Part 11 (2/2)

”As you wish, Arbiter. But I urge you not to interrogate them alone.”

”Are you suggesting the chamber's security is insufficient? Or malfunctioning in some way?”

”Of course not, Arbiter,” Varkan said hastily. ”All mechanisms are checked regularly. It is just that- ”

”I appreciate your concerns, Commander, but you will serve the Alliance best by remaining on the bridge.”

The Romulan looked for a moment as if he were going to continue his protest, but he finally nodded an uneasy a.s.sent. ”As you wish, Arbiter,” he repeated.

Sarek turned and strode from the bridge, making his way down a dimly lit secondary corridor to the auxiliary transporter cubicle that provided the only means of access to Interrogation, itself buried deep in the Wisdom, as were similar rooms in all Alliance s.h.i.+ps.

”Enable entry,” he said distinctly, waiting a moment for the newly reprogrammed computer to recognize his voice and accept his command.

The door slid open and he stepped through, onto the single transporter pad that made up most of the cubicle's floor. ”Interrogation,” he said, unable to entirely suppress a s.h.i.+ver as the transporter field gripped him.

A moment later, he found himself in another small room, this one with no entrances or exits. The only way in or out was by transporter. A control panel and a meter-wide viewscreen took up half of one wall. He was, he realized, probably the first person to occupy this s.p.a.ce since the Wisdom had been commissioned, just as the two beings from his false memories were the first to occupy the chamber on the far side of the still-opaque wall opposite the viewscreen.

The so-called ”drone chamber.”

One was built into every Alliance vessel, all in the so-far-vain hope that a Borg drone could be captured and totally isolated from the collective.

And interrogated.

As yet it had never happened.

Unless these two were themselves Borg creations, Sarek thought. Could the Borg have learned how to extend their mental links beyond the collective? Could they have eavesdropped on his thoughts and then modified two of their Terran drones to match his false memories?

Or could they have somehow created those false memories in the first place?

Anything, he feared, was possible. After more than a century of observation, no one in the Alliance could do more than make wild speculations about the Borg's true capabilities.

”Enable automatic extraction mechanism,” he said.

”Enabled,” a soft voice replied from the walls. Until the mechanism was disabled, any significant change in his life signs would be detected and would trigger the transporter.

”Security protocol alshaya.”

”Security protocol alshaya,” the computer confirmed. Until Sarek removed or altered the protocol, the only connections to the outside world were a hardwired incoming link from the bridge, allowing the commander to signal him in an emergency, and a hardwired two-way link allowing him to access the Wisdom's records.

”Enable iso-vision,” he said. The wall he faced faded to one-way transparency.

The two beings-Terrans? Modified drones?- were both looking in his direction, frowning. Could they have heard his voice despite the force fields that separated them? Or had the faint hum of the transporter alerted them?

Sarek could not entirely suppress the chill he felt as he saw that these two did not just resemble the beings from his false memories, as he had hoped this up-close, detailed inspection would reveal. Other than the stubble on the face of the one called Scott, he could detect no differences between these two and the two from his ”most recent” false memories.

Finally, he turned and inspected the bio readouts on the control panel beneath the viewscreen. There were dozens, but collectively they showed two things: The beings were one hundred percent organic, which meant they were not Borg-at least not in any way that Alliance technology could detect.

And they could be Terrans. None of the readouts conflicted with any of the biological parameters that had been a.s.sembled from the records of pre-Borg visitors to the world.

”Full vision and sound,” he said.

A moment later, the beings' eyes widened. With the sound baffles down, he could hear their accelerated breathing.

Kirk and Scotty lurched and almost fell as the transporter field released them and they found themselves in a featureless, gray-walled room-box?- with no doors, no windows, nothing. The only light source was a square glowing patch above their heads.

”Sarek!” Kirk half-shouted, but there was no response.

At the same time, Scotty s.n.a.t.c.hed the remote control unit from the utility belt at his waist, studied its readout a moment, then entered his security code.

Nothing happened. The G.o.ddard's computer did not respond.

This was not good, Kirk thought. Even if Sarek reappeared and took the time to talk with them, Scotty's ill-timed exclamation had committed them to something at least vaguely resembling the truth, which unfortunately was, in its simplest form: ”We're here to radically alter the past and present of dozens of worlds, including your own.”

Not that they would ever have a chance to do any such thing, not if their present situation was any indication.

”Ideas, Scotty?”

The engineer shook his head, frowning as he replaced the remote control in his belt and extracted what Kirk a.s.sumed was a tricorder, even though it was closer in size to a communicator. Scotty's frown deepened as he scanned slowly in all directions.

”There's another room not much bigger than this one on the other side of this wall,” he said, pointing, ”but there's no way out of either one, except by transporter. And there's a force field to block that.”

Kirk grimaced. ”A maximum security dungeon? But where? In Sarek's s.h.i.+p?”

”Aye,” the engineer said after a moment's study of the tiny tricorder screen, ”we're in a s.h.i.+p, at least. There are more than a hundred life forms, including Vulcan and Romulan and half a dozen others. I wouldn't- ”

Scotty broke off, directing the tricorder toward the wall that concealed the adjacent room. ”The force field is going down,” he said. An instant later the silence was replaced by a faint, directionless hum.

Hastily he grabbed his remote control, but before he could reenter his code, the humming stopped and the tricorder indicated the force field was back.

And that the adjoining ”room” now contained a life form.

A Vulcan life form.

Hastily, Scotty stowed the tricorder while Kirk nodded his approval. The last thing he wanted to do was call attention to that or the communicator and possibly have the devices confiscated.

As they watched the wall, its entire length wavered like a viewscreen going out of focus.

Suddenly, then, it was transparent, and they found themselves facing not a viewscreen image but a seemingly real and still-haggard-looking Sarek less than two meters away. In the otherwise featureless wall behind him were a small viewscreen and control panel.

”Are we prisoners?” Kirk asked sharply.

”That depends on who and what you are and how you come to know my name,” the Vulcan said, his voice indistinguishable from that of ”their” Sarek.

Suddenly, Kirk had an idea. The truth!

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