Burgess scowled, as though Sulu had just tried to pass off a fairy story about Trevis the Talking Tree as peer-reviewed science. After all, the destruction of at least five of the O’Neill Colonies during the tumultuous postatomic horror years was well documented, despite the often fragmentary nature of many mid-twenty-first-century historical records.
Jerdahn’s face, however, bore a look of startled recognition. Sulu also thought he might have noticed a trace of fear there as well.
He realized now that he stood at the threshold of reconnecting with a long-lost branch of the human species. And at the same moment, he began to understand his earlier feeling of déjà vu.
Chapter 17
Stardate 1709.2 (2266)
A year after transferring from the physics department of the U.S.S. Enterprise to take the starship’s helm, Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu was already no stranger to untimely death. He had first been touched by the random hand of violence as a preteen living with his parents in the village of Ishikawa on Ganjitsu, a wild border world which was frequently the target of Klingon raids. It had been unimaginably different from the safety and sophistication of San Francisco, his birthplace on Earth.
But today was the first time he had witnessed another human being’s demise as it happened, right before his eyes. When Commander Hansen’s image appeared on the bridge viewer, the man already looked dead on his feet. Obviously suffering from grave injuries, Hansen was smeared liberally with soot from the electrical fires that were consuming what remained of Neutral Zone Outpost 4’s wrecked command center. At Captain Kirk’s request, the commander had linked the outpost’s external viewer system into that of the Enterprise, allowing everyone on the bridge to glimpse whatever had delivered so much devastation through the more [209] than one and a half kilometers of iron asteroid that sheltered the outpost.
The Romulan ship that appeared across the placid starscape seemed literally to come out of nowhere. It swooped straight toward the rapidly approaching Enterprise—or rather toward the still-distant outpost, Sulu reminded himself—like the savage bird of prey it resembled.
Despite Captain Kirk’s efforts to warn the aggressor off, the hostile vessel continued on its course, still too far away to be concerned about any challenges coming from the Enterprise. Even hurtling toward the outpost at warp 8, the Federation starship was still some five minutes out of weapons range.
Sulu watched helplessly as the alien ship opened fire, sending a large, greenish cloud of plasma straight toward its hapless target.
As the outpost’s communications circuitry was scrambled by the impact, Sulu caught another glimpse of Hansen’s battered control center. He watched the blast throw the commander about like a rag doll before the communications link between the Enterprise and the outpost was destroyed, returning the screen to its view of the local starscape.
Sulu knew that the raider would be long gone by the time the Enterprise reached whatever remained of Romulan Neutral Zone Outpost 4. I hope Hansen and his people died as quickly as everyone on outposts 2, 3, and 8 did, he thought, feeling desolate as he stared out at the indifferent, uncaring stars.
A short time later, Sulu quietly took a seat at the corner of the conference room table. To his right sat Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott and Lieutenant Stiles, the alpha-shift navigator. Glancing to his left, Sulu watched a grim-faced Captain Kirk seat himself at the table’s opposite corner, where he was flanked by Dr. Leonard McCoy and the half-Vulcan science officer, Commander Spock.
A little earlier on the bridge, Spock had succeeded in [210] tapping into the cloaked Romulan ship’s communications as it made its leisurely way back toward the Neutral Zone; he had displayed a visual of the Romulan control center—and of the vessel’s decidedly Vulcan-looking commanding officer. It was hard not to conclude from that image that Vulcans and Romulans were virtually the same species, though so far only Stiles had used the incident to impugn Spock’s loyalty.
Spock must be going through hell right now, Sulu thought. He could only imagine how he would feel were he to suddenly discover that a hostile alien race actually belonged to humanity’s family tree. But he also knew that Spock, being half-Vulcan, wasn’t likely to let any of his shipmates observe whatever emotional turmoil he might be experiencing.
Holding a jagged fragment of curved metal in both hands, Spock took a seat beside the captain. Moving the piece of debris to his right hand, he spoke with the equanimity so characteristic of Vulcans. “From the outpost’s protective shield. Cast rodinium. This is the hardest substance known to our science.”
The science officer flexed his right hand slightly, and the metal fragment shattered, showering dozens of smaller pieces across the table.
So who says Vulcans don’t have a flair for the dramatic? Sulu thought.
“The lab theorizes an enveloping energy plasma, forcing an implosion,” Spock said.
Kirk looked expectantly toward the entire group. “Comments?”
Everyone sat in silence, staring at the rodinium shards. Sulu wondered what a weapon like that would do to the Enterprise, despite its superior screens and shields. He looked toward Stiles, who seemed to be seething with barely controlled anger. That makes sense, Sulu thought. He knew that Stiles was very knowledgeable about his family’s history, particularly where it intersected with the Earth-Romulan wars of more than a century ago. Several of Stiles’s ancestors had [211] died serving Starfleet on the front lines of those bloody conflicts, including at least one command-level officer. What Sulu had trouble understanding was why the navigator seemed to work so hard to keep those century-old wounds from healing.
Spock broke the silence, addressing the room. “Obviously, their weaponry is superior to ours. And they have a practical invisibility screen.”
Dr. McCoy fixed his piercing blue eyes on Spock. “You’re discussing tactics. Do you realize what this really comes down to? Millions and millions of lives hanging on what this vessel does next.”
“Or on what this vessel fails to do, Doctor,” the science officer said.
Kirk stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, well, gentlemen, the question still remains: Can we engage them with a reasonable possibility of victory?”
“No question,” Scott said, a grim almost-smile crossing his face. “Their power is simple impulse.”
Sulu supposed that had to mean that the Romulan vessel intended to rendezvous with a nearby warp-driven mothership, then decided that the notion was so obvious it was hardly worth mentioning.
“Meaning we can outrun them,” Kirk observed.
Stiles’s fury seemed about to boil over. “To be used in chasing them or retreating ... sir.”
Kirk paused for a beat, evidently unsure how to take the lieutenant’s almost insolent tone. “Go ahead, Mr. Stiles. I called this session for opinions.”
Stiles leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a lancet. “We have to attack immediately.”
Is he crazy? Sulu thought. Everyone saw that Romulan ship turn itself invisible. And we still don’t know the extent of their abilities.
“Explain,” Kirk said.
[212] “They’re still on our side of the Neutral Zone. There would be no doubt that they broke the treaty.”
Su lu could no longer restrain himself from leaping into the fray. “Attack? Without a visible target? How do we aim our phasers?”
“Aim with sensors,” Stiles said, undeterred. “Not accurate, but if we blanket them, we could—”
Sulu interrupted him. “And hope for a lucky shot before they zero in on us.”
“And if we don’t?” Stiles persisted. “Once back, they’ll report that we saw their weapons and ran.”
“And if they could report that they destroyed us?” Sulu countered.
Stiles rose to his feet, his anger and frustration palpable. He leaned forward, his hands splayed across the table. “These are Romulans! You run away from them and you guarantee war. They’ll be back. Not just one ship, but with everything they’ve got.” The naviga
tor turned his venom upon Spock. “You know that, Mr. Science Officer. You’re the expert on these people, but you’ve always left out that one point. Why? I’m very interested in why.”
Silence descended upon the room again as everyone present scrutinized Spock, whose expression remained as distant and unreadable as always.
“Sit down, Mister,” Kirk said to Stiles in a tone that clearly brooked no questioning. Stiles complied sullenly.
A moment later, Spock looked up and spoke. “I agree. Attack.”
Dropping his left hand from his chin to the tabletop, Sulu saw his own surprise and alarm mirrored in the faces of most of the other humans in the room, especially Stiles, who’d clearly expected Spock to take the side of his Vulcanoid “cousins.”
Does Spock feel responsible for what the Romulans have done to the Neutral Zone outposts? Sulu wondered.
[213] Sulu watched McCoy, whose craggy features bore an expression of rightly bridled outrage. Spock and the captain seemed to be the only islands of calm in the emotionally stormy room.
Speaking to Spock, Kirk asked quietly, “Are you suggesting we fight to prevent a fight?”
“Based on what?” McCoy thundered. “Memories of a war over a century ago? On theories about a people we’ve never even met face to face?”
“We know what they look like,” Stiles said, his emotions now seeming as tightly reined as Spock’s.
Spock nodded, his eyes upon Stiles. He spoke with uncharacteristic urgency. “Yes, indeed we do, Mr. Stiles. And if the Romulans are an offshoot of my Vulcan blood—and I think this likely—then attack becomes even more imperative.”
“War is never imperative, Mr. Spock,” McCoy said, disgust tingeing his words.
“It is for them, Doctor. Vulcan, like Earth, had its aggressive colonizing period. Savage, even by Earth standards. And if the Romulans retained this martial philosophy, then weakness is something we dare not show.”
McCoy’s blue eyes, as bright as fully charged phaser banks, were locked onto Spock. “Do you want a galactic war on your conscience?”
Spock merely stared at the doctor in response, and Sulu wondered for a horrifying moment whether the science officer even understood McCoy’s question.
Standing in the brig, Captain Sulu saw that the Neyel was now regarding him with an expression bordering on reverence. Burgess studied him as well, though she looked perplexed.
“The O’Neill colonies?” she said. “The Hapless Half-Dozen? Don’t they teach history at Starfleet Academy? The [214] old L-5 asteroid habitats were all destroyed over two centuries ago. Some sort of space-industrial accident.”
“That’s debatable,” Sulu said. “A lot of O’Neill debris turned up after the accident.”
She shrugged. “Sure. I’ve read that a lot of rocks and dust tend to clump together in Earth’s L-4 and L-5 points. What’s your point?”
“Just that none of the O’Neill habitat debris was ever positively identified as being from the Vanguard colony.”
“That’s the stuff of cheap romantic holovids, Captain,” she said, obviously working to suppress a grin. “It’s a pretty unlikely hypothesis.”
Sulu gestured toward Jerdahn. “Is it really any more unlikely than encountering him? All the evidence so far suggests that the Neyel split off from humanity at around the time the O’Neills were all supposedly destroyed. So if the Neyel aren’t descended from the Vanguard colonists, then where do you suppose they came from?”
Clearly still awed, Jerdahn craned his head toward Sulu and said, “You know of the Oh-Neyel, the words and worlds of the Eldest. Perhaps that proves that some of my progenitors came from the same clade from which some of yours sprang.”
In other words, Sulu thought, Jerdahn’s finally starting to wonder if both humans and Neyel are indeed the fruit of the same vine. He hoped that this particular Neyel’s reaction was a lever he could use to open a dialogue with the Neyel leadership—and to avoid having to make the same fateful decision that had faced Spock more than three decades ago.
“Yes, there’s evidence that my people and yours are genetically related,” Sulu told Jerdahn, meeting his now extraordinarily human-looking eyes. “And it’s an issue I need to explore with the captain of your vessel.” Otherwise, Yilskene will end up destroying at least one of our ships. Other than escaping with Excelsior, there won’t be a damned thing I can do about it without at least some Neyel cooperation. And this [215] may be our only chance to resolve the Tholian-Neyel conflict before the Tholians blame us for starting it and drag the Federation into war over it.
Given the relatively recent ancestral relationship between humanity and the Neyel, Sulu wondered if Yilskene and the rest of the Tholian warrior caste would be truly wrong in blaming Earth for the depredations of the Neyel. Thinking again of Spock and the Romulans, Sulu hoped he wouldn’t be forced to participate, either actively or passively, in the destruction of beings who were essentially his own people. People who’ve been separated from our common humanity for so long that there may simply be no reconnecting with them.
Leaning close to Jerdahn, Burgess said, “We also need to ask your captain why your people attacked the Tholian colony.”
Jerdahn blinked in evident surprise. “Why do we fight the Devils?” The ambassador might as well have asked him why water was wet.
“I propose a truce between your people and ours,” Sulu added, growing tired of plumbing the Neyel’s obscure motivations. “Otherwise, the Tholians will destroy both our ships in a little under nine hours.” Sulu did a quick calculation in his head. “That’s about how long it will take our vessels to orbit the Tholian colony world six times.”
Jerdahn took a deep breath as he considered Sulu’s proposal. A long moment later, he appeared to have reached a decision.
“I will guide you to our drech’tor,” he said. “But only if the two of you have bolides enough to accompany me back to my ship.”
Sulu took Burgess aside. “There’s no way I’m letting you beam onto Jerdahn’s ship, Ambassador. You’re under my protection for the duration of this mission.”
“With all due respect, Captain, I don’t think the decision is entirely up to you this time.” Her face was stone. “Trust [216] me, you’re going to have enough explaining to do in front of your superiors as it is. You can’t afford to get sideways with mine as well.”
Sulu had to admit that she had just made an excellent point.
A scowling Chekov paced around the transporter console, almost joggling the transporter chiefs elbows as he walked back and forth behind her.
“I don’t like this one little bit, Captain. I wish we could contact the Neyel before simply sending you onto their ship uninvited.”
“That would just confirm the suspicions Yilskene already has about us, Pavel,” Sulu said. “We can’t afford to provoke him.”
“I know, Hikaru. But if the Tholians notice your beam-in, we’ll end up just as destroyed as if we’d called ahead.”
“The resonances of the energy web surrounding Excelsior should make our transporter beam difficult for the Tholians to detect,” said Tuvok.
“But not impossible,” Chekov countered.
“That’s an unavoidable risk,” Sulu said. “We don’t have a lot of time left. Or options.” Standing in front of the console, he checked the charge on his phaser and tucked it into one of the pockets of his field jacket.
Aidan Burgess, now dressed in a utilitarian civilian jumpsuit, slung a tricorder across her shoulder as she stepped onto the transporter stage, beside Jerdahn, who was now wearing an engineering jumpsuit, modified to accommodate his long limbs and tail. The Neyel now seemed fully recovered from the injuries he’d sustained during his capture, and had even dubiously accepted Sulu’s explanation of the transporter system.
Dr. Chapel, Tuvok, and Akaar took the transporter pads adjacent to the Neyel, each of them checking their phasers, tricorders, and communicators.
[217] “You bear weapons,” Jerdahn noted.
Jerdahn chuckled. “I have no objection to your weapons, Lieutenant. You would be fools to come among my people without ways to protect yourselves.”
“You said you’d vouch for us to your leader, Jerdahn,” Sulu said, his brow crumpling. Could Jerdahn really be trusted after all?
“And I shall. But I cannot guarantee that either the drech’tor or his crew will want to listen.”
“As I was saying,” Chekov said. “I don’t like this one little bit.”
“I’m afraid that entering the lion’s den is both our best and only option, Commander,” Burgess said.
The executive officer threw his hands in the air. “One of the things I like least about this is sending a civilian into a nest of unknown aliens.”
“It’s part of the deal I struck with Jerdahn, Pavel,” Sulu said as he and Burgess joined the other members of the boarding party on the transporter stage. “Besides, the Neyel are neither unknown nor alien. Try to think of them as our long-lost cousins.”
“Remind me sometime to tell you just how well I get along with my cousin Oleg from Krakow.”
Sulu smiled, trying to convey more confidence than he actually felt. “If all goes well here, Commander, then maybe there’s hope to reunite the warring clans of Tribe Chekov as well.”
“Let’s worry about one miracle at a time,” Chekov said, shaking his head. But at least he’d stopped his pacing. He’d come to a stop beside the transporter chief, who was double-checking the coordinates of the Neyel ship’s interior. “Having trouble locking onto a section that wasn’t exposed to vacuum?” Chekov asked.
[218] The transporter operator shook his head. “No, sir. But I am getting some anomalous gravitational readings from the ship’s interior.”
“Dangerous anomalous gravitational readings?” Chekov wanted to know.
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