Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [40]
“What I’m suggesting,” he snapped, “is that you do what you set out to do—help Spock. And the only way to accomplish that is to go in there and get him out.”
The captain stared at him. “In other words, you’d like me to take on an entire enemy fleet, not to mention whatever defenses they enjoy on Constanthus, without any regard for diplomacy.”
“In other words,” the admiral replied, “you’re damned right. In fact, I—”
McCoy was cut short by a sharp bleep from the ship’s intercom system. “Picard here,” the captain replied.
Data’s voice filled the ready room. “Sir, I have obtained some information concerning Romulan ship movements, which may shed light on the inadequacy of their numbers at the Neutral Zone border.”
“Go ahead,” said the captain.
“In tracking their engines’ ion emissions,” the android explained, “it became clear to me that a large number of their vessels have been deployed to a particular sector of the Empire.”
“I see,” Picard acknowledged. “And why that sector in particular?”
There was a brief pause. “I do not know, sir,” Data admitted. “However, I will continue to attempt to find out. In the meantime, I will make this information available to your terminal, so you may consider it at your leisure.”
With the admiral around, the captain didn’t expect to have much leisure. Still, he thanked the android for his thoughtfulness—after which Data signed off.
In the silence that followed, McCoy glowered almost accusingly at Picard. “Ship movements,” he muttered. “And this patty-cake you’re playing with the Romulans.” He sighed. “I expected more from you, Captain.”
Without waiting for a reply, the admiral turned his back on the captain and headed for the door, which opened obediently at his approach. Picard bit his lip as he watched McCoy walk out onto the bridge.
It was difficult enough dealing with the Romulans in so delicate a matter. Dealing with the admiral only increased the captain’s difficulties.
He wondered who at Starfleet Command had believed McCoy would be an asset on this mission.
Scotty turned at the sound of footfalls. Standing, he looked out across the energy barrier separating his cell from the ship’s corridor outside it.
A moment later, he found himself face-to-face with three Romulan officers. The one in the middle was the commander he had seen on the Yorktown’s viewscreen.
Of course that had been hours ago, before the Romulans had beamed him onto their ship and brought him to their brig. Obviously they didn’t know how to treat a guest. A Starfleet captain would never have kept him waiting so long.
The delay was probably purposeful. Give the human time to think, he mused, and he’ll be that much more eager to talk when the time comes.
The commander took a step forward, until his face was half a meter from the engineer’s. “I will have my explanation now, human,” the Romulan told him.
Scott returned the commander’s unblinking stare, and his scowl as well. “I have nothin’ to say,” he replied.
“If I were you,” the commander advised, “I would reconsider.” He frowned and started again. “You are alone on a ship that is a century out of date. And yet you dare to enter Romulan territory. Tell me why.”
Scotty tried to size the commander up—to divine his intentions. Why hadn’t he destroyed the Yorktown on the spot? Was it simply to be sure the human wasn’t a threat before disposing of him?
He repeated his earlier remark. “I have nothin’ to say.”
“You must be mad, even for a human,” the commander spat.
Suddenly, Scotty had an idea.
If nothing else, it might buy him some time. And though the engineer wasn’t sure it would do him any good, he knew he had to hold on as long as he could. After all, as long as he lived, Spock still had a chance.
“You’ll nae win,” Scotty snarled. “Nae as long as I draw breath.”
“Win what?” the commander asked, his brow furrowing. “We are not at war, your people and mine. At least, we weren’t until you made your pathetic incursion into our space.”
Leaning toward the commander suddenly, Scotty was gratified to see him flinch—despite the barrier