Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [30]
“Yes,” Riley said again.
“And did yer father happen to mention that he felt a debt to Spock? A wee bit of gratitude for all he’d done?”
Riley exploded, his face the color of blood. “Dammit, Captain, you have no right to ask me this!”
The engineer met the man’s anger dead-on. “Ye’re right, lad. I have nae right to ask what I’m asking—but I’ve got nae choice. Unless ye help me, a good man’ll die—a man I owe my life to many times over. A man yer father and hundreds of others owe their lives to as well. Now, the Federation canna do anything to help him, we understand that. But I can—if ye let me.”
For a long moment, Captain Riley stared at him in silence, the decision weighing on him. Finally, with a pained expression, he nodded.
“All right,” the captain said. “I’ll come up with a way to sort it out in the logs.”
Scotty wondered how the man would explain that a Galaxy-class vessel lost a ship more than a century old. Of course, he didn’t ask. Riley knew well enough what kind of risk he was taking without being reminded.
The man tapped his communicator badge. “Captain Riley to transporter room one. Prepare to beam Captain Scott back to the bridge of his ship on my command.”
Standing up, Scotty regarded the captain kindly. “I’m truly sorry to be askin’ this of ye. If there was another way, I would surely take it.”
For the first time, Riley smiled. It made the resemblance to his father that much greater.
“Good luck, Captain Scott.”
“Thank ye, lad.”
“Energize,” said Riley.
The next thing he knew, Scotty was back on the bridge of the Yorktown. Turning to the viewscreen, he watched the Intrepid warp away.
If he ever survived this mission, Scotty resolved, he’d look up Captain Terrance Riley and tell him a few stories about his father.
That was, of course, after he returned the Yorktown to Commander Nelson and apologized to Ensign Hammond for stealing the vessel on her watch. Sighing, he thanked the Great Bird of the Galaxy and his lucky stars for taking him this far.
Then he got back to work.
First, he ran a quick diagnostic on the new computer interface, which checked out fine. Then he laid in a course for Constanthus at warp factor eight.
But his labors were far from finished. He still had to release the safety interlocks on the phaser banks and power them up. And when that was done, he would have to bleed off antimatter from the engines for the photon torpedoes.
There was still a lot to do. As he headed for the turbolift, Scotty decided that he would start on the phaser banks and then work on the torpedoes as the phasers charged …
CHAPTER 7
As Spock approached his followers, he raised his hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting. “Live long and prosper, students of Surak.”
As a group, they returned the salute. “Peace and long life,” they responded.
Before Spock could begin the day’s lessons, Belan stepped forward. The Constantharine addressed him.
“Teacher,” Belan said. “Please excuse my interruption, but we have not yet dealt with the fact that there is a spy among us. Ganos detected his transmission, remember, before he was cut down by the governor’s soldiers.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. By the look on Belan’s face— a look that was shared by a number of the students, he noted—the Teacher could see that the Romulan was troubled by the idea.
Spock reminded himself that he was not dealing with Vulcan students. These people were Romulans, their passions very close to the surface, and they were only beginning their efforts to embrace the principles of Surak.
“How do you propose to determine the identity of this infiltrator?” the Vulcan asked.
Belan had an answer ready. “I propose we question each member of our group, both those from the homeworlds and from Constanthus—with the exception of you, of course. Certainly, logic would