Текст книги "Deny Thy Father"

Автор книги: Jeff Mariotte

Соавторы: Jeff Mariotte
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Chapter 37

“Yes, sir. I think we understand.”

Captain Pressman had been discussing their situation with Admiral Paris. Will was glad that Admiral Paris was involved—he had a lot of respect for Owen Paris, and he trusted the man’s survival skills. If they needed anything right now, it was a plan that would help them survive. He knew, though, that the Pegasuswas not the most important thing on the table—it was Starfleet’s resolve that mattered most. Like everyone else on the bridge, Will understood that if they backed down and dealt for their lives, others would take advantage of the example they set.

But Admiral Paris, living up to Will’s trust, had offered them a plan that might just get them out of this. The other alternative, of course, was that it might get them killed. Doing nothing would accomplish that same goal; this would just speed things up a bit. Will didn’t see a reason not to try, and he hoped the captain would agree.

“Thoughts, people?” Pressman asked.

“I don’t like it,” Barry Chamish said. “Suicide never seems like a good idea to me, not when there might be another solution.”

“Is there another solution?” Shinnareth Bestor asked.

“Not that I can think of,” Chamish admitted. “But I also don’t want to admit defeat, and that’s what the admiral’s plan sounds like to me.”

“It just might work,” Will countered. “I think it has a better chance of working than anything else we’ve come up with.”

“You’ll be the one doing the heavy lifting, Will,” Captain Pressman said. “Most of it, at any rate. So if you’re comfortable with that ...” He left the sentence unfinished. As the freshest face on the bridge, Will knew that a decision of this magnitude wasn’t really up to him. He appreciated being made to feel like he was part of the process, though.

“I can handle my end,” Will assured the captain. This earned him one of Pressman’s rare smiles. For such a rotten day, this one had its fringe benefits. He only hoped he might live long enough to look back on them fondly one day.

“I’m for it,” Rungius said.

“Same here,” Boylen put in.

Chamish looked horrified. “You’re asking us to kill ourselves!” he insisted. “How is that a good idea?”

“It’s a chance, at least,” Rungius argued. “One chance is better than none.”

“Agreed,” Bestor said simply.

“Very well, then,” Captain Pressman said. “This is a starship, not a democracy, and the majority of us are in agreement anyway. Mr. Dusefrene, hail Oxxreg, if you please.”

Will noticed that Dul Dusefrene’s hands quaked as she moved them across her control board. Since each of her hands had seven fingers, Will was reminded of a spastic spider when they shook. He wondered how many of the bridge crew had gone along with the plan because they didn’t want to appear cowardly, and how many genuinely were scared. Or if there was a difference.

And if there was, which camp he fell into.

When Oxxreg’s amphibianlike face appeared on the main viewscreen, Captain Pressman faced him, shoulders square, hands again clasped behind his back. “We have considered your offer,” the captain said. “And I’m here to tell you that there will be no deal.”

Oxxreg arched what would have been an eyebrow, had he possessed them, wrinkling his forehead. “Your superiors don’t care what happens to you?”

“They care,” Pressman argued. “But they care more about upholding Starfleet regulations. We are a neutral party, as far as your war is concerned, and we will remain so. I hereby demand, once again, that you release us and let us be on our way. Starfleet is no threat to you.”

“I’m sorry you have to so humiliate yourself, Captain.”Oxxreg sounded almost disappointed. Will supposed he probably was—he had probably been congratulating himself on the brilliance of his plan, and now faced having to explain to his own superiors why it wasn’t going to work. “But very well,”he went on. “You’ll have a few more minutes to live, then. We’ll see how willing the Ven are to fire on a Starfleet ship when they get within range.”

This time, Oxxreg broke the connection. Pressman turned toward the bridge crew. “So we’re to be a shield, apparently.”

“Maybe the Ven are more reasonable,” Dusefrene suggested.

“We’re one ship—a small one, compared to the Omistol ships,” Will noted. “We won’t make a very good shield. And when the shooting starts, I doubt anyone will make a special effort to miss us.”

“Mr. Riker’s right,” Captain Pressman said. “So let’s put the admiral’s plan into motion, see what happens. Are you still with us, Admiral?”

“I’m here,”Admiral Paris’s voice replied after a few seconds. Communication by susbspace radio was far from immediate, but it was pretty fast. “I wish you the best of luck, Captain.”

“We’ll need more than luck,” Pressman said. “Let’s see if we’ve got it. Mr. Riker, commence.”

“Yes, sir,” Will said, trying to sound as sharp and military as he could. He knew what they were proposing was risky, so he wanted to try to keep everyone’s morale up as best he could. The only morale he could directly influence was his own, though, so he focused on that.

He tapped at the conn controls, reversing the thrust of the Pegasus’sengines. Where before they had been burning fuel trying to escape the tractor beam, now he began to gently nudge the ship closer to the Omistol vessel that held them.

“They’re on the move,” Captain Jensen pointed out.

There was increased tension in the situation room, but also a growing sense of elation. At least something was being done. No one knew if it would work, but it was movement.

To Kyle, the success or failure of the plan had even greater significance than it did to the Starfleet officers in the room. Sure, it was their ship, their personnel. But his son was on that ship. He’d been a lousy father, and he wasn’t likely to change now. The last couple of years had taught him some hard lessons, though, and one of those was that his standard approach to life—duty first, all other considerations a distant second—was perhaps not the healthiest way to live. It had cost him too much. He knew he couldn’t simply waltz back into Will’s life, even if the boy survived the next few minutes. But at least Will would still be out there, and maybe somewhere down the line he’d be able to find it in his heart to forgive his old man for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

“I hope this works,” Admiral Paris muttered.

“It hasto,” one of the other officers fired back.

“It may not,” Kyle said, always willing to play devil’s advocate to his own tactics.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Bonner observed. “There’s nothing we can do now except wait.”

“They’re getting closer,” Jensen said, as if he were the only one who could see the screen.

Over the subspace radio relay, Kyle heard the words he’d been waiting for—the words that would make this plan work.

Or fail miserably.

“This is Captain Erik Pressman,”the captain’s voice said. “Initiate auto-destruct sequence.”

There was a pause, and Kyle knew the next voice he heard should be the first officer’s. When it finally came, it quavered with fear and uncertainty.

“This is Commander Barry Chamish... Captain, I can’t. I won’t.”

“Number One, I must insist,”Captain Pressman said.

“You can’t make me,”Chamish replied. To Kyle, he sounded more like a petulant child than a Starfleet officer.

“It’s your duty,”the captain urged. “To this ship and this crew.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t do it,”Chamish said. “I think it’s the wrong decision for the crew. I refuse to give my authorization.”

“You’re relieved, Mr. Chamish.”Kyle could hear the fury in Pressman’s voice as he did so.

“Sir, I’ll do it,”another voice broke in. “If I can.”

Kyle thought the voice sounded familiar. It was not a voice he’d heard often, certainly not recently. It was deeper, more mature than he remembered it. But the sound of it, the valor he heard in those few words, filled him with immense pride.

Will felt every eye on the bridge burning into him. Captain Pressman regarded him levelly, as if trying to fit a new perception around the old ones he had already established.

“You can’t, Ensign,” Pressman said. “It would have to be the third-in-command of the ship.”

“Well, it’s got to be soon, sir. We’re already within range.”

Before Will finished his sentence, the officer to his immediate left said, “This is Lieutenant Commander Shinnareth Bestor.” The operations officer’s voice was flat, betraying no emotion at all. “Initiate auto-destruct sequence.”

“Verbal confirmation requested,”the computer replied. “Captain Pressman?”

“Confirmed,” Pressman stated.

“Lieutenant Commander Bestor?”

“Confirmed,” the operations officer said.

“What is the desired interval until destruction, Captain Pressman?”

Pressman glanced at Will, who checked his instruments quickly and then held up three fingers. “Three minutes,” the captain said.

“Auto-destruct sequence initiated,”the computer intoned. “Destruction in two minutes, fifty-eight seconds.”

Will wiped at his forehead. His heart pounded in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears almost drowned out the other noises on the bridge. Everything except the computer’s soulless voice, counting down the last few seconds until the ship blew itself up. The force of the explosion, he remembered from the Academy, would be roughly the equivalent of a thousand photon torpedoes.

At least it’ll be quick,he thought. Probably fairly painless. Probably even a relief after sitting around waiting for it for three minutes.

“What’s going on up there?” someone asked plaintively.

“You can hear as well as the rest of us,” Bonner responded. “They’re waiting.”

Kyle knew it wasn’t that simple. The delay inherent even in subspace radio meant that the Pegasusmight already be destroyed. He wondered what they’d hear on this end—static? An electronic hum? Or would they first, momentarily, hear the thunder as the explosions ripped through his son’s vessel?

“The Ven are getting awfully close,” Admiral Paris observed. “They’re right there—definitely within firing range.”

One more thing to worry about,Kyle thought. He had hoped the Pegasussituation would be resolved before the Ven showed up and further complicated matters. Maybe if that first officer hadn’t chickened out ...

“Destruction in forty-five seconds,”he heard. He swallowed hard. This was getting too close.

“They’ve cut the tractor,” Bestor said excitedly.

“Will, engines on full,” Pressman ordered. “Take us out, now.”

“Yes, sir!” Will shot back, already implementing the command.

“Destruction in fifteen seconds,”the computer announced.

“Computer, this is Captain Erik Pressman. Abort auto-destruct sequence.” He swiveled about in his chair. “Commander?”

“Computer, this is Lieutenant Commander Shinnarerh Bestor. Abort auto-destruct sequence.” Will noted that the operations officer sounded relieved. He was feeling a little better about things himself, but he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Sir, they’re firing on us!” Bethany Rungius said.

“All power to shields,” Pressman replied. “Don’t worry about returning fire.”

“Shields are up, sir.”

The first volley from the Omistolian ship hit them astern. The bridge rocked, lights flickered, but the shields held.

“They didn’t want us to blow up right next to them,” Captain Pressman noted. “But they have no problem letting us get a little farther away and then blowing us up themselves.”

Will concentrated on putting distance between themselves and the Omistolian ship. He knew their greatest danger had been with the Omistolians themselves—if they had not been scanning the Pegasusclosely enough to notice when their auto-destruct sequence started, they would never have shut off the tractor beam. But now they were one little science ship in the middle of a war between two enemy fleets, so their chances still didn’t look that promising.

“Sir,” Rungius reported. “The Ven ships are firing.”

“Brace yourselves,” Pressman commanded. Everyone did, but no barrage landed.

“Sir,” Rungius corrected. “The Ven are firing on the Omistolian ship that held us—on Oxxreg’s ship!”

Will blew out a sigh of relief. The kilometers were passing by the second, thousands upon thousands of them. They weren’t out of range yet, but apparently Oxxreg had bigger problems right now. Captain Pressman ordered that Oxxreg’s ship be put on the main viewscreen, and the whole bridge watched as four Ven ships fired upon it at once, green beams lighting up the sky. Then the Omistolian ship exploded, parts of it spiraling out into space, trailing smoke. The concussion wave from the blast caught up to them a few moments later, pushing them even farther away from the battle.

“Mr. Riker, ahead warp six, if you please,” Captain Pressman said.

Will laughed. “I do please, sir. I please very much. Warp six it is.” He moved his fingers across the control panel like an experienced hand, and reveled in the fact that he, a kid from Valdez, was at the conn of a starship.

And that it could fly really, really fast.

Chapter 38

Kathryn Janeway came back into the situation room just as the cheers were dying out. She walked straight to Kyle’s side, barely sparing a glance for anyone else. “It looks like I missed something,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s just fine,” he told her with a grin. He patted the back of the chair next to him. “Have a seat, Ensign, and tell me what you found out.”

She spoke quietly into his ear for a couple of minutes, and Kyle felt his gaze drawn to the person of Vice Admiral Bonner, who, alone among the individuals in the room, seemed not to be celebrating the Pegasus’sescape.

Admiral Owen Paris came over to Kyle, giving Janeway an inquisitive look but saying nothing, and clapped Kyle on the back. “Congratulations, Kyle,” he said. “It looks like you’ve still got the touch.”

“Thank you, Owen,” Kyle said. He spoke louder than was strictly necessary, but he did it on purpose, wanting to attract attention. “I’d like to ask you something, though.”

“What is it?” Owen said. He looked a little taken aback, though he must have known that Kyle had been using Janeway for some private purpose.

“I’d like to know who it was that ordered the Pegasusinto that space in the first place. I understand they went in looking for the pirates, but I believe they were acting on intelligence supplied by Starfleet Command. Was it Vice Admiral Bonner?”

Owen hesitated for a moment before answering, as if unsure what can of worms he might be opening. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, it was. How did you ... why do you ask?”

“I thought it might have been,” Kyle said. He noticed that by now he had the attention of everyone in the room, including Bonner, who stared at him with undisguised contempt.

“I don’t know if I appreciate this line of conversation,” Bonner objected. “This man is a civilian; what business is it of his whether or not I ordered that? Anyway, we had no reason to doubt the intelligence.”

“He’s right, Kyle,” Admiral Paris said. He still sounded hesitant, as if he didn’t want to shut Kyle down, but he needed to maintain the proper protocols. “Is this going somewhere?”

Kyle rose from his seat. He trusted Owen, and because he did he trusted Ensign Janeway. But he sure hoped her information was accurate.

“It is, Owen, and I’ll ask you to let me finish this.”

“Absolutely not!” Bonner exploded. “What is this, some kind of civilian tribunal?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Kyle assured him. This was his second strategic ploy of the day. He hoped it played out as well as his first. “But my son’s life was in danger today, and he helped save a lot of other lives. I think I’m entitled to a few questions and answers, here.”

“You have no official status here, Kyle,” Owen reminded him. “You’ve been missing for nearly two years. You are here as a favor to me, and I’ll ask you not to push things too far. That said, I agree, you are entitled to some answers.”

“I most strenuously object,” Bonner blustered. He lurched from his seat, face red and blotchy again, scalp dripping with sweat.

“Horace,” Owen said. “Sit down and shut up.”

Bonner glared at him, but noticed that everyone else in the room was staring, and finally returned to his seat.

“Kyle, you’d better explain yourself,” Owen suggested.

“Thank you, Owen. I will. Vice Admiral Bonner sent the U.S.S. Pegasuson a wild goose chase into disputed, dangerous space, even though, in fact, there was no information that Heavens Bladewas anywhere in the vicinity.”

There was an audible gasp from some in the room, and murmured conversation among others that quickly stopped when Kyle continued. “That part is just speculation, though I suspect if we examine the Vice Admiral’s logs we’ll see that it’s true. Something else is definitely true, though, confirmed for me just moments ago by the very capable Ensign Janeway. Vice Admiral Bonner had a stepson on Starbase 311 with me—a young man named Charles Heidl. Mr. Heidl was a scientist, not a military officer. Although Vice Admiral Bonner and Mr. Heidl were very close—as close as any father and son, I would guess, from what I’ve been able to learn—the relationship between them has been kept very secret. Possibly because Vice Admiral Bonner had, on numerous occasions, arranged for Starfleet favors for Mr. Heidl. Chief among these was helping to arrange funding, transportation, and a facility on Starbase 311 for some of Heidl’s experiments.”

Bonner looked at Kyle, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, like a fish in a tank. Owen addressed Janeway, still seated next to where Kyle had been. “Is this true, Ensign Janeway?”

“Yes, sir. Once Mr. Riker told me precisely what to look for, it wasn’t hard to find the details.”

“We know that the Tholians attacked Starbase 311,” Kyle went on. “We know, through intercepted communications, that the Tholians did so because of intelligence, which they deemed believable, that Starbase 311 was to be the launching point for an incursion into Tholian space. Further, we know through hard experience what kind of response that would surely generate among the Tholians—precisely the kind that it did. A swift and vicious assault. That intelligence—again, this has been confirmed in the past few minutes by Ensign Janeway—came from the starbase itself.”

“Someone on the base signaled the Tholians and invited attack?” Captain Jensen asked, incredulous.

“That’s correct, Captain,” Kyle replied calmly. “There’s one more piece to the puzzle, but this one I haven’t yet been able to confirm. Even Ensign Janeway isn’t a miracle worker, it seems, and we’ll need a bit more time to study this. But I recall that Starfleet or the Federation was planning an investigation into experiments on Starbase 311—to be specific, whatever experiments Mr. Heidl was engaged in. Becoming aware of this investigation, Vice Admiral Bonner contacted Heidl and ordered him to shut down the experiments and destroy the evidence, according to their prearranged plan. The best way to ensure that the experiments would never be investigated in depth, of course, was to arrange the destruction of the starbase. So the Tholians were contacted. And they came, and all of us on board—all except me, by the merest twist of fate—were killed.”

Kyle had moved closer and closer to Bonner as he spoke. Bonner couldn’t take his eyes off his accuser, and his face seemed almost to be collapsing in on itself as the truth of his crimes was revealed. His gaze was full of hatred, and his hands seemed to have taken on a life of their own, twisting and wringing one another as if they were possessed.

“What was it, Bonner?” Kyle demanded, bending close to his prey. “Genetic experimentation? Something banned by the Federation, at any rate. Something that couldn’t be done closer to home, where the authorities might stumble across it.”

“I can’t ... I can’t tell you!” Bonner cried. “He’ll ... he’ll ...”

“You’ll be telling a court martial, soon enough,” Owen Paris said. “You might as well come clean.”

“Actually, I think I can guess,” Kyle said. He glanced over at Janeway, who understood the signal and rose from her seat. “Based on what’s happened since. It was some kind of mind control experiment, wasn’t it? If we run a check, I suspect we’ll find that the crew members who have attacked me were all, at one point or another, stationed at Starbase 311. Long before the Tholian attack, of course—probably long before I was there. But while Mr. Heidl was there, running his experiments. And even after it was all over, they remained susceptible to suggestion.”

“But ... isn’t Heidl dead?” Owen asked. “Or did he make it off the starbase in time?”

Bonner was simply shaking his head now, tears beginning to run down his cheeks. Kyle couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for the man, though.

“No one made it off in time,” Kyle said. “The last thing Ensign Janeway checked for me was a travel log. Vice Admiral Bonner was in deep space when the Tholians attacked. He was, in fact, not too terribly far from Tholian space. I believe he went there to help his stepson eliminate evidence, and to provide a ride home for Mr. Heidl. For whatever reason, though, Mr. Heidl missed the boat.”

“He went back,” Bonner mumbled, his face buried in his hands. “I ... we went there to bring him home.” He dropped his hands and turned his head slowly, facing everyone in the room, as if they were all his accusers. “We came to my ship, but we had forgotten to make sure some of the records were destroyed. So we went back.”

Kyle noted the change in subject pronoun, and realized that Bonner’s problems were even deeper than he had thought. And he had thought they were pretty bad indeed.

“What was it, Bonner? Am I right?”

Bonner nodded and answered wetly. “Mental control and manipulation. Limited range, but very ... effective. We made ... remarkable progress. But then, we went back and ... we talked, via closed-channel communications. ‘They’re here!’ we shouted, and then we could hear the noise of the Tholian torpedoes, and the explosions. We didn’t ... didn’t hear Charles anymore, but the channel stayed open and we heard the rest of it. The Tholians, when they boarded the starbase and searched it, destroying every survivor. Except one. Except Riker.”

“Horace,” Owen said, his voice gentle. “You’re saying ‘we.’ What do you mean by that? Who?”

“He’s ... he’s in here, with us. Charles. We can’t explain ... maybe our mental powers were so well developed, by that time ... that we were able to make the jump across space.”

And maybe,Kyle thought, you’re just nutty as a fruitcake.

“Horace, we can get you some help,” Owen said.

“No!” The word was an explosion. “We don’t need your help!” Bonner leapt from his chair, sending it flying backward behind him, and whipped a phaser from his belt holster. He aimed it at Kyle and pulled the trigger.