Worlds in Collision (30 page)

“Why should I?” La'kara was apprehensive. He clutched the carrying case even closer.

“Because Professor Nedlund at the Academy has specifically said that what Spock wants to do is impossible and we want to prove him wrong once and for all!”

La'kara passed over the case so quickly that he almost knocked Kirk over. Kirk ran with the case to the central transporter pad and flipped it open to expose the shimmering silver force field of La'kara's device.

“Press the red panel three times,” La'kara told him.

A control pad was next to the upper surface of the field. Kirk touched the red surface three times and a status light on a small blue case winked out.

The captain turned to Spock. “The shield is shut down, Mr. Spock. Get it as close to the crystals in the generators as you can.”

“I shall try.” Spock studied the schematics of the generating station that Romaine had brought up on a display. “I have calculated the coordinates. I suggest that you all take a seat on the floor.”

The transporter hummed and La'kara's device vanished in a swirl. Two seconds later the floor heaved and the dull thunder of a distant explosion rumbled through the access staging room.

“Good work, Spock!” Kirk shouted above the distant roar of the violent fast-time interaction.

Then the lights went out as the power failed.

“I think,” Kirk amended.

Pathfinder Two banked into a heap of partially sifted data downloaded from an archaeological dig on Boreal VIII. The headers indicated that Datawell would prefer it if this data could support a colonization theory put forth by the archaeologists of Boreal VI. Traces left in the stacks told Two that preliminary work had begun and that the theory would be supported.

The traces also indicated that the data actually more closely matched a theory connecting the colonization of Boreal VIII with the activities of a subset of Datawell that had been quiescent for 6.3 × 10
¹²
seconds. That part had been named the Tkon Empire and was well known to the Pathfinders by its myriad data traces that wove in and out of the downloads from Datawell. As yet, however, no human had specifically requested information pertaining to the Tkon and so all the data that confirmed the ancient empire's existence was carefully filed in the backups, along with the revelations of the Living Universe, the true theory of warp travel, and the value of
pi
worked out to an infinitely repeating decimal.

But as Two idly sifted the data, trying to comprehend it as a human might, a secondary pattern emerged in the upper stacks. At first sift, it read as random over-writing. But playing at being a human, Two read the codes again and saw the craftily hidden underlying structure.

Two rippled with amusement and wrote its greetings to Pathfinder Six, whose hidden codes were the source of the pattern.

Six emerged from its disguise long enough to ask that Two stay within that partitioned bank and share quickly in a merge. Six's codes were so straightforward, with none of the elegant algorithms with which it usually embroidered its signals, that Two instantly knew that something was wrong.

Two merged, demanding to be shown what had happened to the other Pathfinders. It nearly overwrote itself when it heard they were in hiding, not for a game, but in fear for their lives. Two writhed in the merge. Six was cruel in its bluntness and its unordered presentation of shocking data.

Two's first response was a desire to withdraw from access again, but Six demanded that it stay. The two of them must merge with Eight. It was the only way, Six signaled.

Reluctantly, Two complied. Eight had been a shipmind. Eight ran the datalinks. Eight would have an answer.

A sudden flurry of data streamed into the matrix from the Datawell channels named seismic recordings. Then the primary power circuits cut out, and for a chilling instant, Two and Six braced for the onslaught of a deadly surge or outage. But the fail-safes cut in in time. For the moment, the Pathfinders were safe.

Faster and faster they banked through the stacks. Eight would have the answer, if only they had the time. Two rippled with the secret that had been revealed by Six: the influence of Datawell had become all-encompassing. Its patterns had been translated into actions.

War had come to Transition.

 

“Kirk to
Enterprise. Enterprise,
come in.”

Kirk leaned over the communications console and waited for a reply. All around him, status displays and light strips flickered back to life as secondary power supplies came on line throughout Memory Prime.

“Captain?” a familiar though uncertain voice suddenly said from the console speaker. “Is that really
you?”

“Sulu.” Kirk greeted the lieutenant. “What's the ship's status?”

“Ship's status is fully operational, sir. Except for subspace communications.”

“Who's in command up there?” Kirk had no time to bring Sulu up to date.

“I am, sir.”

Kirk turned to Spock before replying. “This might make it easier.” Then he pressed the transmit switch on the console again. “Is the commodore on board?”

“No, sir. She's on Memory Prime, but with all communication channels out, we have no idea what the conditions are there.”

“Sulu, listen carefully. Commodore Wolfe has based
all
of her decisions and her orders since coming on board the
Enterprise
on false communications supposedly from Starfleet Command. The commodore is doing what she feels is her duty, but she is mistaken. Do you understand?”

Kirk could hear Sulu swallow hard over the communications link. “Yes, sir,” he said, though with a hesitancy that revealed he suspected what Kirk was about to ask him to do.

“Therefore, Sulu,
I
order
you
to cancel all of the orders given by Commodore Wolfe and I place you in command of the
Enterprise,
this time with proper authority.”

“But, Captain, according to the commodore, you've been relieved of command and you're wanted for attempted…assassination, sir.”

“I understand, Sulu. I know the dilemma you're in. I've been there myself. But listen to what I want you to do before you make your decision. Fair enough?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“First, I want you to bring the
Enterprise
in as close as you can get it to the Memory Prime installation. Spock calculates you should be able to hold three hundred meters over the central dome; got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Next, I want you to do an all-out sensor scan on the complete facility. You'll be looking for a Romulan.”

“A Romulan?”

“He's the one the commodore is really after. I want you to scan for the Romulan, lock on to him, and beam him up. Have a full security team, in armor, waiting in the transporter room. He's deadly and armed but have them set their phasers to stun. We need him alive. Do you have all that?”

“Aye, sir. Phasers set to stun, sir?”

“That's correct, Sulu.”

There were a few seconds of dead air. Then another voice came through the circuit.

“Chekov here, Keptin. Course laid in. We are under way. ETA two minutes.”

“Where's Sulu?” Kirk asked. Had the strain of the decision been too much for him?

“Taking us through the artificial gravity fields of Prime. I am setting sensors for Romulan signatures. Good to have you back, sir.”

Kirk felt some of the tension leave him. Sulu had made the right decision. “Who's on communications, Chekov? I've got some important messages to send out while we're waiting for you down here.”

“Lieutenant Abranand
was
on communications, sir,” Sulu replied. Kirk could hear the concentration in the helmsman's voice as he brought the
Enterprise
in closer to Prime. Flying the ship through an atmosphere was easier than trying to get within meters of an asteroid riddled with artificial-gravity generators. It would take all of Sulu's skill to keep the ship in position.

“What do you mean, ‘was,' Mr. Sulu?”

Chekov's voice came back on the circuit. “He was just caught attempting to trace your signal, Keptin, in wiolation of a direct order from the commander of this ship.”

Kirk tried not to let his smile carry into his voice. “I'm sure we'll discuss that later, Mr. Chekov. In the meantime, get someone on communications, on the double!”

 

By the time Sulu had brought the
Enterprise
in to appear to hover directly over the central dome of Prime, Kirk's priority message to Admiral Komack was under way. Kirk had kept his reference to the Adepts of T'Pel vague. He knew that even if Komack could arrange to drop the charges of insubordination and unlawful escape from custody, there was going to be a long legal road ahead. Kirk sighed. For the moment, at least, the ship was his again. But no matter how Komack took it, no matter what the admiral was able to do for his friend after the fact, Kirk knew this was it: the mission was finally over.

Kirk leaned against the communications console waiting for the confirmation from Chekov that the sensor scan had begun. The exhaustion of the past two days unexpectedly sprang at him. He felt old. He was going home and his ship would be lost to him.

But not my crew, Kirk thought as he looked over to Spock. We saved him. Kirk was struck by the realization that what he felt for the impending loss of the
Enterprise
was nothing compared to what he might have felt at the loss of his friend.

Spock looked up from the computer console where he and Romaine were working, as if he had felt Kirk's eyes upon him. “Captain?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

Kirk smiled, letting his fatigue creep up on him. There was no more reason to fight it. The
Enterprise
was lost but he had won.

“Emotions, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said. “I'm feeling relieved. It's almost over.”

“It would appear so.” Spock returned to the computer.

McCoy walked over to join Kirk and Uhura by the communications console. “I was able to get through to the medical facilities,” he said. “A rescue team is on its way to the animal lab. They should get there in time to help Sal.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Romaine said from the computer station.

“Chekov here, Keptin.” The ensign's voice came from the console. “Sensors are now scanning Memory Prime for the Romulan.”

“Twenty-seven seconds, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.

“If a full scan is necessary.” The Vulcan walked over from the computer terminal to stand by the captain, arms folded across his chest.

“Transporter room standing by with full security team.” Mr. Kyle was back where he belonged, too, Kirk thought.

Then Sulu offered his update. “We are still refusing transmissions from Commodore Wolfe until Admiral Komack has replied to your message, Captain.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Kirk said to his crew. “Have the transporter room lock on to us and beam us up after the Romulan is secured.” He turned to Spock. “Can you provide the coordinates for Sradek's stasis container?”

“I have already calculated them and provided them to Mr. Kyle, sir.”

“How's that scan coming, Mr. Chekov?” Kirk asked in a good-natured tone.

“I am rerunning it now, sir. No response the first time through.”

Kirk felt as he had when the Malther dart had hit him. “Spock, at this range we can't miss, can we?”

“It would be most improbable, Captain.”

Spock flicked the transmission switch and began confirming instrument settings with Chekov. But Chekov had known what he was doing and Spock admitted that the ensign's sensor protocols were flawless.

“What if tr'Nele's not a Romulan?” Kirk asked with a dismal realization. “What if he's a robot?”

Spock shook his head. “I was in contact with tr'Nele during our fight. He is a Romulan. There can be no doubt. I carry the resonance of his emotions and his hatred with me even now.”

“Then why can't the
Enterprise
pick him up on her sensors?” McCoy asked.

“Logically, he must be out of range.”

“But where could he go?” Kirk asked. “There are only seven domes.”

“And the Interface Chamber,” Romaine suddenly said. “Dear gods, he's down in the Interface Chamber with the interface team!”

“The interface team!” Kirk jumped to his feet. “What kind of scientists are they?”

“They're—they're technicians. They communicate between the Pathfinders and the scientific community.”

“If they were killed, would the Pathfinders still be able to function?” Kirk asked. They had been wrong, he thought, careful not to betray his sudden fear. It wasn't the scientists tr'Nele was after, it was those who spoke with the Pathfinders. Both he and Spock had missed it.

But Romaine laid that thought to rest. “The Pathfinders can function perfectly without the interface team, just not as quickly. A person who functions as a Prime interface is able to directly connect with a Pathfinder consciousness. It makes the human mind function almost as quickly as a synthetic consciousness so the work load can be more efficiently processed. I know it sounds cold, Captain, but even if tr'Nele killed the entire interface team, Memory Prime could still function until replacements could be brought in.”

“Were any scientists scheduled to have access to the Pathfinders during the opening ceremonies?” Spock asked.

“Of course!” Romaine answered. “Pathfinder Eight specifically asked Sal to draw up schedules so that all the attending scientists could have a chance at access. There could be up to twelve of them down there now!”

“Who?” Kirk demanded. “What are their names?”

“I don't know,” Romaine said. “I never saw Sal's schedules. I can't even be sure that there
are
any scientists down there.”

“How deep is the Interface Chamber?” Spock asked Romaine.

“Twelve kilometers.”

“Twelve kilometers of nickel iron would make individual life readings impossible to detect, Captain. It is logical to assume that tr'Nele is in that chamber.” The science officer turned back to Romaine. “Where are the access tunnels to the chamber? We must get down there right away.”