over his shoulder, then seemed to earth himself and stopped. "The worst
part about this is, the backlash probably wiped most of the system's
automatic records of the accident. It's going to be shameful hard to
figure out what happened."
"Oh, my God--" Taylor came down the hall toward them at a near run, his
eyes fixed on the transporter room door. "It's true, isn't it? Oh, my
God, it's true!"
Chekov and Kirk moved to stop him at the same time, each catching an arm
and together dragging the tall man away from the portal before his
presence
could signal it to open. P/ease, keep it closed. t Chekov prayed as he
helped push Taylor back against the wall. He didn't think he could
handle the smell even one more time.
"What happened?" Taylor demanded. His sallow face looked honestly
frantic, and Chekov felt the first sympathy he'd ever had for the man.
"Where's His. Gendron?"
"I'm sorry," Kirk said, "there's been an accident." McCoy tried to take
over, gentle doctor role intact. "You don't want to go in there. His.
Gendron and Mr. Purviance tried to beam somewhere through the ship's
screens."
"No, Bones." Kirk glanced away from Taylor long enough to shake his head
at the doctor. "We weren't running with screens on."
McCoy only stared at Kirk in confusion, but Scott raised his eyebrows
and pulled a thoughtful scowl. "We've got ourselves a problem, then," he
mused. "The transporter tech said Purviance was explaining beaming
procedures to Gendron when he leftwhe's not even sure how Sweeney got in
the room. I've been assuming one of them accidentally activated the
transporter and then tried to direct the beam through the screens.
However, the screens were off, and with-ou! screens to bounce the signal
off, somebody had to scramble the transporter beam on purpose. There's
no other way we'd have gotten the matter back into the transporter
room--any other malfunction would've just scattered them out into
space."
Chekov felt his nerves go cold at the thought of
what Scott was suggesting. "You mean murder."
"Aye, lad, I think I do."
"Where the hell was security?" Taylor shook off
both Kirk and Chekov, glaring back and forth between the two. "Aren't
they supposed to prevent things like this from happening?"
"A security guard died with them," McCoy said stiffly. "What more do
you want?"
"I want to know what happened," Taylor shot back. "I want to know when
it happened!" He glared down at Chekov, and the lieutenant felt a sudden
resurgence of his old dislike. "Was this guard actually assigned to
help His. Gendron?"
Considering he'd systematically thrown every auditor out of security
over the past weekend, Chekov thought this a ridiculously optimistic
question. "No," he said, as civilly as possible. "Ensign Sweeney was
assigned to guard a weapons locker ten meters farther down the
corridor."-He pointed, even though the curve of the hall would keep
Taylor from seeing anything.
The auditor looked anyway, frowning. "Then what was Sweeney doing in
the transporter room?"
"Gendron and Purviance must have asked him to help them with some
procedure."
Chekov knew that was somehow the wrong reply when Taylor snapped his
head around to peer at him. "But you don't actually know?"
"There's no one left we can ask," Chekov pointed out. "Your auditor and
liaison officer were killed along with him."
"What's the point of this?" Kirk demanded before Chekov could go on.
Taylor snorted as though Kirk didn't have any right to interfere. "The
guards are supposed to call in before abandoning their positions, aren't
they?"
This time, Kirk deferred the answer to Chekov with a glance, and Chekov
"But Sweeney didn't, did he?"
"No."
"He didn't even request a replacement before leaving a locker full of
phasers unattended?"
"No, Mr. Taylor," Chekov flared, "he didn't. And now he's dead, so I
can't very well discipline him for it, can I?"
Taylor tipped his head back against the wall, and the laugh he barked
sounded both bitter and sad. "My God, Lieutenant, this is exactly what
I was talking about! Hasn't it even occurred to you that this boy might
not be dead if you were stricter about enforcing these sorts of
regulations?"
"Mr. Taylor!" Kirk snapped, but Chekov already spoke over him, the urge
to strike Taylor nearly unbearable.
"Since I assumed command of security, department fatalities have dropped
more than 28 percent! What matters more to you? That we do our jobs, or
that we do them in a certain way?"
"It matters that you take care of the people entrusted to you!"
The comment stuag like a phaser burn. "I would give my life for my
people," Chekov grated. "They know that."
Taylor snorted. "That supposed dedication didn't do much for your
ensign this morning, did it?"
"What was your auditor doing inspecting sensitive equipment that she
didn't know how to operate, Mr. Taylor? Didn't she have anything better
to do than call a security guard away from his post just to prove that
nothing on board this ship is sacred to you?"
"Gentlemen!" Kirk pushed between them, silencing Chekov with a
penetrating glare. "That's enough."
"Please don't interrupt, Captain." Taylor extricated
himself completely but didn't walk away. "I'm interested in hearing
Lieutenant Chekov's rationale."
"Your interest--" Kirk began, but the intercom a few steps away slashed
across his words with a shrill whistle.
"Bridge to captain."
Glowering darklymwhether at Chekov or Taylor, Chekov couldn't tell--Kirk
backed toward the panel to punch the button with his thumb. "Kirk
here."
"Spoek here, Captain. We have detected a civilian distress beacon two
parsecs off our current course. Mr. Sulu has not yet been able to
identify the ship's registry, but Federation articles do require we
render the needed assistance."
Chekov saw Kirk's attention shift bridgeward, and the captain dipped a
nod toward the intercom panel. "Bring us out of warp speed, Mr. Spock,
and radio Commodore Petersen at Sigma One that we're altering course.
I'm on my way up. Kirk out." He punched off the intercom and waved for
Chekov to follow him. "Scotty, Bonesredo whatever you can here. We'll
continue our discussion later. Mr. Taylor--" Kirk speared the auditor
with a cold hazel stare that would have had Chekov ready to apologize
for every wrongdoing since the Romulan War. "I don't want to find out
that you've interfered in any aspect of this investigation. Understood?"
Taylor's jaw clenched with anger. "Completely, Captain." He scowled
acr oss at Chekov with a smugness that made the lieutenant's stomach
burn. "We're not finished, either, Lieutenant. Your captain will see
my report before I file it, and, I promise you, he won't like a damn
thing I have to say."
Kirk tugged on Chekov's arm, glaring coldly at t
he
auditor. "Believe me, Mr. Taylor, I wouldn't have it any other way."
The long wail of the universal distress signal echoed through the bridge
of the Enterprise like a child whose crying couldn't be silenced. Sulu's
fingers tightened uneasily on his helm controls. He knew the distress
call had been designed to pierce subspace static and shipboard noise,
but that didn't make the sound any easier to listen to. Its endless cry
for help kept hurling images of possible accidents and disasters through
Sulu's mind, images that were all too easy for him to picture after what
he'd seen that morning in the transporter room.
"Looks like some kind of freighter,,' Lieutenant Bhutto observed
quietly. Sulu nodded, watching the disabled ship expand across the
viewscreen as the Enterprise came closer. The blue-white glare of
Cygnus Eridani made details hard to see, but the blunt sausage shape of
multiply-linked segments clearly belonged to a hauling ship. "I wonder
why they haven't responded to our hail."
"I don't know." Across the bridge, Sulu could hear Uhura trylag to open
a hailing frequency, still to no avail. "They must have subspace radio
capability, or we wouldn't have heard their distress call."
Bhutto's eyes narrowed. "Maybe there's no one left to talk to."
"I was trying not to think about that." Sulu gritted his teeth,
repressing memories of a charnel-splattered room. "What is it about
navigators that always makes them so gloomy?"
The turbolift doors slid open before Bhutto could reply. Sulu didn't
have to turn around to know Kirk
had come on deck--he could feel the decisive crackle of energy that ran
through the bridge crew. From the corner of his eye, Sulu saw Chekov
stride past the captain's console to take his place at the security
station.
"Update, Mr. Spook." The captain's chair whispered on its hydraulic
bearings as he swung it around to face the viewscreen.
"We are approaching the distressed ship now, Captain," Spock said
calmly. "She either cannot or will not respond to our inquiries.
Sensors indicate only that she is an interstellar freighter of somewhat
antiquated design."
"Current distance, Mr. Sulu?"
Sulu glanced down at the white line blinking across his monitor's
display. "Twenty thousand kilometers and closing, sir. Our estimated
time of contact is four and a half minutes."
"Hmm." Kirk's fingers drummed a speculative tattoo on the arm of his
console. "Mr. Spock, can you find any physical evidence of damage to
the ship?"
"None, sir. Judging by the output of ionizing radiation from her engine
banks, her field generators appear to be in working order."
"Captain." Chekov's voice was grim. "Weapons scan shows probable phaser
banks in both port and starboard hulls."
"Phasers on a freighter?" Kirk vaulted out of his chair and came down a
level to lean over Sulu's board. "Bring us to a full stop, Mr. Sulu,
just out of phaser Fange."
"Aye, sir." Sulu shot a glance at Chekov, and, a moment later, the
approximate radius of fire rippled across his monitor display,
transferred from the security officer's computer. Sulu floated the
Enterprise to a
stop just outside that dark red sphere. "Full stop, Captain."
"Keep us there." Kirk swung around. "Uhura, I want you to stop trying
to hail our friends over there."
"Stop trying, Captain?" The communications officer sounded startled.
"That's right. I want them to wonder about us for a change." Sulu
risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw Kirk settle back into his
chair, eyes glinting with intensity. "Now, we wait."
Silence fell across the bridge, the tense but trusting silence of people
who had seen their captain's maneuvers work time and again. Against
that disciplined quiet, the shrill cry of the distress signal seemed
even more grating. One moment crept past, then another.
"Orion freighter Umyfymu calling Federation starship." The dark,
growling voice sent a shudder down Sulu's back, reminding him of
previous encounters with Orions. The viewscreen stayed suspiciously
dark. "Federation starship, can you hear us?"
Kirk nodded at Uhura, and the communications officer tapped open a
channel for him. "This is.the USS Enterprise," the captain said
crisply. "What seems to be the problem, Umyfymu?"
A long pause sizzled across the open channel. "Engine difficulties," the
Orion on the other end said at last. "Partial alestabilization of field
control has crippled our warp drive."
Sulu heard Spoek quietly clear his throat behind them. Uhura toggled
her controls without being ordered to, then said, "I've closed the audio
channel, Mr. Spock, so the Orions won't hear you."
"Thank you, Commander." The science officer turned to face Kirk.
"Captain, even a partial field destabilization should have left a trail
of subspace
radiation behind the UmyJmu when she decelerated from warp speed. Our
sensors detect no such trace anywhere in the vicinity of Cygnus
Eridani."
"So the Orions are !ying But why?" Kirk tapped one fist refiectively
against his chin. "They can' possibly hope to take out a
Constitution-class starship, even if they are piratesre"
"They're not pirates, Captain." The knowledge welled up inside Sulu
before he even realized how he knew it. "No Orion pirate I've ever met
spoke English that well."
"No," Chekov said soberly. "But Orion military officers do." His gaze
darted back to the viewscreen, and Sulu's followed, fueled by the sme
sudden suspicion. "Look at the shape of that hull--"
"--without the extra radiation shielding," Sulu added. "Then take away
those cargo sections--"
"mand it's an Orion T-class destroyer!" Chekov finished triumphantly.
"A military vessel!" Kirk leaped to his feet, scowl-inp "Mr. Chekov, I
want full shields--now!" A phosphorescent shimmer ran across the
viewscreen as the security officer obeyed. "Mr. Sulu, take us back
another ten thousand kilometers, out of photon torpedo range. Uhura,
put the ship on yellow alert."
"Aye, sir." Strobing golden light splashed across the normal soft blue
of the bridge, accompanied by the tense whir and click of console chairs
locking into battle positions. Sulu took a deep breath, feeling the
sharp kick of adrenaline through his blood as he sent the Enterprise
racing back to a safer position.
"Federation starship, you are abandoning a ship in distress." The
growling Orion voice on the bridge startled Sulu, until he remembered
that Uhura had left their communication channel open to reception.
The viewscreen showed no changes in the a freighter's position. "This
is a first-degree violation of interstellar conduct. We demand an
explanation."
Kirk snorted, motioning Uhura to re-open their channel. "If you know
interstellar codes so well, Orion destroyer Umyfymu," he snapped, "you
may recall that misuse of a universal distress signal is also a
first-degree violation, punishable by exclusion from all Federation
space ports for up to a standard year."
Blank silence hissed after his words, then shattered with Uhura's tense
voice. "Captain, the Umyfymu is signaling on another subspace channel.
The message is coded, but I think they're calling for help."
Spock bent over his sensor display, already tracking the path of the
Orion transmission. "Long-range scan indicates another ship
approaching, Captain, at warp three. She has just entered detector
range." He tapped thoughtfully at one of his controls. "Scans also
register a sensor ghost behind her--possibly a smaller companion ship,
traveling in her shadow."
"Is the main ship Orion?" Kirk demanded. "According to initial readings,
yes. Howevers" Spook glanced up from his monitors with lifted eyebrows.
"--she appears to be approaching from Federation space."
"Captain, I am receiving a transmission from the second Orion ship."
Uhura paused, eyes widening as she listened to her board. "They've
identified themselves as the Orion police cruiser Mecufi, sir--and they
say they've been sent from Sigma One to arrest
Chapter Eight
KIRK SCRUBBED A HAND across his face. "I feel like l just fell down a
rabbit hole," he complained. Sulu nodded silent agreement as he turned