by Rick Barba
“Commander Spock is a growing legend among my generation back home,” she said. “Or so I hear.”
Uhura stared at her. “Really?”
T’Laya nodded. “For generations, the top Vulcan students just automatically matriculated into our Science Academy, without a second thought … or a first thought, for that matter.”
Uhura tapped a button to close down her workstation, turning her full attention to T’Laya.
T’Laya went on. “The Vulcan Science Academy is legendary in this quadrant. I’d kill for the opportunity to study there.”
T’Laya looked over at Spock again, who was oblivious in his soundproof pod.
“Right,” she said. “And then Spock, the brightest mind of his class, turned them down cold. And he came to Starfleet.” She turned back to Uhura. “Before Spock, that never happened. And now look at the last four Starfleet Academy classes.”
Uhura nodded. More Vulcan cadets every year.
“Following the rebel genius,” said T’Laya. She lightly patted her chest. “There’s always a rebel inside, when you’re young.”
Uhura caught an undertone. “So is that why you’re here?”
“You mean, like, stalking Spock?” said T’Laya with a sneaky grin. “Maybe. There is something very sexy about him, don’t you think?”
Uhura focused on gathering her things.
“Seriously, though,” said T’Laya. “Who are the Alpha males at the Academy right now?” She asked this while continuing her remarkably fast, nonstop data-scanning activity.
“Do you have an implant?” asked Uhura, distracted. “I’ve never seen anyone scan so fast.”
T’Laya’s jittery dark eyes relaxed and turned to Uhura. It struck Uhura again that T’Laya was a beautiful girl.
“Tell me,” said T’Laya. “Or else.”
Uhura picked up her workpad and tucked it into the padded slot of her backpack. “I’ll put together a list,” she said dryly.
T’Laya smiled.
“I keep hearing about this guy Jim Kirk,” she said. “I hear he’s the golden boy of the class.” She paused—then with a hint of a smile added: “And I’ve heard he’s incredible-looking. Quite a few girls seem to know him.”
Uhura just stared at her, surprised.
“Do you know him?” asked T’Laya. A slight uplift at the end of her question. The linguist in Uhura immediately read it: faking nonchalance. She’s interested in James T. Kirk.
“Oh, come on,” said Uhura. “Kirk? Really?”
T’Laya turned her stunning gray eyes to Uhura again. “Ah, so you do know him,” she said.
Uhura nodded. “Well, sort of.”
T’Laya just kept staring.
“We’ve worked together on a few things,” said Uhura.
“Of course you have,” said T’Laya with a sly look. “I’m sure you all hang out together in a Starfleet Wonder Pack.” She glanced over at the datamaster, and now Uhura knew the Vulcan girl had overheard her introduction to Professor Galloway.
As Uhura shrugged at T’Laya, the Vulcan girl’s eyes shifted to the window. Suddenly her dark eyebrows knitted together.
“Whoa, are those guys fighting out there?” she asked.
Uhura turned to follow T’Laya’s gaze outside. Then her eyes widened in alarm.
“Good lord, it’s Kirk,” said Uhura.
“Which one?” asked T’Laya, squinting.
Uhura pointed. “That guy who just flew over the bench,” she said.
“Ouch,” said T’Laya, wincing.
Uhura jogged toward the security doors.
“Come on,” she said. “Don’t you want to meet your Alpha dream boy?”
A bright smile spread across T’Laya’s face.
“Let’s save him from those guys,” she said. “Then he’ll owe me one.”
“Honey, there are two things wrong with that plan,” said Uhura, pushing through the doors. “Kirk doesn’t need to be saved. And Kirk definitely won’t need to be in debt to you. He’ll be happy to pay you back anyway.”
CH.4.13
The Guarantee
Senator Tashal stepped off the shuttle.
“Greetings, Senator,” said Nverinn, who stood waiting in the Center’s docking bay.
“Jolan tru, Professor,” she answered with a nod, using the more traditional Romulan salutation.
Tashal turned to the head of her security detail.
“Keep your team in the shuttle, Merak,” she said. “I won’t be long.”
Merak bowed. “Very well, Senator,” he said.
He turned and made a sharp gesture into the shuttle. Its door promptly hissed shut. Then he stepped up behind Tashal, just slightly to her left. As Nverinn led the senator across the bay, Merak stayed no more than five paces away.
Nverinn glanced back at the escort. “Impressive,” he said to Tashal.
“I’m a senior senator now,” she said.
Nverinn nodded.
“So you are,” he said. “I hear you’re a strong candidate for the open spot on the Committee as well.” He smiled. “I feel unworthy.”
The Continuing Committee was a small inner circle of the Romulan government comprised of select senators, ranking military officers, and high-level Tal Shiar intelligence operatives. The Praetor himself, head of the Romulan state, presided over both the Committee and the larger Senate. Although its formal duties were few, the Continuing Committee was a formidable power center in Romulan affairs.
“If I get the Committee spot, you will be unworthy,” said Tashal with an amused sideways glance. “So enjoy my company now.”
“I always do,” said Nverinn.
“I have only until moonrise, Nverinn,” she said, suddenly turning serious.
Nverinn nodded. “You’ll stay for a full lunch, then?”
“Of course.”
He led her down a corridor to an open atrium beneath a glass dome. The courtyard was meticulously gardened, and featured a colorful array of flora. A round table set for a meal was tucked beneath the drooping branches of a willowy tree.
Nverinn’s research institute was in the Valley of Chula, one of the most scenic regions on Romulus. His work over the years had been funded by generous grants from the Romulan High Command. Known as the Center, it was a first-class facility, well regarded. Nverinn himself had long been one of the most respected Romulan scientists in the Star Empire.
But Nverinn had never undertaken anything like his Gemini Project before.
“People are nervous about Gemini,” said Senator Tashal as she sat. “The Tal Shiar, in particular. They consider espionage to be their exclusive imperial right.”
“This I know,” he replied. “And I certainly understand why.”
A young girl approached carrying a crystal pitcher filled with sky-blue liquid, which she poured into two small beakers and then served. Nverinn and Tashal picked them up and clinked glasses.
“For the Empire,” said Nverinn.
“If you say so,” replied Tashal, glancing over at Merak, who stood a respectful distance away.
This amused Nverinn, and they drank.
Then Senator Tashal took a deep breath and leveled her eyes at the scientist.
“If Gemini succeeds, the Star Empire may owe you a debt that can never be repaid,” she said. “But if it is detected, and the Federation can trace it back to us, then it may spark a war that Romulan forces are not yet ready to fight.”
Nverinn nodded. “But the risk is worth it,” he said.
“I agree,” said Tashal. “So does the Praetor, by the way.”
This made Nverinn brighten. “He seems like a sensible one,” he said.
“He is,” she replied. Her eyes darted uneasily. “Very sensible. Which is why I’m here.”
Nverinn reached into a side pouch of his uniform and then extracted a small crystalline disk.
“The agent is fully active,” he said. “Here, I’ve made a full report.”
He handed the disk to Senator
Tashal. But she didn’t take it. He looked confused.
“Nverinn,” she said. “You are a prizewinning scientist and a man of honor. We require no report.”
He set the disk on the table.
“Then what do you require?” he asked.
“A guarantee.”
Nverrin grimaced. “I can’t guarantee success.”
“That’s not what we ask.”
The young girl returned, this time bearing a platter of jumbo Romulan mollusks. She set it on the table, and then bowed with lowered eyes to the senator. But the girl couldn’t help it—She raised her blue eyes to meet Tashal’s. Tashal reached quickly to touch the girl’s cheek. The girl blushed, then hurried off with a delighted smile.
“You’re a hero to her,” said Nverinn, smiling fondly after her. “More like a goddess, actually.”
Tashal watched her go. “Her name?”
“Majal,” said Nverinn. “She regularly points out that it almost rhymes with yours.” They both laughed, and he shook his head. “She’s only ten.”
“Blue eyes,” said Tashal. “Isn’t that unusual for her race?”
“Extremely unusual,” said Nverinn.
“And she’s gifted like her sister?” asked Tashal.
“More gifted, I suspect,” replied Nverinn.
Nverinn paused to spoon mollusks onto their plates before continuing. “Inbred ability gives her unprecedented control of the Gemini code. She becomes one with it, in essence. It’s similar to synaptic pattern displacement, the phenomenon where a highly trained Vulcan can literally transfer his consciousness.” He smiled. “These abilities are latent within Romulans, you know. We may master them someday.”
“Perhaps,” said Tashal.
The two sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying their meal.
Then Nverinn said, “What guarantee, Tashal?”
“If Gemini comes back to haunt us, you are working alone,” she said. “You are a rogue scientist.”
Nverinn tried to smile.
“Then, Tashal, my friend, I would be guilty of treason,” he said.
“I suppose you would,” she said, looking him in the eye.
“Then, more ale is required,” he said, unable to hold her gaze.
He clapped his hands, three sharp raps. Within seconds the girl returned with the pitcher. Nverinn nodded toward her as she poured.
“Wouldn’t it be ironic, Senator,” he said, “if her counterparts at the Federation’s fleet academy were just as gifted and beautiful and deadly as she is? What if they’re just like her?”
Tashal smiled sadly. “That’s what we have to find out. And if they are … then ten years from now, it will be a terrible war.”
Nverinn drained his second beaker of ale.
“But imagine what might happen, Senator, if we trained them all to explore the universe in the name of peace and the pursuit of knowledge,” he said. “What if every last one of our gifted young killers was a scientist and an ambassador instead?”
Tashal drained her second beaker too.
She said, “The moons should be in an iridescent phase tonight.”
Nverinn stood up. The view from this atrium was designed to be breathtaking. Across the great rift, basalt formations rose in obsidian swirls. Mesas layered in red and purple hunkered on the horizon. He could not imagine the possibility of this world ending, of the Valley of Chula on Romulus ever ceasing to be. But then, he was a scientist. He knew that in galactic time, this valley’s existence was a blip, with his own lifetime eons shorter. He also knew that the Romulan punishment for treason was beyond unpleasant. He would be allowed an uncensored Right of Statement before the painful, public execution process began.
As part of his guarantee, Nverinn would say nothing.
The moons should be iridescent tonight, he thought.
“So, your time is short,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“I have something to show you, then,” he said.
CH.5.13
First Infection
Crickets woke Kirk.
When he opened his eyes, he felt pain, nausea, his skin crawling … and he remembered nothing.
He could see stars above. Night.
Kirk closed his eyes again. His head was swimming in images, none of which made sense. First thought to emerge: Where’s McCoy?
“Bones?” he called out.
He heard a rustling nearby, so he sat up. His head thumped like a phase cannon.
Kirk groaned. “Bones? That you?”
Sweat cooled on his face. His throat felt bloated. Kirk wasn’t a big drinker like some cadets, the ones who couldn’t process the pressure. But he knew how too much alcohol felt. This was not that feeling. Something wasn’t right.
He heard rustling again.
“Who’s there?” He pressed his hands into his throbbing forehead. “Please be Humanoid.”
A dark figure pushed through foliage. It moved toward him quickly.
“Cadet Kirk?” called a female voice.
“Yes,” called Kirk. “You’re not a predator, are you?”
“No, Mr. Kirk,” replied the dark figure now standing over him.
“Good,” Kirk said, groaning. He lay back down. “Because I really need some rest.”
A search lantern glowed in his face.
“You’ve probably been resting quite some time,” said the woman.
Kirk shielded his eyes from the light.
“Just a few more hours,” he said. “Let’s talk tomorrow.” He looked around him. “Are these flowers? Am I dead?”
A female face leaned down toward him. In the lantern’s glow, it looked angelic.
“My god, I am dead,” said Kirk.
“Why do you say that?” asked the woman.
“Because I’m clearly in heaven,” said Kirk.
The angel rolled her eyes. She said, “We need to get you to a hospital bed, Cadet.” She reached out a hand. “Get up if you can. They’re waiting for you at the Medical College.”
“Who?”
“Your friends,” she said.
Kirk’s eyes widened. “Friends?”
“Yes. I’ll walk you there.” She watched him for a second. “But can you walk? Or should I call a medical van?”
Kirk frowned. “I don’t need a damn van.”
Taking her hand, he staggered to his feet. He stood for a moment, staring at the woman. She was tall, almost his height. She appeared Human, but there was something exotic in her features that made Kirk wonder what race she was. Then Kirk noticed her black uniform and forgot about her race. Lieutenant bars, Starfleet Intelligence.
Kirk sat back down in the flowers.
“Maybe just another minute,” he said.
As he lay back and things went black again, Kirk heard the woman flip open her communicator.
“Yes, this is Lieutenant Caan,” she said. “I found him. I need a medical team in the flower garden outside the Shuttle Hangar. Now.”
Kirk was suddenly flooded with memories of Iowa.
He floated up the old rock quarry wall. It seemed so real. He reached out to touch it.
The next time Kirk woke, he was in an ICU bed with an IV needle stuck in one arm and three wafer-thin biosensors taped to the other.
Above him, Dr. McCoy was waving a medical tricorder. Next to McCoy stood Cadet Uhura. And next to Uhura stood the prettiest Vulcan girl Kirk had ever seen.
Kirk looked at the girl and said, “Hi, I’m Kirk.”
She squinted down at him and said, “You don’t remember me.”
“Sure I do.”
McCoy rolled his eyes. He said, “Boy, does this sound familiar.”
The Vulcan girl looked over at Uhura. “Wow. There’s a punch in the gut.”
Kirk reached for her arm. “I want to remember you. Believe me. I can’t believe I’d forget meeting you …”
“Oh, I believe you,” said the girl.
McCoy gently pushed Kirk’s arm back down. “Don
’t disrupt the biosensor feeds, Jim.” He glanced over at Uhura. “I think he’ll be okay. Thanks for sticking around. You guys can go.”
Uhura nodded. “Come on, T’Laya,” she said. “Want to grab some dinner?”
Kirk tried to sit up. “See, I knew your name was T’Laya,” he said.
Again, McCoy gently pushed him back down.
“I need clues!” said Kirk. “What happened? Give me clues.”
Uhura looked down at him.
“Surely you remember something,” she said.
“No!” protested Kirk. “Nothing! I’m a blank. Except … wait.” He turned to McCoy. “Bones, were we fighting?”
McCoy grinned. He pointed at an abrasion over his own left eye.
Kirk looked upset. “I hit you?”
McCoy chuckled. “No, the other guys hit me,” he said.
“Is that why I’m here?” asked Kirk. “I got my ass kicked?”
McCoy looked offended. “Jim, did you take a blow to the head? There were two of us and only four of them.”
“T’Laya and I came to help, but you clearly had the situation under control,” Uhura added dryly.
Kirk exhaled. “Good,” he said.
McCoy leaned in to examine Kirk’s eyes with a small flashlight.
“I’ll fill in the gory details later,” he said. “But in a nutshell: We had some fun with a few upperclassmen who had tried to put one over on you in some idiotic dead week prank. Then they left to go nurse their wounds and their egos, and the four of us”—he used his finger in a sweeping motion to indicate himself, Kirk, T’Laya, and Uhura—“decided to go grab a drink. But then you started acting like a lunatic. And then you disappeared. We all split up to look for you, with no luck.”
“Was I drunk?” asked Kirk.
“No.”
“What was it, then?”
“I have no idea.” McCoy shook his head gravely. “But something happened to you, Jim. When they delivered you an hour ago, your tricorder readings were off the charts. Heart and metabolic rates sky-high, pupils dilated, shallow breathing, cold sweat. At first I thought you were having a damned heart attack.”
“Maybe those goons slipped me a Mickey,” said Kirk.
“I actually considered that,” said McCoy. “But your system isn’t having a drug reaction, according to these readings.” He tapped on his medi-pad to download the latest tricorder data. “These are consistent with signs of a viral infection.”