“When you asked for my help, did any of you know what the Remans wanted with my son?”
The awful betrayal that drove that question made Picard’s heart ache for Kirk. And made him eternally grateful that this was at least one question he could answer with absolute honesty.
“No, Jim. On that you have my word. We all expected to be on Romulus now, investigating Spock’s murder. No one—me, my crew, the planners at Starfleet—none of us had the slightest thread of information to suggest the Remans would become involved.”
Picard could see that Kirk was replaying each word he had spoken, as if searching for the smallest indication of falsehood.
” ‘Other considerations,’ ” Kirk said in an ominous, quiet way. “Starfleet desk jockeys, you mean. Putting me in this position. Putting my son in this position.”
Picard hadn’t thought it would be possible to feel any worse about having lied to Kirk. Now he regretted ever agreeing to Janeway’s plan.
“Jim…” Picard began, trying to find a way to bridge the divide between them.
But Kirk shook his head with an angry snap. “Just don’t. Don’t say a thing. I asked Janeway point-blank, and she denied to my face that there was a third mission. I asked you, and you lied to me, too.”
“Need to know, Jim. Operational security.” Picard hated each word as he spoke it, but there was nothing else his orders permitted him to say. Wisely, La Forge and Crusher remained silent, adding no more fuel to the incendiary standoff.
Kirk made fists of his hands, tried to pace but there was just no room. “Even now…” Whatever else he was going to say was swallowed by a harsh laugh of disbelief. “All right…you needed me on this trip. You thought maybe Joseph would be protective coloration. After all, what sane father would risk his own son in a covert Starfleet operation?”
Picard remained silent, let Kirk say whatever he needed to make sense of the terrible decision he was facing
“And now you’re asking,” Kirk continued, seething, “if there’s anything I can imagine doing that will let you continue your primary mission to Romulus.” Kirk pointed his finger at Picard. “Getting my son the hell out of Romulan space. Now.”
Picard straightened his jacket, mentally seeking as he did so some way to keep the dialogue going, even though he knew he could not accept Kirk’s terms. “The Calypso can probably outrun the ships in this system. But we’d be at risk of interception before we reached the Neutral Zone. And our primary mission to Romulus would be lost.”
But Kirk shook his head. “No. You keep the Calypso. You keep your mission. But the other thing you do is get the Titan in here to take Joseph out.”
La Forge whistled, which was as an effective way of commenting on the impossibility of Kirk’s request as anything Picard thought he could say.
“Problem?” Kirk asked sharply.
“Several,” Picard reluctantly said. “And they’re significant.”
“That’s not the right answer, Jean-Luc.”
Picard prepared to make one last attempt to follow Janeway’s orders, before taking the initiative himself.
“Jim, the Titan is on a diplomatic mission to Latium Four.”
Latium was one of the first Romulan colonies to be established by the fledgling empire. To limit the number of potentially hostile ships traveling to their home system, the Romulans had established Latium IV as a centralized location for alien trade and diplomatic missions. It was far easier to obtain clearance to travel to Latium than to Romulus. So Starfleet had created a minor diplomatic inquiry to justify Will Riker’s presence only ten light-years from Romulus.
“That’s less than ten hours away for the Titan,” Kirk said. “And that’s why she’s there, isn’t it? To come to our rescue?”
Picard knew this was as far as he could go. One more chance. “To come to our rescue, Jim. To save the mission.”
Picard waited, in hopes that Kirk would seize on what had not been said.
“You mean, to save the mission, but not my son.” Kirk’s voice flattened, as if the anger and betrayal roiling within him had suddenly given way, too great to exist. “Damn you.”
With that, Picard knew he had gone far enough. Janeway had given her orders under one set of circumstances, but those circumstances had changed. So the orders must change, too.
It was time to tell Kirk everything.
Picard reached up to the upper bunk, pulled his civilian communicator free of the folded blanket there just as the annunciator chimed, followed by a familiar knock.
“That’s my son,” Kirk said.
He opened the door and Joseph barreled in, hugging him wildly, excitedly saying, “Daddy, Daddy!”
McCoy remained out in the corridor, giving Picard a shrug as his comment on Joseph’s inexhaustible supply of energy.
“Slow down, son,” Kirk said quietly.
Joseph broke away from his hug, looked around at the others crowded into Picard’s cabin. “Is the ghost here?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“The ghost?” Kirk repeated.
“Seems the ship is haunted,” McCoy volunteered. “We’ve been looking for ‘the ghost’ on every deck.”
Kirk tapped Joseph on the nose. “What did I tell you about ghosts?”
“There’s no such thing,” Joseph said. “Except on this ship.”
“We take the blame for that,” Crusher said before Kirk could ask his son to explain. She got up, went to Kirk and Joseph. “He heard us talking in the galley, thought he heard another person.”
“I did,” Joseph insisted.
Kirk glanced at Picard, and there was no question that the gentle acceptance he showed his son did not extend to Picard and the others. “Did he?” Kirk asked.
Picard snapped the battery cover from his communicator. “Not exactly,” he said.
The Calypso shuddered.
Everyone in the cabin braced themselves. Kirk pulled Joseph close. Instinctively, they waited for some indication that the problem was due to the artificial gravity, which would be an inconvenience, or due to collision, which would be a disaster.
Scott’s voice came over the PA system, shouting over bridge alarms. “All personnel t’ the bridge! A cloaked ship has just grappled onto our hull!”
“Bones!” Kirk was closest to the door, pushing Joseph toward McCoy in the corridor. “Get to an escape module!”
McCoy reached in to take Joseph’s arm, when suddenly a flash of disruptor fire threw the frail doctor to the side.
Instantly, Kirk pulled Joseph back from the door, looked around. “Who has a weapon?”
But an intruder was already in the doorway, hand disruptor held out to fire.
In the instant it took for Picard to charge forward to drive Kirk out of harm’s way, Kirk had wheeled and kicked the intruder, forcing him back.
Who or what the intruder was, Picard did not know. The figure was in full combat helmet with mask, and the sealed uniform concealing the rest of him was all black, devoid of markings. Picard had just enough time to register it as a special operations pressure suit—one that allowed its wearer to survive explosive decompression —before he collided with Kirk.
By then two other intruders had appeared in the doorway, pushing forward, shouting in static-filled voices from exterior speakers on their helmets, warning everyone to step back.
As Picard and Kirk leapt to their feet, La Forge fired a palm-sized phaser, but the energy blast ineffectually shimmered over the first intruder’s suit, dissipated by the attenuation armor.
A heartbeat later, La Forge crumpled as the intruder returned fire.
Kirk slammed the disruptor from the first intruder’s hand as the second intruder jumped through the door.
