Star Trek - TNG - 63 - Maximum Warp, Book Two

by Dave Galanter

  "But not within earshot," Crusher pointed out. Her eyes were a bit sunken. She'd been up how long, taking care of Kalor and T'sart, and now Lotre?

  "They're being listened to, Doctor," Picard assured her. "But they're far too smart to speak forthrightly alone, let alone in anyone's presence. When they talk, it will likely be in a preplanned code."

  "How can you be sure of that?" she asked.

  Picard glanced at Spock, who seemed to shrug without really doing so. "It's what I would do," Picard said finally.

  By the look on Crusher's face, the captain thought that only rank and respect was keeping her from rolling her eyes.

  "Thank you for your report, Doctor," Picard said, motioning to the padd still in Spock's hand. "What about Kalor?"

  "We've had to restrain him," she said. "He tried to kill Lotre."

  "Talk about biting the hand ..." Picard murmured.

  Eyebrows arched in annoyance, Crusher nodded her agreement. "Kalor is weaker for the struggle, but no great harm was done. Lotre is strong and neither that nor the transfusion is affecting him much."

  With a crisp nod and a grunt, Picard asked, "Exactly how well is T'sart?"

  "Virus levels are down to seventeen percent," she said.

  "Pretty well, I'd say."

  Spock laid the padd gently on the desk. "He will attempt another takeover."

  "From sickbay?" Crusher asked, her brows furrowed.

  The captain leaned back in his chair and sighed in a manner he thought not very capta inly and would not have allowed himself on the bridge. "Perhaps." He motioned toward the door. "Get some rest, Doctor. We're all going to need it."

  Crusher nodded, rose, and walked smoothly out the ready-room door.

  As soon as she was gone, Picard turned to Spock.

  "We need to talk."

  The Vulcan nodded. "So I surmised."

  Rising, Picard walked to one of his office windows. He picked a star and followed it from foreground and into the distance. "I can't trust T'sart, now more than ever."

  "Less than ever," Spock corrected.

  Picard chuckled. "Yes. I'm tired myself."

  "A common grammatical error," Spock said.

  The captain turned back and allowed the Vulcan to see his smile. "Did you correct Captain Kirk's grammar?"

  "Rarely."

  A difficult man to read, for a human if not a half Vulcan, Spock was an enigma. He'd lived in a past time of great upheaval, much as Picard and his crew did now. How many times had the fate of the galaxy hinged on what decisions he and Captain James Kirk had made?

  "Back to T'sart. I want to assume everything he tells us is a lie."

  Only a moment's pause before Spock answered. Picard turned back to see the Vulcan's fingers steepled

  before him. "I would submit that is an overly broad assertion. There is obviously something to his data and what he says. We've witnessed that firsthand."

  "Yes, but we can't trust the details." The captain sat. "We can only trust what we witness ourselves."

  "Do you believe our course toward the Caltiskan system is foolhardy?" Spock asked.

  A good question. Picard had asked himself that numerous times in the last few days, especially when he was in bed, not sleeping. "No. I think T'sart wanted us there for some reason. Perhaps to stop whatever's happening, perhaps to control it for his own ends. That, in fact, seems more likely. In any case, more than that we can't yet know, nor should we rely on T'sart's word."

  "With that I would agree. However, we're approaching the Caltiskan sector. We know something is not right. We're increasingly unable to scan large areas of space. Not dead zones, but odd spatial disruptions that sensors cannot penetrate."

  Picard nodded. "I've seen the sensor logs. Astrometrics might as well shut down rather than try to make sense of it all. Have you any idea what kinds of disruptions these are?"

  "I would need to be closer in order to investigate."

  Well, that was the decision then, Picard thought "You'll have your chance," he said. "I want you to go in first. You have the unique ability to disguise yourself as a Romulan, better than anyone. And we have your Romulan shuttle, should you be noticed."

  "That will need to be repaired," Spock said, his determination to accomplish the mission seemingly instant.

  "Already under way."

  "Specifics of my mission?" the Vulcan asked as he rose.

  Picard pursed his lips. Another good question, and he somewhat fumbled for a non-vague answer. He couldn't come up with one. "See what's out there ... and report back." He raised his brows in sympathy. "Simple to say, I know."

  "Yours is a position of difficult decisions," Spock said.

  From the truth of that statement, Picard's thoughts wandered to Riker, Troi, and Data. He'd made a difficult decision just a few days ago, and they had probably paid for that with their lives. Such was a characteristic of command, inherent in the duties to protect the many. Difficult decisions always abound. "This is one of them."

  "And a logical one," Spock said, and Picard believed he'd never heard a higher compliment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Romulan Warbird Makluan Romulan space Caltiskan system whatever had happened to the space around them-in them--it hurt. Folan was having trouble focusing, and she clutched at her head with both hands, pressing her fingertips into her skull.

  "Get--lock."

  "Can't--"

  Struggling out of the command chair, Folan stumbled toward the tactical console. "Just--try .. . blind!" She gave the order to her subordinate, but pounded the commands into the control board herself.

  "Warp field is collapsing," yelped the helmsman.

  7/9

  "Keep it together!" Folan ordered. "Do we have them? Do we--"

  "We're pulling them out!" Someone said it, but Folan wasn't sure who. She was looking down, at her boots, at the deck, her brain thrashing about within her skull, begging to explode.

  "We've fallen from warp--" Helm again, yelling, barely heard over the din of--what? Folan wasn't sure. It was loud, as if all atoms were singing at once with a strange vibration, off-key. A trillion violins breaking at once inside her head.

  She tried to look around, get back to the command chair.

  "I can't get sensors online!" Medric called.

  The helmsman pounded at his console. "My systems aren't responding! We're out of control."

  Folan crammed her eyes shut and wished she could block out all else. But the horrible noise that seemed almost physical bombarded her, and as her bridge crew called out around her, she didn't know who said what anymore.

  "Warp power is offline."

  "Auxiliary!" she ordered.

  "Not responding."

  And then it all just stopped. As dust settles after a storm, so Folan's body and mind did. The pain and the cacophony waned and she slowly shook off the agony of whatever had happened. All that was left now was a ringing in her ears and an ache throughout her body.

  "Auxiliary power," one of the engineering crewman huffed, "is now responding."

  "Sensors?"

  Awed by his own response, Medric reported, "Active. Not showing anything, but active."

  "The other warbird?" Folan demanded, stepping awkwardly and a bit dizzily toward Medric.

  "Off our port." He looked up at her, his continued awe slackening his jaw.

  "We did it," the helmsman whispered.

  We, Folan noticed. They were one crew, and they now trusted her. Perhaps more than they ever had Commander J'emery.

  Her chest still tight and aching, Folan returned to the command chair to rest. She suddenly thought others might be more injured than she. "Casualties?" she finally asked.

  "Light, Sub-Commander," Medric said after checking a readout on his console.

  Nodding her pleasure, she motioned back to him and noticed her arm was sore too. Everything was sore. "Open a channel to the other ship."

  "Trying."

  She swiveled back to another centurion.
"Secure a tractor beam. Let us tow them to the planet."

  "Impressive," Medric whispered, and when she turned back around she found him at her side.

  "I wasn't sure it would work," she admitted.

  "But it did," he said, smiling widely and bending to her ear, "and you have done very, very well."

  Medric was not the only impressed Tal Shiar. The high-ranking Tal Shiar at the Caltiskan planet was as

  well. He'd been a tall, thin, imposing man who held little emotion in his features save for a rather sinister gaze that actually scared Folan as if she were once again a schoolgirl.

  She'd thought that returning to the Mokluan would have made her feel more at ease, but it did not. She saw too much uncertainty on the planet. An alien installation, controlled by Tal Shiar scientists who admitted they knew little more about it now than when they'd arrived.

  Lack of sleep cramped her neck and as the lift doors let her onto the bridge, Folan stretched her tight muscles by cocking her head from shoulder to shoulder.

  She was too tired, too confused to think about it all.

  Medric, who'd apparently not stopped in his quarters on the way back from the transporter room and had made it to the bridge before her, rose from his station as soon as she entered.

  "Sub-Commander, sensors are repaired." He handed her a padd. "A list of systems that are not yet repaired, and their estimates."

  "Thank you, Centurion."

  "What did you think of the installation?" he asked in a hushed tone as he followed her down to the command chair.

  "The scientific center on the planet? I've never seen the like. They would not let me view all the data--"

  "Oh, in time," he assured her. "In time I'm sure they will. Did you see the accolades given us? Are we not an extraordinary team?"

  "I'm a scientist," she said. "It is likely I could help." It was her area of expertise--power and energy consumption and production and conversion. And that was why she felt uneasy at just the hint of data they'd let her see: it hadn't matched their words. "They want to return the sphere to the black hole. I'm not sure that course would be the wisest--" Her voice had been starting to rise and so he cut her off.

  "They have the best minds in the Tal Shiar working on this," Medric whispered. "And you have another mission. Destruction of the Enterprise and T'sart."

  "Surely," she whispered back now, "someone else is more competent to that task."

  "That isn't how we work," Medric explained, leaning close, resting his palm on the back of her chair. "The Tal Shiar works through others, rarely overtly on its own behalf."

  There was a logic there that escaped Folan, but she did not pursue it with him.

  "Are we--is the Tal Shiar--" She looked at him. "Who really has done this? They blamed T'sart for creating the dead zones, but I know he has been with us when those zones were getting increasingly worse."

  "T'sart is to blame, of that you can be sure."

  When Medric spoke his name, hate filled his eyes as surely as they might her own. Except that she felt now more confusion than hate, and that in itself confused her.

  "This all seems... too dangerous to toy with," she said finally. "Attempting to return the sphere--"

  He turned her chair so she faced him fully. "You're very intelligent, Folan, very bright... but know your place."

  It was the first time in days that he'd made any

  veiled threat to her. And with her newfound respect and power, she didn't like that at all.

  U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701E Romulan space Sector 142

  "Spock to Enterprise, on coded channel." Already the communication was cleaved with static.

  "We read you, Mr. Spock." Picard wasn't so much nervous as he was anxious and on edge. Starship captains didn't get nervous. Did they?

  "/ am two point three million kilometers from the edge of the negative sensor field."

  The captain nodded. Normally such information would have been redundant, but sensors were iffy at best, and so Spock was calling out what information he could. "We are keeping an active comm link at all times. You've got one hour, but should you lose it, return immediately."

  "Acknowledged. I am entering the field."

  After that message, other than a few short bursts of static, there was eerie silence.

  Geordi La Forge, at the engineering station, looked forward to Picard and they both exchanged a glance.

  "Spock?" the captain finally asked.

  "I am here, Captain."

  Collectively the Enterprise bridge heaved a sigh of relief.

  "Nothing to report per se," he continued. "Sensor readings are ambiguous. I seem to be in a zone of

  spatial flux, at least on some levels. My vessel is intact, but structural integrity is being taxed."

  Picard inched forward restively in his command chair. "Do you need to return?"

  "Negative. I am adjusting power distribution settings. I am, however, scanning an incomplete plastiform patch in my hull. It is spherical and was not damaged in the previous attack by the warbird."

  "How can you be sure?" Picard asked, his brows knitting in puzzlement.

  "The damage seems to have been caused from the inside out, rather than the outside in."

  The captain tapped into the console next to his seat. "Send me your sensor data on that."

  Within a moment the information began to scroll past.

  "/ am proceed--outside the-- "

  "Spock, we're losing you." Picard twisted toward Chamberlain. "Boost the gain."

  "Boosting, sir."

  "T'sart was apparently--rect at least in the scope of--this."

  In the well of his chest Picard got that "bad feeling" that sometimes was an omen of disaster. "Spock, repeat. We're losing you."

  "Vessel--reaching. Extensive spatial-tion."

  Bounding toward the main viewer and the blanked out starscape that was the digital equivalent of confused sensors, Picard nearly yelled, "Spock, you're breaking up. Return immediately."

  "Hope you can read m--evasive ac--losing p--"

  Picard pivoted again to Chamberlain. "What happened?"

  The young lieutenant tapped frantically at his board. "The signal is gone, sir."

  "Boost the gain again."

  Chamberlain shook his head. "Nothing to boost, sir. It's completely gone."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Romulan Warbird Makluan Romulan space Caltiskan system folan didn't have time to deal with Medric's disrespectful tone. The helmsman pulled her attention just as his voice had trailed off.

  "Sub-Commander--sensors indicate a vessel."

  She motioned Medric back to his station with a jerk of her head and then swiveled back toward the bow and the helm.

  "Type of vessel?"

  Medric shook his head but continued running his console. "I cannot get a good reading."

  "Take us out of orbit. Full impulse." She turned to Medric again. "Is the other warbird ready for battle?"

  "Not yet."

  "Damn. Active sensor sweep," Folan ordered.

  Frustration marbled Medric's tone. "Inconclusive. Vessel vector is--the same course we were on."

  "It is Enterprise?" She slanted toward the viewer as if that would somehow give her better resolution in a field of confused sensor data.

  "Inconclusive," Medric said. "I only know it's a vessel of some kind."

  "Confirmed," the helmsman added.

  Folan's aching spine tensed as she straightened in her seat. "Stand by disruptors."

  The helmsman looked down, checked a status screen. "One bank is charged, the other offline." He shook his head. "Not enough against a Federation battle cruiser."

  Folan frowned as Medric said, "It will have to do."

  "Ten seconds to weapons range," called the helmsman.

  With just one disrupter bank and incomplete sensors, this felt like a fool's mission. "I don't suppose we can get a weapons lock."

  "Not in this system, ma'am."

  "What if it's not t
he Enterprise?" Folan asked Medric across the bridge, perhaps more loudly than was appropriate.

  "What other ship could it be?" he asked in return. "I respectfully suggest to the sub-commander that this may be the only chance to strike them hard. Remember, outside the perimeter they cannot scan in. They will not be ready for an attack."

  Folan wasn't sure how much discretion she had in her orders. She was very new to the Tal Shiar stratum.

  Did Medric outrank her in that system, whereas he did not on her ship? And which overrode what?

  "How much of a weapons lock could you get by using navigational rather than tactical sensors?" Folan asked. If she was going to do battle with the Enterprise she'd rather not be so hobbled.

  "Very minimal," the weapons officer said.

  "What the devil does that mean?" she snapped.

  "Thirty percent accuracy, perhaps."

  "Well that's better than firing blind," Medric said.

  "Helm, use navigational sensors and try to lock on." She couldn't even see the vessel yet. If they could fire now, with this much surprise advantage, perhaps they'd have a chance to win against the Federation flagship.

  "In range, Sub-Commander," Medric said.

  She hesitated and he prodded her. "SubCommander?"

  Trying to ignore the bad feeling she had about it, she finally gave the order. "Fire."

  One green disruptor lance sliced out, and from the explosion that flashed on the screen, even though it was distorted by hampered sensors, the charge was a direct hit.

  A mass spiraled toward them, out of control.

  As soon as it came into clear view, Folan stood in awe. "Praetor's shield! It's a shuttle. A Romulan shuttle!"

  The bridge crew gasped. They'd perhaps killed a Romulan citizen.

  "Damage report!" she ordered.

  "U-us or them?" Medric asked.

  "Them! Them!"

  He bowed over one sensor console, then another,

  working hard with anemic data. "Their hull is compromised."

  She pivoted quickly to the engineer. "Transporters?"

  He looked desperately sorry for his next words. "Online, but I don't know if we can get a lock."

  She waved off the notion. "Just beam any life forms you find!"

  He nodded and pounded quickly into his controls.