But most notable of all, there was a faint scent to the air that brought back an intense memory for Kirk. A mixture of burnt cinnamon and an Andorian spice like anise, blended with the sweat of a dozen other species and the smoke from an open grill that burned Vulcan stonewood.
The first time Kirk had experienced that tantalizing melange from far-off worlds had been in San Francisco, lifetimes ago, before he had entered the Academy.
Kirk closed his eyes, captured the moment and the memory, recalled his dream.
Do I have your attention?
He was getting closer to Spock. He could feel it.
“This way,” the Surakian prompted. The young woman’s words thrust Kirk back into the present.
He followed the novice to a small table in a corner, apart from the others.
Two battered wooden chairs were leaning against the table, telling Kirk that it had been set aside for them. From under the protective shadow of his hood, Kirk glanced around but saw no one paying any attention to either him or his guide.
They sat down. The young woman pulled off her hood.
Kirk was surprised that her head wasn’t shaved.
Even more surprising, she wasn’t even Vulcan.
She read the question in Kirk’s eyes.
“Correct,” she said. “I’m Romulan. But as far as deception goes, you’re not Lieutenant Ramey. So we’re even.”
Kirk was both impressed and concerned by the woman’s knowledge.
“My name’s Marinta,” the Romulan said.
“I take it you know who I am.”
Marinta nodded once. “And I know both reasons why you’re here. To find your son. And Ambassador Spock.”
Again, Kirk looked around the dimly lit bar but caught no one paying particular attention to the two robed figures in the corner.
“What else?” Kirk asked. He knew he was being cautious, perhaps overly so. But there was still a chance that Marinta had led him into a trap rather than away from one.
She reached into her robes, brought out a small padd. At least, Kirk thought it was a padd, though it had no display screen.
Marinta slipped a slender transparent cylinder from the device, handed it to Kirk.
“Place this on your eyes.”
Kirk saw a small indentation on the cylinder, held it to the bridge of his nose.
The cylinder remained in place, a narrow tube of clear material poised before both eyes like impossibly thin spectacles.
“You’re aware of what happened at Starbase Four-ninety-nine.” Marinta didn’t make it a question.
Kirk recalled what Janeway had told him of that disaster. When the facility’s static-warp-field power generator had failed, the entire base had been destroyed. In all likelihood, it was the first case of whatever phenomenon was now affecting warp cores throughout the galaxy. It also had been the incident that had brought Starfleet Intelligence into the investigation of the missing multiphysicists and warp specialists, including Spock.
“I am,” Kirk said.
“The entire staff was lost, including several prominent visitors.”
Janeway had told Kirk that, as well. Six admirals, four starship captains and their science officers, and three civilians. The fact that civilians were present suggested they represented Starfleet Intelligence, or some other organization that worked in the shadows.
“Starbase Four-ninety-nine was little more than a subspace relay station,” Marinta said. “Six admirals. Four starship captains. Why were they there?”
Kirk wasn’t certain what Marinta was suggesting. “As far as I know, they were investigating the disappearance of the Monitor.”
“Correct.”
Kirk removed the transparent cylinder so he could study Marinta more closely. There was only one reason why the Romulan had brought up the Monitor’s disappearance.
“You think everything’s connected,” Kirk said.
“I know everything’s connected,” Marinta replied.
Kirk sought more details. “I understand the similarity between the destruction of the starbase and the warp-core malfunctions. But the Monitor vanished six years ago. How’s that related to what’s happening now? And what could it have to do with my son?”
Marinta indicated the unusual padd. “Access the viewer and see for yourself.”
Kirk studied the cylinder for a moment, then placed it back in position before his eyes.
Marinta slid open a panel on the small device, pressed a control.
Instantly, the sights and sounds of the bar dissolved around Kirk, and all he could see was a shimmering wall of holographic static.
“It’s not working,” Kirk said.
“Focus,” Marinta told him.
Then the images began, and Kirk witnessed the death of the Starship Monitor.
15
THE GATEWAY, VULCAN
STARDATE 58563.6
The images projected onto Kirk’s retinas seethed with static, and were sometimes barely recognizable.
The sounds transmitted directly to his ears drifted in and out of comprehension, ghostlike, mournful, offering up fragments of words, a sudden insight from the tone of a voice, a murmured prayer as the end neared.
The recording lasted seven minutes.
At an earlier time in his career, Kirk would have discounted its story. It was that fantastic. That unbelievable.
But now, he’d experienced enough of life’s mysteries to understand that the universe held an inexhaustible trove of secrets to discover. Just because his mind couldn’t immediately grasp all of what this recording seemed to represent, Kirk knew, was no reason to disbelieve it.
However, there was every reason to question it.
“How did you get this?” he demanded.
Marinta didn’t answer. Instead, she looked past Kirk toward the entrance of the bar and in an unhurried movement tugged her hood back into place. “We should go,” she said. She palmed the small player padd as she stood up from her chair.
Kirk had no choice; she knew this outpost better than he did. He got to his feet, pulling his own hood into place.
As he followed her to the back, where the light was even dimmer, he glanced over his shoulder to see two Vulcans in red uniforms talking to the server behind the bar.
Marinta opened another door, motioned to Kirk to step past her into the corridor beyond. Then, as she quietly closed the door behind them, she removed a second device from her robes. It was an IDIC pin, a plain, inexpensive version like those sold to tourists in the town square.
Marinta attached the pin to Kirk’s cloak, made an adjustment to it.
“It’ll disguise your biosignature,” she said. “It’s only effective against general sensor sweeps, but at least to a security tricorder you’ll appear to be Vulcan.”
“What about you?” Kirk asked.
