Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [9]
Maybe in those days something could have been done for Spock. But Montgomery Scott had lived too long and seen too much to believe that anymore. In any case, he was alone now, and there was certainly nothing he could do by himself.
Scotty shook his head sadly. This time, there was no hope. None at all.
Unless…
No.
It would never work…
Absolutely not.
… even if there was time.
And then Scotty felt that rush of ideas that never seemed to come on call, but always managed to appear when absolutely necessary.
Checking the navigational computer, he saw that he could cover the distance in a reasonable time—possibly even quickly enough to save Spock.
But there were too many variables. Too many things the engineer didn’t know and couldn’t plan for.
Scotty quit that line of thinking, deeming it unproductive. He wouldn’t bother to calculate the odds; he could guess that they would be very high. And, in any case, the decision was already made.
He reset the shuttle’s course. Starbase 178 and what he needed were twelve hours away, and he had a lot of work to do before he arrived.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat down behind the sleek, dark desk in his ready room and tapped the padd on his control panel.
The monitor in front of him displayed the long,weather-worn face of a Starfleet commodore. Picard didn’t normally hear from such a person unless the circumstances were grim.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Captain.” Commodore Edrich frowned, emphasizing the deep lines already in his face. “It’s Ambassador Spock. He’s been captured with a group of unificationists on one of the Romulan Empire’s outer worlds. A place called Constanthus— literally, Crossover, for its position halfway between Romulus and the Neutral Zone.”
Picard’s mouth went dry. Spock …
“Do they know who he is?” he asked.
Edrich shook his head. “Not yet—so time is of the essence. That’s why we’re dispatching a consultant to help you. Someone who knows Spock like the back of his hand.”
Picard shifted uneasily in his chair. “A consultant,” he echoed.
The commodore nodded. “His name is McCoy. Admiral Leonard McCoy. He and Spock—”
“I know who he is,” Picard interrupted. “And I know his relationship to Spock.” Better than anyone could possibly guess, Picard mused.
“Then our business is finished. I am forwarding the rendezvous coordinates and formal orders to your ship,” Edrich said. “Good luck, Captain.”
Picard nodded. “Thank you,” he replied.
With that, Edrich disappeared from the monitor.
The captain turned away from the blank screen to consider the stars outside his ready-room windows.
Time is a path from the past to the future and back again. The present is the crossroads of both. He wondered at the simplicity and wisdom of Surak’s words.
In the past, he had traveled into the Romulan Empire to find Spock and to determine the ambassador’s reason for being there. Then, as now, Federation security had been at stake. Picard’s orders had been to determine whether Ambassador Spock had turned to the Romulan side.
Undercover on Romulus, Picard had found Spock and discovered the Vulcan’s work in the reunification movement. In the course of events, Picard had been able to help Spock—though truthfully, they had helped each other.
But that was in the past, when the Vulcan was living freely, if secretly, on the Romulan homeworlds. Now the ambassador was a prisoner of the Empire—a different matter entirely.
Picard felt his past and future with Spock merging into the same moment—the crossroads that Surak had identified as the present. In his mind, Picard despaired for the future of Ambassador Spock, the man who had helped shape the Federation’s destiny and who had touched Picard’s mind as well as his life.
Knowing that his options and the time to act would be severely limited, Picard could only resolve to honor the man and—whatever happened—to do his duty.
CHAPTER 3
The computer voice was cool, yet cordial.
“Starfleet shuttle Romain , you are cleared for mooring. Welcome to Starbase one-seven-eight, Captain