late-night gravity races he had excelled in at the Academy, when teams of midshipmen would compete to see who could toss a classmate strapped to antigravs the farthest and fastest around the main grounds late at night-without being caught.
But antigravs had given way to tractor beams. Because tractor beams were able to move objects by means of directed gravitons more efficiently than gravity-field generators, the technology had never been pursued.
Now, however, it was possible to use the jury-rigged device, just slightly larger than a standard phaser rifle, to create a meter-wide region of four gravities at a range of between three to twenty meters.
Kirk looked forward to using it on Norinda the next time their paths crossed. It wouldn’t kill her. It wouldn’t even harm her, Spock had confirmed. It would simply drive her away.
Away from him, and away from his child.
And when he had accomplished that, Kirk told himself, maybe then he could concern himself about the fate of the Federation.
All that mattered to him now was Joseph.
Joseph was what kept him from sleeping this night.
Kirk lay stretched out on his bunk in his cabin. He wore a small medical oxygen mask at McCoy’s insistence to ease the effort of breathing during the night. But eyes open or closed, he saw only nightmarish images of Joseph decaying into black sand, slipping away from him and into Norinda’s false embrace.
He knew he’d do anything to prevent that from happening.
His door chime sounded, startling him from his dark thoughts. He and Spock were to meet at 0600, still hours away.
“Lights,” Kirk said to the computer, and his cabin brightened. “Identify.”
A familiar voice came over the hidden cabin speakers.
“Jean-Luc. I trust I’m not disturbing you.”
Kirk felt laughter bubble up in him that never reached the surface. The effort was too great. When hadn’t Jean-Luc disturbed him in one way or another?
It wasn’t that they didn’t get along, he’d realized long ago. It was because they were so much alike.
“Give me a minute,” Kirk said. Then he wrenched himself onto his side, placing his arm for a shove into a sitting position. He inhaled deeply three times, tugged off his oxygen mask, and with a grunt of exertion swung his legs off the bunk, pushed forward, and sat up.
He instantly slumped, catching his breath, supporting himself with both arms on the bunk’s edge. His feet ached where they’d slammed into the deck.
“I’m disturbed now,” Kirk said. He straightened his shirt; in four gravities, undressing for bed was a waste of effort. “Come in.”
The door to the corridor slid open and Kirk was surprised to see Picard standing there as if four gravities was completely normal.
“Are you wearing an exoskeleton?” Kirk asked, annoyed that somehow Picard wasn’t suffering as much as he was.
Picard waved Kirk over. “Step into the corridor.”
Kirk gritted his teeth, but stood up and moved as smoothly as he could to the open door, willing his legs not to buckle under him.
Then he stepped through the doorway and experienced a sudden, intense wave of vertigo, as if the deck had given way beneath him.
And then he was light. His arms, lifted, buoyant. His knees no longer grinding and complaining. The sensation was almost as if he were floating.
“What’s wrong with the gravity?” Kirk asked, though he felt like rejoicing at the release of tension in his body.
“Starfleet’s been experimenting,” Picard answered with a grin, which disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. “We’ve been spreading word to the ships in the system about Spock’s discovery. There’ve been cases of duplicated crew disappearing on every vessel whenever gravity’s been increased. With the surveillance recordings the ships have been making, we’ve been able to go back and see where some of the substitutions have taken place.”
“Engineering,” Kirk said as he realized why gravity in the corridor was back to normal.
“Exactly,” Picard confirmed. “Warp cores, powered up, are the Totality’s pathway into our ships and facilities. As long as we keep four gravities set in every engineering department, we’re safe from infiltration.”
For a moment, Kirk was impressed. Then he remembered the effort he’d expended just to walk out to the corridor. “Then why was my cabin still set for four g’s?”
“Starfleet orders-all command staff have to be placed in a four-gravity environment four times each day and before each strategic meeting. Just to be sure.”
Now Kirk grinned, gestured to his cabin.
Picard clearly realized what Kirk wanted, frowned, but didn’t argue. He braced himself in the doorframe, carefully stepped into the cabin. His shoulders sagged, the color draining from his face.
Kirk stayed in the corridor. Misery did love company.
“How long does Starfleet recommend command staff remain in a four-gravity environment?” he asked innocently, adding, “I could go get some coffee, be back in an hour.”
“The effect is apparently instantaneous,” Picard said tightly. “So a minute is considered adequate.”
Kirk decided he had had enough fun. “I’m convinced,” he said, relenting. “Come out.”
Picard stepped out of Kirk’s cabin and rocked for a moment in the corridor, regaining his balance.
Kirk refrained from smiling. It was time to get down to business. “Since it’s two hundred hours, I’ll take a wild guess and say that Starfleet’s come up with something critical that you’ve been asked to tell me.”
Picard nodded. “Let’s get that coffee.”
27
S.S. BELLE REVE, MERCURY
STARDATE 58569.3
“Earl Grey, hot,” Picard said to the replicator in the Belle Reve small galley.
“Actually,” Kirk said behind him, “you don’t want to do that.”
“Yes, I do.”
A steaming cup of tea appeared in the dispenser slot.
Kirk gave Picard a look of commiseration as if daring him to give it a try.
Picard sipped the tea. Cringed.
Kirk pointed to a wall locker. “I have real teabags in stasis pouches.”
With relief, Picard put his teacup into the recycler and ordered boiling water. A few minutes later, he tried the fresh-brewed tea and smiled. “Much better.”
Kirk sipped his own Vulcan espresso. “So?” It was all the shorthand the two captains needed to start their conversation.
Picard began. “Starfleet Intelligence put their best analysts on the Monitor transmission. They’ve extracted a wealth of data already, and believe there’s a great deal more.”
“What kind of data?”
“The Monitor recorded the energy signature of a major projection of the Totality. Larger than a starship. A phenomenon they called ‘the Distortion.’ At the time, the Monitor was in intergalactic space, hundreds of thousands of light-years from the nearest star.”
Kirk saw why those sensor readings might be valuable. “A perfect environment for the Totality. Local gravitational effects in that region would be insubstantial at best.”
Picard nodded. “The projection is so large, we can actually see the dimensional interface between the
