The hologram’s mood became serious. “Barely. She’s on the Soval, having her lungs resurfaced.” He glanced around at his audience, which now included Scott, who had joined the others by Kirk’s chair. “That information, of course, is classified.”
Kirk’s sense of isolation deepened as he studied the hologram. As sophisticated as the Doctor’s illusion of life was, it was impossible to see any of the almost imperceptible tics and other body signals that could be used to judge someone’s intent and veracity. “May I ask why?”
“As soon as the admiral beamed aboard, she was called to engineering. There was something wrong with the warp core. She gave orders to shut it down, but the controls didn’t respond.”
“It was just powering up,” Scott said sharply. “It doesn’t make sense that ye’d get a runaway reaction that quickly.”
“She was in a turbolift car when the core breached.”
“That was no core breach,” Scott said.
The Doctor corrected himself, and at least this time Kirk could see it wasn’t something the hologram did often.
“When disaster struck,” the Doctor amended.
“That’s what saved her?” McCoy asked.
“The car was blown free, leaking badly, but it held its atmospheric integrity long enough for the admiral to be beamed to a rescue vessel.”
“You still haven’t explained why Janeway’s survival is classified,” Kirk said.
“The admiral believes that she was on her way to becoming one of the ‘disappeared.’” The Doctor regarded Kirk with interest. “She told me you’d understand.”
“I think I do,” Kirk said, deliberately offering no further explanation. “But did she explain why she felt that way?”
The hologram hesitated, frowning as if he weren’t convinced of the accuracy of what he was about to say. “Apparently, just before the breach– ” He looked at Scott before the engineer could interrupt. “– the disaster, the admiral claims to have seen a ‘black tendril’ emerge from the turbolift control panel. She said it happened just as she was using her communicator to speak to engineering, as if… as if the tendril had been searching for her, and found her only when she transmitted.”
Kirk immediately tried to fit Janeway into the pattern that linked at least some of the missing. “Doctor, is the admiral involved in any project having to do with warp research?”
The holographic physician gave Kirk a questioning look. “At present, she’s the acting director of Starfleet Intelligence.”
Kirk’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “She never said… never told me…”
The hologram shrugged as if to say that whatever Janeway had told Kirk in the past was no longer important.
“Suffice it to say that conditions have changed,” he said briskly. “The admiral is on her way back to Earth and prefers to let our enemy believe she’s dead.”
Kirk stood up, too agitated to remain sitting, passive. As director of Starfleet Intelligence, Janeway had known far more than she had ever admitted to him. The implication was blatantly clear. Once again he’d been used by Starfleet, even more thoroughly than he had attempted to use them. He was in no mood to appreciate the irony of the situation.
“Then the Belle Reve is going to Earth, too. I need to speak to Janeway.”
The holographic doctor followed Kirk to the conn station, his illusion of reality so perfect that his boot heels clacked across the deck.
“The admiral has other orders for you.”
“She’ll have to give them to me in person.”
The hologram smiled broadly. “She told me you’d say that.”
“I’ve never doubted her ability to judge character.” Kirk called up the navigational controls. Plotting a standard course from Vulcan to Earth would take less than a minute.
“Before you do anything rash,” the hologram said, “wouldn’t you like to hear what her orders are?”
Kirk was about to tell the hologram what he could do with Janeway’s orders when he caught a glimpse of Joseph watching him.
His son was rebellious enough without seeing that behavior modeled by his father. Kirk reluctantly decided against open confrontation.
“All right,” he conceded, “tell me.”
“Admiral Janeway orders you to find Ambassador Spock-on Vulcan.”
Kirk felt instant anger and excitement. Anger that Janeway had obviously been holding information back from him. Excitement that he was about to learn something that might lead him closer to Spock.
In as even a tone as he could manage, he asked if Janeway had reason to believe Spock was on Vulcan.
“No one knows,” the Doctor said, and Kirk could almost hear a tinge of sympathy in the hologram’s tone. “But our enemy surely is.”
7
U.S.S. ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E
STARDATE 58562.4
The first face Riker saw was Jean-Luc Picard’s, and the first thought he had was So Jean-Luc’s dead, too….
Then he heard a voice as familiar to him as his former captain’s face.
“He’s coming round….” It was Beverly Crusher.
“I can see that,” Picard said. He was smiling. “Do you know where you are, Will?”
Riker suddenly became aware of sharp pain at the back of his head and a throbbing in his left arm. “I’d be afraid to guess…” he said with difficulty. His mouth felt as if he’d been gargling sand.
“You’re on the Enterprise.” Picard’s tone was as warm and welcoming as Riker could ever remember hearing it.
But the name of that ship-the wrong ship-startled him to greater alertness. “The Titan…?”
“Shaken about,” Picard said, “but still in one piece. As is your crew.”
“Deanna…”
“Unlike you, she had the good sense to be sitting down when the concussion hit. Not a bruise. She’s on your ship with Geordi.”
Riker shook his head and instantly regretted doing so. Suppressing nausea, he looked past Picard, recognized a standard Starfleet sickbay. “How long?” he asked.
Doctor Crusher stepped beside Picard, medical tricorder in hand. “It’s been ten days since the supernova, Will. I’ve kept you in a coma for the past eight, ever since we arrived.”
Riker tried to sit up, but his body didn’t move. The flood of fear was instantaneous.
Crusher was prompt to answer his unspoken question.
“You broke your back, almost completely severed your spinal cord, skull fractures… only two other of your crew were in worse shape, but they pulled through just fine.”
Before Riker could respond, she added quickly, “I promise you everything’s going to work again, but you’re here for another three days, at least, while the nerve fibers reconnect. And every time you try to sit up, I’m adding another day to your sentence.” The doctor flashed her winning smile, snapped shut her tricorder, then walked away.
Riker looked at Picard. “I need to know what happened.”
“Quite a bit, it turns out. Most of it in the past week.”
For all the information Riker wanted at that moment, his crew came first. “How much radiation did we
