Sulu ran a finger under his collar and shifted in the
centre chair. "Uhura, try to raise that ship again."
Uhura was back in her place, as Chekov in his, lending
an appearance of normalcy to the bridge, Sulu thought
- so long as he didn't notice that it was Lieutenant
Commander Iyen at Science station and Sulu himself in
the centre chair, with the helm boards routed through
to him there. All three who had been on the Starbase
had taken time to change to clean uniform tunics and
have the worst of the cuts bandaged, but all three
still showed signs of hard wear.
"Aye." she said, and then - "They're hailing *us*!"
"On screen." Sulu said, and sat a little straighter,
wishing he didn't look quite so much the worse for
wear.
"Explain yourself." The voice was cold and precise, a
perfect counterpoint for the cold and haughty
expression of the Romulan commander staring at him
from the viewscreen. "You have fired, Enterprise.
Tell me why I shouldn't blow you down to your
component atoms."
Sulu gave her his most winning and sincere smile. "We
haven't fired on your position, ma'am, as I'm sure
your tactical readouts show."
"That's the only reason you're alive now." the Romulan
commander said. "And I confess to a certain -
curiosity - as to the particular insanity that has
caused a Starfleet vessel to fire on a Federation
Starbase."
"That Starbase contains a threat, not just to the
Federation, but to all civilised space - including the
Romulan Empire. We're attempting to destroy that
threat." Sulu said. He hoped desperately that he was
doing this right. He'd seen the captain dealing with
the captains of hostile ships, including Romulans. No
doubt the captain would have been charming her in his
usual fashion by now, but Sulu couldn't reproduce
Kirk's charisma or his success with females of just
about any species, and so he could only rely on his
imitation of the captain's tact, diplomacy, and
selective bluntness. ~Which had better be enough, ~
Sulu thought, ~ because it'll be at least fifteen
minutes before Scotty has the shields and phasers back
at maximum and if they attack before then we're all
dead. And I have too much to do to be dead. ~
"What threat is this?" the commander asked. Sulu
could see her hand on the arm of her chair, her finger
inches from what was no doubt a fire button. The
finger tapped. Every time it lifted every muscle in
his body tensed, and every time it clicked harmlessly
down on the plastcreet chair arm he relaxed.
"A non-corporeal entity that influences the minds of
those in contact with it, causing them to behave
erratically and creating -"
"Hallucinations, violence and insanity. It is because
of this threat we have taken the unprecedented step of
crossing the neutral zone."
"We believe we have found its vulnerability." Sulu
said. "And that we can destroy it."
"With a dozen photon torpedoes?" she asked, the corner
of her mouth lifting in mockery.
"Modified torpedoes. Carefully targeted. Targeted
nowhere near your ship, ma'am." Sulu said.
"As you say. Well, we will await to success - or
otherwise - of your attempt. And then we will take -
whatever action we see fit." Tap. Tap.
Sulu's relief was so great that for an instant he was
in danger of simply agreeing with her. It was his
knowledge that he was sitting in the centre chair -
*Kirk's* chair - that stopped him. ~You have the
conn, Mr Sulu,~ he told himself, ~ which means right
now you *are* the captain, and the captain would never
give an inch. "Ma'am." he said. "Given the
circumstances, we are willing to overlook your
violation of the neutral zone. In the face of the
threat of this magnitude, we welcome the chance to
work with the Romulan Empire to ensure the safety of
both our peoples. However, we do take the treaty
between the Federation and the Romulan Empire
extremely seriously, and any hostile act on your part
towards this ship or any Federation vessel,
installation, or citizen will be consider a violation
of that treaty. I hope you understand our position."
Tap. Tap. Sulu sweated. Tap. Tap.
The finger stopped. "I do understand your position,
believe me. You are -" she glanced aside. "You are
Lieutenant Commander Sulu, I believe?"
"You have the advantage of me." Sulu said.
"Oh, indeed I do." she said, and smiled. "It is
reassuring to know that our intelligence - at least
about *your* ship - is in excess of yours. But as you
say, given the circumstances, the magnitude of the
threat, etcetera, etcetera, and all the rest of your
diplomatic phrasing - you may rest assured that we
look upon the strange incidents that have occurred at
the edges of Romulan space with considerable concern.
It has been suggested that they are the manifestation
of a new Federation weapon. It may interest you to
know that I have reported to my superiors that I
consider this unlikely in the extreme."
"Thank you." Sulu said. It was not something he had
considered, that their current nightmare could be the
spur for the greater nightmare of a new war with the
Romulans. Now the possibility had been put before
him, the events on Starbase 34 seemed trivial.
"Such deceit on your part is not beyond the bounds of
possibility." the Romulan commander said. "However,
even had you developed the technology to create these
phenomena in secret, it is beyond all conception that
a foolish and sentimental people such as your
Federation could develop the necessary ruthlessness to
test such a weapon on your own people, causing so many
painful deaths."
"Thank you." Sulu said again.
"I was not complimenting you." she said.
"I chose to consider it as such." Sulu said. Out of
the corner of his eye he could see the tactical
display showing the torpedoes streaking towards their
target. "Ma'am, when the torpedoes reach the
Starbase, the resulting explosion will create a severe
distortion wave. I suggest you keep your shields at
maximum and withdraw to a safe distance."
"Your concern for our safety is typical of your feeble
species." she said. "I note your advice."
"I -" Sulu started, and then cleared his throat. He
had studied a little Romulan. "I wish us both success
in our mutual endeavour." he attempted, an old Romulan
toast.
She laughed aloud. "Lieutenant Commander Sulu, I am
confident enough in my advantages to give up one of
them, just for that. You may know me as Subcenturion
Solyrn."
"Subcenturion," Sulu said, inclining his head.
"It has been years since someone advised me to use the
pelts of domestic animals to excavate a new kitchen
compost in such idiomatic fluency." she said. "Solyrn
out."
The screen went blank.
Sulu went limp. "Oh, fuck." he whispered. "Oh,
*fuck*!"
"Domestic animals?" Uhura asked.
"I thought I was saying - oh, never mind." Sulu said.
The torpedoes were only a few minutes from target now.
"Hey, it might not be what the captain would have
said," Uhura said, "but you have to develop your *own*
style, Hikaru, and if kitchen compost plays a part in
it - whatever works for you."
Spock realised that the creature sensed the torpedoes
as a threat and fled them. It fled not merely to the
Starbase but abandoned all its efforts to gain a new
host under this most serious threat. It would flee to
the darkest regions of the deep, and from thence seek
new prey, less well defended, less resourceful, than
the crew of the USS Enterprise.
This, perhaps, was a solution. The Enterprise would
be safe, and with time Starfleet might well find a way
to communicate with this creature, find some way in
which it could co-exist with other species without
harm to either.
Even as the thought occurred to him Spock knew it was
a false hope. The past hours' intimate contact with
the creature provided him with ample evidence that it
was inimical to other species. Perhaps this was a
function of this stage of its maturity, for Spock
could tell it was quite young, as its species
considered time, or perhaps it was a function of its
very being. Either way, his oaths as an officer
precluded taking the chance that this entity would be
stopped elsewhere, later, before more lives were lost.
These considerations with all their implications took
Spock mere seconds, but even in that length of time
the entity withdrew further and further from him.
"Jim," Spock said, his voice hoarse with disuse and
the aftermath of pain, "do not leave the blast zone."
And then he reached out his mind and with all the
strength he had, laid hold of the creature and bound
it to him.
It fought him, oh how it fought him! Before, his
tactics had been defensive, and he had sought to avoid
a direct contest of strength. Now, seeking to hold the
creature, such a strategy would not work. It lashed
at him, battering him with raw pain, trying to loosen
his grip by distracting him with a flood of images in
which he recognised his past, his future, seen through
the grotesque distorting mirror that this entity held
up. It was impossible to mount a successful defence
against these attacks without withdrawing a crucial
amount of his attention from the effort to hold, to
bind, to contain the creature, and Spock did not try.
He heard cries from Kirk and Larssen and knew that
they were being caught in the overload of psychic
energy that sleeted through him. He could not spare
enough of himself to consider them, nor could he
contemplate the consequences to them of the shuttle
remaining within the area affected by the torpedoes'
detonation. He could only fight, in the landscape of
his mind, the creature that made itself manifest to
him now as a giant slavering beast, now as great
glistening black serpent with acid dripping from its
fangs, now as a shapeless mass of molten metal.
~I will not yield.~
The beast clawed him, sank its teeth into his flesh,
and he clung unheeding to it, clenching his hands in
its fur and ignoring the blood that welled from his
wounds.
~I will not yield.~
Acid seared him, the serpent writhed in his grip and
grappled it to him, pinning it down despite the slime
that made it slippery to hold.
~I will not yield.~
The heat of the molten metal blistered his skin,
charred his flesh, burned his very bones to cinders,
but Spock embraced it and held it to him without
flinching.
~I will not yield.~
Only seconds until the detonation, and he would hold
fast for those seconds, he could do that much, as the
heat blazed through him and burned away skin and flesh
and bone, burned away hope and fear and desire, burned
away memory and thought and logic.
Burned him down to will. And that will was not
flexible, was not brittle, was not flammable. It held
fast. He held fast.
~I will not yield.~
The detonation of the torpedoes flooded space with
hyper-charged mu spectrum particles. Spock saw them as
a great rush of glittering motes pouring towards him,
and the entity redoubled its efforts to free itself,
thrashing beneath his mental grip, lashing out in
random panic with barbs of pain.
He held fast. He held fast. He held fast.
~I will not yield.~
The wave reached them and shredded the creature's
substance as a starship's warp-field shreds subspace.
A furious, terrified howl and then silence.
Emptiness.
It was gone.
Spock opened his eyes. Turning his head he could see
Kirk and Larssen, both on the floor and struggling to
rise. The last few moments had clearly been difficult
for them as well. He was surprised, at a visceral
level beneath the application of logic, to find his
skin unblistered, his flesh unwounded. He tried to
raise his hand to unfasten the safety belts and found
he was too weak to do so.
"Captain," he said, and Kirk raised his head, frowning
as if his vision were not quite clear.
"Spock - are you - alright?"
"Momentarily, Captain, but the bow wave of the
subspace distortion caused by the torpedoes'
detonation is following the mu spectrum particles and
will hit the shuttle in less than two minutes."
Even the minimal effort of speech left him gasping and
bathed in sweat.
"Two minutes." Kirk said, pushing himself to his feet
and staggering to the pilot's chair. "Two minutes."
He touched the throttle. "Power's gone. I'd say we
lost the matter-antimatter mix to the mu spectrum
particles. No way to get it going again without
seeding." He tapped more keys. "I'm pushing us forward
on thrusters and manoeuvring jets as fast as possible
but I doubt it will be enough."
Larssen crawled to the co-chair and used it to lever
herself to her feet. Hands shaking, she reached
across the board to the comms display and reactivated
their broadcast, and then turned back to the rear of
the shuttle-
craft.
"Commander..." she whispered, and staggered back to
where he lay. She had more success than he with the
belt-fastenings, and then sat back on her heels and
offered him her arm if he should seek assistance in
rising. Her impeccable Vulcan courtesy in such
circumstances was an incongruity to be relished.
"One minute thirty." Kirk said, tried another
combination of keys and then swivelled his chair to
look back along the cabin. "Spock. Did we kill it?"
"Yes." Spock levered himself to a sitting position
with Lieutenant Larssen's arm, and then accepted her
aid to rise and make his way forward to the co-pilot's
seat.
He sank into it, and Larssen stood behind him, leaning
against the chair back.
"The shields at 100% will not provide sufficient
buffering," Spock said, "although retuning them to the
frequency of the torpedo detonation will assist." He
was doing so as he spoke, the calculations coming
agonisingly slowly to his bruised and battered mind.
"One minute ten." Kirk said. "Any other suggestions,
people?"
"No, sir." Larssen said quietly.
"No, Captain." Spock said. Kirk was looking at him, and
though the captain's face was pale his expression was
composed, good-humoured. He gave Spock his
characteristic wry half-smile. How are we going to get
out of this one? that smile asked.
Spock raised an eyebrow in response, and Jim's smile
grew to full strength.
"Fifty seconds." the captain said calmly.