Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [138]
I do like the way we think.
Kyle passed a few days in San Francisco, enjoying the feeling of being back home. Except for the hole in his insides every time he thought of Michelle, he was already beginning to feel like his time on Hazimot was a dream, half-remembered, some of the details already fading as real life went on. Not that this is anything like real life, he thought. He wasn’t working yet, still hadn’t even entered the Starfleet Command complex.
He was bored already and growing more so by the hour. Now he stood on the crest of a long hill, wishing someone would attack him just to provide some diversion. When he heard footsteps approaching rapidly from behind him, he whirled, half-expecting and, he realized, almost desiring some kind of assault.
But it was Ensign Halalaii, one of the guards assigned to protect him. She was panting, as if the climb had taken more out of her than him. “Sir,” she said, “Admiral Paris would like you to report immediately to Starfleet Headquarters. There’s an emergency of some kind.”
The thought of going back to Headquarters-the lion’s den, as far as Kyle was concerned-was still a bit unnerving. But Owen had done a lot for him, and if he could help out the admiral, he had to do it. “I’ll catch an air tram right away,” he said.
“No time for that, sir.” She tapped her Starfleet insignia badge, which she wore on her chest in spite of being out of uniform for this assignment. “Three to beam in.”
Kyle braced himself for the momentary vertigo that always overtook him when he was transported, and then it was over and he was standing in Owen Paris’s office.
“Thank you for coming, Kyle,” Owen said, rising from behind his desk.
“I’m not sure that I had a choice,” Kyle answered. “The ensign said there was an emergency.”
“That’s right,” Owen said. He excused the two security officers, asking them to wait in the hall. They would continue to keep their distance from Kyle, but would stay alert just the same. “Come on,” Owen said to Kyle. “I’ll explain as we go.”
“Go where?” Kyle asked, rushing to keep up with Owen. The admiral had already started down the hall, his strides long and purposeful.
“Situation room,” Owen replied. “We’ll be met there by the others.”
“What others?” Kyle queried. “What’s happening, Owen?”
Owen slowed a moment to give Kyle a chance to catch up, and when he explained he did so in low tones, so that not even the security officers following behind could hear him. “It’s a ship, the Pegasus. Captain Erik Pressman in command.”
“I don’t know him,” Kyle said. “What’s he like?”
“He’s a good officer. A bit too ambitious for my tastes, but otherwise I have every faith in him.”
“So what’s the problem with the Pegasus?”
“We’ll be there in a moment,” Owen said. “And you’ll see.”
He led the way through a door guarded by yet another gold-uniformed security officer. Inside, a long, curved table stood in front of a vast display screen. In addition to the seats around the table, there were a dozen workstations, and beyond those, auditorium-style seating for a couple dozen more. No one else was in the room when they arrived, but there was an image on the screen. Two planets, one reddish and the other predominantly green, but with orange splotches here and there. Arrayed around the planets were fine-lined spherical grids that intersected one another. In the area of intersections was a blinking red dot.
“That’s Omistol,” Owen said, pointing to the planet on the right. “And Ven, on the left. Heard of them?”
“I think so, but not recently. I’ve kind of been out of the loop recently.”
“I know you have, Kyle,” Owen said. “But we’re going to ask you to catch up fast now.”
“You still haven’t told me what’s going on,” Kyle reminded him. “Or what this has to do with the Pegasus.”
“Omistol and Ven have been at war for almost three years,” Owen said. “A vicious, bloody, terrible war. Each side has lost more lives than it can afford.