The Gemini Agent

by Rick Barba

  “Wow,” he said. “I guess you’re really stressed about tomorrow …?” he ventured. Crying girls made him uncomfortable.

  “I don’t get this.” She moaned into the pillow.

  “Me neither,” said Kirk. “This is what I get for serving wine to minors.”

  She laughed again and managed to catch a breath, then dropped the pillow.

  “I didn’t think I’d like you so much,” she said.

  “Well, you’re ruined for life now,” he said.

  “I think that’s probably true.” She looked away. “I can never do this again, that’s for sure.”

  “Do what again?” asked Kirk.

  “Lights!” called T’Laya, shaking herself out of her reverie.

  “Lights on,” said a computer voice, and the room lights slowly brightened.

  T’Laya jumped up to nab the wine goblets. As she handed Kirk his, she said, “One last toast.”

  Kirk took his goblet, then raised it.

  T’Laya said, “I’d like to propose a toast to the ironic fact that whoever controls a starship’s engineering computer bay is the person who actually controls the starship.”

  Kirk grinned. They clinked goblets.

  He said, “I really do like the way you think.”

  T’Laya took a swallow of pinot noir and then said, “Keep that in mind, Mr. Kirk, when the Farragut’s captain rushes in for the kill-shot on a ship that he mistakenly thinks he’s crippled.”

  Kirk nodded, impressed again.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, and drank.

  “Seriously, keep your thumb on that guy,” said T’Laya. “He scares me. He’ll trigger a galactic incident someday, probably a war.”

  “Viktor is a warrior, first and last.” Kirk nodded. “If he ever gets outmaneuvered, I guarantee you, he’d rather go out guns blazing than make a crafty tactical withdrawal.”

  T’Laya smiled sadly at the suggestion, and then seemed to clear the thought from her head.

  “Well, I’ve established excellent rapport with my boss, Chief Engineer Olsen,” she said. “Let’s just say that Engineering will pay close attention to any suggestions that might trickle down from the first officer’s command station.”

  Kirk said, “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  He took her wine goblet and set both down.

  “Well,” he said. “I have to report to the Shuttle Hangar at 0600.”

  T’Laya nodded. “I’m leaving. We both need some rest,” she said, pulling on her coat. “Remember what I said about tomorrow.”

  “Hey, I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Kirk replied as he pulled her in for a good-bye kiss.

  T’Laya didn’t respond. She simply kissed him back and then slipped out the door.

  Ten hours later, the USS Farragut NCC-1647 dropped out of warp into the shadow of Saturn. In seconds the rest of Task Force Blue popped soundlessly out of warp space around its flagship, arriving in delta formation: four Saladin-class destroyers; four Hermes-class scouts; and an array of support/supply vessels, including some Class-F shuttles and one Antares-type cargo vessel. The larger ships also transported three swift squadrons of Tornado-class training fighters.

  From his tactical station, Kirk watched Tikhonov carefully.

  Viktor had a firm grasp of the fundamentals of task force command. He expertly brought about the Farragut, then systematically deployed the full flotilla in a logical order of battle, just as they’d learned in simulator training.

  “Communications!” boomed Tikhonov. His voice dripped with adrenaline.

  Kirk glanced over at Uhura, one station over. She smiled back, then turned to the command chair where Tikhonov sat. The bridge stations were arrayed in a circle around that chair, with the helm console directly in front and below.

  “Yes, Captain,” replied Uhura. “We are within hailing range of Starbase Zeta.”

  “Hold off on that frequency, Lieutenant,” said Tikhonov. “Let’s secure the area first.”

  “All sensors active,” called Kirk. “I have a vector lock on Starbase Zeta. Locking … now.”

  On the huge main viewscreen, a green target box locked around a starlike blip hovering outside the planetary rings.

  “Fighters away,” called Tikhonov.

  “All three Tornado squadrons are launched and vectored in,” called Hannity, the Operations officer.

  Viktor nodded, balling up his fists.

  “Give Farragut a planet-side screen with Alpha Squadron,” he said. “Get Beta and Gamma Squadrons in an all-points formation around the starbase. I want destroyer pickets forward and aft as well.”

  “Aye, Captain,” said Hannity.

  “Gentlemen, we know Task Force Gold is out there,” said Tikhonov with a dark look. “So Mr. Kirk, let’s plot a likely threat axis.”

  “You got it,” said Kirk.

  One hour earlier, while still moored at Starbase 1 (the massive Starfleet docking station in geostationary orbit above Earth), the entire flight roster of Task Force Blue had gotten a preliminary mission briefing on their ships’ viewscreens.

  The Blue team’s primary objective in Operation Titan Storm was to scuttle an orbital platform known as Starbase Zeta. For purposes of the Zeta exercise, the mission facts were as follows:

  Starbase Zeta was an abandoned mining facility circling Saturn’s largest moon, Titan. With a length of 560 meters and a mass of 3.1 million metric tons, Zeta was a considerable object.

  Starbase Zeta’s orbit was in rapid decline. The huge station was expected to reenter Titan’s atmosphere within forty-eight hours and make a fiery descent to the planet’s surface.

  The moon below, Titan, was designated a densely populated Federation world of more than ten billion inhabitants. Thus Zeta’s reentry would likely produce catastrophic results. Millions of Titan lives could be at stake.

  (In reality, of course, Titan was an uninhabited moon covered with liquid methane lakes, a surface temperature of minus 259 degrees Fahrenheit, and an unbreathable nitrogen atmosphere.)

  Corporate mining interests had abandoned the platform years ago. Now it was a haven for smugglers, Nausicaan pirates, and other low-life scum.

  Thus the two mission objectives for Task Force Blue: give the seedy inhabitants time to evacuate, and then vaporize the station using phaser banks. The goal was to create debris small enough to allow complete burn-up on reentry to the atmosphere, preventing a deadly rain of fire on Titan.

  Of course, every cadet in Task Force Blue knew that their counterparts in Task Force Gold had been assigned mission objectives that would somehow conflict with theirs. But nobody knew the details.

  That was the fun of the Zeta exercise.

  Kirk felt strong tinges of envy now. Things were unfolding rapidly, and Viktor was handling it like a pro. The two Blue team squadrons of Tornado-class fighters shot past the Farragut window toward the starbase boxed in green on-screen.

  “Helmsman McKenna,” Tikhonov called to the pilot at the helm console in front of him. “Get us within targeting range of Zeta.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied McKenna. “Engineering, give me one-quarter impulse burst for four seconds. I’ll do the rest with thrusters.”

  Over the comm, the voice of Chief Engineer Olsen replied, “Aye, helmsman. Ready when you are.”

  “On my mark … now.”

  As the helm crew maneuvered the massive Farragut into position closer to the Zeta platform, Tikhonov slowly rotated the command chair to face Kirk.

  “Mr. Kirk,” called Tikhonov with a smile. “Do you think we will encounter resistance from Starbase Zeta personnel?”

  “Not likely, sir, but you never know,” said Kirk.

  Tikhonov nodded. “Would you recommend we go to general quarters?”

  “Absolutely,” replied Kirk.

  “Prepare a red alert, then, for all fleet vessels,” said Tikonov, rubbing his hand over the command chair status display.

  Kirk nodded with a thin smile. A re
d alert took the crew to general quarters (also called “battle stations”)—a prudent move by Captain Tikhonov. What amused Kirk was that red alerts were typically issued by the commanding officer. Kirk had no doubt that his Russian rival was dangling a tantalizing taste of command in front of him, and enjoying it immensely.

  A tone sounded, and a face familiar to all cadets suddenly appeared on the main viewscreen.

  “Greetings, Task Force Blue, this is acting Fleet Admiral Christopher Pike.” He nodded. “Captain Tikhonov. Are you prepared for general quarters?”

  “Aye, sir,” replied Tikhonov. “All ships of Task Force Blue are at condition yellow, going to red.”

  “Excellent,” said Pike. “Starfleet sensors have indicated an unusual subspace signature on the far side of Saturn.” He smiled. “You might want to investigate before you proceed with Starbase Zeta evacuation and demolition.”

  As Farragut and its fleet went to battle stations, Kirk noticed that Lieutenant Samarra Caan was now on the bridge. She stood unobtrusively near McCoy at the Medical station and gave Kirk a nod. As she did, T’Laya’s voice crackled quietly on his station’s comm-speaker.

  Kirk was happy to hear her voice. He’d missed her before boarding, and based on how strangely she’d acted the night before, he’d had a nagging concern she wasn’t going to show up. Which would have been crazy, he thought now.

  “How’s it going up there?” she asked.

  “Great,” murmured Kirk. “It’s really fun watching Viktor do everything while I say ‘Nothing on sensors, Captain’ over and over again.”

  “You’re head of Security, right?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Start a fight,” she said.

  Kirk snickered. Suddenly, he saw activity on infrared.

  “Uh-oh,” said Kirk. “Gotta go.”

  “See ya,” whispered T’Laya.

  “I’ve got engines firing up in the Zeta docking bay,” he called out to Tikhonov. “Have we hailed the criminals on the platform yet?”

  “No, Mr. Kirk,” replied Uhura.

  “My sensors read these heat signatures as Nausicaan craft, probably Raiders,” he called to Tikhonov.

  “I’m getting something from Gamma squadron, sir,” reported Hannity. “We have activity. Sounds like the pirates are scrambling their fighters.”

  Tikhonov scoffed. “Surely they don’t plan to engage a Federation battle fleet?”

  “Making a run for it, more like,” said Kirk. He wanted to add: Just let them go, Viktor. Get ready for Task Force Gold. Pike just told you they’re here.

  “Give me squadron leaders,” said Tikhonov quickly.

  After a second, an excited voice could be heard on the bridge transmission. “Gamma leader here,” it said.

  “What are the pirates doing?” asked Tikhonov.

  “Leaving, sir. Do you want us to give them an exit path?”

  Tikhonov scowled. “I want you to shoot them from the sky,” he said.

  After a pause, Gamma leader replied, “Aye, sir. Attack formation.”

  “Beta leader here, sir,” crackled a voice. “You want us to intercept bogies too?”

  “Negative,” said Tikhonov. “I want you to hit that starbase docking bay. Let’s flush them all out. We can clear the base faster.”

  Kirk almost bit through his tongue trying not to speak. Viktor probably thought he was showing impressive initiative: A few pirates? Who cares? Clear the base, blow it up. Meet the objective fast, then go hunt down the Gold fleet. That was Tikhonov’s nature. But in rushing things he might be taking his eye off the ball.

  All the weapons-fire in the war game was virtual fire, of course. When a ship got tagged, a computerized damage assessment adjusted the ship’s status. Kirk monitored his sensor scans and listened as the Blue fighters tangled with Nausicaan Raiders (flown by experienced Starfleet pilots). Then he heard something that made him look up.

  “Beta leader to Farragut, over.”

  “Go ahead, Beta.”

  “Looks like we hit some sort of … diplomatic shuttle maybe, in the bay,” he said. “I also see a row of big cargo haulers with Task Force Gold markings. Lot of activity down there, sir.”

  Kirk couldn’t help it.

  “Withdraw and hail!” he blurted out. When Tikhonov and others looked at him, he added, “Uh, is my suggestion … Captain.”

  “Why, Mr. Kirk?” asked Tikhonov.

  “Somebody over there might tell us what’s going on,” said Kirk. “We have overwhelming firepower and forty-eight hours until the thing falls from the sky. We can afford to assess carefully.”

  Tikhonov didn’t bother to disguise his contempt for what he considered to be a cowardly course of action.

  “Gamma, do not target the shuttle,” he said calmly into the comm. “Eliminate all Gold cargo ships. Do you copy?”

  “Yes, sir, commencing run.”

  Tikhonov almost bounced in this chair. He loved to attack. “Beta, continue to engage and pursue all pirate vessels.”

  “We’ve lost birds, sir!” cried Beta leader. “Two and five are gone. These guys are good.”

  Kirk was about to speak again, but managed to hold his tongue this time. Undermining Viktor now would be a huge mistake; it would only spur him to be more aggressive. But then Kirk’s scanners picked up a single ship’s signature. His computer identified it as … Romulan?

  What is going on here? Kirk wondered. The single ship made no sense in this scenario. And it being Romulan just added to the mystery. Are my sensors malfunctioning?

  He looked over at Uhura. Her eyes were excited.

  “Captain, I’m picking up a transmission, a single vessel,” she said. “It’s encrypted but … but I’ve heard similar chatter recently.”

  Tikhonov looked exasperated. “So?” he said.

  Uhura glanced at Kirk. “I think it may be Romulan.”

  Kirk was about to support her with his sensor report when suddenly all hell broke loose.

  “Captain, this is the Hannibal,” cried a voice. It was the captain of one of the Saladin-class destroyers. “We’ve got multiple capital ships to starboard, coming in guns blazing! We’re taking heavy—!”

  “Shields full!” shouted Tikhonov.

  “Already done,” answered Kirk, punching buttons.

  “Helmsman, get us to starboard!”

  “Aye, sir,” replied McKenna.

  “We’ve got hostiles to port, too,” said Kirk, eyeing his scans. “That’s Gold fleet, and they’re hitting both flanks at once, Viktor.”

  “Fire back!” shouted Tikhonov. “Fire at will!”

  “Wow, Captain, this is Olsen,” reported the chief engineer over the bridge comm. “Engineering is in bad shape down here, sir. We just took bloody direct hits from each side. The simulation computer is taking away our impulse drive.”

  “Shields at fifty percent!” called McKenna from the helm. “Captain, I’m taking us hard to port, then ninety down. We’re in a gauntlet here, sir.”

  Kirk’s comm buzzed. He looked down to see T’Laya’s face on the screen. She looked upset.

  “Are you okay?” asked Kirk with concern. “Is the computer bay functional?” He punched buttons, frustrated and feeling helpless. “All I can send you is a damned Security detail.”

  “I have to transport,” she said calmly.

  Confused, Kirk leaned to the comm. “I can’t hear you,” he said. “It’s falling apart up here. My sensors are picking up a Romulan vessel, which makes no sense in this scenario. Something crazy is happening.”

  T’Laya leaned close to her vid screen.

  “I’m transporting in five,” she said.

  “Transporting?” repeated Kirk.

  “Shields at forty percent,” reported McKenna.

  Kirk checked his sensors. “Viktor, we’re taking photon torpedoes from three different directions. Our destroyer screen is routed.”

  Tikhonov looked stunned. Damage reports were buzzing in from all decks
.

  “The Valiant is hailing us, sir,” called Uhura.

  “Open channel!” said Tikhonov angrily.

  The face of Marla Kerrigan, a low-key, no-nonsense Command College cadet, appeared on the main view-screen.

  “This is Captain Kerrigan of the Valiant,” she said in a brisk tone. “I’ve ordered a temporary cease-fire to give you a chance to explain your actions.”

  Viktor Tikhonov was arrogant enough, but when you added in his disdain for authoritative women, this was just too much.

  “You launch a surprise attack on both of my flanks and you want me to explain my actions?” he said, spitting as he spoke.

  “Captain, your fighter wings are attacking our Gold embassy shuttle and laying waste to valuable stolen cargo that we’re seeking to recover from the docking bay,” replied Kerrigan. “I’ll have to ask you to desist until we board and secure Zeta Starbase.”

  “Like hell I’ll desist,” said Tikhonov.

  Then Kirk heard T’Laya again, right beside him.

  She said: I have to go now, Jim.

  He turned. But nobody was there. Then he frowned and looked down at the Security station comm screen. Nothing there, either.

  “Great,” he muttered. “Here goes my Heschl’s Gyrus.”

  Help Viktor, she said. Then come to the transporter bay.

  His eyes suddenly throbbing, Kirk put a hand to his forehead. It was happening again, yes, but he felt more lucid, more in control than before. He glanced at Lieutenant Caan, who stood next to McCoy at the Medical station. They were caught up in the drama on the bridge.

  “That was another three torpedoes,” called McKenna. “Shields at thirty percent!”

  “Engineering, damage reports!” groaned Tikhonov.

  Help him, said T’Laya again. Hurry.

  Kirk slipped away from his Security station and then moved quickly to the command chair. He’d never seen Tikhonov like this: frozen, indecisive. Beaten. He almost felt sorry for the bastard.

  He leaned down quickly.

  “Viktor, listen to me,” he said.

  Tikhonov gave him a haunted look. “We’re dead, Kirk,” he murmured.

  “No, Viktor, we’re not,” said Kirk quietly. “There’s a win-win situation here.”