A more in-depth scan confirmed the existence of a secret compartment behind the panel, cleverly hidden so that it could be not be found unless someone was actually looking for it. She had to congratulate Kirk, and probably Spock, on their ingenuity. It was an excellent hiding place, easily as good as the one she had devised for April so many years ago, which she and Pike had subsequently guarded before, finally, passing the secret—and the responsibility—on to Kirk when he took command of the Enterprise. She assumed that it was the 2264 refit that had forced Kirk to find a slightly new cache for the item in question.
For close to two decades, the Enterprise had held a secret unknown even to Starfleet, passed down from captain to captain, first officer to first officer, until the present day. And during all that time the secret had remained securely hidden within the ship’s very walls.
Until today.
With a twinge of guilt, she exchanged the tricorder for a phaser and set the weapon on its highest setting. A red-hot beam cut into the bulkhead around the bronze panel, causing vaporized metal to steam away from its edges. Cracking the locking mechanism would have been a more elegant solution, but she suspected that the encryption involved was considerably more formidable than the lock on a door, especially if Mister Spock had been involved in programming the codes. She had devised the original security system, but that had been a long time ago, so she could hardly expect the combination to remain the same—and she didn’t have time to match wits with Spock.
Hence, the phaser, even if it did make her feel like an Orion looter.
Even still, the operation took longer than she expected, as the bulkhead resisted the high-intensity phaser beam. Perspiration glued the back of her tunic to her spine as the beam cut through the metal with agonizing slowness. Had Kirk and Spock reinforced the shielding around the hidden compartment? It certainly seemed as much, given the difficulty it was posing for her.
Damn, she thought. I should have anticipated this.
She worried about the unconscious lieutenant lying on the floor nearby. In theory, he would be out for forty-five minutes or so, and wake with nothing more than a sore neck and a mild headache, but she kept her ears open for any sound of him stirring. In a pinch, she could always stun him with her phaser, but she hoped to avoid that. She was imposing on Kirk’s hospitality enough without zapping one of his crewmen.
And young Riley deserved better, too.
But what if he was expected on duty somewhere? He had said he was en route to the bridge before she waylaid him. How long did she have before his absence was detected?
Time was not on her side.
Precious moments dragged by as she cut around the panel. A smaller aperture would have been faster, but she couldn’t risk damaging the contents of the compartment by accident. Vaporized metal hissed and crackled, the acrid fumes assaulting her nose and mouth before she finally completed the process. The charred edges of the panel were still hot to the touch, but, putting aside the phaser, she grabbed onto them with both hands, wresting the panel loose to reveal the hidden compartment—and its occupant. Her breath caught in her throat as she laid eyes on it for the first time in too many years.
The Transfer Key was a flat, rectangular tablet-sized device only slightly larger than Una’s palm. A blank viewscreen, framed by a blue border, occupied one face of the device, while an assortment of recessed buttons and switches ran along its edge. Painful memories flooded her mind as she contemplated the Key. It still amazed her that so compact a device could have caused so much heartbreak so many years ago. Old wounds, carried deep in her soul, bled afresh.
I’m so sorry, Tim . . . for you and the others.
The guilty memories stung, but also renewed her determination to keep to the course she had set out on, in hopes of finally making things right.
If that was still possible after all this time.
It has to be, she thought, snapping out of her reverie. Or this is all for nothing.
She lowered the heavy panel to the floor, much more gently than she had dropped poor Riley. It landed with a dull thump, but Una barely heard it. She only had eyes for the Key.
Reaching out, she claimed her prize.
Three
It was a quiet morning on the bridge, which was probably just as well, Kirk reflected, considering how late some of his crew had been celebrating last night. Sulu struck the captain as slightly hungover this morning, as opposed to his usual chipper self, while Uhura’s voice seemed a tad hoarse from an excess of Venusian karaoke. And, honestly, Kirk could’ve used a few more hours of sleep as he nursed his second cup of coffee of the morning, thoughtfully provided by the ever attentive Yeoman Bates. Only Spock seemed none the worse for wear from the festivities, routinely manning his science station as effortlessly as ever.
Figures, Kirk thought.
He leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. The viewscreen before him offered nothing but distant stars streaking past as the Enterprise warped through the vast empty reaches of deep space. The final frontier could be dangerous at times, full of hazards both known and unknown, but it could also be serene as well, offering smooth sailing through an endless sea that was often far more still and placid than anything found at the bottom of a gravity well. Kirk reminded himself to appreciate such moments, before they inevitably encountered choppier waters once more.
“Clear skies today, it seems,” he said. “Not a storm in sight.”
“Tell that to my head,” Sulu moaned. “It feels like a Horta is trying to burrow its way out of my skull.”
“A word to the wise, Helmsman. Never try to outdrink our chief engineer, particularly if there’s scotch involved.”
“Lesson learned, Captain,” Sulu said. “Trust me.”
Kirk chose to take Sulu’s aching head as evidence that last night’s reception had been a success, and he hoped that Captain Una had enjoyed herself as well. Tonight’s plans were less elaborate, involving a private dinner with the senior officers, but Kirk felt confident that an enjoyable time would be had by all. He was not entirely sure how long Una would be visiting, but he intended to extend her the ship’s full hospitality for the duration of her stay. It was the least he could do, considering her personal history with the Enterprise.
“Would you like a refill on your coffee, Captain?”
Bates entered the command well, bearing a fresh pot of java.
“Why not?” Kirk said. “And while you’re at it—”
He was about to suggest that she offer Sulu a cup as well when a silent alarm, which he had never expected to see, flashed abruptly on the microtape viewer built into the armrest of his chair. Kirk blinked in surprise; it took him a moment to register what he was seeing.
The Key, he realized. Someone’s found the Key.
“Captain?” Bates asked. “Is everything all right?”
He assumed a less startled expression. “I’m fine.” He waved away her and her coffeepot. “On second thought, I’ll pass on the coffee, thank you. That will be all, Yeoman.”
“Are you sure—” she began, then caught herself. “Aye, Captain.”
Kirk barely noticed her retreat from the command well as his mind raced in response to this unprecedented development. His eyes sought out Spock, who had surely just received the same silent alert. Spock turned toward Kirk, his expression grave. They exchanged concerned looks that were hopefully lost on everyone else on the bridge.
This can’t be right, Kirk thought. It must be a technical glitch or malfunction. No one on this ship even knows about the Key, except for me and Spock and . . .
He jabbed the comm button on his right armrest.
“Kirk to Captain Una, please respond.”
There was no answer from her quarters, although he knew that there was any number of places she could be at the moment, from the ship’s gymnasium to the officers’ mess. He switched the comm
setting in order to address the entire ship.
“Captain Kirk to Captain Una. Please respond immediately.”
By now, all eyes had turned toward him. Puzzled faces betrayed the bridge crew’s confusion as they tried to figure out what was up—and why Una had not responded yet. Kirk knew the feeling. He was worrying about that himself.
“Captain?” Uhura asked, her curiosity mirrored on the faces of Sulu and Bates and the others. Kirk was suddenly grateful that McCoy was in sickbay. Not even Bones could be let in on this secret.
“As you were, Lieutenant,” Kirk said to Uhura.
“Aye, sir,” she said uncertainly.
Bones would not have let the matter drop so easily, Kirk thought as Spock slipped past Bates to join Kirk in the command well. He lowered his voice.
“Captain, perhaps more active measures are required to locate Captain Una.”
“You may be right, but . . .”
Kirk hesitated, reluctant to dispatch a security team in search of Una. In part that was because such a drastic response would only invite more scrutiny regarding a matter that had long been a closely guarded secret, but also because it went against his gut to assume the worst of a fellow Starfleet captain, let alone a decorated veteran like Captain Una. It was almost impossible to imagine such a distinguished officer going rogue.
But nothing about this situation went by the rules.
“Security,” he barked into the comm. “Locate Captain Una and bring her to the bridge.”
Spock frowned as he returned to his station. Vulcan or not, he had to be bothered by Una’s increasingly suspect silence, as well as the steps being taken to detain her. It would be highly embarrassing if this was a simple coincidence or misunderstanding, but Kirk found himself hoping fervently that that was the case.
“Captain?” a perplexed voice said from the comm speaker on Kirk’s chair. “This is Lieutenant Bresler in hangar control. Captain Una is leaving in her ship.”
Kirk jumped to his feet. “On whose orders?”
“Hers, sir.”
Bresler sounded embarrassed, as though suddenly suspecting that he had erred somehow, but Kirk could not fault the man for following Una’s orders. When a high-ranking officer asks to depart in her own ship, few crew members would think twice before complying.
“Don’t let her leave!” Kirk ordered. “Close the hangar doors.”
“We’ll try, Captain, but she’s already fired up her engines!”
She’d made good time getting from his quarters to the hangar deck, Kirk noted, but Spock had said she was efficient. An express turbolift would cover the distance quickly enough, if she moved briskly and knew exactly where she was heading.
“She had this all planned,” Kirk guessed. “Right from the beginning.”
“So it appears,” Spock said, “if our suspicions are correct.”
Kirk’s doubts on that score were fading by the minute. That alarm was no glitch.
“On-screen,” Kirk ordered. “Let me see what’s happening.”
“Acknowledged,” Spock said. “Switching to internal sensors.”
The image on the main viewer shifted from the star-flecked space ahead to an interior view of the hangar deck. The bay’s massive space doors were beginning to slide shut again, per Kirk’s command, but the Shimizu showed no sign of powering down. Twin nacelles, embedded in its wings, glowed azure as the small, sleek spacecraft lifted off from the deck. Its landing gear folded back against its hull.
“She is making her escape,” Spock said.
“Tell me something I don’t know!” Kirk snapped, more brusquely than intended. “Uhura, hail the Shimizu. Get me Captain Una.”
“Already on it,” she said, anticipating his command. “Enterprise to Shimizu, respond at once.”
As before, Una failed to respond.
“Captain,” Spock said. “If we close the doors entirely, or even raise the shields, we risk significant damage to both vessels, unless the Shimizu remains where it is, which does not appear to be Captain Una’s intention.”
No, it does not, Kirk thought as the Shimizu tilted to port by forty-five degrees, the better to pass through the narrowing gap between the closing space doors. A sudden burst of acceleration, defying every prescribed safety protocol, propelled the courier craft out of the landing bay into the vacuum of space, leaving Kirk staring in frustration at an empty hangar. The Shimizu had well and truly flown the coop.
Taking the Key with it.
“Aft view!” he ordered. “Now!”
The empty space behind the Enterprise took over the viewscreen, just in time for Kirk to see the Shimizu zipping away at what looked like full impulse at least. The tiny ship was already shrinking into the distance, even as the Enterprise sped in the opposite direction at warp five. Exiting a starship that was cruising at warp speed was also hardly standard protocol, but Captain Una was clearly making her own rules at this point.
“Full reverse!” Kirk ordered. “And lock tractor beams on that ship. Don’t let it get away!”
“Aye, sir!” Sulu no longer sounded remotely hungover. “Full reverse.”
The abrupt shift in direction tested the Enterprise’s inertial dampers, nearly throwing Kirk from his chair. Bates seized a safety rail to steady herself, while a loose data slate clattered onto the deck. The coffee sloshed in Kirk’s cup, threatening to spill over. He expected an indignant protest from engineering at any moment.
Sorry, Scotty.
“Employing tractor beams,” Ensign Chekov reported from the navigation station to the right of Sulu. A thick Russian accent tinged his voice, along with what sounded like a growing sense of frustration. He muttered darkly under his breath as, on-screen, the Shimizu continued to flee the Enterprise, only barely within visual range.
Kirk frowned. “Is there a problem, Mister Chekov?”
“I’m trying, sir, but I’m having difficulty getting a lock on the other vessel. It’s raised its shields, which are interfering with the tractor beam in a way I’ve never encountered before.” He worked the controls stubbornly, but did not seem happy with the results. “It’s as though the deflectors are making the Shimizu more . . . slippery.”
“Captain Una’s handiwork, I assume,” Kirk said.
“Her brilliance and ingenuity are considerable,” Spock said, “as I can personally attest to.”
Kirk scowled. “Too bad those stellar qualities are working against us now.”
“I quite agree, Captain. That is most . . . unfortunate.”
Kirk wondered again how hard this was on Spock, but before he could ask Spock what his old crewmate could possibly be about, Uhura interrupted urgently.
“Captain! The Shimizu is finally answering my hails.”
About time, Kirk thought. “Put her through.”
Una’s head and shoulders appeared on the screen. As ever, she appeared calm and immaculate.
“My sincere apologies for abusing your hospitality, Kirk,” she said from the helm of the Shimizu. “Perhaps someday, if all goes well, I can explain, but not today.”
Kirk tried to reason with her. “Think about what you’re doing here. You’re throwing away your career, your reputation. You may even be risking a court-martial. And for what?”
The Transfer Key?
“Closure, Kirk,” she replied. “Closure and . . . responsibility.”
Spock peered into the scope at his station. “She’s powering her warp engine, Captain.”
“Shall I lock weapons, sir?” Chekov swallowed hard. A photon torpedo at this range would risk destroying the smaller spacecraft, and phasers were not much safer. “Torpedoes loaded.”
“Hold your fire,” Kirk said. He was not about to open fire on a vessel piloted by another Starfleet captain, merely on suspicion of her having stolen a secret that Starfleet didn’t even know about
. He walked toward the viewscreen, as though reducing the distance between himself and Una.
“Talk to me,” he said to her. “Before this goes too far.”
She shook her head.
“I’ve waited too long already. I’m asking you, Kirk, captain to captain. Don’t try to follow me.”
Spock looked up from his scanner. “She is going to warp, Captain.”
Una’s image vanished from view as she abruptly cut off the transmission. On-screen the Shimizu began to pull away from the Enterprise, shrinking farther into the distance. Within seconds, it had vanished from visual range.
“Captain?” Sulu asked. “Your orders?”
It occurred to Kirk that Sulu had to be just as baffled by this sudden turn of events as the rest of the bridge crew. Aside from Spock, none of them had the slightest clue as to why the Enterprise was suddenly in pursuit of Captain Una and her ship.
And I’m in no position to tell them, Kirk thought. I can only count on them to follow my orders without question.
“Follow that ship, Mister Sulu.”
“Aye, sir.” Sulu shrugged and did as instructed. “Coming about and commencing pursuit.”
No longer flying in reverse, the Enterprise executed a tight U-turn that sent them chasing after the Shimizu at high speed. Kirk peered grimly at the screen before him. Una had asked him not to follow her, but Kirk couldn’t do that, not until he knew what she was up to and what was at stake. Pike had passed the Key on to Kirk, and that was not a responsibility Kirk took lightly.
He looked to Spock, wanting answers.
“What is this all about, Spock? Why is she doing this?”
Spock turned away from his control panel. His voice and visage were even more guarded than usual. “I am reluctant to speculate . . . under the present circumstances.”
His caution was logical. Kirk was all too aware of the many curious ears surrounding them. They could hardly talk freely here on the bridge.
“Captain,” Uhura said. “Security is reporting that Lieutenant Riley has been found unconscious in your quarters.” Her stunned expression suggested that she could barely believe the news she was conveying. “It appears that he was assaulted by Captain Una, sir.”