He waved the others forward.
"Run!" he said.
Even McCoy moved quickly, aided by his implants.
They were five meters from the shuttlebay doors when Kirk thought they were going to make it.
That was when the first forcefield went up.
Kirk and the mirror Spock managed to stop in time, but McCoy slammed into it, possibly because his artificial leg muscles were slower to respond to stimuli than his natural ones.
Kirk picked his friend up, wheeling in time to see a second forcefield shimmer into view just before the lift alcove.
They were trapped in a five-meter section of corridor, only a few steps from freedom.
Without waiting to see who was responsible for this trap, Kirk took the phaser rifle from the mirror Spock and flipped it to its sixteenth and most destructive setting. He aimed it at the ceiling, just in front of the forcefield's origination point, and fired. As he had planned, the new code he had entered into the rifle allowed it to operate despite any suppression field that might currently be active here.
Instantly, smoke billowed and sparks exploded from the ceiling panels. Kirk swept the high-power beam to create a line of fire, probing for any field emitter that might not be properly shielded.
As the panels sputtered and the line of fire began to crackle, the computer announced a fire warning and containment forcefieids suddenly materialized around the flames.
Kirk sliced the beam down the right-hand bulkhead, hit an ODN cable behind a panel that geysered with sparks, and kept going.
But just as he reached the floor, the phaser beam winked out.
The ship's weapon-suppression system had finally reached the part of its programming that prompted it to activate a full-suppression field, instead of searching for weapons by ID numbers.
McCoy coughed as smoke swirled around them. "At least we get to die of smoke inhalation before we can be tortured."
"Bones, were you always this negative?"
"Not when you weren't around."
The mirror Spock studied the bulkheads. "Do the forcefields extend behind the walls as well?"
"They'd be useless if they didn't," Kirk said. He hefted the rifle in his hand, getting ready to swing it as a club if given the opportunity. "Why don't they show themselves?"
A harsh voice answered from his comm badge. "Because we're trying to wake the admiral. So she can take charge of you personally." It was not a human voice.
Then McCoy pointed past the shuttlebay doors. From that direction along the corridor, three figures were approaching. "Good Lord," the doctor said.
Kirk felt a knot of anger grow in his stomach.
There were Cardassians on board the Sovereign.
He was certain they were not Cardassians from his universe.
That certainty was confirmed when the largest Cardassian stepped up to the forcefield and smiled coldly at the mirror Spock. His lustrous black hair was almost blue in the corridor lights, his skin the dull gray of a long-dead human corpse.
"Greetings, Intendant. I always told you we would meet again."
"I never doubted you," the mirror Spock replied. "And as I always told you, that meeting would occur on the day you would die."
The Cardassian was amused. "Brave words from a dying, senile old man."
"Say that to my face."
"Oh, I intend to. Just before I apply the agonizer myself." The Cardassian withdrew a small, cylindrical communicator, one that would bypass the Sovereign's own internal comm system, Kirk knew. He pushed his thumb against it and an amber light glowed on its tip. "This is Arkat. I have found the prisoners on deck seven, outside the main shuttlebay. Scan the bay for the others."
Kirk knew the Cardassians had three options. Kill them here, either by keeping the forcefields in place until the oxygen was exhausted, or by flooding the contained area with a fatal gas. Beam them to detention. Or march them there physically.
The first option held no promise of escape, but given the apparent personal animosity between the intendant and Arkat, Kirk didn't think it was likely. And either of the two other options would result in the forcefields being dropped. Either to permit a transporter beam to lock on to them, or to allow them to be led away at phaserpoint.
Kirk readied himself for one option or the other. He would not make it easy for the Cardassians and, he was sure, neither would the mirror Spock.
Another voice, also Cardassian, replied over the communicator. "Scan complete. No life signs detected in main shuttlebay."
"Where are your accomplices?" Arkat asked.
"What accomplices?" Kirk answered.
Arkat smiled broadly. "So like Tiberius."
"You'd be surprised."
"My people were spared the enjoyment of seeing that monster destroyed before their eyes. I think you might provide a worthy substitute."
Kirk was ready for him. "As my friend said, Say that to my face."
But Arkat shook his head. "For now, you belong to the admiral. Though perhaps I could ask to have whatever's left when she's finished with you. Not that I think there'll be much to go around." He raised the communicator again. "What is the status of the admiral?"
"The EMH will not allow us into sickbay. He claims he must wait for authorization from Starfieet Command."
That did not seem to be an insurmountable problem for Arkat. "Delete his program from the computer."
"At once."
Kirk refused to feel sorry for a program, though by having so many odd quirks, it had seemed to him to be one of the more human artificial beings he had encountered.
"How long do you think you can keep the corridors cleared?" Kirk asked. The Cardassians must be remaining hidden on board this ship. Any crew member who saw one would take action first and question any order to release them.
"We're in no rush," Arkat said. "As long as Commander Kral orders all crew confined to quarters and their duty stations while the environmental system is searched for the source of a potentially dangerous tetralubisol vapor leak, we have the ship to ourselves."
"The Trill is one of you?"
Arkat shrugged elaborately, enjoying the game. "You tell me."
The Cardassian's communicator clicked back into life. "Glinn Arkat. The EMH has linked his program to the lifesupport subsystems keeping the admiral and five security officers in medical stasis. If I delete the program, the admiral will die."
Kirk recognized the look of sudden anger that came to Arkat's eyes. And Kirk knew that anger was the enemy of reason. He had no idea how a mere computer program could be so creative, but he decided to increase the stakes.
"Don't look so surprised, Arkat. You're dealing with superior technology. The Cardassia of your universe is a third-rate power. It doesn't even compare to the real Cardassians in this universe. And none of you compare to the Federation."
Arkat clenched his fist around his communicator as the two Cardassians with him drew their disruptors. "You will die, Tiberius."
"It's Kirk, you primitive, low-tech savage. James Kirk. Even your Tiberius was a failure. He couldn't stand up to you. But, in this universe, even though the Cardassian Union is a hundred years more advanced than you, the only way it could threaten the Federation was with the help of the Dominion. And now that the Dominion is cut off from this region of space, Cardassians are being defeated like the rockthrowing barbarians they are."
Arkat lunged forward. "Drop the shields!" But his soldiers stopped him, pulled him back.
"No, Glinn," one of them said, and Kirk could sense that one's reluctance to criticize his superior officer. "They are to remain within the forcefield at all time. Gul Rutal's orders."
Kirk made a note of that new information. Gul Rutal must be the Cardassian in charge.
"I don't care about orders," Glinn Arkat snarled. He shrugged off the soldiers' grip on his arm, drew his disruptor, and fired.
The ship's weapon-suppression field had obviously been adjusted to ignore Cardassian weapons. The disruptor b
eam hit the security screen full force, sending out ripples of dissipative energy across a vertical plane. If Kirk had not already tested the forcefield with his phaser rifle, he would have tried to dodge, just in case the field was weak.
But it was so much better to fight his instincts and stand his ground calmly, mocking the Cardassian's impotent attempt to harm him.
"Is that how backward your scientists are?" Kirk sneered. "They can't even design a simple polyphasic disruptor to penetrate a pitifully weak security screen?" Kirk had no idea what a polyphasic disruptor was, but it sounded good, and he looked at McCoy and laughed. Loudly.
The doctor didn't seem convinced by Kirk's tactics, but joined in halfheartedly.
Arkat's face was twisted with rage.
That's it, Kirk thought. Now do something foolish.
He tightened his grip on his phaser rifle, preparing for the shields to drop.
But Arkat surprised him.
"Transporter control, this is Glinn Arkat. Lock on to James T. Kirk, one meter in front of me. He's the human with the phaser rifle."
A human voice answered. A counterpart, Kirk knew.
"Preliminary lock established. I will have to drop the shields to engage a full lock and transport."
Arkat did not take his hate-filled gaze from Kirk. "Do so on my command."
"Destination?" the transporter technician asked.
"Space," Arkat said slowly. "And keep the beam focused. I want him alive when he materializes. So he knows what's happening."
Instantly, McCoy grabbed Kirk's arm. "If you send him, you send me."
A moment later, the mirror Spock did the same. "And me."
But before Arkat could respond, Kirk pushed McCoy and the intendant away. "Keep fighting," he told them, mind racing for another option, another chance to rescue victory from the absolute certainty of defeat.
"Drop shields," Arkat said in triumph, "and energize."
The second the forcefield sparkled away, Kirk lunged forward.
But before his hands could reach Arkat's throat, the Cardassian and the corridor began to break apart in shimmers of golden energy.
Kirk knew it was not the first time he had miscalculated the intentions of an enemy.
But he was sorry that this appeared to be the last time he would ever do so.
As the glow of the transporter effect washed away the protective cocoon of the Sovereign, Kirk braced himself for the bite of vacuum, the cold of space.
And for the final darkness of death.
NINETEEN
As the transporter effect faded, Kirk was surprised by the brightness of the stars in this area of space. Must be the Goldin Discontinuity, he thought. If it was to be his last sight before dying, at least he had heard it was supposed to be spectacular.
And then the bite of vacuum became the impact of a duranium deck as he fell head-first against it, transported in mid-lunge.
For a moment, Kirk lay flat on his face, arms outstretched, wondering why he wasn't gasping soundlessly for air. And why he could feel gravity.
Then he rolled over and looked up at Scott and Spock.
"You've been takin' your own sweet time," Scott said.
Spock held out his hand and helped Kirk to his feet.
They were in the Sovereign's shuttlebay. It was a deep and wide facility at the aft of the primary hull, but low-ceilinged and compact compared with the overall volume of the ship. Most of the maintenance work, Kirk knew, took place on the next deck down, served by elevator platforms set into the shuttlebay deck. But among the stacked cargo crates and palletized equipment on this level, Kirk saw three of Starfleet's newest sleek shuttiecraft—including one with the name Galileo written boldly on its side—and the two runabouts destined for Starbase 250.
Kirk dusted off his trousers. Not that the starships of the twenty-fourth century allowed dust to accumulate on any surface. "How'd you manage that little trick?"
"Why, Captain, how many times have ye told me yourself: I'm a miracle worker."
Kirk wouldn't let it go at that.
Scott gave him the answer. "All right. A transporter override. I am the chief engineer on this ship, after all. And I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."
"Janeway and T'Val?" Kirk asked.
"In the runabout," Spock said. He looked down at the tricorder he held. "Dr. McCoy and my counterpart are still confined within the security fields in the corridor outside."
"When will the Cardassians know they didn't beam me off the ship?" Kirk asked.
Suddenly, the broad shuttlebay filled with flashing red lights and a blaring alarm—intruder alert.
"Right about now," Scott said. He glanced over at Spock's tricorder. "How're they doing with those forcefields?"
"They are . . . down," Spocksaid.
Scott hit his comm badge. "Scott to Janeway, energize!" A few moments later, Kirk heard Janeway's reply. "We have them, Captain Scott. Standing by."
Spock started for the runabouts with Scott. Close behind them, Kirk raced for the closer of the two large craft, the one whose running lights and glowing impulse conduits were already operational.
"No, Captain," Scott called to him. "Not the Coprates, the St. Lawrence."
Kirk changed course for the second runabout as he heard the electric hum of a security field crackle into place. Still running, he looked over his shoulder to see the shuttlebay doors leading to the corridor begin to glow with disruptor fire. At least, if the doors failed, the forcefield would buy them extra time.
As soon as they reached the second runabout, Kirk turned to Scott. "Why'd they think there was no one in here?"
Scott shook his head in disbelief. "Captain, how many times do I have to tell ye? I'm the chief engineer. Give me some credit for knowing how this ship works."
Kirk leaped up the small set of fold-out steps that led into the St. Lawrence. A quick glance around showed Janeway and T'Val already in the starboard passenger seats, both wearing Starfleet uniforms. The newly rescued McCoy and the intendant were strapping themselves into the passenger seats that ran along the port side bulkhead. Kirk realized that McCoy and the intendant must have been beamed to safety by the runabout's own emergency-escape transporter.
Behind him, Scott punched the door control and the steps folded up as the pressure door sealed.
Kirk slipped into the pilot's seat and heard Spock take his position in the jumpseat behind him. A moment later, Scott was in the copilot's chair.
Kirk ran his eyes over the runabout's flight controls, comparing all settings to the ones he had memorized during his recent practice runs on the holodeck. "How long is the security field over the corridor doors going to hold?"
Scott gave him a sidelong glance. "How long will it take you to get this crate into space?"
"Is the second runabout programmed?"
Scott looked exasperated. "Captain, I don't know what retirement's done to ye, but ye have to stop asking me the obvious."
"My apologies, Mr. Scott. Please . . . proceed."
"Aye, don't mind if I do."
Scott's fingers played over the control surfaces as if he had never trained on any other system. Kirk felt a slight vibration as the Coprates, a runabout named for one of the first of the new Martian rivers to flow across a terraformed landscape, lifted on her antigrav propulsors and rotated into position for take off.
Kirk activated the St. Lawrence's launching preparation system and his runabout lifted and rotated, as well.
Then Kirk heard an insistent chime. "Warning," the computer voice announced. "The shuttlebay door is closing. All craft must return to their landing areas."
"Don't bet on it, darlin'," Scott muttered.
Kirk looked through the forward viewports. Past the reflections of the runabout's control consoles, the low, wide door of the Sovereign's main shuttlebay was beginning to close against the backdrop of stars and space. This wasn't part of his plan.
"Uh, Mr. Scott, not to belabor the obvious . . . but are we going
to be able to squeeze both runabouts under that door before it closes?"
Scott didn't take his eyes off his controls. "I took the liberty of making a few refinements to your plan. From an engineering viewpoint, getting through a shuttlebay atmospheric forcefield is difficult. But getting through a shuttlebay door, as my grandmother would say, that's a piece o' haggis."
Kirk had had haggis. The experience forced him to ask, "Is that a good thing?"
"Ye just watch," Scott said.
The thump and pressure lock of the now-closed bay door trembled through the shuttlebay and into the runabout. They were now sealed into the bay with no possible way out, except, of course, by transporter. But as long as the runabout's shields were up, that wasn't an option to worry about.
Kirk saw an alert light flash on the communications board. That would be Arkat, he knew. Best to ignore him. Kirk doubted that many things could be worse for the Cardassian's ego than to be treated as inconsequential. And the angrier Arkat became, the easier he would be to deal with.
"All right, Mr. Scott, surprise me," Kirk said.
"Hold on to your thrusters," Scott said with a gleeful tone. "Stand by to fire quantum torpedoes."
Kirk looked over at the engineer. "Runabouts have quantum torpedoes?"
"They do now, laddie."
Scott punched a finger onto his control board and instantly the St. Lawrence echoed with the twang of a torpedo's induction launch.
Before the sound had faded, the shuttlebay door vanished in a wall of escaping zero-point energy, released not from the torpedo, but from the underlying quantum structure of spacetime itself.
"Launching Coprates!" Scott said, and punched a fist down on the control board.
To Kirk's explosion-dazzled eyes, one instant the Coprates was to his starboard, the next instant she was a blur of motion, disappearing into the writhing fireball that still occupied the space where the bay door once stood.
"Atmospheric forcefield coming online," Spock announced,
"Not for long, it isn't," Scott said "Fire two!"
Again the St. Lawrence thrummed with the launch of a quantum torpedo and an instant later the stars filled the viewports as the runabout emerged in open space.
Spectre Page 21