Part 8 (2/2)

”Ignore your panel. It may have been tampered with. Scan the s.h.i.+p with a tricorder! Do it now!”

Medric opened the storage compartment and took out a tricorder. He scanned, moving it around him. Unnecessarily, Folan thought. She waited for his answer, her tight chest barely letting her breathe.

He looked up suddenly, surprised. ”We have less than five minutes before the core implodes.”

”Get down there,” Folan ordered. ”Now!”

Medric collapsed into the chair at his bridge station. When he and Engineering finally were able to reverse the engine overload, thirty-three seconds remained before implosion.

Everyone felt relieved save Folan. She looked back to her library computer. It was all T'sart. He'd made it look like it was her own experiment, but it was him.

She knew there was nothing to be done except find him, catch him, and make him pay. ”We need to get underway.”

Medric looked at her incredulously. ”Folan,” he said, ”you may have rank for technical command, but we have a crippled s.h.i.+p and our first duty is to that, and to our commander on the planet. We will find Commander J'emery and-”

”Commander J'emery is dead,” Folan growled, frustrated. Didn't he understand? Didn't he see how many T'sart had killed? ”He's murdered anyone who could stop him. He's insane.”

Or you are. Of course no one said that, but it was etched into every expression. Especially Medric's.

It didn't matter. She was in charge. She was in command.

”Do as I say, Medric. We must get underway! Now!”

Silence dominated and Medric held still.

The other bridge officers waited. Waited to see who would do what, and which side would triumph so that they might choose the winner.

Finally, Medric spoke. ”No.”

Chapter Eleven.

U.S.S. Enterprise. NCC-1701E Romulan s.p.a.ce Sector 94 ”twenty-two minutes now, sir.” Will Riker sighed, shook his head, and tried to dissipate a lead-dense tension. ”If it's a trap, they're late for it.” ”Or we're early,” Picard said wryly. ”But I doubt both.” Enterprise had been waiting at the appointed rendezvous coordinates. And waiting, and waiting. Every moment in Romulan s.p.a.ce was risking a confrontation. And if that led to war, it would be one that couldn't be easily won, thanks to a hard-fought victory against the Dominion and an almost complete lack of subs.p.a.ce communications. Another eight minutes, the captain thought as he leaned back in the command chair. Thirty minutes of leeway was all Starfleet's orders had called for, unless Picard thought something was to be gained by extending the time. Of course, he'd have to justify the extension to his superiors.

Another minute crawled by, and the captain wasn't sure he'd want to extend the time. He tried to keep his personal feelings out of the equation. He couldn't let Enterprise slip into Romulan hands for any reason, and he couldn't start an all-out war.

”Long-range scan,” Picard ordered.

”Still picking up indications of subs.p.a.ce radiation from Section 72, sir.” Data paused and checked his readout again. ”No vessels within range of scanners.”

That told Picard little. Subs.p.a.ce radiation could mean anything-a fleet of freighters, a fleet of stars.h.i.+ps, or any ma.s.s of vessels in between. ”Try to pinpoint the source to a star system.”

”Aye, sir.” Data hovered over his sensors a bit, then ran his hands so quickly over the console that his fingers were almost a blur. ”Could be the Ch'chiknas system, or the Merterbis system.”

The captain leaned forward. ”Information on both systems?”

Wavering for a moment as the screen changed, the forward viewer's starscape s.h.i.+fted to a data readout.

”Ch'chiknas is uninhabited except for a few mining colonies. Four planets, a large asteroid belt. Merterbis has a thriving colony with both civilian and military population. Seven planets, one Cla.s.s M.”

”Distance from Merterbis?”

”Seven point three pa.r.s.ecs.”

”Okay,” Riker said. ”We know where, but we don't know what.”

Picard pulled in a deep breath. The comment reminded him of the problems with the dead zones. He knew where they were happening, but not what they were. And that's what he wanted to be thinking about more than all the Romulan machinations. Then again... Spock... he wanted to solve that, too.

”Keep up the pa.s.sive scans,” he ordered finally. ”I'd like to know more, but we can't give our position away with an active beam.”

Data nodded, and as the main viewer's picture returned to the starscape outside, Picard wondered just how much longer he would wait once the thirty-minute limit pa.s.sed.

Romulan Warbird Makluan In Orbit, Merterbis Colony Romulan s.p.a.ce ”No.” A simple word. A small word in most languages. It is often the first word learned by children, and the first forgotten by them as well. Medric's mutiny snapped like lightning and ricocheted across the bridge. In the silence that followed the moment, Folan searched her subordinate's eyes. Was he truly going to challenge his superior and take her command? Or was it simply a test? From the set of his jaw and the angle in his brow, she knew it was both.

She wanted to glance around the bridge, meet the eyes of the others under her new command. She would be able to gain strength from their expressions if they were as outraged as she. But she would lose her own strength if she looked and their expressions were as frightened as her own.

Without moving her eyes from Medric's gaze, Folan roughly thumbed a b.u.t.ton on the console next to her. ”Security, stand by.”

”Security here. Standing by, SubCommander.”

Folan nodded, but still her glare was unmoved. ”You have choices, I have choices.”

Stone-faced but certainly sweating under his uniform, Medric lost when he began to argue. ”You are not command-”

”I am in command. And I will stay in command until the Empire sees fit to replace me. But you are not the Empire, Medric. You are not the Praetor, and you are not the commander. You are Centurion Medric, engineering officer, and you are quickly on your way to being less than that.”

From the corner of her eye, Folan was sure she saw a few bridge officers nod. Medric's mistake was in trying to discuss his point. As Folan was only now learning, respect in the Empire was not gained through debate and reason, but by strength, and courage.

”How soon can sensors and propulsion be repaired enough to get underway?”

”Twenty minutes,” Medric answered.

She nodded. ”See to it.”

Finally, after a long moment, he turned to act on his orders. But Medric was not weak. Yes, he'd shown the weakness of his position, but as he turned away in acceptance of it, Folan sensed he, too, had learned something today. Not, Folan thought, a relaxing thought.

U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701E Romulan s.p.a.ce Sector 34 ”Captain, we're picking up a vessel. One fifteen mark twelve.”

Tensing, Picard leaned forward in the command chair. ”Engage active scan.” Switching from pa.s.sive would make the Enterprise more noticeable to any Romulan sensor nets, but they'd be able to get a high degree of detail from the approaching s.h.i.+p.

”Switching,” Data said. ”Romulan shuttle, sir. Warp capable. Private craft, not military. Two life forms ... both Romulan.”

”Who?” Picard asked himself. ”And who else?”

Riker shrugged. ”Could be a decoy.”

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