by Diane Duane
The department heads of the three ships had been making noise about the Romulans' presence at their council; politely, but they had been making it all the same. Jim was letting them run down. It seemed the wisest course; that way there would be slightly less noise when he told them what he and Ael were planning.
He glanced down past McCoy and Sulu and Matlock toward Lieutenant Kerasus, raising an inquiring eyebrow at her.
She glanced back, shaking her head ever so slightly at some response of one of the Eyrene Denebians to something Spock was telling them about the Levaeri V researches. Janíce Kerasus was Chief of Linguistics, the person primarily responsible for programming of the translation computer and translation of alien documents received by the ship. She was a tall, big-boned, stirikingly handsome woman with dark curling hair and calm brown eyes that slanted up at the corners, making her look like a lazy cat most of the time—excepting when she was very interested, as she was now; then she got the look of a cat waiting patiently by a mousehole, eyes a bit wide and a faintly pleased look on her face.
She was waiting for something now, that was plain. The room had settled down somewhat from the restrained uproar that had occurred when Jim had first introduced Ael and Tafv. Mike Walsh had stared at Jim as if he'd gone nuts, and Rihaul had slitted her eye at him in a later-for-you gesture he knew too well from the old days, after some particularly painful tutoring session. But now the other officers were beginning to get the idea that these Romulans might actually have come to do them a service. It was taking a while to sink in, unfortunately, and Jim grudged the lost time.
It was time to kick things in the side. Spock had done the "dirty" work, filling the meeting in on the news Ael had brought them and his confirmation of it. Now Jim stopped Spock from taking another question from one of Rihaul's people. "Gentlebeings," he said, "we've got to get moving here. You've heard what the Commander proposes—"
"It would break almost every reg in the book," Mike Walsh said. "Allowing hostiles into classified areas. Entering into private alliances with foreign powers. Espionage again. Destruction of private property …"
"I have those powers, Mike," Jim said quietly. "That's what 'unusual breadth of discretion' is for, after all."
Mike grimaced at him, knowing as well as Jim the pitfalls that awaited him should this operation somehow get botched. "I know. But we're quite literally in an untenable position. We can't stay here; the Romulans monitoring the Zone will get suspicious. We can't leave—certainly not without determining the fate of the Intrepid. We can't send for help, communication isn't secure; and we can't send ships to carry a secure message—we need all our strength here. We have to act, and we have to do it now, and much as I hate to admit it, Ael's idea is the best we've got."
Ael threw Jim a glance that reminded him a great deal of one of Spock's appreciative-but-don't-tell-anyone expressions. "Gentlefolk," Tafv said from beside her in his light tenor, "I assure you that the Commander is as little sanguine about offering you this plan as you are at the thought of accepting it. If it succeeds, the Commander and I have nothing to gain but disgrace, irrevocable exile for both of us and for the rest of her crew, and the permanent possibility of being hunted down and killed by Romulan agents for revenge's sake." He looked grave. "We are all willing to risk that for her sake. It's a matter of mnhei'sahe." There were curious looks around the table at the word the translator had failed to render, but Tafv didn't stop. "However, we face far, far worse if the attempt fails. If caught in Romulan territory, we and Bloodwing's crew will assuredly die. You and your ships could conceivably fight your way out again—and whatever difficulties you may have with Starfleet Command afterward, you will still be alive to have them."
"Noted, Subcommander," Jim said. "One moment. Lieutenant Kerasus—'mneh'-what?"
"'Mnhei'sahe,"' she said promptly. "Captain, I'm sorry, but you would ask me to render one of the most difficult words in the language. It's not quite honor—and not quite loyalty—and not quite anger, or hatred, or about fifty other things. It can be a form of hatred that requires you to give your last drop of water to a thirsty enemy—or an act of love that requires you to kill a friend. The meaning changes constantly with context, and even in one given context, it's slippery at best."
"In this one?"
Kerasus glanced across at Tafv. "If I understand the Subcommander correctly, they are returning the favor that Commander t'Rllaillieu has done them by commanding them, by being in turn willing to be commanded. That sounds a little odd, I know, but their forms of what we call 'loyalty' do not always involve compliance. These people will follow her to death … and beyond, if they can … because they acknowledge that what she's doing is right, no matter what High Command says."
There was a little silence around the table at that. "Commander," Captain Rihaul said quietly, "I hope you will excuse us both our ignorance and our caution. But none of us have ever seen Romulans do anything but make war, and that savagely. That you would also wage peace … if forcefully … comes as something of a surprise."
Ael smiled at the Deirr captain, a rueful look. "Oh, I assure you, Captain, we know more arts than those of war. But our position between you and the Klingons has left us little leisure to practice them. So we tend to leave their development to others. Our allies … or our subjects."
Lieutenant Kerasus lifted her head at that, though she said nothing. Jim caught the look, though. "Comment, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir." She looked down the table toward Ael and began to speak, and her quiet voice suddenly had steel in it. "'Other peoples may yet/more skillfully teach bronze to breathe,
"'leading outward and loosing
the life lying hidden in marble;
some may plead causes better,
or using the tools of science
better predict heaven's moods
and chart the stars' changing courses.
But Roman, remember you well
that your own arts are these others:
to govern the nations in power;
to dictate their rule in peace;
to raise up the peoples you've conquered,
and throw down the proud who resist. . . .'"
Jim saw Ael looking at Kerasus with an expression that looked like surprise, or hope, or both. "That is very well said. But the language sounds old. Those people are no longer with you, I think."
"Their descendants only," Jim said. "Though many of Earth's major languages were powerfully affected by theirs. For the most part, their way is one we've left behind us. But they were a great people."
"If they became less than great," Ael said, glancing around the table at the many sorts of listeners, "it is because they forgot those words and handed their rule over to others—perhaps to onetime enemies, whom in their contempt and laziness they tried to absorb, and forgot to fear. Or else to those who paid lip service to the ancient laws without understanding the vision on which they were founded. Am I wrong?"
The stillness of their faces evidently told her she was not. "That is the danger in which my Empire now stands, gentlefolk. And I will not see five thousand years' civilization fall, as it seems other empires have, due to some paltry cause, to mere sloth, or folly—or the death of honor! I have said to Enterprise's Captain that there was no help to be round in my friends, so that I needs must turn to my enemies. Your Federation says it wants peace among the great powers. Now it shall be seen how much it wants that, by the actions of you its representatives. For if you fail to act now on the information I bring you, with the power to hand, peace will fail you forever."
The room was quiet for a few seconds, and into that quietness came the whistle of the intercom. "Main Briefing," said Captain Rihaul.
"Captain," said the foghorn voice of one of Rihaul's Bridge crew, "we're now in the area from which Intrepid made its last report. The meson residue of her engines comes this far, then stops … as if the matter-antimatter converters had been shut down. There's a faint meson trail leading away from here,
though—shutdown residue, nothing more."
"Where does it lead?" Mike Walsh said.
"Bearing ninety mark plus-five, sir. Into the Neutral Zone."
People all around the room looked at one another. "Anything else, Syill?" said Rihaul.
"No, madam."
"All right. Main Briefing out."
"There it is, gentlebeings," Jim said. "One of our starships is missing—and we know where it's gone. If we needed an excuse for crossing the Zone, we've got one now. Not even Fleet will be able to argue with what our sensors show us. And the question of committing an act of war is now also moot. What would you call shanghaiing the Intrepid?"
"No argument there, Jim." Rihaul looked across the table at him with great concern. "Unfortunately. Now it falls to us to keep this war from escalating into a full-scale conflict."
"And the only way we're going to manage it is Ael's plan," Jim said. "I'm sorry to have to command you to do things you can't fully support—but I see no alternative."
"Jim," Mike Walsh said, "you misunderstand us. We support you to the hilt. But we don't like this!"
"Bad odds?" Jim said gently.
Mike looked rueful. "They'd be better if you'd take Inaieu and Constellation along."
"Sorry, Mike, but that's out of the question. At the slightest warning the people on Levaeri will dump their computers and escape with the genetic material—and take Intrepid along with them, so deep into Romulan space that none of us would ever get out again."
"We could be taken along in tow, 'captured' as you would be," Rihaul said. But she said it so wistfully that Jim wanted to reach over and pat her tentacles.
Ael, seated not far from Rihaul, laughed very kindly. "Captain," she said, "you do Bloodwing such an honor as she has never been done before. But it would never work. One starship I can barely justify catching, on my own reputation as a commander. But with Cuirass, and the idiot crew that Romulan High Command knows is aboard her—three starships, and one of those a Defender-class destroyer? They would know upon detecting us that something was amiss, and flee Levaeri as Enterprise's Captain has said. . . . And besides all that, if I tried to tow so much tonnage, I would burn out Bloodwing's engines. I fear it will not work. But I am sorry to have to answer such mnhei'sahe with cold counsel. . . ."
The people around the table were quiet, looking at Jim. "Well, we'd best get started," he said. "Mr. Spock has detailed the Commander's plan for you. We will be following it quite closely. I want Inaieu and Constellation to continue routine patrols—being careful to avoid this area for several hours on the next sweep; we mustn't have any more muon trails through here than Ael's story will account for—and the phaser fire of the 'battle' we're going to stage will obliterate the trails left by your presence here and now. Ael will be beaming about forty Romulans aboard to man key posts in case the escorting ships decide they need proof of what's going on. Subcommander Tafv will be remaining on Bloodwing, while Ael supervises her people's settling in over here. What's our ETA at Levaeri V?"
"At towing speed, about warp two, two days and five hours in your time system," Tafv said. "We will hit their sensor boundary at about one day twenty hours. An escort, should Command decide to send us one, would doubtless scramble and meet us about one day into the journey."
"Couldn't we just sneak in?" Sulu said, from beyond Spock.
"Besides the lack of honor in such an approach," Tafv said with a slight smile, "no. Our side of the Zone is as thickly sown with sensor satellites as yours is; and should we try to reenter the Zone without reporting our presence, Command would know immediately that something was amiss. The ships sent to intercept us would fire first and ask no questions, whether we had Enterprise in tow or not—in fact, they would be glad to blow you up and take the credit for it. And as you already know, they count the Commander a nuisance better dead than alive. No, we must declare ourselves, and then prepare to deceive the escort."
"So we'd best get started," Jim said. "Commander, Subcommander, will you beam over to Enterprise with Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock and work out quartering arrangements for your crewpeople with them? We don't have a lot of space in crew's quarters proper, but those who need to be aboard for the ruse should be comfortable enough. And, Uhura, I want you to see if there isn't some way to temporarily block subspace communication in our neighborhood—or at least interfere with it."
"Aye, sir."
"Captain Rihaul, I leave you in command of the task force—what's left of it. Be very clear about this: should something go wrong with this operation, under no circumstances are you to mount a rescue attempt of any kind. You must disavow us if approached. Understood?"
"Jim—"
"No 'buts,' Mike. Acknowledge and comply."
"Acknowledged," said Captain Walsh.
"Yes, Jim," said Rihaul.
"Very well."
"And good luck, Captain," Walsh said.
"If there is such a thing," Jim said, "I accept with thanks. Dismissed, all."
Jim stood; the room emptied—swiftly of Denebians, more slowly of the other species. Finally only the three of them were left—the two hominids and the brown, baggy Deirr, looking uncomfortably at one another.
"It's hardly a pat hand, Jim," Mike said. "I would much rather you cheated."
"I am considering tucking you two up my sleeve," Jim said. "Nhauris, let's go down to your quarters and talk."
Much later, Jim leaned over the helm console and said, "How about it, Mr. Sulu? Do you think you can make it work?"
"No question, Captain." Sulu was seated at the console, making minute adjustments to a set of programmed flight instructions. Beside Jim, looking over Sulu's other shoulder with great interest, was Subcommander Tafv. He and Sulu had been consulting for nearly an hour now, "choreographing" the "battle" they would fight in Romulan space.
"It's just like the wargames simulations back at the Academy," Sulu said, "except with real ships. We'll have to use phasers at higher-than-minimal power in order to wipe out our muon trail properly and leave the right heat and photon residues to fool any investigator. Screens will be up at normal power on both ships for the first few passes—but see, here in the fourth pass Enterprise will 'take a hit' on number four screen, which will go down and allow the damage to the port nacelle that Mr. Scott's arranging—"
"Will be arranging," Jim said, his ears still burning slightly from Scotty's private conversation with him, in one of the turbolifts, about what Jim was planning to do to his precious engines. "I don't think he can bear to start just yet. Go on, gentlemen."
"We will use a separate burst of phaser fire to make the actual cut in the nacelle," Tafv said. "That way there will be less chance of hurting the reinforcement your Chief Engineer will be installing on the inner hull, so that the matter-antimatter converter in the nacelle can still function. That is probably the most delicate part of the operation. After that, Mr. Sulu has programmed the Enterprise's navigations and gunnery computers to make another pass at us and do us some damage—a 'missed shot' at our own port nacelle that will instead hull us in one cargo hold, causing the usual explosive decompression and scattering various supplies all over the area. However, it will not be enough to stop us; Enterprise will be 'limping' badly at that point, and we will chase her until she's forced to turn and fight because of 'overheating' in the remaining, overstressed nacelle. We will answer with more phaser fire, while Enterprise's, due to the fueling of phasers from the already overtaxed nacelle, drops off. Then screens will go down, and the Commander will send her message ahead to Fleet Command. At this distance from Romulus we will have some six hours' grace before it reaches them—during which time we will jointly fake whatever else needs faking; the use of the intruder control system, various burn marks and damages from 'fighting in the corridors,' and so forth."
"At the same time," Sulu said, "we'll be transferring control to the Auxiliary Bridge, and coaching the Romulan 'invaders' in how to handle communications and so forth, for when the escort comes alon
g and demands to know what's really going on." He stopped then, looking a little disconcerted. "Captain—one problem. What if they want to board, rather than just examining us by ship-to-ship communication?"
Jim shook his head. "The Commander thinks she can prevent that," he said, "but if they do board—well, we'll get some acting practice, that's all. There shouldn't be too many Romulans to fool, anyway—it's not as if a whole crew would beam over and inspect every bit of the ship. We shouldn't have to deal with any more than twenty or thirty Romulans tops—and if we can't fool thirty Romulans—" Jim stopped abruptly, grinned at Tafv. "Sorry, Subcommander. Some habits are hard to break."
"Yes, I agree," Tafv said, smiling slightly. "But the effort is interesting. Captain, will there be anything else? I am going to be needed on Bloodwing shortly."
"If you gentlemen are finished, then by all means go ahead," Jim said. Tafv bowed slightly to Jim, waved two fingers at Sulu in a small saluting gesture, and hurried off the Bridge.
When the lift doors had closed behind him, Sulu sat back in his chair and looked up at Jim with an expression both worried and bemused. "Sir," he said, "is it all right to say that I trust you completely—and I wish I could say the same for them?"
"Absolutely," Jim said, "because that's exactly the way I feel about it. However, the only way to prove someone trustworthy is to trust them. I just wish it wasn't my ship and my crew I had to trust them with. . . ."
Sulu looked up at Jim and nodded. "Captain," he said, "we're with you. It's not only the Romulans who have mneh—whatever-it-is."
"Yes, Mr. Sulu," Jim said. "I know. And thank you." He sighed. "I suppose I'd better get down there and see how poor Scotty's doing with 'blowing up' his engine. . . ."
"I bet he's doing most of the 'blowing up' himself," Chekov said quietly from beside Sulu.
"Mr. Chekov," Jim said, "amen to that. Mind the Bridge, gentlemen. We won't be in it for long. . . ."