Текст книги "Killing Time "

Автор книги: Della Hise

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Chapter Sixteen

ONCE THE HANGAR deck was pressurized and the indicator light showed green on the panel outside the door, Captain Spock nodded to the six Vulcan security guards who would precede him into the giant room.

"Segon," he said, addressing the chief security officer, "use utmost caution. But under no circumstances are any of the passengers to be harmed. If they are armed, disarm them quickly, but take no aggressive action. We do not wish to fuel Admiral S't'kal's cause if this vessel has trespassed into Alliance territory by accident."

But something in the back of his mind warned that it was no accident. His own words came back to him. I cannot be certain that it is confined to this galaxy. Or to the Alliance, he added, a sudden thought presenting itself. Indeed, the Romulans' arrival appeared quite timely.

As the hangar deck doors slowly opened, the Vulcan's eyes narrowed to study the alien ship which he discovered to be strikingly familiar in configuration to an Alliance shuttle. The major differences being the highly colorful paintings of a bird of prey and the domelike bubble which sat atop the small craft. The vessel rested on two podlike runners; presently a surface door slid back, a ramp extending to compensate for the four-foot elevation off the deck.

Surrounded by the security team, Spock watched the vessel closely as the doors separated to reveal two Romulan women attired in the familiar Fleet uniforms of the Empire. The insignias on their arms revealed one to be a counterpart of an Alliance lieutenant; the other was apparently a sub-commander—the Empire's version of a starship first officer. One eyebrow rose as the Vulcan stepped closer, coming to a halt at the base of the ramp.

Inclining his head in formal greeting, he studied the women carefully, suppressing an uncanny sense of déjà vu as he met the dark eyes of the lieutenant. The well-sculptured alien features seemed familiar, haunting … like a face in a dream. But he put the thought aside.

"I am Captain Spock," he stated, noting that they carried no weapons. "You have been taken aboard the VSS ShiKahr."

The sub-commander's eyes scanned the hangar deck with obvious interest. "I am called Sarela," she replied hesitantly. "Second in command of the Romulan flagship Ravon." She wondered if the Praetor had made a wise move in deciding to reveal their true names, deleting only the fact that Thea happened to be the leader of the entire Romulan system. She nodded toward the other woman. "This is Thea," she added, "our ship's science adviser."

As the security team formed a tight circle around the group which encompassed Spock and the two Romulans, the Vulcan nodded formally. "Though you will be officially debriefed in the morning, there are a few questions I must ask of you now." When he received no negative response, he continued. "What was the nature of your mission at the time your vessel became separated from the Ravon?" He began walking, indicating the hangar deck doors with a quick gesture. "And why did your ship venture so far into Alliance territory? Surely your sensors were capable of discerning your location."

Sarela fell into step beside the Vulcan as they began walking; Thea assumed the correct supportive stance by her side. "What is to be done with us?" she demanded, pointedly ignoring the questions. "Alliance ways are not unknown to our people, and you will gain no secrets through torture or mind probes." She raised her chin defiantly, playing the role to the hilt.

Stopping, the Vulcan turned to study the women carefully. He noticed matter-of-factly that Thea seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze. "Whatever you may have been told regarding Alliance procedure is, no doubt, considerably exaggerated. You will not be harmed, regardless of your intent when you crossed the Neutral Zone. You will be turned over to the authorities at the nearest Starbase, and the officials shall decide what is to be done with you at that time. Most likely," he elaborated, "you will be questioned—without the use of torture—then returned to your Empire via long-range transporter."

Sarela began walking again, exchanging glances with Thea as they kept pace with the Vulcan. "Very well," she conceded. "Though I do not necessarily accept your words as truth, I will speak freely with you."

As they entered the long corridor leading to the turbolift, she squared her shoulders. Apparently Thea's advisers had known their work well, for the Vulcan had responded as predicted throughout the brief exchange.

"The T'Favaron's mission was to scout the surface of Kavol—a planet well within the Romulan system," Thea relinquished, speaking for the first time. "We were a party of seven," she continued, staring straight ahead, "but our numbers were diminished to only Sarela and me."

Spock took it all in silently; it corresponded roughly with what he knew of Romulan procedures. "What became of the rest of your party?" he asked as the two women were ushered into the lift, followed closely by himself and three of the guards.

"We do not know," Thea responded, her voice distant. "They were to take readings of the planet's geography, collect mineral and soil samples in preparation for colonization, then return to the T'Favaronwithin two days. When the third day did not bring them back, Sarela and I initiated a search for them on our own." She paused, staring absently at the peculiar insignia on the Vulcan's chest as she spoke. "At that time, we were already overdue to rendezvous with the Ravon. Unknown to us, however, an ion storm had swept our mothership off course. When she returned to retrieve our shuttle, her commander no doubt believed us to have been destroyed in the storm. Our own engines had been rendered temporarily inactive due to the atmospheric disturbances created by ion particles; and we were unable to achieve orbit or effect repairs on our communications equipment until well after the Ravonhad proceeded on to her next mission."

As the lift slowed to a halt, Spock stepped out onto Deck Three. It wasn't an impossible story, and he recalled that an ion storm had indeed been monitored within Romulan territory only a few days previously. If they were lying, they had researched it well. He glanced at Thea once again, caught her watching him. For a moment, there seemed to be something he should say to her, something he should remember … but the thought quickly abandoned him as he began to walk.

After a moment, he drew to a halt in front of double doors, turning once again to the peculiar Romulan woman. "Until more suitable quarters can be arranged, you will share these accommodations," he stated flatly. He avoided mentioning that he had no intention of splitting them up; if they were together behind one set of doors, guarding them would be considerably less risky. "Be advised that your room will be guarded at all times," he continued, "and that you will not be permitted outside these quarters unless accompanied by myself or my first officer."

Thea laughed aloud, entering the darkened room and pointedly reaching for the light switch. It was exactly where she knew it would be, precisely where Second History diagrams had said it would be, and she found herself relaxing a little more as the role slipped easily into place.

"You fear us?" she asked. "You, a Vulcan, tremble with terror at the sight of two Romulan women?"

"Hardly," the Vulcan returned, his tone cold. "But history has proven your treacherous nature; and considering previous incidents in this sector, I do not intend to take unnecessary chances. You will be held here, in technical custody, until Command dictates further orders." Despite their apparent harmlessness, the Vulcan felt a very human feeling creep into the pit of his stomach. He thought of Time again … and reality. Alliance espionage had verified that the Romulans did indeed possess certain time-travel capabilities; and if the truth could be discovered …

"You will be questioned further in the morning," he stated, drawing himself back to his own reality. "In the meantime, should you require food or drink, it will be brought to you on request." He stepped into the room, indicating a panel by the door.

"So far," Sarela remarked, "you have kept your word concerning our well-being." She glanced appreciatively at the large room. "But we shall see how honorable your Alliance truly is once we reach this Starbase of yours."

Declining comment, Spock stepped back into the hall, uncannily aware of the dark eyes which followed him. He turned, brows narrowing suspiciously as he studied Thea. She held his gaze for a moment, then quickly glanced away. But the moment was enough, the Vulcan thought to himself. And there was an unverbalized message somewhere in her eyes.

With a quick nod toward the guard, the Vulcan stepped back, allowing the doors to close. "I shall be in my quarters until morning, Lieutenant Segon," he said in clipped Vulcan dialect. "If our guests require anything before then, have Mister Chekov attend to it."

Segon nodded, assuming his position directly in front of the door.

But as Spock walked slowly down the corridor back to the lift, he felt himself start to relax. Illogical under the circumstances, he thought … but perhaps the Romulans were more of a blessing than an accidental curse.

Jim Kirk was goaded awake by the sound of an unusually large insect buzzing persistently in his ear. As his eyes opened, he fought the now-normal disorientation, realizing that the sound came from a somewhat more conventional source. Rolling to his feet with a groan, he noticed that Richardson was completely oblivious to the door buzzer due to the pillow covering his head.

With a wistful smile in his roommate's direction and a muttered curse at whoever dared to be on the other side of the door, he moved to the panel on the desk, depressing the button which would release the lock mechanism.

"Come," he said.

The door opened to reveal two security guards, dressed in the red attire of Vulcan security. "The captain requests both of you to come to the central briefing room immediately," the taller of the two stated without preamble as they moved into the room and flipped on the lights.

Kirk blinked at the sudden stab of white fluorescents, staring numbly at the two men in a moment of stunned disbelief. Suspicion warred with hope; perhaps Spock had uncovered some vital piece of information related to the time displacement theory. Trying to shake the cobwebs of sleep from his mind, he said nothing; then, after a long silence, nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, sure," he managed, stretching and yawning and attempting to ignore the tingle of intuitive suspicion which stood his hair on end. "Tell him we'll be there as soon as we're dressed."

The two guards looked at one another, but did not move. "We were ordered to … escort you," the second man replied.

Kirk shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said casually. But his mind was far from at ease. He moved to Richardson's bed, nudging his roommate with the side of his bare foot. "C'mon, Jerry," he said miserably. "The military is exercising its God-given right to drag us out of bed at three in the morning."

Richardson didn't move.

"Get up!" Kirk continued, nudging him a second time.

Richardson moaned sleepily, rolling onto his back when Kirk finally yanked the pillow away. Shielding his eyes from the lights with one muscular arm, he groaned. "Huh? What're you talking about, Jim?" He dragged himself to wakefulness at last, glancing up to see the two guards standing inside the door. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, bolting to his feet. "Is it a red alert or something?" He remembered something about the Condition Yellow, but that had been canceled hours ago. And he also realized that the two guards didn't look like any of Segon's usual monkeys. Still … he passed it off to the fact that the Red Shirts seemed to come and go far more quickly than anyone else.

"What's going on?" he demanded, stumbling across the room and digging through a stack of disheveled clothes.

Kirk smiled, but his eyes were guarded as he pulled the tunic over his head and began struggling into the uniform pants and boots. "According to our friends, Captain Spock wants us down in the briefing room." He realized that it would have been considerably easier for the Vulcan to summon them with the intercom, but rank had its share of privileges … among them the right to send messengers to take the brunt of complaints when awakening someone from a sound sleep.

Once dressed, Jerry turned. "Well, fellas, what's this all about?" he asked, bending down to zip his left boot and almost toppling over in the process. Only Kirk's extended hand caught him automatically before he fell.

"Our orders are to bring you to the briefing room," the tall one replied stiffly. "I have no other information."

Jerry shrugged, glancing at Kirk's guarded expression. "Hell, Jim," he mused, "escorts no less!" He noticed that his roommate also seemed to be taking his time about getting dressed, and wondered if Kirk was receiving the same psychic warning that he was himself. The day's events had left him shaken, a trifle paranoid, extremely disoriented … and he couldn't recall a time when Spock had sent armed guards to escort ShiKahrcrewmembers to some place as mundane as the briefing room.

Kirk's sidelong glance confirmed it.

Moving to the door, Kirk eyed the two guards suspiciously, then cast a warning look in Richardson's direction.

"Oh!" he said, snapping his fingers as if in recollection. "I don't mean to insult you two—especially since you probably outrank me by at least a couple months—but what with all the uproar over the Canusian crisis and all the new personnel on board the ShiKahr, Captain's orders say we have to follow procedure." He noticed Jerry's supportive but confused expression, and smiled his most charming smile when he saw a look of unmitigated horror appear in the tall guard's eyes for just a moment. "I don't suppose you'd mind giving me the computer code-sequence for the day, would you? Just following orders, boys," he added apologetically, and winked.

The two guards stared at one another blankly. "I … the sequence has slipped my mind," one of them muttered. "Tasme, do you recall the code?"

The other guard shook his head. "I came on duty less than an hour ago," he hedged. But his tone hardened as he turned back to Kirk. "It is irrelevant, Ensign!" he hissed, his tone hardly that of a coolly logical Vulcan. "You will come with us immediately. Captain Spock does not like to be kept waiting." He grabbed the human roughly by one arm, shoving him through the door and completely obliterating any remaining doubts in Kirk's mind.

Kirk planted his feet firmly when he saw the other guard seize Richardson in the same manner. "Maybe so," he replied, his voice surprisingly calm until he brought his elbow hard into the man's ribs. "But I've got a feeling he'd like Romulans aboard the ShiKahreven less!"

With the guard momentarily doubled over, he wrenched free of the hand which still held his arm, and lashed out at the man's face. In the background, he was peripherally aware of Richardson moving in on the second man, and of the battle which ensued. He realized disjointedly that they would have little hope of defeating the Romulans in hand to hand combat; physiology simply wasn't in their favor, and he hardly expected a fair fight … nor did he intend to offer one.

With a brutal lunge, he succeeded in knocking the taller Romulan to the ground; but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other grab Richardson's wrist and twist the human's arm up hard behind his back. Kirk's heart sank, and he winced when he heard the snap and his roommate's muffled gasp of pain.

The last thing Kirk remembered was seeing the one called Tasme pull a Romulan disruptor from the back of a utility belt. A high shrill sound filled the room … and blue lightning escorted him down into oblivion.

"Now we must take them both!" Tasme complained, shouldering the unconscious burden and glancing down the deserted night corridor.

"No!" Sekor argued. "The Praetor's orders were to bring Kirk!"

"Do not be a fool, my friend," Tasme protested. "The other one can identify us too easily. If we are not able to get off this vessel, he would know who we are!"

With a sigh, Sekor bowed his head in acknowledgment of defeat. "I shall never understand our mistress, Tasme," he stated, lifting Richardson's limp form and following the other man down the hall toward the transporter room.

Tasme laughed lightly. "But would you choose another life for yourself?" he asked pointedly.

Sekor only shook his head as a smile lit his eyes. "I am content to do our Lady's bidding," he murmured as they drew to a halt at the end of the hall. "The rewards far outweigh the tribulations … even in moments such as these!"

Sobering, Tasme depressed the control panel which would allow access to the room. "We must return to the Ravonimmediately," he stated. "From there, our Lady wishes Kirk transported to an uninhabited world in the Romulan star system. . . . He let the sentence trail off, stepped into the transporter room, and heaved a sigh of relief. The room was empty.

Thea lounged comfortably in the high-backed chair, one elbow resting on the briefing room table. Black eyes scanned the room, going first to Sarela, then to McCoy, Scott and finally Spock.

"So you see, Captain," she said quietly, "your alternatives are limited. If you wish to see Ensigns Kirk and Richardson again, you mustdo as I request."

Hardened Vulcan eyes locked with cunning Romulan ones; but he had to respect the sorceress. She had planned it well. "You realize, of course, that I could order a complete vid-scan of yourself and your companion." But he was already learning to hate poker. "And neither of you should deceive yourselves into believing that your minds could withhold the information."

Thea laughed gently. "Once again, you have underestimated the mind of a Romulan, Spock," she said. "Neither Sarela nor myself knowprecisely where your friend is being held; for it was simple enough to predict that you would resort to those methods." She shook her head, long hair falling across her shoulders as a smile came to her lips. "The choice is yours, Captain," she continued. "Accept my words as truth—accept meas a Praetor who grows weary of harmful tradition and stagnation—and you shall have your … reward." She paused, eyes hardening. "But should you refuse me … you will never see James Kirk again."

The anger moved closer as Spock's hands tightened on the arm of the chair. Dizziness drove forward, sending waves of heat and nausea through him. He took a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment as he fought to recapture a control which had already been lost. Vulcan … the final curse. The ultimate irony. A biological madness for which no scientific cure existed. But as his eyes opened and he looked at Thea, a sudden simplistic truth came to him. She was, he realized, his only hope—a passport into the Romulan Empire … where time-travel was a reality.

"I shall require time to consult with my senior officers," he said, eyes traveling from McCoy to Scott. "You will be returned to your quarters and informed of our decision within two hours."

Thea's head inclined in acknowledgment. "Very well," she conceded. "If you agree to come with me—to present the Tenets of Discipline to the governors—we must leave as soon as possible. There is a Tribunal meeting in less than a week on Romulus; and it is there that we must make our move."

The Vulcan considered it. For himself, a week would be too long; the drive of the blood fever would destroy mind and body long before then. But for the universe … if he could somehow discover the Romulans' secret to Time, perhaps there would be some alternative. Mentally, he reviewed the time-curve. Less than ten days remaining. But it was, he realized, the only choice available.

With a quick nod toward the guards, he rose respectfully as Thea and Sarela were ushered from the room. Then, turning back to the ShiKahr's senior officers, he took a deep breath.

"Suggestions, gentlemen?"

McCoy paced angrily across the width of his inner office, blue eyes hard and cold as he whirled on the Vulcan. "I don't give halfa damn about whatthose Romulans told you, Spock!" he steamed. "You can't go traipsing off into the Empire and get away with it! The Alliance'll have your head the minute you get back here– ifyou get back!"

The Vulcan leaned back in the chair. "There would appear to be no alternative, Doctor," he stated flatly. "As we discussed in the briefing room, the Romulans are the only known society to possess time-travel physics; and if my suspicions are correct, it is entirely possible that it is they who are responsible for the time alteration which has taken place."

McCoy bounced on his toes as he came to a halt in front of the ShiKahr's commanding officer. "Do you have any idea what S't'kal would say about your little scheme?" he demanded hotly.

"By your own admission, Admiral S't'kal is not sane; his opinions, therefore, are irrelevant."

A human hand slammed hard against the top of the desk, less than five feet from the Vulcan. "Blast you and your logic, Spock!" the doctor snapped. "You can't honestly believethat Thea is the Romulan Praetor!"

Spock listened to the doctor's continued tirade with a patience which surprised even him. "Again, by your own admission, the readings taken during her debriefing indicate that she is, in fact, relaying the truth." He paused, meeting McCoy's steel-cold eyes. "And since you can provide no evidence to support your emotionally-based theory that she is lying, I am forced to consider the possibility that she is not."

The red heat of anger rose in McCoy's face. "They're blackmailing you, dammit!" he shouted. "And do you have any idea of what could happen if you go off into the Empire waving a bunch of pacifistic documents under the Warriors' noses? It'll be like a red flag to a herd of bulls!"

The Vulcan's brow arched. "Doctor, it is rapidly becoming my impression that you were not listening during the debriefing. Both Mister Chekov and Mister Scott have come to the conclusion that Thea's plan could well work to ourbenefit. And keep in mind that what we agreeto do inside the Empire need not coincide with what we actually accomplish."

McCoy shook his head, started to respond, then met the commander's eyes. "What did you just say?" But he waved the question aside. "If I'm reading you correctly, you're telling me that—not only are you planning on handing yourself over into enemy territory—but you're also working on some hare-brained scheme to trick Thea!" He threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "If I didn't know better—which I don't, at this point, Spock—I'd swear you've got a deathwish!"

The Vulcan took a deep breath. "Do you have any alternative suggestions?" he asked.

Again, McCoy bounced angrily on his toes. "No," he said simply. "I do not. But I do have questions, Spock—questions which you'd better ask yourself! For one thing—not that it matters now—but how didThea get Kirk and Richardson off the ship? I thought you scanned their vessel when it was hanging out there in space, and that she and Sarela were the only two on board."

"I didscan the T'Favaron, Doctor," Spock admitted, finally becoming impatient despite himself. "Apparently, her slaves were smuggled aboard in a drug-induced state of hybernation. They did not register as lifeforms, and therefore were not detected. When the vessel was brought aboard the ShiKahr, Thea had time to administer the counteragent which would revive them. Once the security detachment left the hangar deck, they fled. And, considering Romulan counterintelligence, it is hardly surprising that they were attired in Alliance security uniforms. By the time the incident came to anyone's attention, Kirk and Richardson were already gone—beamed back to the Romulan mothership."

McCoy scoffed miserably. But he knew it had been an honest mistake. Even Spock couldn't second-guess everything; and whether the captain would admit it or not, it had been a simple case of human error in a Vulcan. "So … what doyou plan to do, Spock?" he demanded at last.

The Vulcan rose, began to pace. "That will depend largely on Thea," he said quietly. "Provided I can elude her scrutiny, there is a distinct possibility that I shall be able to tie into the Romulan computer system and verify precisely what damage has been done—and where to correct it."

The blue eyes widened. "Just like that?" he replied disbelievingly. "She's just going to give you easy access to all the Empire's records and you're going to single-handedly solve all the problems of the universe. Poppycock!" he continued angrily. "What you're goingto do is get yourself killed or stranded—and I'm not sure there's much difference where the Romulans are concerned."

But the Vulcan shook his head in silent negation. "The fact that Thea deliberately and premeditatedly kidnapped Ensign Kirk is in itself a confession of their guilt," he reasoned aloud. "For, as you have been forced to realize, Kirk isa vital link between this universe and the alternate timeline to which we truly belong. Thea obviously knows that as well, and is using it to her advantage." He paused. "What she apparently does notsuspect is that we are aware of the time alteration."

McCoy remained silent for a moment, then sank wearily into a chair, leaning his head against the wall. "You're basing a mighty big venture on very little evidence, Spock," he pointed out. "Sure, I'll be the first to admit that Kirk is awfully peculiar—even familiar!—but it's difficult to believe that his kidnapping had anything to do with a Romulan plot to alter the entire history of the galaxy. That's pressing it a little far, isn't it?"

"Perhaps, Doctor," the Vulcan conceded. "Since my own … evidence … is purely of a subjective nature, it is difficult to be certain. However," he quickly added, "the synchronicities are fascinating. And, as we have agreed, our alternatives are limited." He studied the doctor's expression for a moment, then abandoned the hope of attempting to keep the details completely to himself. "In another universe, Doctor, James Kirk was a starship commander—captain of thisvessel in altered form. And while accepting the fact that Thea is alsofamiliar to me, I am forced to consider the possibility that I have had some altercation with herin the other universe as well. She is, quite probably, the one key which could unlock the doors to both universes."

McCoy shook his head, hand gripping the arm of the chair. "You're taking one hell of a chance, Spock," he argued. "But that's nothing new in this business, I suppose." With a sigh, he leaned back until the chair rocked up on two legs. "But the question is, Spock, canyou do anything about it in the time we have left?"

The Vulcan considered that. "Essentially, if we do not act soon, research has shown that the molecular structure of this newuniverse will begin to shift—will mold permanently to complement the structure as it exists after the time alteration. It is much the same as many of your early medical transplants," he continued. "When a new organ is placed in the body, there is a period of time during which the body will either accept or reject the foreign organ. Time alteration—in this case—is working on the same theory, yet on a much larger scale. If we envision this new universe as the body, and ourselves as the foreign organs, perhaps the connection will become clearer. And," he stressed, "in this particular case, the 'body' has already begun to reject what is alien to it."

McCoy looked dubious. "I'm with you so far," he said haltingly. "Go on."

"It is as if we are occupying physical space which is molecularly alien to our minds, Doctor," the Vulcan continued. "However, in many ways, we are experiencing a reverse rejection. It seems that the organ—our physical and mental beings—is rejecting the body. And after a while, both organisms will become diseased. The diseased organ and the diseased body will continue to exist—but as individual units. And as the time-wound begins to heal, we will be unable to recreate what mustbe. The two units—organ and body—will become one gigantic diseased structure which is incapable of surviving."

McCoy rubbed one eyebrow thoughtfully. "I see what you mean, Spock," he conceded. "But it's still a big risk." But he let that angle go. "And there's something else," he said at last. "Your acting abilities leave a lot to be desired. How can you expect to pull off a pose as the Romulan Praetor when you can't even fool me?"

The Vulcan glanced away. "What do you mean, Doctor?" he asked cautiously, walls snapping firmly into place.

"Well," McCoy drawled, eyeing the Vulcan closely, "it doesn't take a trained eye to notice that you've been grouchy as an old bear in hibernation for the last week—not to mention that you've been off your feed for longer than that—not to mention that you haven't been sleeping regularly—not to mention that your bodily function readings have been erratic since before the incident on Canus Four. . . ." He let his voice trail off, then lowered the anvil. "Now if I was a suspicious man—which we both know I am—I'd say you were either sick or … well … entering the early stages of pon farr."

The Vulcan's eyes closed painfully. The displacement, the time-distortion … and as he had just explained, his body and mind were rejecting the new universe in the most dreaded of fashions.

"It is a possibility," he confessed presently, voice barely a whisper. "However, I still have enough time to do what must be done in the Empire before my own condition becomes … acute." He stared numbly at the floor.

Pulling a hand-held scanner from the top of the desk, McCoy ran it close to the Vulcan, almost surprised when Spock made no effort to protest. "And what happens when it doesbecome critical?" he asked, temper rising again when he remembered that the Vulcan was unbonded.