Chapter Twenty
I sat at the computer console in my quarters, hands trembling. I could hear my pulse beating in my throat as I stared at the Federation emblem emblazoned on the screen, waiting for my hail to be answered.
We had agreed on the strictest of security measures for the time being, considering the likelihood of Admiral Heaton's betrayal. Picard and I would contact our ships, but there was to be no release of information about our survival or whereabouts to the rest of our crews, or to anyone else. It seemed like the best thing to do, despite the fact that by the time we got into Federation space, there might not even be a Federation Council left to investigate the admiral.
The screen shifted, and Jerry's face came into view. As soon as he saw me, he grinned. It was infectuous; a wave of emotion hit me as I looked at my old friend.
"I see my plans to get you killed and take over the ship didn't work," he said. "Too bad; I would've made a hell of a captain."
"Don't give up hope just yet, Jerry," I said. "Report. What's our status?"
"Believe it or not, with all we've been through in the last few days, we've come out of it fairly unscathed."
"That's good to hear. And…" I hesitated a moment.
"She's fine, Mike." He winked. "You didn't think I'd let the captain's woman get hurt, did you?"
"She's not…"
"I know. But just for the record – and you didn't hear this from me – she's been pretty worked up since you left. She hasn't said too much, but I can tell that she's worried sick about you. Of course, I'm sure that once I tell her you're…"
"You're not telling her," I said. Jerry's expression froze.
"Excuse me?"
"You're not telling her," I repeated. "That's an order. No one is to know that we've been in contact until we get a few things straightened out."
"Things like what?"
"We believe we have a mole in the system," I said. "Admiral Heaton may be a traitor."
Jerry scoffed. "C'mon, Mike. The man may have sent you on a dangerous mission – stupid, even – but that doesn't necessarily make him a traitor."
"It's more than that, Jerry. I don't have time to explain it all right now, but suffice to say that a lot of what we've seen in the last few days can't be explained away very easily." I could see the look of confusion in Jerry's eyes. "Look," I said, "I'll be back on Ascension in less than a day. I'll explain everything to you then."
"I hope you're working on a fast-moving plan to stop whatever it is. We're shipping off to the front within two days."
"I'm doing what I can," I said. Jerry smiled.
"You know, Mike, we've been friends a long time. But it still kinda bugs me that I seem to have no problem trusting my life in your hands."
"Same to you, pal," I said genuinely. "Take care of yourself, and I'll see you soon."
I ended the transmission, and sank back into my chair. I knew that things were about to get a lot worse than they had been. The moment of truth was finally going to be upon us, and the pressure of the decisions that I would have to make in the next few days was already starting to mount. Still, as I looked at the monitor where Jerry's face had been only seconds ago, I had to force back a smile. He was alive. My crew was alive. She was alive.
And, apparently, she missed me.
One of the things that surprised me most about the future was how many things had not changed. The minute I entered Titan's Sickbay, the first thing that hit me was that it smelled like a hospital. Very…clean. It was also very full. Every bed had someone in it, and there were a lot of beds.
"Can I help you?" a familiar voice said. I turned sharply, nearly running into the man standing behind me. Then my jaw dropped.
"Doctor Phlox?" I said. The old Denobulan smiled, an inhuman grin which stretched well beyond the borders of what human lips could do.
"Glad you recognize me," he said. "And you must be Captain Allen. Glad to have you aboard."
"But you…" I said, trailing off.
"Yes, I'm several hundred years old. You know, I get that more than you would think. Nobody considers it strange to see a centuries-old Vulcan, or even a Trill, if you care to get philosophical. But everyone forgets about the Denobulans."
"You don't look like you're that old," I said, trying to be complimentary. But it was true; he looked as if he'd hardly aged since his tour on the original Enterprise.
"Thank you, young man. I like to think that I don't feel old, either. As you can imagine, that one is somewhat more difficult to accomplish."
There was a silent moment, during which I nearly forgot what I had come to Sickbay for. I remembered suddenly as a new voice joined the conversation from across the room.
"I hope I'm not hallucinatin'," Tex said groggily. "I was sure that any good hallucination came with pretty girls."
"Ah, Mister Newman," Phlox said. "I'm glad you're awake.
"How is he, Doctor?" I asked.
"Oh, he's fine. He has a minor concussion, but these days that is nearly the equivalent of scraping one's knee. He should be fit for duty in a few hours."
"Good. May I talk to him for a little while?"
"I don't see why not. I'm fairly certain that if you weren't here, he would be talking to someone anyway." He turned and walked toward the other beds in the room.
"Thank you," I said with a smile. I walked over to the biobed and stood next to Tex. His face was a little more pale than usual, but otherwise he looked to be in good shape.
"Ain't no use lookin' at me envious, Cap'n. You ain't never gonna be as pretty as this."
"That's a brave thing to say for a man who probably doesn't even have the strength to arm-wrestle right now." I smiled as I said it; Tex was going to be all right. For the moment, all of my crew was intact. It was a very good feeling.
"Cap'n, you look like you might could use a shot of the stuff they pumped into me earlier."
"No doubt," I replied.
"Well, you distract him for a minute, 'an I'll loan ya my drip."
"I heard that," came Phlox's voice from across the room.
"Oh well," I said. "Maybe next time."
"Cap'n?" Tex said, his grin vanishing. "Is there really much point in fixin' me up?"
"I don't know what you mean," I lied. Tex just looked at me. For a moment, the happy-go-lucky crewman from whom I had come to expect constant cheeriness, was replaced by a sad, scared shell of a man. "Yes," I said after a beat. "If we die tomorrow, we will die healthy." The grin returned almost instantly.
"Yer right, Cap'n. It's hard to open a can of whoopass with a dull can opener."
"I couldn't have said it better, Tex."
As the door to Spock's quarters opened to allow me in, I heard the sound of a Vulcan lute. Replicators were amazing things; even though none of his personal effects were on this ship, Spock's room looked as if a Vulcan had been living here a long time. There were candles burning everywhere, and the air carried the aroma of a type of incense I had never smelled before.
"You wanted to see me, Ambassador?" I said, looking for a place to sit. Finding none, I stood just inside the door and folded my hands behind my back. Spock looked up from his sitting position, his hands coming to rest over the still-quivering strings of the lute.
"It seems that I owe you an apology, Captain," he said.
"For what?" I asked. "What horrible crime have you committed lately?"
"Do you remember our initial meeting with the Praetor?" he asked. I did, and was surprised to realize that it had only been a few days ago.
"I remember," I said.
"You told us something that day, Captain. Something which we should have listened to." He looked at me silently. I struggled to remember the events of the conversation. There had been a lot about battle plans, but so much had happened since then that I could not conjure up a clear memory.
"What was that?" I finally asked.
"You told the Praetor that she should not keep the presence of the Borg a secret from her people. Admittedly, you told her in the haste of emotion, but it was true." He paused, allowing me to remember that portion of the conversation. "Many Romulans died today because your warning went unheeded."
"Ambassador, you had no way of knowing…"
"Logic, Captain. What you said was logically the best course of action. The idea was that the Romulan people, and especially the Romulan military, would be prepared for anything that might come along, and therefore did not need to be told. But if we had truly exercised logic, we would have realized that the same qualities which make them able to be prepared for anything, have given them the strength to be able to handle anything as well. It was an error on our parts."
"Well…" I fumbled, "apology accepted, I suppose."
"Thank you, Captain."
I turned to go, but stopped. I looked back at Spock.
"Ambassador, I don't mean to engage in hero worship, but let's just say that I value your opinion greatly on most things. Can we win this war?" Spock steepled his fingers and stared into one of the nearer candles for a long moment.
"No," he said. "But we might survive."
