Star Trek: That Which Divides (38 page)

“I believe so,” the Romulan said. “His injury does not look severe.” Pausing, he turned from his work to regard Kyle. “Thank you.”

“Your other men are only stunned,” Kyle replied. “They’ll be fine in a little while.”

Nodding in apparent approval, the Romulan resumed hovering over his friend, extracting items from the medical
kit. “How were you able to deceive us? We did not detect your human life signs aboard the ship.”

“Just an old trick I learned,” Kyle said. By having the transport’s pilot, Liadenpor Ceeda hu Novi, increase the output of the craft’s engines to their full capacity—something required to provide power to the laser drill, anyway—one of the resultant effects was masking the life signs of anyone standing in proximity to the ship’s generators. As for using the drill, it had been Rideout’s idea to mount the implement inside the ship’s rear cargo area, giving Kyle and his team an extra advantage against the Romulan disruptors.

The Romulan seemed to process Kyle’s remark before nodding. “I see. Well, where would we be without our little secrets?” He glanced to his friend before adding, “I suppose that we are your prisoners, now.”

“That’s for my captain to decide,” Kyle replied. He could only guess as to the political ramifications of the Romulans sending ships here, endangering the local inhabitants and taking aggressive action against Starfleet personnel. Whatever discussions were to be had or decisions to be made, they would take place far from here, and likely involve no small amount of teeth gnashing from anyone unfortunate enough to be involved. For now, he had plenty to keep him busy.

He looked up to see Rideout descending the ramp, holding her tricorder against her left hip. Eyeing the Romulan, she said, “I’ve disabled their jamming hardware. You should be able to contact your captain now.”

“Fantastic, Christine,” Kyle said as he reached for his communicator and flipped it open. “Kyle to Captain Kirk.”

There was a short burst of static before the captain’s
voice replied, “
Kirk here. Since we’re talking, I guess that means you were successful. Excellent work, Lieutenant. Any casualties?
”

“None, sir,” Kyle replied. “One Romulan sustained a treatable injury, and we have them all in custody. What do you want me to do with them?”

Whatever answer the captain might have provided disappeared in a hiss of static loud enough to make Kyle wince. Pulling the communicator away from his face, he regarded the device with confusion. “What the hell is this about?” He looked to Rideout. “You’re sure you disabled the jamming?”

The chief engineer nodded. “Absolutely. No question.” She held up her phaser for emphasis. “I used my favorite tool to turn it off.”

Scowling at the seemingly useless communicator in his hand, he grunted in irritation. “Maybe the Romulans in the complex are giving the captain and the others trouble.”

“That is a sensible hypothesis,” the Romulan said, and he seemed unfazed by Kyle’s withering stare. “My commander is quite resourceful in that regard.”

Kyle nodded. “Well, then I feel sorry for your commander, because no one makes trouble the way Captain Kirk does.”

Uhura’s eyes burned with the sting and grit of fatigue, and not for the first time did she reach up to rub them. The array of information being fed to the control console’s seven display screens was starting to become one large, unending blur, she decided. Bracing her hands against the console, she arched her back, reveling in the sensation as she stretched and worked the kinks from her tired muscles. That accomplished, she drew a deep breath before returning her attention to the swirl of data before her. Was she really that tired, or had the ancient Kalandan text become even more difficult to read than just five minutes earlier? She reached up to stifle a yawn, aware once more of the mounting strain beneath her temples and at the base of her skull.

In less than an hour, none of that will really matter, right?

“You okay?”

It took her a moment to register the question, and when she did she turned to see Boma regarding her from a nearby console, concern evident in his eyes. She cleared her throat before replying, “Why do you ask?”

Boma pointed to her hand. “Because you look like you’re about to punch something, or someone.”

Glancing down, Uhura realized that her right hand was clenched and shaking as it rested atop the flat, polished
console. Releasing the fist, she flexed her hand and felt the tingle and rush of warmth as blood flow returned to her fingers. “Sorry,” she said, offering a sheepish expression. “It’s been a long day.”

“I know how you feel,” Boma replied, closing his eyes as he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose.

“How are you feeling?” Uhura asked.

Leaning against the console, Boma crossed his arms and released a tired sigh. “All things considered, I guess I’m doing okay.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Sometimes it’s hard not to think about Captain Arens and the others. I try to keep busy, but that doesn’t always work.” He paused, wincing as he rubbed his right bicep.

Uhura pointed to his arm. “Still hurts?”

“A little,” Boma replied. “It’s more irritating than anything else. Doctor McCoy told me it’d be like that for a couple of days. Beats wearing a sling, though.” He indicated their console with a nod of his head. “This is tough enough with
two
hands.”

“Amen to that,” Uhura said. The struggle to access and understand the Kalandan computer system, as well as their run-in with the Romulans and now the stress of trying to abort the underground complex’s self-destruct protocols, was beginning to wear her down. Her latest discovery, that the Kalandan computer system had initiated a new protocol blocking all communications to and from the complex, was but the latest in a long string of obstacles thrown in their path. What other tricks might the ancient technology still have waiting in reserve?

After abandoning the original operations chamber, they had made their way to this counterpart control room, after which Spock—without using the explosive charges
they had confiscated from the Romulans—had managed to work past the damage inflicted by Captain Kirk on the room’s door access panel in order to open the portal. The downside to his achievement was that he was uncertain as to how he might reseal the door or, if necessary, open it yet again. This left no other choice than to station Lieutenant Johnson at the open hatch in order to guard against Romulan intruders. So far, and for whatever reasons, the Romulans had seen fit not to attack them while all of this was going on, leaving Spock and the rest of the landing party to once again work at regaining control of the ancient Kalandan technology in the hopes of aborting the destruct protocol. Despite the obvious need for urgency, Uhura found she was having trouble settling back to the tasks at hand.

“I guess I’m just not used to this sort of excitement,” she said. “It’s a long way from my station on the bridge.”

“You wouldn’t know it to watch you work,” Boma said. He nodded to where Spock was working at a console on the other side of the room. “I mean, Spock understands this stuff because his brain’s wired to. I’m running as fast as I can just to keep up, but you? You’re a natural.” Pointing to the console and the screens of streaming data, he shook his head. “Everything we’ve been able to figure out so far is because of something you saw in there, or even thought you saw.”

Frowning, Uhura countered, “That’s not true. We’ve been working together all day. You’ve been right here with me the whole time.”

“I may have seen one or two things here and there,” Boma said, “or helped you finish a thought, but that was only in response to something you said, or started to say.
The fact is, we’re where we are right now because you’re here.” He paused, then released a small chuckle. “That didn’t come out quite the way I intended.”

Uhura smiled. Despite the current situation, she found herself buoyed by the unexpected compliment. “That’s all right. I was able to translate the meaning, and I appreciate it.” Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to relax and to will away the aches in her back and neck. This mission had provided her with a rare opportunity to work beyond the technical demands of her primary duties and employ some of the skills and natural aptitude that had guided her to joining Starfleet in the first place. Thanks to the wonders of modern, computer-driven universal translation protocols, her innate talent for recognizing and adapting to alien languages—spoken and written—was tested only on rare occasions in her capacity as the
Enterprise
’s chief communications officer. Though the universal translator had proven useful here, as well, what it often failed to discern was the context and intent behind the words being interpreted. Insight into the mind of the speaker or writer also was necessary, and was part of the mystery and challenge of decoding an alien language. It was just such a test that Uhura relished.

So, get on with it.

Turning back to her console, she said, “Here, look at this.” She waited until Boma moved to stand next to her before pointing to one of the station’s displays. “I managed to get back into the security system. What do you see?”

Leaning closer to get a better look, Boma tapped his fingernails on the console as he studied the scrolling data. “That’s code from the master control processes, right?”

“Yes. It oversees and instructs everything else, based
on information sent to it by the other hubs in the security system network.” Uhura reached for the console and tapped several illuminated controls on the flat panel, and one of the displays shifted its image to show a series of nine status indicators. Each was labeled with its name in Kalandan script and a blue icon except for the next to last marker, which was yellow. Pointing to that icon, she said, “See this? It’s the environmental control system.”

Boma shook his head. “I don’t understand. The system’s inactive?”

“The system itself is fine,” Uhura said. “But the computer process overseeing it isn’t. Remember the firefight in the other control room?”

“Of course,” Boma replied. “The control banks for the environmental system were damaged, but why would that affect the software? Those processes were active in the central network, right?”

“It would appear something was interrupted by the loss of the system console,” said a new voice, Spock’s, as the Vulcan and Doctor McCoy emerged from an adjoining room and walked up behind them. “Either as a consequence of the physical damage or perhaps a design feature or flaw in the system itself, that process has been compromised.”

“Not just compromised,” Uhura said, again pointing to the display, “but it’s waiting for a diagnostic to be executed against it. That’s what this indicator means. Until a corrective action is taken, it’s operating in a standby mode.”

“I know the feeling,” McCoy said. “Where the hell’s Jim when you need him? If anybody can convince a computer to do something it doesn’t want to do, he can.” Uhura stifled
a smile, amused by the doctor’s observation, which even garnered a raised eyebrow from Spock.

“Despite the captain’s unusual proclivity in that regard,” replied the first officer, “this computer system lacks the sort of interactive voice response technology to which we are accustomed. Indeed, interfacing with this system requires—”

“Mister Spock!”

Everyone turned at the sound of Lieutenant Johnson’s shout, and Uhura saw the security officer moving back from the open doorway where he had been standing guard. He was pointing his phaser in that direction when something small and dark flew through the opening and bounced toward the center of the room.

“Take cover!” Spock called out, and Uhura felt Boma dragging her toward the floor before the entire room vanished in a brilliant white light. No sooner had she thrown up an arm to shield her eyes than a piercing shriek assaulted her senses. The whine seemed to stab directly into her brain, and she pulled her hands to cover her ears as she curled into a fetal ball on the floor.

Some . . . kind of . . . sonic . . . pulse . . . ?

Though the effect lasted only seconds, the ringing sound continued even as the light faded and Uhura rolled onto her side to see that the room itself seemed to have been affected by the blast. The overhead lighting was flickering in mad fashion, while displays and control panels on various consoles around the room were blinking on and off. Even the cube hanging from the center of the ceiling seemed to be reacting to the attack, its multihued swirl of incandescent illumination now a flashing and stuttering frenzy.

Looking toward the door, she saw dark figures charging
into the room. She heard a dull, droning hum and looked up to see one of the Romulans firing his disruptor at the turret high on the wall, his targeted strikes successfully neutralizing the automated weapon. White spots continued to dance in her vision as she reached for the phaser on her hip, but the motion was arrested by a hand on her wrist. She looked up to see the face of a Romulan centurion scowling down at her from beneath a heavy gold helmet.

As she was hauled to her feet, she saw Boma struggling with another Romulan. He was no match for the soldier’s greater strength, as the centurion twisted the lieutenant’s arm up and behind his back before slamming him face-first into a wall console. Boma grunted in pain as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor.

Fighting against her own captor’s hold, Uhura jerked her head around to see McCoy already under guard. Johnson was faring better as he engaged a centurion in hand-to-hand combat. He blocked the enemy soldier’s punch before grabbing the Romulan’s arm and lashing out with his foot, kicking his opponent just below the right knee. Even with her compromised hearing the soldier’s cry of pain was still audible to Uhura, and she saw him stagger away from Johnson as another centurion moved in behind the security officer.

“Watch out!” was all Uhura was able to say before the Romulan struck the back of Johnson’s head with the butt of his disruptor. The lieutenant collapsed, falling against a nearby console before dropping to the deck.