Star Trek: That Which Divides (32 page)

Able to see that much just from his scrutiny of the console’s status monitors, Scott replied, “It doesn’t look too bad. Mostly circuit burnouts, but I guess we shouldn’t try broadcasting through the barrier again.” He shook his head. Though the damage from the signal surge was for all intents and purposes minor, it still would impede the ship’s communications abilities. His eyes lingered on the status message notifying him that long-range transmissions via subspace were compromised, preventing him from dispatching status updates—or requests for help—to Starfleet. “Notify engineering to assign a team to the repairs, Lieutenant. You take charge, and keep me informed.”

“Aye, sir,” M’Ress acknowledged. She turned back to her console, and Scott heard her contacting Lieutenant Palmer, one of the
Enterprise
’s junior communications officers, to report to the bridge as her relief.

Moving back to the command chair, Scott rested his left hand on its armrest, pondering whether he should retake the seat. With repairs—even minor ones—about to get under way, he knew he did not want to sit idle. His instinct was to put Sulu in charge so that he could oversee and perhaps accelerate the mending of the beleaguered communications system, but he dismissed the notion. He could justify leaving the bridge for an emergency, but his duty at the moment was here, and he would have to trust in M’Ress and his own staff to carry on without him looking over their shoulders.

Easier said than done.

The alert indicator at the center of the helm-navigation console flared red, accompanied by its dull beeping tone, at the same time that both Sulu and Arex looked over their shoulders in his direction.

“Deflector screens just went up,” Sulu reported.

Scott looked to Chekov, who was already manning the sensor viewer at his station. “Long-range sensors are detecting vessels approaching,” he said. When he twisted his body to look away from the viewer, Scott saw the apprehension on the ensign’s face. “Three ships, sir. Romulan.”

“Birds of Prey?” Scott wondered aloud. “Or Klingon D-7s?”

Chekov took an extra moment to study the sensor readings before answering, “Definitely not Klingon design, sir. Most likely Birds of Prey.”

That was something of a relief, Scott decided. Though the
Enterprise
had already encountered Romulans crewing Klingon battle cruisers as the result of a technological exchange pact between the two powers, the most recent intelligence reports indicated that only a small number of the larger, more powerful vessels had been included in that trade. Given a choice, Scott would rather face the Romulans’ own warships.

Well, maybe not three of them.

“They’re not cloaked?” Arex asked.

“No, sir,” Chekov replied, “and they’re definitely heading in this direction. I estimate their arrival within the hour.”

Sulu added, “Probably looking for their missing ship.” He shook his head. “They’re not going to be very happy when they get here.”

“Aye,” Scott said, “you can be sure of that. Lieutenant M’Ress, signal our liaisons for the Dolysian leadership council and the civilian mining company. Alert them to the current situation, and advise them that they should restrict all space traffic until further notice.”

M’Ress said, “Acknowledged, but even such a short-distance communication will have some loss of signal clarity.”

“Just make it clear enough to be understood,” Scott replied. “We’ll worry about the formalities and proper explanations later.”

“They’re not going to like that,” Chekov noted.

Nodding, the engineer said, “I know, but the last thing we need is to offer up any easy targets.” Dolysian spacecraft would be susceptible to damage from Romulan weapons fired at even a minimal setting. He did not want to think about the results should one of the approaching warships elect to fire on an unshielded civilian freighter with the full might of its offensive weapons.

He frowned as he once more regarded the energy field on the viewscreen. Somewhere beyond that barrier, Captain Kirk and the rest of the landing party waited, perhaps needing help from the
Enterprise
, and there was nothing Scott or anyone else could do at the moment to help them. Likewise, Scott himself was without the guidance he might have sought from the captain. Even if he could call for assistance from Starfleet, there was no way such aid would arrive in time to be of any practical use. Whatever happened in the next twelve minutes, it would fall to him to lead the way, and Captain Kirk would be counting on him to carry out that duty to the best of his ability.

Releasing a small sigh of resignation, Scott moved to the command chair and sat.

He had the conn.

His lungs beginning to burn from extended exertion, Kirk sprinted down yet another stretch of underground tunnel, searching for threats. Despite the cool air permeating the complex, he still felt sweat beneath his clothes and running down the sides of his face. Slowing as he approached the next turn in the passageway, he pressed himself against the rock wall and peered around the corner. Perhaps ten meters away and mounted just beneath the ceiling at the corner of a three-way junction was another of the automated weapons placements. Unlike the last turret he had dispatched moments earlier, Kirk saw that this one was operational. The faint glow of its multidirectional motion sensor cast a faint crimson glow across the rock of the nearby walls. As for the weapon itself, it swiveled in a ninety-degree arc from left to right and back again, scanning the three segments of passageway before it.

He held up his left hand, making a fist and indicating for Sortino and Ensign Minecci to maintain their positions. “We’re here,” he said, keeping his voice low and confirming to the others that they had reached their destination. “There’s a turret. Active.” He gestured toward the tricorder Minecci held in his hand. “Anything?”

The security officer shook his head. “Muddled readings,
sir. Whatever’s interfering with the scans, I think it’s getting worse.”

Kirk grunted in irritation, even though Minecci’s report was something he had anticipated as they drew closer to the operations chamber, which was their goal. From the moment the Kalandan outpost’s internal security systems had come on line, they had caused problems for him and the landing party. Communicating with the
Enterprise
was for all intents and purposes out of the question, given Spock’s report that the rift within the energy barrier surrounding Gralafi had closed. Even with the extra boost provided by routing signals through the communications systems of the two shuttlecraft on the surface, the barrier itself prevented any connection. It was a reality the Dolysians had faced for decades since the establishment of their mining colony here, but one for which Kirk had little patience at the moment. Tricorder scans, already compromised to a degree thanks to the scattering and other damping fields working to conceal the outpost’s presence, were further hampered by the security measures now in play. Spock, Uhura, and Boma were at this moment attempting to fashion some sort of workaround to that issue, but they had their hands full just trying to find some way to override the complex’s impending self-destruct protocol.

It’s always something.

Even without the benefit of a tricorder, Kirk’s gut told him one thing: if the turret at the end of the passage was active, it had detected something it considered a threat. Did that mean the Romulans were close by? Given that the operations chamber the weapon guarded was the closest such facility within easy walking distance, it did not make sense for the Romulans to be anywhere else if they were looking
for a fast way to gain access to the outpost’s technology. They doubtless were suffering the same sorts of setbacks thanks to the security system, and were without question looking for their own tactical edge in what was fast becoming a game of subterranean cat and mouse.

“What are you doing?” Sortino asked, watching as Kirk adjusted the power setting on his phaser.

“I don’t feel like waiting for the Romulans to pin us down,” the captain said. Peering around the corner again, he noted that the turret was swiveling away from him. He figured he had perhaps five seconds before the weapon began to swing back in his direction. That would be enough, he decided as he stepped into the tunnel and took aim at the turret. He sighted along the top of his phaser, focusing on the base of the weapon just as the unit’s motion sensor glowed brighter and its inner mechanism hummed louder. Its speed accelerated as it swept back toward him, and he knew that the thing had detected his presence. The turret locked on him just as he pressed his phaser’s firing stud and a blue beam spat forth, the whine of the weapon’s discharge all but deafening in the narrow tunnel. There was a brief flash of light as the beam struck the turret, a shower of sparks erupting from its base. Kirk kept his phaser trained on the unit until he saw the motion sensor fade to black, and the hum of its internal motor died.

“That thing could’ve cut you in half, you know,” Sortino said.

Kirk sighed as he reset his phaser to stun force. “I try not to think about it like that.” Now free from the scrutiny of the defense system, at least in this section of the complex, he moved forward into the tunnel. With his phaser held out before him, his eyes focused on the metal door set into the stone
on the left side of the corridor near the junction. “According to Spock, this door leads to the second control chamber.”

Behind him, Minecci said, “That tracks with the readings I’m getting, sir. Whatever’s behind that door, it’s pulling a lot of power.”

“Let’s just hope whatever instrumentation we find in there is compatible with the other room’s,” Kirk replied. “Otherwise, this little field trip will have been for nothing.” Based on what Spock had told him, each of the five operations chambers located at different points within the underground complex seemed to have been designed to operate independent of the others. Despite this, and as far as the science officer had been able to determine, each of the rooms was subject to override by any of its counterparts. In theory, if the Romulans were able to seize control of just one of the remaining operations centers, they might well lock out Spock and his team, and perhaps even turn the outpost’s defenses against the
Enterprise
party.

So
, Kirk mused with no small amount of apprehension,
let’s try to avoid that, shall we?
As things currently stood, the Romulans could cause enough trouble, and that was without considering the ticking clock that was the outpost’s containment protocol. In order to protect whatever chance Spock and the others might have of aborting the outpost’s destruct sequence, Kirk saw no alternative but to do everything possible to deny the Romulans access to any of the Kalandan technology.

“Come on,” he said, motioning for Sortino and Minecci to follow him. As he moved closer to the door, he was able to see the openings leading to the other two passages meeting at this junction. The door was positioned between the corridors, and each of the tunnels curved
away in different directions. Kirk recalled what Spock had told him about this area of the complex, remembering that the closer of the two corridors charted a path deeper into the bowels of the underground facility and the massive generators supplying power. The other passage cut a lateral swath through this part of the installation, intersecting with other tunnels and rooms, including what looked to be an environmental control plant as well as yet another of the operations chambers.

Separating him from that area of the facility, Kirk knew, were yet more of the weapons deployed as part of the internal security system. So far as Spock had been able to determine, the mounted turrets were the extent of such weapons, but even the ever-reliable first officer had expressed doubts when considering the incomplete information available to him. Despite the lack of concrete knowledge regarding the full extent of the outpost’s defenses, Kirk had no choice but to risk venturing deeper into the complex in a bid to stop their Romulan adversaries from gaining access to any of the ancient yet still quite dangerous Kalandan technology.

Kirk paused before crossing the threshold of the other tunnel and looked over his shoulder at Minecci. “Readings?” he asked, his question little more than a whisper.

The security guard frowned as he studied his tricorder. “The interference is getting stronger the closer we get to the ops room, sir.” Returning his phaser to his hip, he reached up to manipulate the tricorder’s control panel. “I don’t understand it, Captain. Whatever this is, it wasn’t there before.”

“Something new from our Kalandan friends?” Sortino asked, leaning closer to look over Minecci’s shoulder at his tricorder.

“I don’t know,” Kirk replied, “but whatever it is, we have to find a way around it. Until we can reopen the rift and warn the
Enterprise
about the Romulans down here, we’re on our own.” Poking his head around the threshold leading to the other tunnel, he saw nothing but more rock walls, floor, and ceiling. Except for one darkened area perhaps three-quarters of the way down the tunnel, overhead lighting fixtures were spaced at regular intervals down the length of the passage until it came to a bend, perhaps fifty meters from where he stood, that curved to the right.

Wait
.

No sooner had he pulled back from the junction than Kirk realized something about the corridor was . . .
wrong
. What had vied for his attention, if only for a fleeting moment?

“Jim?” Sortino asked. “What’s the matter?”

Shaking his head, Kirk replied, “I don’t know. I just—” He stopped as his eyes fell on the tricorder in Minecci’s hand. The device had proven all but useless during their move from the operations chamber, a difficulty explained by interference created as one part of the facility’s security protocols, but what was it Minecci had said? Something new had taken to disrupting his tricorder?

Son of a—

Without warning, Kirk stepped back into the intersection, aiming his phaser at the patch of darkness created by the pair of extinguished lighting fixtures near the far end of the corridor. He fired, the beam striking a point along the rock wall, and the reaction was immediate as shadows broke away from the sides of the tunnel and lunged into the illumination cast by other lights farther down the hallway. Kirk caught sight of silver and red and even a reflection
of something gold and rounded—a Romulan centurion’s helmet.