up stations in the Oort Cloud, ready to intercept and check every vessel that comes our way.”
Picard nodded, confirming what Riker knew: The scenario matched the general idea of Starfleet’s strategy.
“If we do that,” Riker said evenly, “Romulan warbirds will drop out of warp at the orbit of Mars and attack Earth while our ships are still light-hours away. Is Command really willing to risk that possibility?”
Picard responded with the same measured calculation, appearing equally reluctant to argue with his former officer, as if he, too, regretted the momentary tension that had flared between them.
“You’re forgetting that other ships are on picket duty at every major facility in the system. If the Romulans do decide to attack, Starfleet Intelligence believes it could take them months to organize. We’ll use those months to build our own singularity-drive vessels.”
Picard paused as if considering how much more to reveal, then added, “A crash program to perfect warp- conduit drive is also under way. Command is confident that within two years, we’ll have regained interstellar capability.”
“Two years of hiding,” Riker said. It was hard to keep the disappointment from his voice. “Leaving ourselves open to whatever the next step is that the enemy has planned.”
Picard regarded him sternly, offered his own interpretation. “Two years to rebuild our fleet so we can face the enemy on more equal terms.”
The two captains studied each other in silence for a few moments. Picard glanced at the others in the room. “Feel free to add your thoughts to the debate.”
Worf didn’t hesitate. “Captain Riker is correct. The only way to meet this attack is with a counterattack, while we still have the resources to do so.”
La Forge sounded almost apologetic. “I think we should attempt to draw out the enemy, too. Two years is way too optimistic for thinking we’ll be able to duplicate the Romulan drive. We don’t even know how they contain their nanoscale singularities. And there’s speculation that they don’t manufacture the singularities, they capture them. That means we’ll have to have a different form of interstellar propulsion to go hunting for singularities in order to develop the Romulan version.” La Forge shrugged. “From an engineering standpoint, I think we’re looking at anywhere from ten to twenty years to achieve that goal.”
“However long it takes,” Doctor Crusher added, “at least we’ll be safe.”
Everyone looked at her, waiting for her to explain her statement.
“All the enemy has done is take away our ability to travel at warp. Even in those systems where no warp capability at all exists, we haven’t heard of any follow-on attacks. So maybe that’s all the enemy wants. They’ve achieved it. And now they’ll leave us alone.”
Riker couldn’t blame Crusher for preferring a strategy that might lead to lower casualties, but he knew she was wrong. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I think that’s a naive assumption.”
Then Riker heard Troi take a deep breath and knew what was coming. She did that in preparation for all the times she disagreed with him.
“On the contrary,” Troi said, “I think Starfleet’s taken the correct approach.” She spoke directly to Riker-not as his wife, but as a Starfleet officer. “I understand your frustration.” She turned to Worf. “And I understand the need to feel as if we’re doing something, striking back.” She looked to La Forge. “And I know that Starfleet’s schedule for developing a totally new system of faster-than-light propulsion is based as much on optimism as on reality.
“But Captain Picard’s right. We don’t have the resources to embark on a risky plan that, in addition to just not working, might result in losing more ships.”
She saved her summation for Riker. “The enemy’s intent seems to have been to keep us out of interstellar space. As hard as it is to admit it, they succeeded. But as Beverly reminded us, there’s no indication of any follow-on attacks on individual worlds. So let’s bide our time, rebuild our fleet, and strike back when we’re fully prepared-from a position of strength, and not desperation.”
Riker knew there was no point in continuing. Picard might have been swayed if those present had been in agreement. But a three-three tie among people Picard knew and trusted, with strong arguments on both sides, was a recipe for staying with the original plan.
He nodded at Doctor Crusher, repeated the same words she had said to him when he had entered the ready room. “It never hurts to be cautious.”
Worf grunted, letting the others know exactly what he thought of that particular sentiment.
Picard laid the subject to rest. “I promise you, Will-if the malfunctions stop spreading to the older cores, leaving us with at least some warp capability, I’ll present your plan to Command. We should know in two weeks or so.”
In the end, Riker knew, he and Picard weren’t equals. Picard was part of the Provisional Starfleet Command. Riker wasn’t.
“Thank you,” Riker said.
He gave Troi a smile of resignation, saw the questioning look in her eyes, and not for the first time was relieved that though his Betazoid wife could sense his emotions, she couldn’t read his mind.
17
THE GATEWAY, VULCAN
STARDATE 58564.6
For Kirk, this was not a question of mere survival.
It didn’t matter if Marinta had been claimed by paranoia and the arriving Vulcan authorities were legitimate. It didn’t matter if every word she’d spoken was true. Either way, Kirk knew that if he allowed himself to be captured here and now, Joseph would be lost to him.
So his goal was simple.
He would not be captured.
He held one hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the glare of the overhead spotlight, scanned the confused onlookers who dropped back unprotesting as the Vulcan security officers moved forward, encircling their prey. There was no break in that circle. No logical escape.
Which meant only the illogical was left.
Kirk grabbed Marinta by the arm to keep her by his side, then rushed the closest officer, shouting at him to Move! Move! Move!
The Vulcan hesitated, startled by Kirk’s unpredictable response. That momentary lapse, only a heartbeat in length, gave Kirk his advantage. He swung up his elbow and clipped the surprised Vulcan’s helmet, sending him spinning.
Maintaining their momentum, Kirk propelled Marinta through the shop door in front of him, and at once they were enveloped in the cloying scents of ripe fruit and animal droppings.
They were halfway down the first aisle of counters displaying local sandberries when Kirk heard the first hum of a phaser beam. Its warbling pitch told Kirk it was set to stun.
Instantly, he dove to the side, pulling Marinta with him, both of them sliding behind a teetering stack of net crates kept upright by a battered antigrav cargo loader.
More phaser beams buzzed through the air and now Kirk could hear cries of confusion in languages other than Vulcan as customers scattered for cover.
A small explosion flashed on the other side of the sprawling shop and instantly the overhead glow fixtures went out. Kirk decided that another phaser blast must have hit a power node.
Now the only light came through the doorway and window slats facing the outdoor marketplace, reducing the Vulcan security officers to ominous silhouettes against the pale orange illumination of the filtered streetglows. The officers were in constant motion, attempting to intercept and check each escaping customer.
Kirk touched Marinta’s arm, signaling to her to move with him deeper into the shop, behind another row of display tables.
