A/N: reviews of any kind are always appreciated!
# # #
Carol was in no mood to go shopping, but Nyota had not played fair and enlisted Chekov's aid in convincing her. Carol would dare a Klingon at his or her most sullen to deny anything to the Enterprise's resident whiz kid. This was how she found herself wandering Deep Space Station K-7's despondently empty corridors, while the communications officer proudly took her bounty back to the ship. The tribbles were still a mystery to Federation scientists and the one that had contributed to saving Kirk's life had stayed behind at Starfleet HQ for further study. Carol suspected that Uhura had purchased one from the intergalactic trader, Cyrano Jones, as a reminder of the furry creature's unexpected help.
She was about to return to the ship herself, not interested in having a drink in the bar with Scotty, Chekov and some of the engineering crew, either. Besides, they might need her aboard, given that a Klingon cruiser had just showed up as well. Its captain claimed that all they wanted was shore-leave under the stipulations of the Organian treaty, but Carol remained skeptical. The Klingons had not traced the dead patrol in the Kheta province back to Starfleet, but from the way their hostility towards the Federation had escalated, it was safe to say they did suspect something. Where Klingons were concerned, one could not be too careful.
She was so adsorbed by her thoughts on possible all-out war with the Klingons, that she almost bumped into a hooded figure. She opened her mouth to apologize, when the stranger pushed her hood back and Carol found herself staring at a living legend.
"Doctor Phlox," she breathed.
The Denobulan gave her a warm smile. "Oh, Doctor Marcus. It is good to see you."
The recognition brought her no amount of pride, only bitterly reminded her that her father's disgrace had now made her infamous.
"I came here looking for you. Please," he said gesturing to an alcove a few paces away.
They sat on the thick window ledge, before her companion spoke again. "You have recently contacted Dr. McGivers at Harvard University on Earth."
Carol was taken aback. "How did you...?"
Phlox looked at her with a mixture of compassion and regret. "All communications off the Enterprise are being monitored. Before you ask, yes, even those on private frequencies. I do not expect this situation to last indefinitely, just until certain people are convinced you and your colleagues have put the San Francisco tragedy behind you."
"How do you know all this?" she asked with no small amount of horror.
He smiled again with the same candor from before. "I still have many friends at Starfleet Command … and, I am flattered to say, admires as well." He paused to look her straight in the eye. "Two years ago I was heading the research facility at Cold Station 12. You will note I am using the past tense, since I was immediately re-assigned to a less classified location near my home world, once I refused to assist your father with medical tests that were to be performed on a then recently-revived and highly controversial figure of your past."
Carol turned her head to look at the distant stars visible through the window they were sitting next to. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
"Nonsense, my dear. You had nothing to do with it."
Carol nodded, but she didn't turn to face him. "What kind of tests, Doctor?"
"Let's say that they were largely against both Denobulan and human medical ethics. I have kept many of Starfleet secrets throughout the time, one of which about an incident from the year 2154 involving the late Doctor Arik Soong and augment embryos. No, you wouldn't know anything about it; the respective record is on index and within good reason, in my opinion. But my involvement is why I believe Admiral Marcus tried recruit my help. Anyhow, this is not why I sought you out."
She looked at him again. "Why then, doctor?" she asked with some trepidation.
His eyes filled with compassion, as he answered in carefully controlled voice. "Starfleet Command is not the only place I have friends, my dear. Some are among my former colleagues at Cold Station 12 and I have received word from them that they now have a new patient, one not in cryo-hibernation, which is unusual for that place."
"May I ask what Cold Station 12 is exactly?"
"It is a medical research facility that stores some of the deadliest pathogens in the sector and up until the year 2154, a large number of augment embryos having survived the Eugenic Wars on Earth."
Sheer terror sliced through her. "Where are those embryos now?"
"They were destroyed in that incident I mentioned, but I assure you the Enterprise I served aboard was in no way to blame. In fact, if we could, we would have prevented it."
She took deep breath before her next words. "And you think they have an augment on the station now?"
He studied her from the corner of his eyes, an emotion she couldn't quite identify sparking in those alien orbs. "I have no means of knowing that for certain, but I do suspect it."
"Why are you telling me all this? Why not go public with it yourself?"
He sighed. "I am old, Doctor Marcus, even by my people's standards, eccentric again even by the same standards and have been involved in a fair share of unorthodox research that modern technology has often disproved. But such is the fate of those whose time has passed. Unfortunately, all this also makes me easy to discredit, especially since I have nothing except my word as evidence." He paused to regard her solemnly. "Do you know what Section 31 of Article 14 of the Starfleet Charter states?"
She tilted her head, doubts of all kind filtering into her mind. "Article 14 only has thirty sections," she replied automatically.
He leaned closer to her. "Section 31 of Article 14 of the Starfleet Charter allows for extreme and otherwise illegal measures to be taken in times of threat." He pulled back but kept his voice barely above a whisper. "And the Federation is currently under an escalating threat from the Klingon Empire."
Carol balled her hands into fists in her lap. "Are you telling me there is a conspiracy at the heart of Starfleet?"
"I am telling you that there is a clandestine organization that answers to no one hidden within the Federation's legal system and that this is how your father managed to build a war vessel in the Sol system seemingly without anyone knowing and also how he spirited away for a year a revived 20th century Earth dictator."
Something twisted low and painful in her stomach. He was right, when he had claimed nobody would believe him, should he go public. He did sound insane. But then a while ago she would have thought insane anyone who had said that her own father would betray his oath and use a monster from the past to build weapons, only to open fire on a ship full of innocent people to cover up his wrongdoing.
"Is there nothing you can give me, nothing at all?" she asked.
"I know you have questions, Lieutenant, or you wouldn't have attempted to talk to Doctor McGivers. So I came here to impart to you what answers I have, because I believe that you of all people deserve them. However, I must caution you to be careful, should you pursue this... and I think you would. Section 31 has survived for a long time and it would survive you, if need be."
There was a measure of paternal care in the way he looked at her and it chafed in more ways than Carol could count. Still she would not be deterred.
"Doctor Phlox, please," she begged. She had nothing to bargain, but she could plead and had no doubt this kind, noble man would acquiesce.
He held up a hand in appeasement. "As for what I can give you, I'm afraid it's nothing more than the coordinates and schematics of Cold Station 12."
"It would do," she replied.
# # #
It was not without self-loathing that Carol entered the captain's ready room. She didn't want to lie to Jim once more, but she refused to drag him again into something that could spiral out of control. This was her burden to bear and hers alone. The Enterprise was about to leave the orbit of K-7, after Kirk and McCoy had uncovered a Klingon agent infiltrated on the station with the unlikely help of tribbles. Those trilling little things were surprisingly useless at times. If only they weren't also an ecological menace.
Kirk lifted his eyes from his pad, as he saw her come in, and gave her a tired smile. "What can I do for you, Carol?"
"I heard congratulations were in order," she said with a slight grin.
His own smile widened a fraction. "Thank you." He gestured to the chair on the opposite his side of his desk.
"Sir, I know we haven't been away for long, but as you know, I canceled my shore leave on K-7 and since my mother is at a conference on Aldebaran, I was wondering if I could have a few days off to visit her?"
Kirk leaned back in his chair before nodding to her. "Of course, you can." His deep blue eyes were studying her more intently than it was comfortable, but she held herself stiff under his surprisingly insightful scrutiny. "Are you alright, Carol?"
For a brief second, she was tempted to tell him everything, but then the imagine of him dead in medbay flashed into her mind and she stopped herself. "Yes, Jim, I'm fine."
# # #
Doctor Phlox had given her more than just information; he had been more than willing to part with his ship for her: a small and fast cutting-edge Denobulan one that could be easily manned by one person. She docked within a safe distance from Cold Station 12, hiding her vessel behind a protuberance of the asteroid, on which the facility was located, then used a space suit to sneak inside. She had memorized the schematics provided by the Phlox and slipped in through the ventilation system. She did not go far. She was in the process of trying to get into a computer terminal to look for proof of the doctor's statements, when a familiar voice called from behind her.
"Doctor Marcus, we have been expecting you."
"Commodore Lance Cartwright," she muttered, recognizing the man who had worked closely with her father on several of the programs the admiral oversaw personally.
The officer was flanked by two guards, who had phasers trained on her. They were all wearing some sort of black leather uniform Carol was unfamiliar with. She reached for her own weapon, an unmarked disruptor she had acquired on her way there.
Cartwright shook his head 'no'. "That wouldn't be necessary, Doctor. We mean you no harm." He extended his hand. "Still I'd appreciate, if you could hand over your disruptor," he said pleasantly, his tone one of a request rather than order.
Either way, she had no choice. She was outnumbered. The best she could do was play along for now. "How did you know I was coming?" she asked as he gave him the weapon.
"We've been keeping an eye on the good doctor Phlox and his ship. Besides, unlike the always trusting Captain Kirk, we actually bothered to verify your mother's whereabouts."
She glared at him. "You took an oath, Commodore," she said, placing an additional emphasis on the rank.
Her jab seemed to have little impact on him. "And I'm honoring it," he replied calmly before gesturing to the corridor behind him. "I don't know what Phlox told you exactly, but we are not the villains here."
She fell in step by his side with the guards following closely behind. "Section 31 is against the spirit of everything the Federation stands for."
"But not against the letter," he corrected.
Carol said nothing. Starfleet had been built with a Trojan horse inside. That much she could not deny.
Cartwright lead her through a maze of corridors and even stairs. The station's design was positively antiquated, probably early 22nd century, but the technology adorning it was state-of-the-art. They arrived to a small office, in which he let her go in first then waved off the guards. It made a certain amount of sense, since without the element of surprise on her side, she would not make it far, if she attacked him.
"Have a seat," he said politely and strolled to a replicator on the wall behind the desk at the back of the room. "Can I get you something?"
She pulled the chair in front of the desk and sat down. "No, thank you" she said tightly.
He shrugged, ordered himself a coffee and moved to sit across from her. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
She arched a brow at him. "I'm not sure you're the person to answer them," she quipped.
He smiled fractionally. "Like I said, we're not the enemy. In fact, we exist solely to protect the Federation from its enemies and some things are better done under the cover of secrecy. You understand. After all, as far as your captain knows, you're spending shore leave with your mother on Aldebaran right now."
Carol felt her cheeks heat up and looked away. She had lied twice now to Jim Kirk, both times in a vital matter. Regardless of the difference in their motivations, Carol could see the analogy with Section 31 and it made her both uncomfortable and angry. "What do you want from me?" she spat.
"For you to consider an offer."
She frowned. "You want me to work for you... just like my father," she said in both disbelief and disdain.
"Your father was head of Starfleet. We worked under his command. And I want to ask you to work with us."
She looked him in the eye then, letting her anger permeate her gaze. "To do what? Exploit the tactical knowledge of 20th superhuman dictators to build weapons. No, thanks, I prefer the weaponry I come up with myself."
He sighed heavily. "We made a mistake by keeping that bastard on too long of a leash. That would not happen again."
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "This is enslaving a sentient being you're talking about, augment or not."
His face hardened, his eyes growing cold. "He's a lab rat with fangs and claws who chewed his way out of the place where they made him. Then he went on to commit genocide and cause war in one century and crashed a ship into innocent civilians in another. Creatures like him are not sentient, they're mindlessly violent monsters. But you don't have believe me, you saw what he did with your own eyes. And if you need any more confirmation, I have Phlox's own report on what happened the last time someone thought his kind to be people."
Carol sustained his glare without flinching, refusing to take the bait. "Is that why you keep one around right now?"
"We don't just keep one around. We have Khan Noonien Singh himself in this facility."
The name was the equivalent of a punch to her sternum. The phantom pain in her leg flared to life instantly and she sucked in a breath, hissing at its potent sting. "He'll kill you all," she whispered, her heart leaping in her throat.
Cartwright seemed unaffected. "No, he won't. He's heavily sedated."
She scowled at him. Her leg was still throbbing, but she had managed to bring herself somewhat under control. "What do you need with him then?"
He got to his feet. "Come see for yourself."
TBC