Myriad Universes - Infinity's Prism Part 11

"You're right, McCoy, you don't know him," Pike told him. "I'll grant you, in terms of making a first impression, this mission hasn't been a very good one for Mister Kirk. But he is a good man, and a solid first officer."

"Yes, sir," McCoy said, looking properly abashed.

Pike considered the doctor just before turning to leave, then paused to say, "I will tell you, though: he can be impulsive at times. And until now, I'd always depended on my s.h.i.+p's surgeon to be a kind of counterweight, to provide me with more of a thoughtful, a.n.a.lytical view to balance things out. I'd like it if I could look to you for that kind of advice going forward."

McCoy nodded cordially. "I'm happy to help any way I can, Captain."

Pike clapped him on the shoulder as he headed out of sickbay.

T'Pring was surprised by the variety of emotions her presence on the Enterprise bridge provoked in the individual crew members.

From some, such as Science Officer Masada and Helm Officer Leslie, it was simple curiosity. In contrast, Navigation Officer Stiles exuded a disconcerting and perplexing degree of hatred, and it took considerable willpower to meet his loathing looks with any kind of impa.s.sivity.

Then there was the communications and intelligence officer. She was the only member of the bridge crew to have attempted conversation with her. "That was a rather foolish risk you took, breaking your cover and revealing your V'Shar status like that," she had said, sotto voce, while pretending to focus on her board and avoiding eye contact as T'Pring paced behind her.

T'Pring had then paused to supposedly examine the communications board from over her shoulder. "It was the only logical option, given the circ.u.mstances," she told the human woman in a similarly quiet voice. "I naturally a.s.sumed a Starfleet Intelligence agent would be aboard this vessel for this mission, and my message would be understood. Which proved accurate," she added.

"Still, you were very trusting that an agent of a rival power would have broken cover also," the dark-skinned lieutenant said, in what sounded to the Vulcan agent like an accusatory tone.

T'Pring nodded. "Earth is in attendance at this mission because they no longer wish to be perceived as a rival power."

The human woman turned toward T'Pring to offer a retort, but stopped herself when she noticed Commander Kirk watching suspiciously, and turned back to her console. His gaze lingered a moment on the back of her head, then flicked briefly to T'Pring before darting quickly away. It was First Officer Kirk who had the most intriguing emotional reaction to her presence. His feelings appeared to be severely conflicted, despising her and at the same time feeling guilt over doing so. Such dynamics to her were, in a word, fascinating.

Her psychological study was interrupted by Lieutenant Masada, who announced, "The warp trail ends at that star system, dead ahead."

"Mister Leslie, bring us out of warp," Kirk ordered. "Mister Stiles, put us on Yellow Alert. Main viewing screen on."

There was little to see on the viewer, however. The system's star, designated only as NGC-8149 in the UESPA database, was an unremarkable red dwarf that barely stood out from the rest of the starscape beyond it. Kirk stared at the nearly featureless screen for a moment, then turned back toward the science station. "Any sign of them?"

"I'm not picking up anything," Masada answered, his frustrated expression bathed in the blue light of his hooded viewer.

"That is a positive sign," T'Pring said. "We've determined that, while the Romulan s.h.i.+p did enter this system, they have not left it."

"Great," Kirk replied, "but that leaves the question, where are they?"

"I do not know," T'Pring answered.

"Gotta mark my calendar."

Both T'Pring and Kirk turned toward the man at the navigation post. "What was that, Stiles?" Kirk asked.

"A Vulcan admitting there was something she didn't know," Stiles explained. "That's got to be one for the history books."

T'Pring raised one eyebrow. "That would be an example of human humor?"

Stiles flashed an insincere smile at her. "Sure. Why not."

"All right," Kirk said, preempting any further exchange between them. "Where do you suggest we start looking?"

In answer, T'Pring turned back to the library console and brought up a chart of the system on the large screen positioned just above her head. "NGC-8149 is...o...b..ted by three gas giants, and one Minshara-cla.s.s planet, plus-"

"'Minshara'?" Masada asked.

"Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, capable of sustaining humanoid life," the Vulcan clarified.

"Then that's probably where they're headed," Kirk said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Perhaps," T'Pring said. "If we a.s.sumed they were headed anywhere."

"What does that mean," Kirk asked, frowning at her.

T'Pring answered, "Considering the path of their warp trail, I believe this system was picked as a destination well after they left Babel, either in order to stop and repair whatever damage they took in their exchange with the Kuvak, or-"

"Aw, dammit, Jim, she's rambling!" Stiles blurted, spinning away from his console. "Why are you even bothering to listen to her?"

"Or," T'Pring continued, "they are lying in wait, ready to spring a new attack on this s.h.i.+p."

Stiles was silenced by that suggestion, realizing that she had proposed a very real possibility. Kirk turned to face him, as if expecting a retort, and when one wasn't forthcoming, turned back to T'Pring. "And if they are waiting to attack us?"

"a.s.suming they have not been able to repair their invisibility screens, the magnetospheres of any one of the system's gas giants would be the most logical place to seek cover. I would scan the outermost planet first, on the a.s.sumption they would want to attack from astern as we headed in-system."

Kirk nodded slightly, then turned toward the helm. "Mister Leslie, bring us toward the outermost planet, one-quarter impulse, then a.s.sume a high polar orbit."

"Aye, sir," Leslie answered. One of the dim dots of light on the screen began to grow and resolve itself as a planetary body.

"I never thought I'd see it," Stiles muttered. "She's got you cowed, Jim. Completely!"

"Lieutenant Stiles..." Kirk said in a warning tone The navigator ignored the warning. "What the h.e.l.l's happened to you, Jim?" he asked as he stood up from his chair and put himself far too close to the other man. "Taking orders from a Vulcan?"

"Sit down, Stiles," Kirk said through his now-clenched jaw.

Stiles didn't waver. "Have you forgotten that the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds murdered your family? What would Carol say if she-"

And in a burst of heated emotion, Kirk swung his right fist at Stiles's jaw. Stiles was staggered, but stayed on his feet and returned his own punch into Kirk's abdomen. The commander let out a loud moaning breath as he doubled over, and Stiles took the opportunity to deliver a roundhouse blow to his right eye.

"Stop it!" the SI officer shouted, moving down from the bridge's raised level toward the skirmish. Her voice seemed to prod the rest of the crew into motion, as well as T'Pring, who had been watching the show of unchecked emotion in detached fascination. Masada joined Penda in attempting to pull Commander Kirk free from the confrontation, while Leslie tried to pin Stiles's arms behind his back.

But whereas Kirk's flare of violent impulse had quickly extinguished itself, Stiles's was still burning bright. He pulled his left arm free and swung wildly at the large man restraining him, at the same time trying to pull his other arm free. Leslie tried to grab the other flailing arm but missed, and Stiles spun away, and found himself staring straight into T'Pring's dark, emotionless eyes.

"b.i.t.c.h!" he snarled, straining against Leslie in an effort to lunge at her.

T'Pring did not even flinch, but calmly reached out and placed a hand on the junction between Stiles's shoulder and neck.

Pike stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge just in time to witness the Vulcan security officer grabbing John Stiles's neck and dropping him like a sack of oats.

"What in h.e.l.l?" T'Pring turned, along with the rest of the Enterprise officers, who were all on their feet in the center of the bridge. The captain circled around the raised deck, stepped down to where Stiles lay, and checked his pulse and his breathing. Once he determined both were present and steady, he lifted his head and fixed his glare on the Vulcan woman.

"He is merely unconscious," T'Pring said, as if stars.h.i.+p officers swooned all the time. "He should revive in approximately five to ten minutes."

"'Should'?" Pike echoed as he stood up again, both knees popping in protest.

The woman tilted her head, looking almost thoughtful. "Naturally, I have never used the nerve pinch technique on a human, but..."

Pike turned and impatiently punched a b.u.t.ton on the arm of his command chair. "Bridge to sickbay: I have a man down, in need of medical attention."

"On my way," McCoy answered.

Pike closed the circuit, then turned on T'Pring. "You, off my bridge." His pointing finger then snapped toward his bloodied, disheveled first officer. "Kirk, you're rel-"

Pike was cut off by the sound of an explosion reverberating through his s.h.i.+p, and a sudden lurch that pitched everyone forward. The inertial dampers quickly kicked in, and the flickering lights came back to full intensity, supplemented by flas.h.i.+ng Red Alert signals. "Report!" Pike shouted.

Kirk jumped into Stiles's navigator's seat and started stabbing b.u.t.tons. "It's the Romulan s.h.i.+p!" he said. "Bearing 1-9-8 mark 2-0-8."

"Return fire!" Pike ordered. "On viewer," he added, and the on-screen visual switched from a forward to a reverse view. The saucer-shaped s.h.i.+p was rising up from the surface of a Jupiter-type planet, trailing hydrogen plasma, making it appear that the large raptor painted on its hull was aflame. He watched as the Enterprise's phasers struck amids.h.i.+ps, resulting in a brilliant flash of expanding plasma.

"Careful!" Pike shouted. "We just want them disabled!"

Another flash erupted from the Romulan vessel. "Hard to port!" Pike ordered. He felt the artificial gravity plates straining under his boots to maintain the illusion of a steady deck, even as he gripped his armrests to keep himself upright. The Romulan torpedo detonated less than ten meters off the starboard hull, sending a shudder through the defensive s.h.i.+eld system.

"The feeling isn't mutual," Kirk deadpanned.

"Target their s.h.i.+eld generators," Pike ordered at the same time that Doctor McCoy, accompanied by a blond nurse Pike did not recognize, arrived and carried Stiles off to the side of the bridge. They tended to him as un.o.btrusively as they could, even as the Enterprise was forced to make several more abrupt evasive maneuvers, and took another hard hit.

"Their s.h.i.+elds are gone!" Masada reported from his station. "I'm reading power fluctuations throughout the s.h.i.+p-all systems, including life support."

Pike fought the urge to smile. Even though they bested the enemy, if T'Pol perished aboard that s.h.i.+p, all would be for naught. "Mister Leslie, prepare to move in on the Romulan vessel," he instructed the helm, then called over his shoulder. "s.h.i.+p-to-s.h.i.+p, Lieutenant."

"Hailing frequencies open, sir," the communications officer confirmed.

Pike straightened in his chair and said, "This is Captain Christopher Pike of the United Earth Stars.h.i.+p Enterprise. We're standing by to beam your survivors aboard our s.h.i.+p."

"No."

Pike spun his chair around toward that voice. Subcommander T'Pring had not left the bridge, but stood in the small alcove before the turbolift doors. Pike was about to bellow at her, but there was something in the Vulcan woman's eyes that brought him up short for a moment. She took advantage of that to tell him, "That is not their way. They will destroy their s.h.i.+p and themselves before surrendering."

Pike clenched his teeth hard as he glared at the maddening alien woman. One minute she was his ally; the next, she nearly killed one of his best officers. Now here she was offering what seemed like invaluable information, yet he could not read her well enough to truly trust her.

Regardless, he could afford to trust the Romulans even less. "Masada, scan their s.h.i.+p, isolate any Vulcan life signs you read over there." If the Romulans didn't want to be saved, he could live with that. But they weren't going to kill T'Pol in the process.

The science officer punched a series of b.u.t.tons and frowned into his viewer. "I'm getting some kind of interference," he said. "I'm picking up twenty-seven humanoid readings, but I can't get the resolution from the biosensors I need to differentiate between species."

Pike crossed his arms and cursed under his breath. "All right. We'll need to send a boarding party, find T'Pol, and get her out of there, fast." He turned to communications. "Lieutenant, contact security section. Have them a.s.sign four tactical guards for an armed detail, and have them meet me in the transporter room."

"Sir!" Kirk said, leaping out of the navigator's seat and rus.h.i.+ng to intercept Pike before he could reach the turbolift. "Let me lead the party."

"You're not even supposed to be out of your cabin!" Pike snapped.

"I know, sir," Kirk said, dipping his chin slightly. "I'm responsible for all of this. That's why you shouldn't be the one to put yourself in harm's way to set matters right."

Pike considered Kirk's sincere expression of guilt, and despite his better judgment, nodded and told him, "Go."

Kirk had already taken hold of the control wand and directed the car to the transporter room before he realized T'Pring had entered the car with him. Kirk started and tensed.

"Is something wrong, Commander?"

"No," he said, "I just don't want you pulling that move you did on Stiles on me."

"Stiles was hostile, violent, and uncontrollably emotional. He was-"

"He was being human." A little too human, he thought as he touched the welt on the side of his face, but still... "For all your superior att.i.tudes, the fact of the matter is, you Vulcans don't understand us humans. You never have, and you never will."

The turbolift opened, and Kirk exited, with T'Pring falling in step right beside him. "Where are you going?"

"Over to the Romulan s.h.i.+p."

"The captain said nothing about-"

"Captain Pike agreed to cooperate with all Coalition efforts in investigating T'Pol's disappearance. Logically, then, I must join your boarding party."

Kirk wore a pained look as he realized the Vulcan woman had him over a barrel. They entered the transporter room, where the four security specialists, wearing mottled gray tunics that evoked the uniforms of the old MACO military, waited. All four of them, at the sight of the alien woman, moved their hands to their phasers.

T'Pring herself froze, eliciting a mildly amused grin from Kirk. "Welcome to the team." To her credit, her face had not changed, nor did it as she nodded to the grays.h.i.+rts and moved past them onto the transporter platform. After extracting a phaser from the weapons locker for himself, Kirk joined her and the four guards, then nodded to the engineer at the controls. "Energize."

The Romulan s.h.i.+p was small and cramped; the transporter had needed to compensate by tightening the circle the team stood in when they rematerialized. Battery-powered emergency lights cast inconsistent illumination up and down the corridor they'd beamed into, creating suspect shadows at regular intervals.

Crewman Pavel Chekov, freshly graduated from Starfleet's security and tactical training, took a slow deep breath through his nose and let it out silently through his mouth. This week had been a series of firsts for him: his first a.s.signment, his first time outside the Sol system, and now his first time putting his life on the line against murderous aliens. He scrutinized the unevenly lit pa.s.sageway looking for aliens, even as it dawned on him that he hadn't the first idea what a Romulan looked like.

Beside him, the unit's leader, Lieutenant Commander Vinci, slightly loosened his grip on his phaser. "Clear," he told the rest in a low voice.

"Clear," Lieutenant Lester reported on her survey of the pa.s.sageway's opposite direction. Crewman March, the other junior team member, quietly concurred.

Chekov remained at the ready, though, even as Vinci holstered his weapon and opened the display console of his multicorder. It threw colored light into the dim s.p.a.ce around them, though it kept silent as it ran through its scanning cycle. "Picking up life signs, Commander," he told Kirk.

"Can you identify T'Pol's biosignature?" the first officer asked.

"Negative. Still not able to distinguish between Romulan and Vulcan."

"a.s.suming the target is even still alive," added Lester. In the brief time Chekov had been aboard Enterprise, he had decided that she was the most pessimistic person he had ever met.

Vinci, being far more used to Lester's negativity than he, simply ignored her and continued his report: "The majority of the crew is concentrated in two areas of the s.h.i.+p-the bridge and engineering." He gestured down the pa.s.sage he and Chekov had just visually reconnoitered. "Forty-seven meters down that way, I pick up a group of four, plus a pretty strong independently generated energy field."

"Their brig," said March.

"There would be little logic in a.s.signing three keepers to a single elderly woman."

Chekov's eyes flicked in annoyance toward the Vulcan interloper. In keeping with the pattern of his week, she was the first extraterrestrial he'd ever personally encountered. Yet she was exactly as he expected from years of hearing how Vulcans had held back human achievement, suppressing the work done at the Baykonur Kosmodrom and the Russian Academy of Sciences in developing a warp-five engine, back when Henry Archer was still in short pants.

"And how many would they a.s.sign to interrogate and torture her?" Lester hissed at the Vulcan woman, and without pausing to wait for an answer, turned to the new crewman. "Chekov, take point."