Star Trek: That Which Divides

by Dayton Ward

  For the first time since the communication had begun, Wiladra smiled. “It is evident that you have our best interests in mind, Captain, and for that I am grateful. You say that closing the Pass is the only way to ensure the safety of the planetoid, whatever it is you have found beneath its surface, and our people at the colony. Once the danger has passed, how can you be certain that you will be able to reopen the passage again?”

  Looking to Sortino to see if she might want to field this question, Kirk almost snorted at the sight of the ambassador holding up her hands in mock surrender and shaking her head. Despite the momentary amusement her reaction evoked, the captain instead returned his gaze to the viewscreen. “My first officer, Commander Spock, and his team from my ship have been examining the Kalandan systems that oversee the energy barrier. While there’s still much to learn, he’s confident he can take control of those systems and direct the field to open and close at will. If he’s right, then the barrier can most likely be programmed to remain open permanently, or even eliminated altogether. Think of what that will mean for your people, Chancellor.”

  “But if your officer is wrong,” Wiladra countered, “what will that mean for us? Will the Federation stand by us after inflicting such lasting effects upon our society?”

  Kirk said, “Absolutely. You have my word on that.” He knew even as he spoke that he possessed nothing to support his pronouncement save for whatever conviction he might muster. Was the force of his words sufficient to convince the Dolysian leader? Though he prided himself on his ability to read others, Wiladra was proving to be most difficult in that regard.

  “Mine, as well, Chancellor,” Sortino added. “Captain Kirk is one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met. His reputation for doing what is right, even when it means defying rules or regulations, is quite something.”

  In a lower voice, Kirk muttered, “I’m not so sure that’s a good thing to add to the sales pitch.”

  Looking away from the video pickup for a moment, Wiladra turned in her chair, and Kirk recalled what he remembered about the layout of the chancellor’s office. He figured she likely was looking through the window at the rear of her private chambers and out onto the lush, manicured courtyard outside the building that housed the planet’s Unified Leadership Council. It was easy to see that she was weighing what she had heard from him and Sortino, along with whatever opinions and feelings she had accumulated with respect to the Federation in the months that had passed since her people’s introduction to the reality of having interstellar neighbors. What doubts had she gathered, as well? Would they be enough to negate whatever goodwill had been engendered by the Federation first-contact teams, which had been living in her people’s midst all this time?

  When she returned her attention to Kirk, she shook her head. “I am sorry, but this is simply not a decision I can make without consulting the council as well as the mining colony leaders. There is just too much at stake to do otherwise. I hope you will understand and respect that.”

  “Of course, Chancellor,” Sortino replied, even as Kirk gritted his teeth and forced himself to say nothing. “However, I urge you to have that meeting as quickly as possible. We will stand by and wait to hear from you at your earliest convenience.”

  “Very well, Ambassador,” Wiladra said, the corners of her mouth turning upward as she offered a small, worried smile. “Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I will contact you soon.” She reached forward to something off-screen, and a moment later the connection dissolved into static.

  Now certain he would not be overheard by the chancellor, Kirk let loose with an unrestrained sigh of exasperation. “That went off wonderfully, don’t you think?”

  “For a man whose diplomatic skills are purported to be lacking,” Sortino said, leaning back in her chair, “I thought you handled yourself with great poise.”

  Kirk chuckled. “Diplomacy is a skill I’ve acquired more out of a basic need for survival than from any real calling, Ambassador. It’s most definitely not my strong suit.” He reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, feeling the first signs of fatigue beginning to set in. How long had he been gone from the Enterprise? He had lost track of the hours that had passed, and looking at the chronometer on the cockpit’s control console would only serve to enhance his growing weariness.

  “All right, then,” Sortino said after a moment. “What do we do now?”

  Pushing himself to his feet, Kirk paused, stretching the muscles in his lower back before replying, “We told Chancellor Wiladra we’d wait for her decision, and I have no intention of going back on that. On the other hand, I don’t like sitting around and waiting, particularly if there’s still a Romulan ship lurking around somewhere. There’s no reason we can’t try to be ready when she does call back. With luck, Spock will have figured out the systems overseeing the rift by the time that happens.” As he made his way to the shuttlecraft’s open hatch, he saw from the corner of his eye Sortino rising from her seat to follow him.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked. “Some kind of demonstration?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Kirk replied, stepping from the Galileo down to the ground. “We need to convince the Dolysians that we—and they—can control or even eliminate the rift. It’ll ease their worries, and show them that they no longer have to be subordinate to the whims of whatever the Kalandans had in mind when they created the thing.”

  Following him from the shuttlecraft, Sortino said, “The last year has been pretty dramatic for the Dolysians. I mean, even though they had to be expecting that they might one day encounter people from other worlds, the fact that it happened still sent some shock waves through their society. And now, we’re here, living and working among them, and showing them all these possibilities for how their lives might improve. Making contact with these people was about as close to a Prime Directive violation as you can get and not actually cross the line.” She shrugged. “Even though everything seems to be going well, you still have to wonder if and when another shoe’s going to drop.”

  “I don’t think you’re giving the contact teams, and yourself, enough credit, Ambassador,” Kirk said. “Compared to other cultures forced to accept the idea of life on other planets earlier than might have been appropriate, the Dolysians appear to be adapting to their new situation with very few problems.” From his experience and after considering the various factors surrounding the Federation’s engaging the Dolysians, Kirk believed this might be one of the smoother first-contact situations he had ever observed. “What we need to demonstrate now is that we’re here for the long haul; that we’ll stand by them during times of adversity even while allowing them to make the choices they believe are right for their people.” That would be easier said than done, he knew.

  Anything worth doing always is, Kirk mused, smiling to himself upon hearing the familiar nugget of wisdom as it had been spoken to him countless times by his father.

  Light reflected off something in the corner of his right eye. Looking in that direction, he was in time to see a figure ducking behind a large rock formation at the base of the hill on the plateau’s far edge. He caught flashes of silver and blue, but it was the gold helmet that made his eyes widen in surprise. Romulan.

  Muscles tensing in anticipation, Kirk reached for Sortino and grabbed her left arm, pulling her past him and sending her toward the Galileo’s open hatch. “Get inside!” he snapped as his right hand moved to the phaser on his hip, fingers curling around the weapon’s grip as he pulled it free and raised it to take aim. Movement from the rocks was followed by a flash of light and a howl of energy, and something slammed into the dirt to his right. Ears ringing from the sudden attack, Kirk launched himself toward the front of the shuttlecraft. He tucked and rolled as his right shoulder struck the ground, momentum carrying him around the nose of the ship as a second disruptor blast struck the side of the Galileo. Regaining his feet, he maneuvered himself so that he could use the shuttle for cover as he scanned the hills
ide for threats.

  “Ambassador!” he shouted. “Are you all right?” Instead of a reply from Sortino, Kirk’s query evoked another barrage of disruptor fire from the hillside. At least one of the shots hit the shuttlecraft, and the captain felt the reverberation across the ship’s hull as it absorbed the strike. Now somewhat protected, he was able to see the origin points of the attack. There were at least two shooters, he surmised, though there also could be more.

  Always the optimist.

  Ignoring the errant thought, Kirk aimed his phaser to where he had seen the weapons flashes and fired. The weapon spat a blue streak of energy that crossed the plateau and struck one of the larger rocks jutting from the hillside. He was not expecting to hit his target, at least not the first time, but he hoped his return fire might force the attackers to seek cover behind the rocks, perhaps even providing him with a window of opportunity to . . .

  . . . to do what, exactly?

  Another disruptor bolt chewed into the dirt near his right foot and Kirk jerked back, once more using the shuttlecraft’s hull as a shield. “Not going to make it easy, are you?” he muttered, backpedaling to the Galileo’s rear and hoping a change of position might offer him a better vantage point. Kneeling aft of the craft’s starboard nacelle, Kirk switched his phaser to his left hand and leaned forward, looking toward the hill in search of the Romulans. That was when he heard new weapons fire, and it took him an extra second to realize it was coming from a Starfleet phaser, and one not set to stun.

  What the . . . ?

  The report was followed by a second shot, along with what Kirk thought sounded like something exploding in the distance. He leaned around the rear of the shuttlecraft and saw two figures on the hillside, scrambling to get away from where repeated strikes of phaser fire were tearing into the rock formation that had been providing concealment. No sooner had the Romulans broken cover than another phaser beam, its pitch higher and sounding to Kirk’s ears as though it carried only stunning force, rushed across the open ground and struck one of the enemy soldiers in the back. The Romulan stumbled and fell to the ground, and his companion turned and fired his disruptor back toward the Galileo. The energy bolt found the side of the shuttlecraft’s hull as Kirk stepped into the open, raised his own phaser, and fired. His beam found its mark, catching the Romulan in the chest and sending him falling backward to collapse on the hill’s gentle slope.

  “Ambassador?” Kirk shouted as he maneuvered around the shuttlecraft, keeping his right arm extended and continuing to aim his phaser toward the hillside. Moving back to the craft’s port side, he saw Sortino stepping down from the open hatch, wielding a phaser in each hand and aiming them across the plateau to where the two unconscious Romulans now lay. She glanced in Kirk’s direction and, noting his quizzical expression, smiled as she indicated her weapons.

  “Stun,” she said, bending her right arm to indicate the phaser in her hand, then repeating the motion with the other weapon. “Not stun. Figured I could flush them out, then put them to sleep.”

  Nodding in appreciation, Kirk said, “That was some nice shooting.”

  “I still hold all the marksmanship records on the Lavinius,” the ambassador replied, bobbing her eyebrows.

  Kirk grunted in momentary amusement. “I’m convinced.”

  Seemingly satisfied that no further threats lurked nearby, Sortino lowered her phasers. “I guess there were only the two of them.”

  “They’ll have friends,” Kirk replied, nodding to the unconscious Romulans.

  “I’m surprised they engaged us at all,” Sortino said. “Romulans usually prefer stealth to direct confrontation.”

  His eyes on the stunned soldiers, Kirk shook his head. “That’s probably my fault. They must have tracked us here, and were likely reconnoitering the area to see what all the fuss was about. If I hadn’t seen them, they might’ve been content to sit and watch us.” Would they have managed to find their way into the Kalandan base? That was still a possibility, Kirk knew, particularly if more Romulans came looking for their companions.

  “What do we do now?” Sortino asked.

  Gesturing toward the opposite end of the plateau, where the entrance to the subterranean complex was concealed, Kirk moved to the Galileo and tapped the controls on its exterior control pad to seal and lock its hatch. “Come on. We need to get back inside and warn the others. Something tells me we’re going to have company.” In addition to alerting his people to the new danger, there also was the matter of preventing the Romulans from getting inside the subterranean installation.

  Even as he spoke the words, Kirk heard the high-pitched hum of a transporter beam, and turned to see five columns of energy coalescing into existence at the far end of the landing site, near the fallen Romulans.

  “Okay,” he said, reaching for Sortino to pull her with him. “Time’s up.”

  The only thing left to do was run.

  NINETEEN

  Fools!

  Vathrael’s first shouts to cease fire were drowned out by the storm of disruptor energy as two of her centurions unleashed their weapons on the pair of running humans.

  “Stop!” she barked, stepping forward and pushing the arm of the nearest centurion up and out of the way before he could fire again. When the subordinate looked at her with an expression of confusion and fear, she leaned so close that her face all but obscured his field of vision before hissing through gritted teeth, “They won’t be able to answer our questions if you kill them.” Capturing one or more of the human landing party and interrogating them was the entire reason for the covert reconnaissance, rather than simply disposing of them before she and her crew attempted to gain entry to the subterranean alien complex on their own. The centurions she had dispatched for that purpose obviously had acted carelessly, revealing their presence to the humans. Whatever element of surprise she might once have enjoyed had evaporated.

  “My apologies, Commander,” said the centurion, Sipal. “I saw them fleeing, and I reacted without thinking. My actions are inexcusable.”

  Standing next to him, his companion, Betria, swallowed with obvious nervousness and added, “Mine, as well, Commander.”

  Ignoring their excuses, Vathrael returned her attention to the formation of large rocks at the base of the hill where the humans had disappeared. “Scan that area,” she snapped, gesturing in that direction. “Find them.”

  Her order was answered by the low hum of a portable scanner one of the centurions had brought with him, and a moment later Betria said, “I am unable to detect their life readings, Commander.”

  “Are you certain?” she asked, then rebuked herself for even bothering to pose the question. The alien installation itself had escaped detection from the planet’s indigenous population for generations. The Nevathu’s own sensors also had failed to find it, at least not until those systems were reconfigured. Vathrael suspected the party from the Federation ship would have been forced to make similar adjustments. Looking across the expanse of open terrain to where the pair of Starfleet shuttlecraft sat, she knew that the humans could not have been here very long before her arrival. Still, she did not discount any progress they might have made during that interval in their efforts to understand whatever they might have found beneath the surface.

  Betria continued to study his scanner, making adjustments on the unit’s control panel before saying, “Commander, I believe I have located an entrance to the underground facility.” He pointed toward the hill. “It’s where the humans were running.”

  “Of course it is,” Vathrael said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she started walking in that direction. She paid no heed to the movements of her subordinates as they fell into step behind her, though she noted that they at least had the presence of mind to spread out into a formation that would offer some protection in the event of an ambush.

  As she drew closer to the foot of the hillside, Vathrael saw a narrow opening, all but invisible from the plateau behind them, between two of the larger rock fo
rmations. Eyeing the ground at the base of the rocks, she detected signs of the massive stones having been moved to their present position. They seemed far too large to have been levered out of the way without some form of aid or mechanical assistance. As for the gap itself, there was almost nothing visible beyond the threshold save for the darkness beckoning to her.

  “A concealed entrance,” she said, more to herself than to the centurions behind her. “Some kind of automated mechanism to move the stones aside and admit entry, but why not close it to prevent us from entering?” Had the massive door somehow malfunctioned? Without any order from Vathrael, another of her soldiers, Centurion Drixus, stepped toward the opening, his weapon arm extended as he advanced.

  Behind her, Betria said, “I am detecting no life-forms near the entrance, Commander.” Now standing in front of the opening and using his body to shield hers, Drixus looked over his shoulder at her, waiting for instructions.

  Vathrael nodded, her right hand coming to rest on the pommel of her own holstered disruptor. “Proceed, with caution.” Following Drixus, she passed between the two large boulders and into the narrow gap. Once past that portal, she noted how the passage began to widen once they moved beyond the entrance. The darkness that seemed to shroud the opening was broken by a string of small, round light fixtures set into the tunnel’s stone ceiling. The lights themselves varied in color, all soft hues and just enough illumination to proceed farther into the passageway. Vathrael noticed a soft, faint hum coming from the fixtures themselves, the noise amplified in the passage’s narrow confines. It was cooler here as well, with a slight yet still perceptible breeze emanating from somewhere down the tunnel. Perhaps ventilation from a subterranean environmental control system? That was yet another question for which Vathrael hoped to find an answer.