Worlds in Collision Page 24

  Scott swallowed hard. “Aye, Commodore, it certainly is.”

  “Good,” Wolfe said, seeing that the engineer’s reply was confirmed by the verifier. “Now, Mr. Scott, are you aware of the penalties as set out in Starfleet regulations pertaining to the disclosure of classified material?”

  “Aye,” Scott said. What did this have to do with anything? he wondered.

  “Very good,” Wolfe said, narrowing her eyes at the engineer. “Therefore, as stated in those same regulations, let me inform you that some of what I’m about to say may or may not fall under level-eight classification. I will not tell you which parts are so classified so you will be bound by your Starfleet oath not to reveal any part of this conversation without risking solitary life imprisonment on Rock. Do you understand what I have just said?”

  “That I do, Commodore,” Scott answered, his voice dry and threatening to crack.

  “What knowledge do you have of an organization known as the Adepts of T’Pel?” Wolfe’s eyes stayed locked on the Mark II’s display lights.

  Scott glanced up at the light strips along the ceiling, desperately trying to determine why the name sounded familiar. “I, ah, I have nae knowledge of such an organization,” he stammered.

  “The verifier indicates otherwise, Mr. Scott,” the commodore said in a voice of judge, jury, and executioner. “I will allow you one more chance to tell me the truth.”

  “T’Pel!” Scott suddenly said. “That was the name the captain asked Dr. Stlur about!”

  The commodore smiled and Scott had a sudden fear that he was somehow betraying the captain.

  “And what was the nature of that inquiry?” Wolfe continued.

  Scott bit his lip, trying to replay the discussion in the reading lounge. “Ah, the captain…the captain asked Dr. Stlur what the name meant just as we were getting ready to leave the lounge.”

  “What was the Vulcan’s response?”

  Scott wrinkled his brow as he remembered. “The doctor said it was his…his grandmother’s name.” It wasn’t making sense to Scott, but from Wolfe’s expression, it seemed that she saw a pattern forming in his replies.

  The questions and answers continued as the commodore led Scott through a reconstruction of Kirk’s exchange with Stlur. When Scott had finished, Wolfe scratched at the side of her face, deep in thought.

  “Uh, Commodore?” Scott said, unable to remain in the dark by choice.

  Wolfe nodded at him to proceed.

  “Why the change?”

  “Mr. Scott?”

  “In the way ye dealt with the captain? I mean, I can understand why ye had to confine Mr. Spock to his quarters. Getting that message from Starfleet just as we came into your starbase and all, ye had nae choice but to follow orders. Even Mr. Spock himself admitted that it was logical for ye to suspect him of sabotaging the accelerator shielding system.” The commodore’s eyes widened at that but she made no comment. “But what I cannae understand is why ye suddenly turned on Captain Kirk. Sure he supported Mr. Spock, gave him the benefit of the doubt, but can’t ye see, Mr. Spock is his…his crew. Captain Kirk just dinnae have a choice.”

  Scott looked nervously at the commodore. He hadn’t intended to say so much, to sound as if he were challenging her, but the truth was that Kirk was his captain, and the engineer shared the same lack of choice in what his loyalty demanded of him.

  Wolfe looked long and hard at Scott, and Scott was surprised to see that not once did she turn to check the verifier’s reading.

  “Mr. Scott,” she said at last, “do you know what kind of a man James T. Kirk is?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Do you have any idea of the number of people, men and women, who dream of commanding a starship of their own, to have a chance to go first, to be first, see things, experience things that no one has ever seen or experienced before? Kirk is the one who made it. He worked hard. I know that. He worked hard for me at the Academy. But there were lots of others who worked just as hard, dreamed just as hard, and never made it because there are only a handful of starships.”

  Wolfe pushed her chair back and stood up, staring at Scott with questioning eyes, eyes that offered Scott an answer to his question.

  “No one knows exactly how the selection committee chooses who gets a starship and who gets a cruiser, who gets a starbase and who gets a spacedock, and I’ve been in the service long enough to know that you don’t question authority. I was passed over, Mr. Scott. I admit it. And I can also tell you that I’m not bitter. I couldn’t have stayed in the Fleet if I had been.” She picked up the phaser with which she had been left and Scott involuntarily flinched until he saw that she was attaching it to her utility belt. She flashed a small smile as she realized the cause of Scott’s reaction.

  “So I stayed, and I taught all those others who came through the Academy. Same dream, same hopes shared by so many of them…a starship…to go out there. I prepared them as best I could, and whenever one of them made it, or even came close, I rejoiced for him or for her, well and truly, because as long as one of my students made it, then part of me was out there, too. Part of me was out there with your captain.” She held her finger over the comm switch on the Mark II, ready to signal the trooper to return.

  “And when I saw that Kirk had blown it, when I saw that he was taking everything that he had achieved and was throwing it in the faces of all those others, me included, who would have done anything to have that one chance…well, Mr. Scott, as far as I could see, James T. Kirk was a traitor. Not just to Starfleet and the Federation, but to the dream, Mr. Scott. To the dream.”

  Scott had his answer. But how to give the commodore hers? “He’s nae a traitor, Commodore,” he said softly. “And neither is Mr. Spock.”

  “I pray you’re wrong, Mr. Scott,” the commodore said. Her voice was firm, her eyes dry and unwavering, but Scott could sense the anguish in her soul. “Because there is too much at stake here. I can’t accept what you and Dr. Stlur have said.” She pressed the com switch and behind her the interrogation room’s doors puffed open and the Andorian trooper marched in. “I’m sorry, Mr. Scott. I truly am.”

  “Then at least tell your troops to set their phasers on stun!” Scott shouted out as the commodore turned to leave.

  Commodore Wolfe did not look back. Scott thought later that perhaps she was unable to meet his eyes and still say what she had said.

  “I can’t, Mr. Scott. I’m following my orders.”

  “Then that’s the difference between ye and the captain!” Scott called out to her, stepping out of the verifier chair even as the trooper ran to hold him back. “Ye say ye’ve been in the service long enough to know ye don’t question authority! But that’s what the captain does! Question, not defy! It’s what keeps the system working! Keeps it honest and fair!”

  The commodore paused in the corridor outside, still not looking back, but not continuing forward.

  “Sometimes ye have to question authority to stop mistakes from being repeated, Commodore! Ye’ve made one mistake about the captain, already. Don’t make another! Especially one ye can’t set right again! Commodore!”

  Following standard procedures, the trooper applied a light stun to the prisoner to calm him down. As Scott slouched into the verifier chair, still struggling to call the commodore’s name, Wolfe moved on and the doors slid shut behind her.

  “What is this,” McCoy asked as he looked around the lab, “the Middle Ages?”

  “Special case,” Nensi explained as he closed the lid on the associate cart that Kirk and Spock had hidden in, in order to gain access to the scientists’ compound. The biolab they were in was an animal test facility, the only one on Prime and one of only a handful throughout the Federation, excepting agricultural and zoological research centers and zoos.

  Kirk studied the animal cages at the side of the lab. They were stacked three up and twelve across against the wall, sealed off from the rest of the lab by a windowed partition. The animals inside appeared to be meter-tall, hairless
apes with shiny, dark red skin. Two fingers waggled from the hands on each long arm as they patted the almost invisible surface of the transparent aluminum panels that served as their individual cage doors.

  “Constellation monkeys, they’re called,” Nensi said. “And no one is quite sure if they are living creatures or not. That’s part of the work going on here.”

  “This is the lab that Sradek told you he’d meet us in, isn’t it?” Kirk asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Nensi confirmed. “This is where he’s been working during his visit to Prime.” Nensi pointed to a stack of equipment crates piled around one of the worktables. Kirk recognized them as the cargo that had beamed aboard with Sradek from Starbase Four.

  “What is the nature of Sradek’s work in an animal experimentation lab?” Spock asked, eyebrows drawn together. “It does not seem a logical place for a political scientist.” He stood in front of the animal cages, staring in at the creatures.

  “He’s studying models of aggression, I believe,” Nensi said. “The constellation monkeys are unique because it’s thought that they are not really separate creatures. More like individual cells in a spread-out organism. Group mind.”

  “That’s common enough,” Uhura said, staring at a row of six associates that were parked under a long workbench in a corner of the lab. Kirk glanced over and saw that, unlike the other associates he had seen so far in Prime, these had brilliant red stripes painted around their sides.

  “The experiments taking place here are simply to determine the range of their shared responses,” Nensi said. “Everything is quite safe, except the odd time when they try to escape,” he added.

  Everyone turned to look at him. “Nothing serious,” he assured them. “But they do get rambunctious.”

  “I don’t like it that Sradek hasn’t shown up,” Kirk said. “Someone should go and escort him here.” He hadn’t approved when Nensi had said that the academician had responded to his request for a private meeting by suggesting a location other than his quarters, but by then it was too late. If Sradek were the assassins’ target, the journey from his rooms to the lab put him at an unacceptable level of risk.

  “Fine,” Nensi said, “I’ll go.” He headed to the main lab doors. “Remember, no one can get into this part of the compound without being one of the accredited scientists or having a VIP pass. The most probable place for the assassins to strike would be outside of the main auditorium, just before the opening ceremonies or just after—oh, hello!”

  As Nensi had approached them, the oversized doors to the lab had slid open to reveal the dark-suited form of Academician Sradek waiting beyond.

  Nensi recovered from his surprise and held up his hand in greeting.

  “Live long and prosper, Academician Sradek,” he said formally.

  The elderly Vulcan stared at the chief administrator for a moment, then seemed to dismiss him from existence. He merely walked in past Nensi, slowly and slightly stooped. The doors slid shut behind him.

  The academician stood in the center of the lab and surveyed all those around him. “Now will you tell me what is the purpose of this meeting?” he asked imperiously.

  “We believe you may be in some danger, Academician,” Spock said as he approached Sradek, hand up and fingers parted.

  The academician looked blandly at Spock and returned the salute. “I have looked forward to our meeting. I regret that it has been so delayed.” Sradek looked over at Kirk. “I believe that one may have been responsible.”

  “He was not,” Spock stated. “Starfleet was provided with erroneous information without the captain’s knowledge.”

  Over by the wall of creatures, McCoy rolled his eyes and interrupted the Vulcans’ staccato speech by saying, “Let’s get on with it, shall we? Someone’s trying to kill you!”

  “What is that?” Sradek inquired, glancing behind Spock at McCoy.

  “A doctor,” Spock answered, then continued with what he had been about to say. “I, too, have looked forward to our meeting and regret that it has been delayed.”

  “You and three others I can think of,” Romaine added. She was sitting with Uhura on the workbench over the parked associates.

  “Indeed,” Spock said, looking over at her. “Which three are those?”

  “The Vulcans on my research team,” Romaine answered. “Lieutenant Stell, Specialist Slann, and Dr. T’Lar. All in preventive detention the way you were.”

  Spock lashed out his arm and Sradek parried so quickly that at first Kirk wasn’t sure what had happened.

  Romaine and Uhura jumped off the workbench and ran to the middle of the lab as did Kirk, Nensi, and McCoy, propelled by the incredible sight of Spock and Sradek locked in hand-to-hand combat.

  Kirk crouched and sidestepped to get behind Sradek. He did not question the necessity of the conflict or his action. If Spock had attacked, then for Kirk that was all the justification he needed to join the fray. But each time Kirk was about to move behind Sradek, the grappling pair shifted out of reach.

  “Spock, what are you doing?” Kirk shouted. Spock was actually trying to twist Sradek away from the captain.

  “Stay back,” Spock ordered as if his jaw were set in stone. His arms were locked with Sradek’s, each battling to displace the other’s center of gravity.

  Sradek’s back was turned to Nensi. The chief administrator saw his chance and swung.

  “No!” Spock shouted just as Sradek twisted and lashed out his foot, catching Nensi in his chest with a thick and terrible crunch.

  The chief administrator dropped to the floor as Sradek took advantage of the sudden momentum stolen from Nensi to fall back himself. Spock was pulled forward onto Sradek’s coiled legs, then flipped through the air to collide with McCoy, who had been weaving with a spray hypo at the ready, waiting for his own chance to attack.

  Kirk ran to the right and vaulted over a worktable to approach Sradek from the left. Uhura did the same on the other side, setting the pincer in place.

  In one fluid movement, Sradek backflipped onto the worktable behind him as two flares of incandescence appeared to shoot from each hand.

  Kirk flew backward as a brick wall hit him. His hands trembling like a ship at warp nine, he clutched at a small, flickering needle embedded in his chest and tore it out. The trembling stopped, but his arms and legs felt as if their muscles had vanished. It took all his strength to sit up on the table he had landed on.

  On the other side of the lab, Uhura pulled a similar needle from her neck, McCoy and Romaine huddled over the fallen form of Nensi, and Spock stood alone, staring at the being who had first appeared as Academician Sradek. The imposter now crouched upon a worktable, circling his closed fists in preparation of firing more needles at any who might dare rush him.

  “Malther dart launchers are strapped to his forearms,” Spock announced. “Do not attack. He is an Adept.”

  “It certainly took you long enough, Vulcan,” the Adept cackled. His features contorted as he laughed at Spock.

  “Spock, how—” Kirk started to ask, then was racked by a coughing fit, a remnant of the dart’s effect.

  “My apologies, Captain,” Spock said, never taking his eyes from the assassin. “I recognized Lieutenant Stell and Dr. T’Lar’s names as two who had also taken instruction from Sradek at the Academy, as had I.”

  The Adept laughed again and jumped to the floor like a humanoid panther.

  Spock continued. “I had not connected the sudden false message from Starfleet, which resulted in my confinement, with Sradek’s refusal to speak to me from the commodore’s party just before we arrived at Starbase Four. Obviously, the Adepts of T’Pel were taking every precaution that those who knew Sradek would not be able to meet with him.”

  “But he came to my cabin and demanded to see you, Spock,” Kirk protested as the Adept edged toward a computer terminal at the end of the table.

  “Knowing full well that the commodore would not disobey her orders and allow us to meet,” Spock concluded.
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br />   “Sradek,” Kirk called out.

  “Do insult me with my Vulcan names, Captain. I am not Academician Sradek, nor trader Starn, nor any of a dozen others. I am of the Rihannsu. You may call me tr’Nele.” The Romulan held one hand ready to fire his Malther darts while he tapped instructions on the worktable’s computer keyboard with the other.

  “How’s Nensi, Bones?” Kirk asked as he moved slowly to the left.

  “The next ones in the clip are fatal, Captain,” tr’Nele interrupted. “Move back where you were.”

  “His chest is crushed, Jim,” McCoy called over. “He’ll die if he doesn’t get to a sickbay immediately.”

  “Not to worry, human,” tr’Nele said, pressing a last key on the computer. “You’re all going to die.” He waved his hands together, encompassing them all. “Everyone move together into the center of the room, hands over your heads. Drag the human, Doctor. Pain is relative.”

  “If you go through with this, you’ll just be confirming that the Adepts of T’Pel still exist,” Kirk said as he stood in the lab’s center with the others. His lungs still burned with the aftereffects of the dart. Romaine had to support Uhura. “You’ll be hunted down, destroyed.”

  “Have you never heard of entropy, Captain? Everything will be destroyed, eventually. In the meantime, the semisentient life-forms who call themselves Federation security will investigate the tragic fire in this lab to discover that all of you died along with that mad assassin, Academician Sradek.” He laughed mockingly.

  “Why will they think Sradek is the assassin?” Spock asked as if inquiring about the time.

  “Because after the assassination, the stunned witnesses will watch as Sradek runs back into this lab, just as its faulty power modules explode. When the smoke clears, all of your bodies will be found, including Sradek’s.”

  “An autopsy will show that you are a Romulan,” Spock pointed out.

  “Of course it would because I am Rihannsu,” tr’Nele agreed, “but Sradek’s body is pure Vulcan!” He snapped his arm in the direction of the stacked crates and a dart shattered against the largest container there—an unopened container. “Stasis is such a useful invention,” tr’Nele said, gloating. “Of course, just before the explosion, I will be transported out to meet with the surgeon’s protoplaser again”—he rubbed his face—“to lose this doltish Vulcan visage and be transformed to do it all again. For credits, for glory, and for T’Pel!”