Unification - Jeri Taylor [77]
“One-four-three, mark zero-one-two,” replied Worf, and by the time Riker reached the science station, a grid on the monitor displayed the boundaries of the Neutral Zone, and Riker observed three small blips moving through it.
“That would put them on a course to Vulcan,” said Geordi. He stared at the blips for a moment, keying commands on the console.
“Worf, signal them on subspace. Request their status. Geordi, see if you can tell if one of them is the ship we’ve been looking for.” Riker saw Geordi and Worf both spring into action. He realized his neck was feeling better already.
Worf reported first. “They say they’re escorting a peace envoy from Romulus to Vulcan, sir. They request that we monitor Federation subspace channels. Ambassador Spock will be making an announcement shortly.”
“Perhaps his reunification talks were successful,” suggested Troi.
But it didn’t feel right to Riker. A stolen Vulcan ship delivered near Galorndon Core… now Vulcan ships crossing the Neutral Zone from Romulus…
He turned to La Forge. “Geordi?”
“None of the transponder signatures match up to the missing ship, Commander. They might have been altered. I’ll keep checking.”
Riker pondered for a moment, then decided there was nothing to be lost by putting himself in position in case there was something rotten in Romulus.
“Set a course to intercept the Vulcan ships,” he said, and saw Worf’s head spin around.
“Sir,” protested the Klingon, “the captain’s orders were to maintain—”
“I know the captain’s orders, Lieutenant. Engage.”
The great ship whipped into warp speed, and Riker began to feel better. At least he was doing something.
When Sela had dispatched the ships across the Neutral Zone, she had purposely delayed returning to the office where Spock, Picard, and Data waited. She liked the idea of toying with them, giving them time to ponder their failure and her triumph, and to dwell uncomfortably on just what fate she planned for them. She knew they must be well aware of Romulan rituals of execution, and some time to consider their tolerance for those elegant customs might leave them in a less arrogant mood.
She was still undecided how to treat the android. He could feel neither pain nor emotion, so he did not fit comfortably into the rigorous plans she had for the other two. She wondered if he would be adaptable to Romulan use; he might make a worthwhile aide if his circuits could be reintegrated so that he lost his attachment to Starfleet and its doctrines. She would have to check with their robotic scientists about that. If so, she would keep Spock and Picard alive long enough to witness the subversion of their colleague.
So it was with a light heart that she entered her office to confront her prisoners once more. And discovered that the room was empty. Stunned, she and the guards quickly drew their disruptors and inspected the room. The prisoners were nowhere to be found. “Impossible,” she breathed. “There’s no way they could have gotten out of this room.”
And then, more incredibly, a voice behind her barked, “That’s far enough.” She whirled to see Riker, Picard’s first officer, with several of his security forces, all with phasers trained on them. “Hold it right there,” snapped Riker. “Drop your weapons.”
Instinctively, Sela acted, moving casually toward her desk, looking for cover. ~’Drop your weapons,” repeated Riker.
But she dropped to her knees and, using her desk as cover, she fired a burst toward them; her guards immediately followed suit.
But Riker and his men still stood. “Drop your weapons,” repeated Riker, and suddenly Sela understood. She rose, waved toward her men. “Cease fire,” she ordered, and walked closer toward Riker. “Holo-grams,” she said with irritation, angry that they had been deceived.
What happened next happened so quickly that Sela felt as if she were watching a high-speed video log. A hand emerged from the wall—how can that be? her mind wondered—and clasped one of her guards at the neck; he crumpled onto the floor. The rest of Spock then followed the hand through the