Part 1 (1/2)
Unification.
by Jeri Taylor.
Chapter One.
ADMIRAL RUAH BRACKETT had a secret.
Not a terribly profound one, and nothing that would ever interfere with her duties as a fleet admiral of Starfleet Command. But it was a secret nonetheless and she enjoyed keeping it. There was something t.i.tillating about indulging a private idiosyncrasy that was known to no one.
She felt a momentary twinge of guilt as she and her young aide strode into the transporter room of Starbase 234, for her mission was of such importance that she should not be thinking of her personal pleasures. The message she carried had been deemed too important to risk on subs.p.a.ce and was to be delivered only in person. The security of the Federation might be at stake-and yet the foremost thought on her mind was her antic.i.p.ation of the next few moments.
”Well, Lieutenant, shall we do this?” She addressed her young aide, Severson, who was looking a little pale under the freckles which dusted his face. Lieutenant Severson, she knew, wasn't looking forward to the experience of transporting from starbase to stars.h.i.+p; he claimed it was altogether unpleasant and in fact made him queasy. He suffered it stoically because as her aide there was no way to avoid the process, and after having garnered this plum a.s.signment, he wasn't about to risk it because of transporter nausea.
”Yes, Admiral.” He waited until she had taken her place on the pad, then stepped on beside her. They made an unusual pair-the tall, regal admiral with her close-cropped brown curls and the smaller, carrot-headed young manrebut in fact they worked effort-lessly together, and for that Brackett was willing to tolerate his frailty with the transporter.
”Let us know when you're ready, Chief,” she said to the transporter engineer, a seasoned veteran from the planet Nason Barta. He was remarkably fast at entering molecular codes because of the ten digits on each of his appendages.
”I am prepared, Admiral Brackett. Please give me your command.” Brackett smiled. The moment was here.
For the secret was that she loved being transported. She knew most people found that it produced no response whatsoever, physical or emotional; others, like Severson, became queasy or disoriented and felt it actively unpleasant.
For Brackett, it was a transcendent experience. The conversion of her molecular structure into a subatomically dissociated matter stream created a sensation that was rapturous: a mystical-spiritual- s.e.xual experience all wrapped up in one powerful phenomenon. Her consciousness remained intact dur-ing the transport, of course, and in that breathtaking instant of dematerialization and materialization she sensed that she brushed against something unknowable, some mysterious, powerful force that existed only in that brief and sublime moment. She often felt she was a breath away from grasping, from understanding it-but then it was over and she arrived at her destination. And always, she longed for the next time. ”Thank you, Chief. Proceed.”
Severson tensed beside her, and Brackett closed her eyes, focusing on the intense experience that was to come. A roaring sound in her ears signaled the beginning of the dematerialization process, and there was the brief, flas.h.i.+ng swirl of light and then the sensation of swooping into a void-then blackness.
A second, a fraction of a second-how long was it? Majestic feelings overwhelmed her; was she soaring? Tumbling? Ascending? There it was, that unknowable something; she was reaching out for it, a second more and she would touch it...
”Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Admiral Brackett. It's good to see you again.”
She looked into Miles...o...b..ien's cheerful Irish face and smiled automatically. It seemed as though she were swimming up from a dark crystal pool, and she preferred to remain within its remarkable depths. But of course she had business to attend to.
”And you, Chief O'Brien.” She looked around lYansporter Room Three, still light-headed, getting her bearings. And there was Picard.
She smiled as she saw the familiar face. Jean-Luc Picard was an incredibly attractive man with handsome, chiseled features; he had some time ago lost his hair, except for a closely trimmed fringe around the sides, and as far as she was concerned the baldness added to his virile image. She admired and respected him-but she was also deeply drawn to him on a feral, primitive level. Maintaining the bearing and reserve of a superior officer was always difficult around this man, though she was sure he was unaware of that fact.
”It's good to see you again, Captain.”
”And you, Admiral Brackett.”
”Shall we?” she asked, and he gestured her ahead of him through the transporter room door; they exit-ed, followed by Severson, who was as pale as a ghost and drawing deep breaths of air to keep from throwing up.
When they had reached the bridge and entered the captain's ready room, she turned to Severson. ”You're excused, Lieutenant.” The matter she had come to discuss was not for anyone's ears but Picard's.
The captain moved toward his replicator. ”Would you care for refreshments? Tea, perhaps?”
She smiled. She knew this man, knew what was going on inside him, knew what he was truly feeling in spite of his remote, detached manner. ”You're a cool one, Picard,” she said.
He turned to her, quizzical, an eyebrow lifted, his look asking the question for him.
”I know you well enough to know that you're burning with curiosity about this summons of mine. And yet you almost manage to convince me that your only concern is a cup of Earl Grey.”
”And I know you well enough to know that you'll only tell me what you want to in your own good time. So we might as well have tea.”
She smiled as he held her look. They were old friends; they'd had these fencing matches many times before. In fact their first encounter-when they were both cadets at Starfleet Academy-had been on the debate team. They delighted in opposing each other with vehement arguments, and then switching sides and going at it again. During the course of their careers they had continued the friendly rivalry and Brackett always found herself looking forward to the match.
So if Jean-Luc Picard wanted to pretend nonchalance, she understood the gambit. But she held the upper hand this time; she knew the startling reason for this meeting, and perhaps she would make him wait for a few moments before she revealed it.
”I apologize for the mystery, Captain,” she began, ”but we must attempt to contain the information I'm about to reveal to you-at least as long as possible.”
He regarded her calmly, waiting with no perceptible indication of curiosity.
”Three weeks ago, one of our most celebrated amba.s.sadors-an adviser to Federation leaders for generations-disappeared. He left no word of his destination.”
And still he waited, gazing at her patiently. She moved toward his desk and quickly activated the computer console there.
”Eight days ago, intelligence reports placed him on Romulus-and I a.s.sure you it's an unauthorized visit.” She keyed an instruction and then said, ”Computer, initiate linkage between this terminal and Starbase computer system alpha-two-nine.”
”Linkage complete,” responded the computer voice pleasantly.
Brackett busied herself for a moment with computer instructions, wondering if Picard would interject a question. When he did, it was minimal. ”A defection?” he queried, in the most even of tones.
”If it is, the damage to Federation security would be incalculable.” She tapped a few more times and then gestured for him to look at his monitor.
A blurry image appeared on the computer screen- it seemed to consist of several figures but none was distinguishable. Picard leaned in, trying to decipher it.
”Taken on Romulus, by long-range scanner,” said Brackett. ”Computer, enhance image in section four-delta.”
The computer whirred and the blurred images began to come into focus. The peripheral images were still fuzzy, but the central figure gradually came into sharp relief.
Admiral Brackett looked for Picard's reaction as he found himself looking at the unmistakable image of Spock of Vulcan-dressed in Romulan clothing.
Spock, a revered figure in Starfleet history. Spock, the renowned amba.s.sador. Spock, venerated architect of peace in the galaxy. Was he a defector to the Romulans?
Picard stared at Brackett in astonishment, and she could not resist a wry smile. At least now she had his attention.
Chapter Two.
COMMANDER WILL RIKER was so wrapped up in his thoughts as he strode the corridor of Deck Eleven that he ran right into Ensign Gretchen Naylor. Their shoulders b.u.mped and he snapped out of his reverie to find the tall brunette with pale green eyes looking at him in surprise.
”Excuse me, sir, I should have been more careful-”
”It's my fault, Ensign. I was a million light-years away and I wasn't watching where I was going. You okay?”