Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic (38 page)

The chairman saw her expression. “What is it?”

“Main power is online but there’s a feedback loop. The singularity is irreparably destabilized. Its spin is wobbling, and out of control.”

“How serious?”

“The singularity will break free from any possible confinement in less than an hour.”

“Eject the core!”

“Ejection systems offline.”

“And then we explode in an hour . . .”

“We
im
plode in an hour.” The chairman scowled at her. Voktra hated to make the suggestion, but as senior officer now that Marist was dead, it was her responsibility to do so. “Chairman . . . We ought to abandon ship.”

“Send a distress signal,” the chairman said at last.

C
hallenger
hurtled toward Pulsar Alpha Six-Four at warp five, when Nog broke the news. “Captain, I’m picking up a distress signal, on all frequencies. Audio only, but it’s a strong signal, which means they’re close.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“. . . the warbird
Stormcrow.
We have suffered a collision with an unknown vessel, and are losing atmosphere. All power lost, and our warp core is unstable. Implosion is estimated in . . .”

“Warbird? In the Neutral Zone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, we can take that up with them afterwards. For now, set a course for the
Stormcrow
’s position, maximum warp.”

“Course laid in, maximum warp,” Qat’qa echoed, her voice reeking with disappointment and revulsion.

La Forge knew exactly why she would be dismayed at the idea of going to rescue Romulans. He wasn’t sure if he’d earned the right to use the diminutive of her name yet, but judged that it was an appropriate moment to try. “Kat . . . I served with Worf for a lot of years, and I know how you feel about Romulans, but . . . a distress signal is a distress signal. Even in the Neutral Zone.”

“If it really is a distress signal, and if they see things that way, sir.”

“Don’t worry, that thought occurred to me too. Nog, let’s keep the shields up, and weapons ready, just in case.” He thought for a moment. “Qat’qa, join me in my ready room.” She handed over her console and followed the captain in.

“Sir, if you are thinking of giving me a lecture on interspecies relations, and my duty on this ship . . . I will not let my hatred interfere with my duty. That is not my way.”

La Forge was glad to hear it. “That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted you to understand that . . . I don’t trust Romulans either.”

“Sir?”

“I’ve been a prisoner of the Romulans.”

Qat’qa looked shocked, and he was pretty sure it was on his behalf, as a kind of sympathetic shock. “They tortured you in . . .”

“No, actually they didn’t. At least, I don’t
think
they did.”

“You don’t think? I would have thought that being under the thumb of the Romulans would be a very memorable experience.”

“No . . . actually it was an intentional part of what they did.” He paused, recalling her personnel file. “You lost family in the Klingon civil war, didn’t you? When the Duras family,
backed by the Romulans, tried to take over the Empire.”

“My elder sister and both brothers.” She said the words as if they were a mantra, or something that motivated her. He was sure that was exactly what they were, as in his experience, that was the Klingon way.

“As a prelude to the war, the Romulans tried to drive a wedge between the Federation and the Empire. I guess they hoped both to weaken any resistance to their expansion, and to stave off Federation interference in their . . . king-making with the Duras.”

“Interference which, thank Kahless, happened.”

“Yeah. What the Romulans did was to abduct a Starfleet officer. They used psychosurgical techniques to program him to assassinate a Klingon governor, and spark hostilities between the Federation and the Empire. The EM bands that linked his brain and his prosthetic vision device were used to control him.”

“You.”

“Me.”

“But you . . . you didn’t kill any governor?”

“No. I didn’t even know what I was doing, I didn’t remember being a prisoner of the Romulans . . . All I remembered was taking a really fun vacation on Risa.”

“We are siblings in pain,” Qat’qa said slowly. “I understand. May I speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“I did not give you permission to call me Kat.” She shrugged. “An oversight, which I correct now. Please feel free to call me Kat.”

“Thank you, Kat.” La Forge meant it from the bottom of his heart. He knew how seriously Klingons took the matter of names. “Now, we have some Romulans to rescue.”

The crew of the
Stormcrow
could hardly breathe between the leaking coolant and fire suppression gas contaminating the atmosphere. Static from the communications system provided an appropriately hissy accompaniment. The chairman wondered whether she would asphyxiate before the singularity at the heart of the warp core crushed the ship.

“Ten minutes,” Voktra said, too coolly. The chairman couldn’t help wondering if there was some Vulcan blood in that one. Without warning, the static broke up into fragments of speech. For a moment the chairman thought she was hallucinating, but then she saw that Voktra was also hearing it.

“. . . len . . . r spon . . . call. I repeat, Romulan vessel, this is the
U.S.S. Challenger
responding to your distress call.”

A Federation ship,
the chairman thought.
It would have to be, wouldn’t it?
She sought out Voktra’s eyes, and saw hope there. She nodded slowly to Voktra, accepting the inevitable. “Hail them and apprise them of our situation.”

Voktra collapsed to her knees, slamming them painfully into the hard transporter pads, as soon as the beam freed her. She was one of half a dozen Romulans who stumbled off the pad, gasping for breath.

She had waited to be one of the last ones off, to be sure that as many people were evacuated from the ship as possible. She knew it would take a while for the toxins to get out of her lungs. But now she could breathe again. A human with four pips on his collar—the captain—and strange eyes, which she quickly recognized were cybernetic implants, helped her up. “We’ve got sixty-eight survivors, including yourself. Is that all of you?”

Voktra shook her head, but it was a tiny motion. “Our
passenger would not leave until all other survivors had been rescued.”

“It looks to me as if that’s what’s happened. Your passenger doesn’t need to go down with the ship.”

“No.” Voktra raised her communicator. “Chairman, this is Engineer Voktra. All survivors are now aboard the Federation ship. Are you ready to transport?”

“I’m ready,” the resigned voice came back.

A shiver ran down La Forge’s spine as he helped Voktra toward a waiting medical tech, but he couldn’t quite work out why. “Bring their passenger across,” he ordered the ensign at the transporter console. He wondered what sort of VIP passenger wouldn’t be first off. One they might not want in Starfleet hands, perhaps.

As the Romulan VIP shimmered into form on the transporter pad, La Forge understood why he had this sense of foreboding. It was the voice that he had found familiar, and now the sight of the uncharacteristically straw-colored hair shaped in the familiar Romulan bob. He knew the face that he would see, even before she turned around to face him.

“Captain La Forge,” Sela said, with a rather strained but wolfish smile. “Always a pleasure.”

Under Kat’s assured hands,
Challenger
swept up and out of the Neutral Zone and made a brief jump to warp. The hull of the
Stormcrow
flashed and burned, and then crumpled into oblivion.

Chairman Sela wasn’t someone that Geordi would have chosen to walk on
Challenger
’s bridge, but she was, like it or not, a high-ranking member of a foreign government,
and therefore entitled to full diplomatic treatment and respect. He quickly escorted her to the conference room.

“Thank you for saving our lives,” Sela began. “Now, I formally request that you take me and the crew of the
Stormcrow
to rendezvous with one of our vessels in the Neutral Zone. I presume you
have
notified Romulus as well as Starfleet about this incident.”

“We have.” Geordi wanted to get straight to the point. “What were you doing in the Neutral Zone?”

“I only really need to give you my name, rank, and service number.”

“How about I tell you what you were doing.” She gave him a faux-encouraging smile, so he continued. “According to our sensor reports on your warp trail, you were out of control, heading for the pulsar. That means either engine failure or sabotage. Since the ship was a well-used design, I’ll vote for the latter.”

“Well done, Captain La Forge.” She sounded genuinely impressed. “A political accident, shall we say.”

“You must have a lot of enemies, especially among engineers.”

“Suffice it to say that a full investigation will get underway as soon as I return to Romulus. And, all things being equal, that had best be soon. I don’t think the Senate will appreciate my absence any more than your government would appreciate the chief of Starfleet Intelligence being a guest of ours for an extended period. They have a tendency to get—”

“Antsy.”

Sela laughed, but couldn’t deny it. “Perhaps it could go easier for you—for Starfleet as a whole—if I could speak to my government, and reassure them about my safety.”

La Forge nodded. “Of course.” That was a perfectly normal right that visiting dignitaries had. It was hard to
think of Sela as a dignitary, but, in all legal ways, she was. Chairman of the Tal Shiar was at least the equivalent of a cabinet position in the Federation’s government, as far as he could tell. “I’ll have my first officer arrange that immediately, and the same for the ship’s crew, if they want to let their families know they’re all right, and if your government allows it.”

“They’ll allow it. The
Stormcrow
’s crew have at least one friend in high places.”

“It must be a good job, being chairman of the Tal Shiar.”

“Oh, it is.”

“And stressful when people arrange accidents for your ships.”

She gave him a coquettish look that dripped insincerity. “So many professions have an associated risk of injury. Anyone who’s been in the military is used to such things.”

Within the hour, Chairman Sela was in touch with Praetor Kamemor, who was still on Glintara. La Forge had promised her that any connection she made would be secure and not monitored by Starfleet, and she at least believed that
he
believed that. Sela hadn’t risen to the chairmanship by being so naïve; she knew that everyone was monitored by someone.

“Chairman Sela,”
Kamemor said.
“I’m relieved to see that you’re safe.”

“I am, but the Empire has lost a fine ship, Commander Marist, and many members of the
Stormcrow
’s crew.”

“Commander Marist?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Ah, great pity. He was one of our more reliable captains. What happened, Sela?”

“I’d like Director Vellil to look into that,” Sela said carefully. “Formally,” she added.

“I’ll pass that along to your staff, assuming I haven’t just done so,”
Kamemor said with a crooked smile.
“We must arrange your return. I’ll have Commander Varaan meet the
Challenger
at a set of coordinates suitable to both us and Starfleet. Proconsul Tomalak knows the best channels to arrange it.”

“I understand, Praetor.”

Carolan pressed the door chime to the ready room, and entered when La Forge called her through. “News from Starfleet?” he guessed aloud.

“Coordinates to rendezvous with a Romulan ship in twenty-four hours. It’ll take that long for their ship to get here, but we’re only two hours from the rendezvous.”

“Plenty of time to complete our scan of the system, then,” Geordi decided. “So long as Sela keeps out of our hair, that’ll suit me just fine.”

A pair of security guards escorted Sela to sickbay. La Forge stood next to Nog until they were gone.

“While Rasmussen was untrustworthy,” Nog said, “Romulans are far worse.”

“It won’t be for long,” La Forge promised. “Carolan has notified both Starfleet and the Romulan ambassador. As soon as we’re done scanning this system, we’ll arrange their repatriation home.”

“Until then, Captain, I’d like to keep all security staff on double shifts until they’re gone.”

“That’s probably for the best.” La Forge stepped away, casting a glance to see how Qat’qa was reacting to Sela’s presence. The Klingon woman was studiously facing front, like a
statue. That too, La Forge thought, was probably for the best.

He stepped into the turbolift and went to engineering. There, Vol was cursing while trying to feel his way around a circuit, which he couldn’t possibly see, inside a wall. Scotty was working on what looked like a class ten probe’s guidance unit, but he came over when he saw La Forge.

“Are ye looking for Leah?”

La Forge couldn’t deny it. “Is she here?”

“Upstairs.” Scotty indicated the upper balcony around the warp core. “She’s fiddlin’ with the injectors, I think.”

“Lucky her.”

“The pressures of command gettin’ to ye? Or just the presence of the Romulans on board?”

“Take a wild guess, Scotty.”

“Don’t worry. The Romulans will probably keep quiet, but,” he added, “only so long as they know ye’re watching them like a hawk. And I don’t mean letting them think you’re watching. I mean properly watching.”

“We are. Nog’s doubling all security shifts.”

Scotty nodded approvingly. “That wee Ferengi’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’ll keep things right.”

La Forge nodded, and took the little platform lift up to the balcony.

Leah saw him, and immediately put down her tools and stood up from the panel she had been working in. “You seem . . . tense.” Tense, depressed, and sliding back toward that obsessive look that she’d learned to recognize since he came back into her life.

“Yeah, it’s . . .”