Federation

by Judith Reeves-Stevens

  “I can’t answer that, Bones, because I don’t know.” Kirk wasn’t happy with the answer but it was the best he could do. “What matters is that someone has Cochrane, and they have him because of my log. Why they were even looking for him in the first place, I don’t know. Why Admiral Kabreigny is interested in all this, I don’t know. But what I do know is that we’re going to find Cochrane, we’re going to free him, and then we can look into the other questions.” Kirk paused for a moment. “Besides, chances are that Cochrane’s the one who can answer all of them for us.”

  McCoy shook his head as if trying to clear it. “What can possibly last a hundred and fifty years?” he asked.

  Kirk looked down at the sleeping form of the Companion. “Love,” he said.

  Kirk stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge of the Enterprise. At once he was rewarded with the pulse of the great ship, the constant background sounds of her computers, the lowered voices of her crew, speaking quickly, competently, keeping her on her course. But he felt punished, too. His chair wasn’t empty. Admiral Kabreigny still sat in it, a cup of coffee in her hand, speaking with Uhura.

  Kirk stood by his chair but the admiral made no move to relinquish her position of command. Kirk could see unease flicker across Uhura’s face. He wasn’t the only one to think that only one person had the right to that chair.

  “How’s the patient?” Kabreigny asked. “Still in a coma?” The way she asked the question left Kirk no doubt that she did not believe McCoy’s diagnosis. But still, the admiral had made no attempt to see Nancy Hedford herself.

  “The doctor thinks she’ll recover,” Kirk said.

  “She’s already come back from the dead once, Captain.” The admiral smiled tightly. “I have no doubt she’ll be able to throw off the effects of exposure just as easily.”

  “With respect, Admiral: The patient in sickbay is not, strictly speaking, Nancy Hedford. She is a … blending of two life-forms into one. The energy anomaly that drew the Galileo off course has—”

  But the admiral was not in the mood for Kirk’s story. “Spare me, Captain. Commissioner Hedford is not why I’m out here.”

  Kirk waited for her to continue. In the meantime, the urge he felt, the need, to sit in the command chair was almost physical.

  “I’ve been reviewing the commissioner’s first transmission with your communications officer,” the admiral said.

  Uhura glanced at Kirk as if to ask if it was all right for her to have worked with the admiral. Like Mr. Scott, she was seeking confirmation for orders, though none was necessary. Kirk nodded, certain that Kabreigny had caught the exchange.

  “And what have you found?” Kirk asked.

  Kabreigny leaned back in the chair, making a show of how comfortable she found it. “Because of the smeared carrier wave which prevented anyone getting a fix on its source, Command originally presumed it had come from the missing liner. However, I noticed among the sensor scans of the ’wreckage’ Mr. Spock is investigating on the surface that there is a Starfleet secure transmitter down there.”

  “That’s correct,” Kirk said. He and McCoy and Spock had already prepared the next level of revelation for the admiral—telling the whole story of what had happened six months earlier, only leaving out the parts about Cochrane. “I left it for the Hedford being in case she ever wished to change her mind about her desire for privacy.”

  Kabreigny checked a list on the writing padd in her lap. “Along with farming supplies, emergency rations, computer equipment, library wafers, et cetera, et cetera?”

  “From the stores we carry specifically for the support of colonies,” Kirk said. His standing orders made ample provision for the Enterprise to provide help of any kind for beleaguered colonies. He had done nothing wrong in leaving supplies for Cochrane and the Companion.

  “Of course, of course,” Kabreigny agreed offhandedly. “I was just checking through the titles of the computer journals and books you left behind for the … the ‘Hedford being.’ ”

  Kirk prepared himself. He and Spock had picked out most of those titles together. He knew what they were and what the admiral had found.

  “It seems,” Kabreigny said, “that the Hedford being has made quite a hobby out of multiphysics and warp-drive theory.”

  “As an energy being, she was capable of moving at warp velocities on her own,” Kirk said unconvincingly. “We thought—”

  “Captain Kirk,” the admiral interrupted sharply. “Join me.” She indicated the turbolift, handed her coffee cup to Uhura, who didn’t know what to do with it, then rose majestically to her feet, leaving the command chair.

  Kirk let her lead the way. Chekov took over the chair behind them. That didn’t bother Kirk. As part of the crew of this ship, Chekov belonged there in the established chain of command during nonemergency duty. It was only the admiral’s presence that rankled him.

  The turbolift doors shut. Kabreigny stood facing forward, hands behind her back. “Take this car out of service,” she said.

  The computer replied, “This car is not experiencing any mechanical difficulty.”

  Kabreigny’s lips thinned. “Is everyone on this ship going to question my orders?”

  “Computer,” Kirk said, “take this car out of service.”

  Instantly the lift car began to drop through the ship several levels, before shunting to the side and parking near a turbolift service bay.

  When the car came to a stop, Kabreigny faced the captain. “You know what it means when you get to be my age, Kirk?”

  Kirk shook his head, steeling himself to endure whatever it was the admiral felt she must say to him. All he wanted to do was save Cochrane. Keeping the admiral mollified might help him accomplish that.

  “It means you don’t have much time left, so you’re not inclined to waste it. So I won’t.” She fixed him with a penetrating stare. Her bright eyes displayed no hint of the age of the rest of her. “Zefram Cochrane was down there, wasn’t he?”

  Kirk had already made up his mind not to be surprised by anything the admiral might say, but that hadn’t prepared him for this. There was only one possible explanation.

  “It appears that personal logs aren’t that personal after all,” he said.

  Kabreigny’s stare became fierce with displeasure. “The archive personnel take their jobs seriously, Captain. I didn’t read your log. But from your comment, am I to assume your log contains a full account of what transpired here six months ago?”

  “It does.”

  “Well, that’s one consolation, at least. You weren’t completely derelict in your duty.”

  Kabreigny might as well have slapped Kirk for the response her comment drew from him.

  “Does the admiral wish to bring formal charges against me?” he asked coldly, barely restraining his own anger.

  “At ease, Captain. This conversation is off the record.”

  Kirk held his derisive laughter with some difficulty. So far, it seemed, this whole mission was off the record. “Then may I ask why you think Zefram Cochrane was present on this planetoid?”

  Kabreigny patted the back of her head, without disturbing the tightly coiled bun of white hair.

  “You can ask, Captain. But I’m not inclined to answer. However, what I intend to know is: Do you know where Cochrane is now?”

  “You do realize Zefram Cochrane was born on Earth in the year 2030,” Kirk said. If the admiral wasn’t going to give up information, he didn’t see why he should, either. He still had no indication that what she was doing was under authority of Starfleet. “If he’s anywhere, he would be two hundred and thirty-seven years old.”

  “Mere calendar age is becoming less and less of an issue these days, Captain. Cryonic suspension, Einsteinian time dilation from high-velocity impulse-powered flights … there’re lots of opportunities to slow down the clock, as I know you know from your run-in with Khan.” Kabreigny’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Kirk with suspicion. “Now, Captain, I am ordering you to tell me:
Was Zefram Cochrane present on the planetoid six months ago, and, if so, where is he now?”

  The inevitable had arrived. One option was for Kirk to refuse to obey the admiral’s orders and have her placed under arrest until he could determine the reason for her involvement in the search for Cochrane. If Spock was correct in implying that the admiral was somehow connected to a conspiracy within Starfleet, then Kirk would be acting within the bounds of the Starfleet charter. However, if the admiral was not part of a conspiracy, if she was involved in a classified program of which Kirk had no knowledge, then he faced charges ranging from insubordination to mutiny.

  But Kirk had long ago determined that when faced with an impossible decision, the best choice was to change the playing field. In this case, the playing field was the Enterprise. And Kirk held absolute control over it. His decision became much simpler. He would acquiesce to the admiral’s demands, secure in the knowledge that she would not be permitted to send one message from this ship without Kirk’s knowing about it and approving it.

  He felt the hum of the Enterprise through the floor of the turbolift. It was as if his ship were urging him on, a part of him. For a fleeting instant, Kirk wondered if this was how Nancy Hedford had felt when she had merged with the Companion—two life-forms becoming one.

  “On stardate 3219.8, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Commissioner Nancy Hedford, and I met Zefram Cochrane on the planetoid we’re orbiting.”

  Kabreigny folded her arms and leaned back against the wall of the turbolift, an expression of intense interest on her face. “A wise decision, Captain. Now, what was his condition?”

  “Excellent. Mr. Cochrane related to us that he had set off into space at the age of eighty-seven, that his ship was diverted by the energy being who lives on the planetoid—”

  Kabreigny’s eyes widened. “There is an energy being?”

  Kirk nodded. “The name Cochrane gave her is ’the Companion.’ She somehow rejuvenated him, bringing him back to the general health and appearance of a human in his thirties, and maintained him at that level for the next century and a half.”

  Kabreigny unconsciously touched her own wrinkled face. “ Rejuvenated him? Brought back his youth?”

  Kirk continued. “The Companion subsequently merged with Commissioner Hedford, moments before Sakuro’s disease claimed her. They have since become a single life-form.”

  Kabreigny spoke slowly, deliberately. “To be candid, Kirk, I thought you were making up all that crap.”

  “We were simply trying to respect Mr. Cochrane’s wishes not to be disturbed.”

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Cochrane no longer has that luxury. Do you know where he is now?”

  “No,” Kirk said, “but the Companion does.”

  “Can she take us to him?”

  “Possibly.” Kirk decided to test the new relationship he seemed to have with the admiral. “By all indications below, it appears that someone … unfriendly … learned of Cochrane’s presence on this planetoid by reading my personal log, then came after him and … kidnapped him.”

  “That’s a fair assessment,” Kabreigny agreed.

  “Do you know who that might be?”

  “Possibly.” The admiral did not elaborate.

  “Klingons?” Kirk prodded, trying to provoke a response from her. Anything to provide him more clues to work with.

  But Kabreigny shook her head. “If only it were that easy.” Then she continued before Kirk could say anything else. “And any suspicions I might have are classified, Captain. I’m sorry,” she added, as if she really were trying to sound apologetic, “but you’re going to have to trust me just a bit longer.”

  Kirk thought that was an odd thing for her to say, considering he was finding it increasingly difficult to conceal that he didn’t trust her at all.

  ‘Now get this lift back in service and get the Companion up on the bridge. At this moment, Zefram Cochrane holds the future of Starfleet in his hands. And I want him before … anyone else gets to him. Do I make myself clear, Captain?”

  “Not really,” Kirk said. “But the Enterprise is at your disposal.”

  Kabreigny looked thoughtful. “I appreciate your cooperation,” she said. “I wasn’t sure I’d get it so quickly.”

  Kirk smiled noncommittally. He had no intention of being cooperative with someone who might be out to tear down Starfleet and destroy the Federation. But there was no need to tell the admiral that.

  Until it was time to stop her, of course.

  TWELVE

  U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701-D DEEP SPACE

  Stardate 43921.4

  Earth Standard: ≈ May 2366

  “Coming up on Ferengi coordinates,” Acting Ensign Crusher reported from the conn.

  Beside him, back at his regular position at Ops, Data confirmed what Picard and his officers had suspected. “No sign of any object with a mass of forty-five point three five kilotonnes, Captain. In fact, sensors detect no sign of any object other than the Romulan Warbird within range.”

  Picard glanced at Riker. “What did they use to call this, Number One? A ’wild-goose chase’?”

  Riker smiled appreciatively.

  But Data added, “Perhaps I should clarify that, sir. Other than the Ferengi crew, sensors also report no life-forms of any kind in the surrounding region, including representatives of the class aves.”

  “It was just a colloquial expression, Data,” Picard explained.

  Data blinked, assimilating his misinterpretation. “I see. Then should I file ’wild-goose chase’ under the same classification as the ’snipe hunt’ Commander Riker had me engage in while we were at Starbase Twelve?”

  Picard hadn’t heard about that incident. He had been otherwise engaged with Vash when the Enterprise had been at Starbase 12 a few months earlier. But Mr. Data’s snipe hunt must have gone well, because he saw Riker cover his mouth in order to stifle a laugh.

  “That would probably be a good idea,” Picard agreed.

  “Have you ever attempted to capture snipe, Captain Picard?”

  Picard concentrated on keeping his voice neutral. “In my Academy days, Mr. Data. I believe it is an activity all cadets become familiar with.”

  “I see,” Data said reflectively. “I was not successful, though I did hold the bag and call for the snipe exactly as Commander Riker had instructed me. Snipe appear to be exceptionally well evolved for remaining unseen. Even the ship’s computer has no record of—”

  Riker couldn’t contain himself any longer. He laughed. Data looked back at him, then at Picard. “Captain?”

  “I’m sorry, Data. It’s just that, well, there are no such things as snipe.”

  “What?” Wesley Crusher said.

  Data looked across at him in commiseration. “Have you also hunted snipe, Wesley?”

  The acting ensign’s face tightened. “Geordi told me—”

  But Riker interrupted. “Eyes on the board, Mr. Crusher!”

  “Aye, sir.” The acting ensign went back to his duties, as did Data.

  “At least that would explain why no one has ever seen one,” Data said.

  Picard and Riker exchanged a smile.

  “Dropping to sublight,” Mr. Crusher announced. “And full stop.”

  The Ferengi-operated Warbird appeared in the center of the main viewscreen.

  “Full sensor sweep,” Picard ordered.

  “We are the only two objects within range,” Data responded.

  Picard made a gesture toward the screen. “Hail the Romulan—uh, Ferengi vessel, Mr. Worf.”

  “Onscreen, Captain.”

  DaiMon Pol appeared. “Greetings, Captain Pee-card. I am—”

  “I do not wish to engage in additional small talk,” Picard said, full of bluster, trying to keep the Ferengi on his toes. “Where is the artifact?”

  DaiMon Pol appeared hurt by Picard’s attitude. “Negotiations should be a time of social interaction, Captain Pee-card. There is no need—”

  “Look,” Picard said mo
re forcefully. “You have given us coordinates that were supposed to have been those of an object you wished to sell us. There is no object here. Now explain yourself or we will withdraw.” Picard turned to Troi. She gave him a nod. He was carrying out his role perfectly.

  DaiMon Pol shook his head sorrowfully. “I will never understand hew-mans. You have no sense of the joy of commerce in your souls.” DaiMon Pol pointed a finger offscreen. “When next we talk, Pee-card, you will make your offer or I will withdraw.” Then DaiMon Pol vanished from the viewscreen, replaced by an image of his ship a kilometer distant.

  Riker looked at Picard. “What was all that about?”

  “I’m not sure,” Troi answered with concern. “He’s acting as if he does not expect to talk with us again.”

  “Captain,” Data stated calmly. “A second Warbird is decloaking.”

  Picard stood as, in front of DaiMon Pol’s ship, an optical wavering began. “Red Alert, Mr. Worf. Maximum shields.”

  “I knew it!” Worf exclaimed, even as the sirens began and the warning lights flashed. “All phaser banks on standby. Photon torpedoes armed and ready.”

  The second Warbird finished its materialization, becoming solid before them.

  “Battle readout on the second ship,” Riker said.

  “Its shields are down, Commander,” Data replied. “In addition, none of its weapons systems are on-line.”

  “Full magnification on the Warbird’s markings,” Picard said. He looked over at Riker. “Do you think the Ferengi are bold enough to have stolen two Romulan ships?”

  The viewscreen image jumped to a close-up of the second ship’s hull, clearly showing Romulan script on its side.

  “Maybe they haven’t had a chance to repaint it,” Riker suggested sarcastically.

  “The second ship is hailing us,” Worf reported,

  Picard sighed. He was getting exactly what he had anticipated —the unexpected. “Onscreen, Mr. Worf. And switch off those alarms, please.”