At my parents' home, every family event, whether nameday celebration, marriage feast, or funeral rite, was attended by scores of relatives and connections from both sides. My mother's people were military officers, with a smattering of politicians and academics; my father's family was made up of academics and politicians, with a few token military types. It seemed to me that, different as they were as individuals, they all shared an overwhelming and pervasive self-confidence; they projected an air of unflappable composure, so that an observer had the impression that no person or situation or debate would ever be out of their control for very long.
The man who stood before me in the briefing room probably would have fit in perfectly at any one of my family's gatherings. Everything about him--his bearing, his gaze, his relaxed attentiveness--spoke of authority, assurance, and command. There was no trace of the James Kirk I had seen on my ship--a paranoid, delusional man in the middle of a breakdown. This Kirk was in control in every sense of the word.
"Good morning, Commander," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't speak with you earlier, but Dr. McCoy wanted to do your medical evaluation as soon as possible."
I had to try to rise to the occasion, if only for appearance's sake. "Good morning, Captain. Perhaps he should have been doing yours. Your powers of recovery are impressive." Kirk acknowledged my effort with a fleeting but apparently genuine grin. I was not charmed.
McCoy sat down at the table; Kirk indicated with a quick movement of his hand that I was to do the same. So--McCoy was going to stay. I knew well what it meant to have a doctor in attendance at an interrogation: mental or physical coercion was not to be taken to a life-threatening extreme. The objective was to obtain intelligence, and to ensure that the potential source of that intelligence remained alive and lucid until her usefulness came to an end. The physician's role was to monitor the proceedings and call a halt when no more information could be extracted at that particular session. The Federation, as I had been reminded too often, was a signatory to the Altair accord, so I was fairly certain that no mind-sifting techniques would be used on me; the political risk was too great. What other methods might be applied I could only guess. I held myself in readiness. Whatever they want from me, they will not get it ...
Kirk sat down and inserted a chip into the desktop recorder. When the telltales on the microphone and the room camera monitor glowed red, he began to speak. "Commander, in compliance with Starfleet regulations we are recording this interview. A copy of the recording will be made available to your government's authorized representative." He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "For the record, your presence on the Enterprise was not anticipated as a result of our mission. Commander Spock has stated that you were accidentally beamed aboard with him when you inadvertently stepped into the range of our transporter field."
Has he indeed? Perhaps for a Vulcan, as for the rest of us, the lies come easily after the first one. It didn't occur to me until much later to ask myself what reason Spock might have had for hiding the truth. Right now his explanation suited me as well as it obviously suited the captain. To reveal the truth would be to invite questions that I would prefer not to address--not the least of which was why, when I heard the beginning of the transporter effect, I had reached for Spock instead of seizing my weapon and firing at him.
Still, I didn't want to make it too easy for Kirk. "I can't speak to what your intention might or might not have been, Captain, or to the scope of your illegal mission. I only know that I was surprised to find myself on your transporter pad. From there I was taken to your bridge, where I heard you instruct your chief engineer to activate the cloaking device which you and your accomplices had stolen from my ship in open violation of law and treaty." Let him note that for the record.
He knew what I was doing; he would have done the same. One didn't let an opportunity for polemic go by: as long as those little red lights were blinking, I would make the appropriate speeches. Of course, there was nothing to stop him from erasing or altering or losing the chip, and I was certain that we both knew that too.
"I assure you, Commander, we never intended to inconvenience you this way," he said. "We're going to get you back home soon. We're on course for Starbase Four, and we should arrive in approximately three and a half Standard days. When we get there a Federation official will release you to a representative of your government, and you'll be free to go. In the meantime we'll be responsible for your safety and well-being, and we'll try to make you comfortable here. You'll be given access to our library computers--within reason, of course--and to our exercise and recreational facilities if you want to use them. And you'll be moved back to your original quarters. If there's anything that you need, or any information--"
"I do indeed need something, Captain. I need to see my officers. You have imprisoned them as hostages, in violation of the Altair accord." I might as well turn that damned document to my own use.
Surprisingly, he nodded in agreement. "Of course, Commander. I'll take you to them myself as soon as we're through here. They haven't been mistreated, I promise you. And they're not being held hostage; they'll be released with you when we reach the starbase." He paused, waiting to see whether I had anything more to say, then spoke directly into the microphone. "My mission report and Dr. McCoy's medical evaluation to be appended to Starfleet's copy of this interview. End of recording." He switched off the machine and sat silent for a moment, studying my face. Unusual eyes, I thought abstractedly. The color of selvinwood, neither gold nor brown, but an odd mixture of the two.
"There is one thing," he added. "Off the record." He shot a questioning glance at McCoy, whose negative shake of the head was almost imperceptible.
Kirk rummaged among the file folders and tapes in front of him, and withdrew a printout. After scanning it briefly, he looked at me again. "When I was on your ship," he said, "you mentioned that the Empire made it a point to follow the careers of certain Starfleet officers. I can tell you that Starfleet also finds some of the Empire's senior officers ... interesting. For example"--he read from the printout--"an officer who drew a good deal of attention to herself when she became the youngest person ever to command the flagship of the Romulan Fleet. An officer who distinguished herself in battle at the ... Tannathec uprising? Is that the right pronunciation? And in the Mirsut campaigns, when the Klingon settlements were under attack by the Orions. At Sha'nisohn, on Remus, she and her crew put down an insurrection and prevented the assassination of the provincial praetor. On Lys, when volcanic eruptions and mine explosions threatened the entire colony, she organized and carried out a mass evacuation. And those missions were only in the first year of her command."
He looked up. When I saw the expression in his eyes, I closed mine. I didn't want to hear any more; I knew how this would end. "That's enough," I said. "You've made your point." But he was merciless.
"You were the natural choice when it came to selecting someone to coordinate the field-testing of the newest version of the cloaking device. You were put in charge of a formation of three battlecruisers, each of which, including your flagship, carried a prototype of the device. It was a risky mission. Your shields and weapons systems would be severely compromised by the power drain from the cloaking devices, and you'd be vulnerable to unauthorized transport, among other things." For a moment it seemed as if he were addressing me as a colleague, doing a routine post-mission analysis as I had done so often with Tal. "The ships were headed for the edge of the Neutral Zone, in the hope that they would be detected by the long-range sensor buoys of the nearest Federation outposts. By monitoring the stations' communications, you'd be able to tell precisely when, and how completely, you disappeared from their telemetry. What better way to test the device than against the technology of the very people you want to hide from?" He paused again. "Anyway, Starfleet found your career intriguing. So intriguing that we went to some trouble to identify you as Aerlyn Tayva, daughter of Tor Isthiar and Satheil Tayva, born in Nedali City, graduate and postgraduate of Sedrasso University and the Romulan Space Command Academy, former helmsman of Vallo, former first officer of Stissia, presently in command of the imperial flagship Eidolon." He put the printout down and closed the file folder.
Beside me McCoy shifted his weight, and his respiration rate increased. I sensed that he was gearing up for a speech, but he would have to wait his turn. I forced myself to meet Kirk's steady gaze. "My service record is largely a matter of public knowledge," I said, letting nothing more than scorn show in my voice. "It would be easy to tap the planetary information nets in the Romulan systems to obtain that data. Similarly, my ship has often been named publicly and with honor. As to our strategic plan, you are merely guessing, and guessing wrong. Your operative hasn't worked hard enough to earn his keep, Captain." My words were brave, but I was sick at heart. I would never admit it, but Kirk's description of our testing strategy, though thankfully incomplete, was accurate as far as it went: Starfleet had known exactly where we would be, and when. A Federation agent had to be planted somewhere within High Command; that information could have come from nowhere else. "I congratulate you, however, on the successful invasion of my privacy." Clearly I was wrong in thinking that Spock had protected my confidence. Starfleet might have been able to ascertain my surname and even some biographical information, but I was sure that he had helpfully supplied my first name so that Kirk could fill in the blank line in his report. Oh, what a fool I had been ...
"I'm telling you all this," Kirk said, "because when we get to Starbase Four you're going to be addressed by name by Starfleet and Federation officials, and when official protests concerning our ... mission are received from the Empire there's probably going to be some amount of publicity about you and your career. I thought if you knew the extent of the background information we have on you, you might be better prepared. Believe me, I'm aware of the high value your people place on personal privacy. I've had it explained to me in detail. Frankly, though, it won't matter much to Starfleet." He picked up his files. "Let's go see your officers."
"Now, just a minute, Jim," McCoy interjected. "I don't know why the hell you couldn't have taken a little more--"
"Not now, Doctor. I'm overdue in Engineering. I'll catch up with you later. Commander? Shall we?" And we walked out, leaving McCoy poised in mid-breath. The door closed on him before he could finish speaking.
The security guard trailed along discreetly behind us as Kirk escorted me to the brig. My thoughts were in a turmoil: I had been prepared to be coerced or terrorized, but not to hear parts of my life read back to me and my name spoken aloud--nor to be told that it was spoken now to spare me distress later on. I didn't believe Kirk's assertion of altruism for a second, though I couldn't deny that already some of the shock was beginning to wear off. But my personal discomfort was nothing compared with the knowledge that a deep-cover agent was sheltered in the most secure reaches of High Command. When I get home-- I stopped myself. When I got home there would be other things to occupy my mind. Someone else would have to deal with the Federation operative, whoever he or she might be.
* * *
Enterprise's brig was in keeping with the rest of the ship: too spacious and comfortable for its purpose. Its cells were not very different from the room in which I had slept last night, except that each was open to the central monitoring area and, presumably, secured by a forcefield.
Kirk nodded a greeting to a young officer who stood behind a console; she came to attention and raised her right hand to the side of her forehead. Kirk seemed to find that amusing. "At ease, Ensign. We're here to see the Romulan officers. The commander would like to have a few words with them."
The ensign gaped at me, no doubt astonished to see an enemy officer accompanying her captain. Then she remembered her manners. "Yes sir. I mean, yes ma'am. They're over here." She led us to a large double cell directly across from the console. "Mr. Scott tried to talk to them, sir, and so did Dr. M'Benga when he did their exams, but no luck. They haven't said more than a few words. They're shellmouths." She looked at me, then at Kirk. "Sorry, sir. I just meant--"
"All right. Let the commander in."
The forcefield around the cell flickered and died. Adiv and Lem had already seen me approaching; they stood immediately and saluted. I swallowed, hoping to ease the tightness in my throat. I prayed that Kirk would have the decency to leave me alone with them: whether or not the brig was wired for close surveillance, and it almost certainly was, I wanted at least the illusion of privacy right now. I stepped into the cell, and the field crackled to life again.
"Just let Ensign Sheppard know when you're finished, Commander," Kirk said. "She'll have someone take you back to Dr. McCoy's office, and he'll get you moved into your quarters. I'll be in touch with you later today." And he was gone.
I turned to my officers. "Stand easy, both of you." I gave the order with relief; at last I could speak my thoughts in my own language.
"Commander, they told us you were on board and that we were headed for Federation space, but we were sure that they lied!" Adiv's broad northern accent grew stronger in moments of emotion, and it was nearly impenetrable now. He ran a hand through his coarse brown hair, and his eyes blazed with anger. "Have they harmed you? Because if they have--"
"They haven't mistreated me, Adiv. Are you two all right?" They appeared to be uninjured. Adiv was still in uniform, but Lem was wearing a jumpsuit similar to my own. "Lem--what happened to your uniform?"
"They took it from me. I don't know why. But it was a job for four of them." His eartips flushed green, and he looked grimly proud and embarrassed at the same time.
"Commander, what has happened?" Adiv's voice was tense with apprehension. "The subcommander told us that we were to be held here in hostage-exchange only until the Federation criminals were processed on board Eidolon. Are we in communication with Adjuvant and Tiercel? Has something gone wrong?"
There was no way to make this any easier. "Sit down. No, please do. I will sit too. Adiv, Lem, the worst has happened. The cloaking device has been stolen by Kirk and his accomplices." Their faces had gone still and pale. I pressed on; they had to know it all. "They have engaged it at least once so far, and in doing so have successfully eluded pursuit. Eidolon, Adjuvant, and Tiercel are by now out of the Zone and well on their way to Romulus to report this act of war. We are prisoners of the Federation. This ship is en route to a starbase. There we will be turned over to an attaché, who will take us home." I struggled for control. "And I will face the consequences of my negligence."
Lem opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him. "There is more. Because the two of you were not aboard the flagship when these events occurred, and thus had no opportunity to influence their course, I intend to argue that you are not to be held accountable in any way, directly, indirectly, or by extension, for what transpired. Further, I intend--"
"No, Commander!" This time Lem would not be stopped. "We stand with you as we always have! And always will!"
"Agreed, Commander." Adiv was less agitated but equally adamant. "Our honor would be lost were we to renounce our loyalty to you." His eyes held mine. "Loyalty that is and always has been freely given."
Now I could let my emotion show: "You honor me, my friends." I had never called them that before, but it was the truth. "If you still acknowledge my command, then let me continue. I want to try an idea out on you."
I spoke the last sentence in the archaic dialect of Lem's coastal homeland, thereby signaling the two of them to follow suit. The tactic might not fool the Federation linguists and translators forever, but it would deter them considerably, as it had others. We talked for half an hour, debating, hypothesizing, and testing scenarios. Adiv and Lem were skeptical of my plan, but they had to admit that my reasoning was sound and my strategy supportable. Most important, Adjuvant, our flank ship, had escaped intact--that, in the end, was all that really mattered, and the only single element crucial to the scheme.
As soon as I was sure that we were of one mind, I motioned to the ensign to lower the forcefield. "Call the security guard," I said. "I am ready to see Dr. McCoy now."
© 1996, 1999 Kathleen Dailey. All rights reserved.