are there?”

Again, Vokar looked to Akeev. “Probably not more than two or three,” the science officer speculated, just as Linavil walked up to him and handed him one of the disruptors.

“Three,” Vokar told Elvia. “And they are impervious to direct sensor scans.”

“Yes, sir,”she said. “We’re on our way.”

“Vokar out,” he said, jabbing at the control on the navigation console to close the channel. Linavil stopped beside him and held out a disruptor. He took the proffered weapon and affixed it to his uniform at his hip, and Linavil did the same with her own. “Subcommander,” he said, “cancel the program that would automatically take the ship out of the area.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She moved quickly to the helm.

“Sir,” Akeev said from the sciences station, “there’s another crew working on the containment field?” As with Elvia, he sounded distressed.

“The intruders,” Vokar explained. “The Federation saboteurs.”

“I don’t understand,” Akeev said. “I know what the sensors indicated, but even if the intruders are still aboard, how can you be sure that they can fix the problem?”

“They arestill aboard,” Linavil offered as she worked the helm controls, “because they want this ship.”

“Yes,” Vokar agreed. “They executed the damage to Tomed,and now they’ll repair it. They can’t very well have the ship if it’s destroyed.”

Akeev nodded slowly, but seemed unconvinced. “How do you know they don’t wantto destroy the ship?” he asked.

“Because they’re still aboard,” Vokar said, “and the Federation doesn’t launch suicide missions.” He thought of the Romulan commanders who over the decades had sacrificed their lives and those of their crews rather than allow their vessels and themselves to fall into the possession of an enemy. Vokar knew firsthand that Starfleet personnel did not always lack for courage or the ability to plan strategically, but willingly giving up their lives for the greater good was an action beyond their capabilities.

“I’ve canceled the helm program, sir,” Linavil announced. “Tomed’s not going anywhere.”

“So the intruders sabotaged the ship to force the crew to evacuate?” Akeev asked. “And their plan was to fix it and escape when the ship automatically left the area?”

“Yes,” Vokar said, “but they didn’t intend for there to be any Romulans left aboard to…” Vokar’s voice trailed off as something else occurred to him. “…to thwart them,” he finished flatly as he began to work through his realization: the plan of the Federation operatives demanded secrecy. Even if they successfully captured Tomed,it would do them no good if the Romulan Empire could demonstrate that the Federation had been behind the theft. The Klingons had threatened to side against the aggressor in a conflict between the Empire and the Federation, and the meticulously planned appropriation of the Romulan flagship from this side of the Neutral Zone would certainly qualify as aggression.

“We need to send out a message,” Vokar said to Linavil. “To Romulus, to another vessel, even to the crew in the evacuation pods. We must expose the Federation plot.” The intruders had obviously sabotaged communications so that the crew would not be able to broadcast a distress call, but probably also as a precaution should not all of the crew evacuate the ship.

“There’s long-range communications equipment in the shuttles,” Linavil noted.

Vokar nodded. “Go now,” he said. Linavil headed for the turbolift, but stopped when Akeev spoke up.

“Admiral,” he said, urgency in his tone. “Sensors have detected a comm signal…originating in…” The science officer tapped at his panel. “…lower engineering deck…” He looked up, the pale glow of the sciences display reflecting on his face. “…port maintenance connector forty-seven.”

“Can you get a fix on their life signs?” Linavil asked.

“Trying,” Akeev said. “Negative, but…they’ve tapped into internal sensors from the same location.”

“Shut them out,” Vokar ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Akeev said. He worked his controls for a moment, and then said, “I can’t isolate their connection for some reason.”

“Disable the surrounding links into the network,” Linavil said.

Vokar felt the change in Tomedbefore he heard it: the initial vibration of the ship, carried through its structure, through the bulkheads and decking, as the warp drive began operation. He raced to the helm, seeing confirmation there of Tomed’s transition to light speeds, even as the bass pulsation of the engines rose around him. He began working the panel, attempting to regain control of the ship.

Linavil dashed up beside him. She observed for a moment, and then said, “They’ve locked us out.” She quickly dropped to the floor, onto her back, and reached up beneath the console. “The helm’s still operational, though. I can reroute the panel, manually bypass the lockouts.”

“I can do that,” Vokar told her. “You get to the shuttle compartment and send out a message.”

“Yes, sir,” Linavil said, rising back to her feet. Once more, she headed for the turbolift.

“Admiral,” Akeev said, “I’ve shut down their sensor access. I’m also reading a major decrease in the destabilization of the containment field; it’s suddenly drawing power through different relays.”

Vokar acknowledged Akeev, then stopped Linavil before she left the bridge. “Subcommander,” he said. She turned back toward him as the turbolift doors glided open.

“Sir?” she said.

“Make sure your disruptor is set to kill,” he told her.

Harriman clambered through the equipment conduit, his muscles no longer aching as badly as they had been. The repeated, awkward movement through the cramped maintenance tunnels during the time on Tomedhad taxed his body, but the flow of adrenaline eased much of that pain right now. Still, he would have preferred his own discomfort to the reasons for his heightened physical state. The continued presence on the ship of six Romulans endangered not only this mission, but the Federation itself. If word of Starfleet personnel attempting to commandeer Tomedreached Romulus and Qo’noS, war would be the consequence, with the two empires uniting against a common foe. The loss of life in the Federation would be unimaginable.