Star Trek: That Which Divides (33 page)

“Kirk!” Sortino snapped. “What the hell are—?”

A hailstorm of disruptor fire exploded from the mouth of the tunnel as Kirk jumped across the threshold, seeking cover on the other side of the passageway. Energy bolts slammed into the wall behind him, sending a cloud of stone shrapnel into the tunnel. Kirk stepped farther from the tunnel mouth, his back to the doorway leading—he believed—to the operations chamber. The assault from the corridor faded, and Kirk was sure he heard the sounds of footsteps running toward him. At least two assailants, he figured, possibly more. He would not have time to try his hand at opening the door the way Spock had instructed him, and he and his team might find themselves outnumbered in short order. What to do?

Dana Sortino provided the answer.

“Ambassador!” was all Kirk could shout at Sortino, who was once more brandishing a phaser pistol in each hand as she stepped into the tunnel and fired both weapons. Twin streams of blue energy lanced down the passageway as Ensign Minecci took a position next to her, dropping to one knee and firing his own phaser. Kirk leapt forward, unwilling to let his charges take on that kind of risk without him, and added his own weapon to the fray. The darkness at the halfway point of the tunnel was illuminated by the flashes of phaser fire, and Kirk saw at least two figures lying unmoving on the tunnel floor. Another figure had already retreated to the far end of the corridor, taking refuge around the passage’s bend.

“Come on!” Kirk shouted, gesturing with his free hand for Sortino and Minecci to head for the operations
chamber’s doorway. Pausing before the panel set into the wall that controlled access to the room beyond the door, he already could hear more sounds of running in the corridor, but he was certain they were coming from more than one direction. Within seconds, by his estimate, he and his team would be outflanked, so long as they remained in this corridor. The only options were running for safety or getting through the doorway, and overriding the door’s control panel even with Spock’s detailed instructions would take far too much time.

Kirk aimed his phaser at the door panel and fired.

Dashing up the corridor, Vathrael paused to kneel beside Betria and Sipal, her two fallen centurions. In the near darkness, she had to feel her way to each soldier’s neck in order to check his pulse, and was relieved to discover that neither of her subordinates was dead. Whatever she might think of humans, she knew that it was not their normal habit to kill unless they felt no other option was available. The human who had first fired on her and her subordinates, the one with the gold uniform tunic and the insignia of a Starfleet captain, obviously felt that the current situation had not yet deteriorated to the point where killing was necessary. Though Vathrael could admire that restraint, her next thought—born of training, experience, and instinct—turned to how she might fashion this insight into some form of tactical advantage.

“Come,” she said to Subcommander Atrelis and Centurion Drixus, both of whom had managed to avoid falling victim to the humans’ abrupt attack. “We have to keep moving.” She had no desire to be pinned down here in the tunnels and at the mercy of her human counterparts, even
if they were refraining from the use of lethal force. The hurried plan she had put into action in order to attempt to ambush the Starfleet group had almost ended in utter failure. Despite Atrelis’s success at effecting a low-level disruption of the humans’ portable scanning devices, the Starfleet captain had somehow figured out the ploy. Vathrael cursed herself for the decision to extinguish some of the lights in the tunnel as a hasty means of providing momentary concealment. She had been counting on the humans being so involved with accessing the sealed compartment—the same chamber to which she sought entry—that they might fail to notice the irregularity. Once again, the human captain had seen through the ruse, which Vathrael conceded had been poorly considered.

Another enemy might well have made you pay for your ineptitude with your life. Think, fool.

Vathrael reached the mouth of the tunnel just as another, single burst of Starfleet phaser fire erupted somewhere ahead of her. It was followed by the sound of something exploding, but no sooner had that noise echoed down the corridor than she heard a new, low hum.

“Captain!” shouted a male voice. An instant later there was another burst of energy, followed by shouts of warning.

Lunging into the passageway, her disruptor held before her, Vathrael was in time to see the Starfleet captain running up the corridor and lunging for cover. His companions, one female in civilian clothing and a male in black trousers and a red Starfleet tunic, also were running away from her. As the captain caught sight of her crouching at an intersection at the far end of the corridor, his eyes grew wide with alarm even as she raised her disruptor and took aim at him.

Another burst of energy howled in the corridor, and instinct screamed for Vathrael to drop to the ground just before something hot and bright passed over her. Then she felt something grip her shoulder and looked up to see Centurion Drixus pulling her along with him.

“Wait!” she shouted, but there was no time for anything else as the human woman and the other Starfleet officer were turning toward her, weapons raised.

“Take cover!” the human captain shouted, just as more energy whined in the tunnel, and for the first time Vathrael saw a new weapon turret, this one mounted above the still-sealed doorway leading to the alien control chamber. It swiveled in its mount and spat forth twin beams of yellow energy that struck the tunnel walls near where the humans had been standing. Additional blasts tore into the tunnel’s rock floor, sending stone shrapnel hurtling in all directions.

“Fall back!” Vathrael heard the human captain shout even as Atrelis and Drixus were pulling her out of harm’s way and back toward the other tunnel. She saw the automated turret continuing to fire, loosing salvos in the direction of both parties, until she was ushered out of its line of sight by Drixus. Now under cover, she listened to the weapon’s ongoing assault for an additional moment before it ceased firing. Her ears still ringing from the maelstrom that had just been unleashed, she finally held up a hand and signaled for Drixus to halt their retreat.

“Are you all right, Commander?” The centurion’s concern, Vathrael saw, was genuine, yet another demonstration of his unwavering loyalty to her.

Reaching up to pat him on the shoulder, Vathrael nodded. “I’m uninjured. Thank you, Drixus.” She paused,
wiping perspiration from her brow, before looking to Atrelis. “What was that?”

“The intruder control system,” the science officer replied. “It seems designed, at least as a first measure, to disable weapons it perceives as a threat. I did not comprehend that feature during our initial encounters with the automated turrets, Commander.”

Vathrael frowned. “Are you saying that so long as we don’t use our weapons, the turrets won’t harm us?”

“I would not proceed from that assumption,” Atrelis said. “As I said, it may only be a preliminary countermeasure. I cannot help but think that the system will employ more robust methods if we attempt to infiltrate an area it deems worthy of protection.”

Drixus asked, “So, what are we to do?” He held up his disruptor for emphasis.

“The humans face the same dilemma we do,” the science officer replied, from where he now knelt next to the still unconscious form of Centurion Sipal. “We would seem to be on equal footing, at least in that regard.” Rising to his feet, he gestured to the fallen soldier. “They should be reviving soon, Commander.”

Nodding as she absorbed the report, she asked, “This security system. Is it something you could countermand, assuming you’re able to gain access to the control room and decipher the components?”

Atrelis replied, “Perhaps, but the humans destroyed the panel controlling the door, Commander. I may be able to bypass the damage they inflicted, but it likely will take considerable time and effort.”

That was unacceptable, Vathrael decided. There still were other comparable chambers scattered throughout the
complex, not counting the one to which the humans had already gained access, but they were much too far away to be of any immediate use. She harbored no doubts that the Starfleet captain and his group meant to deny her entry to any of the other chambers, using whatever means were at their disposal and even as they too dealt with this new complication presented by this installation’s security protocols. The only true advantage she possessed, thanks to overhearing the Starfleet captain moments earlier, was the knowledge that he and his people were alone here, without the support of their ship, which hovered somewhere beyond the energy field, which for some unknown reason had become impassible.

If that ship cannot come in, then you cannot leave
. It was a simple statement, but one carrying a great deal of weight. Unless and until a way could be found to traverse the energy barrier, there would be no way to alert Fleet Command of her findings here. There was nothing to be done about that at the moment, Vathrael reasoned. For now, she faced more immediate problems.

“Where are the humans now?” she asked.

Scrutinizing his scanner, Atrelis nodded back toward the mouth of the tunnel. “They appear to be retreating down the other passage. It may be an attempt to circle back to the other members of their party.”

“Then that is where we must go, as well,” Vathrael said.

“Mister Spock, I think we’ve got something.”

As he crossed the Kalandan control room in response to Boma’s summons, Spock saw the lieutenant and Uhura eyeing him with obvious anticipation. He also noted that several of the alien workstation’s previously darkened displays now were active and offering lists of scrolling text in one of the ancient Kalandan written languages. Though he suspected that the information was moving much too fast for either Boma or Uhura to read, he still was able to discern enough of the moving data to gain a rapid understanding of what his two companions were doing. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

Boma gestured to one of the displays. “The security system, sir. I think we’ve found a way in.” He paused before indicating Uhura. “I mean, I think Lieutenant Uhura’s the one who found a way in.”

“We did it together,” countered the communications officer before turning to Spock. “I’ve been able to decipher some of this computer code, sir. If I’m reading it correctly, we may be able to counteract or work around at least some of the protocols that are currently active.”

Spock stepped closer to the workstation, tapping several of the illuminated keys on the console’s polished black panel. In response to his instructions the scrolling text
on one display slowed to a halt, allowing him to read and translate it. “An inhibitor field?”

“That’s right,” Boma said. “It’s been active since the system came on line. We think it’s what’s jamming our communications and interfering with tricorder scans. Basically, it’s designed to sweep for active frequencies and overload them to the point that they’re useless.”

“And you believe you can deactivate that process?” Spock asked. “What of the destruct sequence?”

“We’re still working on that, sir,” Uhura replied. “These areas of the system overseeing it look to be shielded by several layers of protection algorithms. We haven’t isolated the programming behind that, but I think we can code a workaround. If it works, we should be able to filter out certain frequencies that’ll let us use our tricorders and communicators again, and maybe send a warning to the Dolysians.”

Nodding in approval, Spock said, “Interesting.” Uhura and Boma had shown great alacrity in their efforts to understand the alien technology, working with the information Spock had provided from his research of the original Kalandan outpost planet. While he had expected the usual difficulties that came with attempting to decipher and interact with any new language or methodology, both officers had comported themselves with distinction. “However, defeating the security protocols should be our primary concern, as we now have one hour and forty-eight minutes until the destruct program is carried out. Do you require assistance with the new programming scheme?”

“We know how much time we have,” Boma snapped. Then, realizing his lapse of bearing, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Mister Spock.” He indicated Uhura again. “Between the two of us, I think we’ve got a handle on it.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, you’d better hurry,” said a voice from behind them, and Spock turned to see McCoy at another workstation, pointing toward one of the displays. “Because I think we’ve got a bigger problem here.”

Spock made his way to where the doctor was standing and scrutinized the monitor, which depicted a visual feed of the area outside the control room’s door, as well as the pair of Romulans lurking outside it.

“I do not recognize either of them from our earlier encounter,” Spock said. Was it possible that other Romulans had somehow found their way into the complex, despite his efforts to keep the surface entrances sealed?

Grunting in what the Vulcan took to be an expression of exasperation, McCoy again pointed to the screen. “Spock, that doesn’t really matter right now. Look! See what they’re doing?”

It was not until the pair of Romulans ran out of the camera frame and he saw the small, dark object affixed to the door that Spock realized the implications of the doctor’s concerns. “Mister Johnson!” he said, not quite shouting. “Stand clear of the door!”

He turned to see the security officer backing away from the reinforced metal hatch before a section of the door exploded inward. Spock had time to recognize the effect of the shaped charge as he grabbed McCoy by the arm and yanked the doctor toward the nearby wall. The blast sent a spherical section of the metal plating shooting across the room, where it fell to the floor and skidded across its smooth surface before impacting against the far wall. Though smoke obscured the new, ragged hole in the door, Spock still saw figures moving in the corridor beyond. He reached for his phaser just as the first Romulan appeared
in the door’s new opening, disruptor pointed ahead of him and firing without any apparent target in mind. Bolts of energy screamed into the room, impacting against walls as well as various control consoles. Spock, mindful of the possible damage being inflicted to the room’s valuable equipment, fired his phaser, its beam striking the centurion in the chest and causing him to collapse across the threshold of the newly created entrance.