The beating had been 858’s idea. Actually, killing and mutilating Alexander had been 858’s idea—“Nothing convinces someone you mean business like a dead body”—but Lissan had been so appalled by the suggestion that the Orion had backed up a step.
“Verbal threats are good,” the green-skinned alien had said, “but physical evidence is better. You can lie about what you might do, but when they see what you’ve already done, what you’re willing to do, well, your threat becomes that much more effective.”
They had argued about just what that beating should consist of. 858’s dark eyes had brightened when he [247] described cutting off digits, inserting sharp implements in nostrils and ears or under finger- and toenails, or peeling off skin. Lissan fought desperately to Conceal his disgust and horror. He seized on what he thought might convince the Orion, which was that Alexander might be of more use to them alive and ambulatory than not. Even so, he had not enjoyed watching Alexander’s face get pummeled.
And now word had just reached him that Kirk and a few others, including Julius, were loose in the facility.
His computer made a sound and Lissan sighed. He was certain he did not want to talk to whomever might be trying to contact him, but resolutely tapped a button. When 858’s green visage filled the screen, Lissan cringed inwardly but kept his face impassive.
“I understand that there might be a problem. A very, very big problem.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lissan lied. “We had a deal. You gave us the vessels we needed to attack Huan. We hold off the Federation long enough to access the dilithium, and you get paid. Well paid. You then go away and leave us alone while we handle the wrath of the Federation. How difficult is that for you to comprehend?”
“What kind of idiots do you think we are?” 858 asked. “Did you really think we wouldn’t be monitoring your communications? You’ve got a nice setup, I’ll admit, but we finally cracked your conversation with the Federation president, and we are very interested in learning more about this virus of yours.”
Lissan made a dismissive gesture. “A lie, a trick,” he said.
[248] “You’ve never been a good liar, especially not to me,” 858 said. “And we have found traces of this virus on our own ship.”
Desperately, Lissan wondered if half-truths would save him. “All right. There is a virus.” True. “And you probably tracked it onto your vessel yourself.” Untrue—it had been quite deliberately placed. “It’s all over here, too.” True. They had a way to ensure the nanoprobes harmlessly self-destructed by transmitting a simple signal accompanied by the correct code. “It’s totally inert—the nanoprobes don’t do anything.” That was as great a lie as anything Lissan had ever uttered. “The Federation will figure this out in the not too distant future, but it won’t matter. It will stall them long enough for us to take Huan and you to get paid. Once the Federation realizes that they’ve been tricked, yes, they will come after us. But we will be entrenched on Huan, thanks to you, and will be fighting from a position of strength.”
Please believe this, Lissan thought frantically. Please believe this. Surely there was enough truth to it to make it sound plausible. They’d find him out, of course, but maybe he could hold them off just long enough.
858 met Lissan stare for stare. “I should have called this off sooner,” 858 finally said, obviously disgusted. “I never believe in advancing credit to begin with, and this—well, I didn’t agree to it, just to enforce it. All right, Lissan. I will take what you’ve told me to my superiors, and do rest assured, we will be testing your so-called inert nanoprobes. And if you have lied to me—if what you told the Federation is true—then rest assured, I will come for you and carry out your execution myself.”
[249] He smiled a slow, predatory smile. At any other time, it would have chilled Lissan to the bone. But for a brief, wild moment, the Falorian wanted to laugh. 858 was millions of kilometers away. One push of a button, and his ship would stop dead. It was hard to execute someone when you couldn’t get to him. Still, it wouldn’t do to gloat.
Not yet. Later, perhaps.
So Lissan looked appropriately serious when he replied, “You’ll find that all is as I have said. I only hope you’re not so busy checking up on your ally that you miss your window of opportunity. The Federation won’t be fooled forever, and I’d hate to see you embroiled in a battle with them without your share of the dilithium.”
He heard it, even as he tried to stifle it—that burbling pleasure in his voice. 858 looked at him sharply, then the screen went dark.
Lissan sagged in his seat, the odd burst of pleasure gone. What was he thinking? The Federation had probably already confirmed what Lissan had told them about the virus. The Orion Syndicate didn’t put the value on scientific research that the Federation did, true, but it certainly had access to scientists and labs. They, too, would find out in fairly short order what the virus could do. And they would know they had been double-crossed.
With his forefinger he stabbed a button. “Any word on Kirk?” he demanded.
The head of security looked chagrined. “Nothing, sir. They were able to penetrate the force field and are presently unaccounted for.”
“You had better account for them soon,” Lissan said.
[250] “It’s—difficult, sir,” Jasslor stammered. “They have some kind of technology that masks their bio signs. It’s the reason it’s been so hard to find the colonists. The only thing we can tell for certain about their location is where they have been—when someone doesn’t report in, or a security field is breached. Where they are is another matter.”
Lissan summoned patience. “Can you give me your best guess?”
“We think they’re still in the upper levels, judging by the activities reported. At least we hope so, because that’s where the guards are. If they’re not, if they’ve gotten deeper into the complex, there will be only about five people capable of stopping them. After that, you’re going to have to think about arming your scientists—and yourself.”
“Where to, Julius?” asked Kirk.
“How should I know? You’ve been here before, you tell me.” Kirk was mildly amused at the still-rebellious tone Julius used.
“You know the types of equipment they have better than we do,” he said.
“Yeah, I know, I know, because I sold it to them. You’ve made your point.” Nonetheless, Julius examined Chekov’s tricorder and looked around him. “They’re very orderly, very meticulous,” he said. “They’d probably have a special section for everything. We wouldn’t find communications mixed in with labs. We’ve already passed the security level. And this entire floor looks like research to me.”
[251] It looked familiar to Kirk. “Chekov, do you remember this section?”
“Aye, sir,” Chekov replied. “This upper level was where we found the test labs and where we almost ran into the scientists.”
“We took a lift down several stories,” Kirk said, the details coming back to him. “We saw quite a few storage rooms. About twelve stories down was where we found the padd in that small lab.”
Chekov nodded. “I was able to get onto the computer. Perhaps we could try it there again, find out where the main communications area is located.”
“Too risky,” Scott said. “They didn’t know you were here that time. They do now.”
“Captain,” Chekhov said, trying to keep his voice from sounding too excited, “I’m detecting human life signs.”
“Where?” Julius cried.
“About two stories down, halfway across the tunnel,” Chekov said.
“Then let’s go!” Julius was halfway down a metal ladder when Kirk stopped him with a sentence.
“We can’t,” Kirk said.
Julius looked up. He looked frightening, his blue eyes blazing against the smear of drying maroon blood on his face.
“You give me one damn good reason why I’m not going to find my brother,” he said, his voice deep and intense.
“I’ll give you several,” Kirk said, refusing to be drawn into Julius’s vortex of pain, guilt, and anger. “We [252] wouldn’t be able to rescue them, not with just a few phasers. Even if we did manage to free them, we couldn’t get them to safety. Attempting to do so would give away our position, and if we get caught, then the Falorians get five more valuable hostages and no one gets warned about the real danger of that virus.”
The muscles in Julius’s bare arms tensed and his chest moved rapidly. His eyes never left Kirk’s. “He’s my brother,” he finally said, softly.
“I know exactly how you feel.”
“How can you—”
“I know what it’s like to lose a brother,” Kirk said. “I’ll never forget beaming down to Deneva and finding his body. I loved your father, just as you love Alexander. I know what I’m asking of you, and I don’t ask it lightly. But if we play our cards right we’ll all get out of here alive, and we’ll be able to save other lives as well. Millions of other lives. Help me, Julius. We need you. You’ve got a chance to correct the mistakes you’ve made. Not everyone gets that kind of opportunity.”
For a long moment, the two Kirk men locked gazes. Finally Julius uttered a long, quavering sigh.
“Damn it,” was all he said. “Damn it.” But he climbed back up the ladder.
They continued downward. On their previous reconnaissance of the area, Kirk and Chekhov had discovered that the deeper they went, the more security systems they encountered. It was a good bet that communications, which was clearly vital to the implementation of [253] the Falorians’ plan, would be here, where it could be well protected.
It was harder this time; the Falorians had beefed up their security. Julius was not patient with the time it took to deactivate each force field or break into each area. Kirk sympathized, but he knew where his duty lay.
Although the time seemed long to Julius, Kirk was frankly amazed at the speed with which Scott deactivated seemingly complex systems.
“In another lifetime, Mr. Scott, I’m sure you had a successful career as a safecracker,” he said at one point, remembering how Scotty had enabled an escape when they were prisoners at Sybok’s hands.
On his hands and knees, tinkering with the tricorder, Scott laughed. “Oh, aye,” he said. “But don’t you be holding that against me, Captain.”
“On the contrary. I’m counting my blessings even as we speak,” Kirk replied.
Level by level, door by door, the five wound their way into the heart of the Falorian complex. While Scott worked, Kirk and Julius hung back, keeping an eye out for guards. More than once, they surprised a few; more than once, unconscious Falorian bodies lay sprawled in the corridors.
Finally, Scott uttered a long, happy, satisfied sigh. “Gentlemen,” he said, his burr more pronounced with pleasure, “We’re in.”
Chapter Twenty-two
APPROXIMATELY TWENTY-THREE minutes and thirty-seven seconds had passed since all eight Falorian vessels had been destroyed. Spock had issued orders that the field surrounding the complex be analyzed, the data prepared, and presented.
The Klingons had grumbled. They felt such a dispassionate, measured approach was, if not precisely dishonorable, at the very least not something about which one would boast. But they had obeyed, and now Spock, McCoy, Uhura, and four Klingons, including the ubiquitous Karglak, sat around a table in the captain’s ready room.
Spock steepled his fingers and listened intently to the information they had been able to gather. Finally, he nodded.
“I regret that we seem to have but one option,” he said, rising and going to the screen that displayed a graphic of the shield. “Although I anticipate that my crew will, on the contrary, be quite pleased with the [255] order I am about to issue.” He indicated the glowing blue shield. “This is not a large area. We can see no noticeable generators. From what little information we have been able to obtain about this facility, most of it is located well below ground. It would seem quite secure, perhaps impregnable. We have little knowledge of the Falorians which would enable us to disable the field by manipulating the frequency.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “We must therefore take a more Klingon approach to the problem. We have disabled all the adversaries who lay in wait to attack us. We know that it is unlikely that the Falorians will spare any vessels from Huanni space to engage in conflict here. Therefore, as I see it, the only option we have is to fire steadily upon the shield and hope that, eventually, it weakens.”
Captain Q’allock let out a roar of approval, and he and the other three banged their fists on the table repeatedly until Spock held up a hand for silence.
“I do not believe it will fall easily, but at the very least we can be an annoyance. A steady attack will busy their computer and people, and with luck cause various outages throughout the complex. It will probably not do any serious damage, but it might provide Captain Kirk with a welcome distraction.”
McCoy’s craggy face spilt into a grin. “No-see-ums, by God!” he exclaimed.
Both of Spock’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. McCoy often uttered colorful phrases that Spock did not quite understand, but this one was truly bizarre.
“I beg your pardon, Dr. McCoy?”
“No-see-ums,” McCoy repeated.
[256] “Your answer does not offer clarification,” Spock said.
“No-see-ums are these little bugs that plague you in the summer, specially in the warmer climates,” McCoy continued. “They were the bane of my existence when I was growing up in Georgia. Gnats, or something, I don’t remember exactly what the little devils are properly called, but they travel in a cloud. They’re very tiny, and you don’t see them until you’re smack dab in the middle of a whole slew of them.”
“Hence the name,” Spock said, nodding. “No-see-um. One does not see them.”
“Knew you’d catch on eventually,” McCoy said. “They’re not dangerous—no bites or stings—but boy, are they annoying! They get in your eyes, your mouth, your nose, your hair—they’ll stop you dead in your tracks and have you dancing around and waving your arms until you’re clear of the cloud.” He sank back in his chair, satisfaction writ plain on his face.
Spock considered McCoy’s words, and then nodded. “It is perhaps an overly enthusiastic, but nonetheless apt, analogy,” Spock said. “We shall be like these insects of Dr. McCoy’s. We shall have very little bite, but undoubtedly we can do a superlative job of aggravating the Falorians. Also Commander Uhura, I want you to do everything you can to block any communication that might originate from the facility.”
Karglak puffed up with pride on Uhura’s behalf, but Uhura herself frowned. “With respect, Mr. Spock, that means that if Captain Kirk tries to contact us, we won’t know it.”
[257] “If we succeed in forcing them to drop the shield, we will be able to contact the captain via his communicator,” Spock said. “If we do not, it is highly possible that the order to activate the virus will be given from this facility, since it is where it was created. I cannot risk—”
The door hissed open. “Captain Spock.” It was Captain Q’allock, who had the bridge in Spock’s absence. “An urgent message from the Federation president is coming in.”
“I will speak with him,” Spock said, rising.
“Sir, it’s a recorded message, sent to all Federation vessels. And us,” he added, clearly feeling a need to distance himself from the “Federation.”
“Patch it through to here,” Spock said. His curiosity was aroused, and though he would not admit it, he felt apprehension stir as well.
Spock felt a start of surprise, quickly suppressed, at the haggard appearance of the president. His white hair was in disarray and there were hollows under his eyes. His body posture sent a clear message of hopelessness even before his words confirmed it.
“Attention all Federation vessels. Before anything else, let me say that you are not, under any circumstances, to engage warp drive until further notice. Consider this as inviolable an order a
s you have ever received. You have heard about Kal-Tor Lissan’s threatened virus. Our scientists have learned that the Falorians told us only part of the truth. If any infected ship attempts to engage warp drive, the dilithium matrix could destabilize and the crystals may fracture or shatter. An instantaneous warp core breach would occur.”
[258] The president paused and took a deep breath. McCoy and Uhura exchanged glances. Spock kept his eyes on the recording.
“Obviously, not every ship is infected, and there are a very few of you who know with certainty that you are not. We ask you few to hold your positions. It may well be that when this is all over, you will be the only vessels in the Federation capable of warp drive, and as such you will be precious indeed to the cause of unity and freedom in the galaxy.”
“My God,” McCoy breathed. Karglak growled.
“We have the top scientists in the Federation working around the clock to find a way to counter this virus, and we have every hope that they will succeed,” said the president, although Spock noted that his body language belied his confident words. “Stand by until further notice.”
The screen went dark.
“Captain Q’allock,” Spock said, sounding exactly the same as he had before this message had been played, “is this vessel one of the few of which the president spoke?”
“We’ve been nowhere near the pahtk who did this,” the captain said, and turned and spat on the carpeting. “We have been in space for many months. You are the only passengers we have taken on.”
“Your homeworld was one of the sites visited by the Falorian delegation,” Spock said. “We therefore must assume that we, too, have been contaminated.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” Q’allock said, rising anger in his voice, “that you have brought us out here to strand [259] us in orbit around this pathetic planet for the rest of our lives?”
Karglak sprang to his feet. “You shame yourself with those words! We are here on orders from our Chancellor, to fulfill the Year and the Day!”
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