Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 5

Once Torg had finished securing his prisoner's ankles to the chair, the door slid open, and he stood at attention as Kruge slowly entered, followed by Maltz and flanked by a leashed animal that appeared to be a monstrous cross between a wolf and a giant lizard, with matted hair, long sharp teeth, and an immediately noticeable foul odor. In the opposite hand from the leash, Kruge held a large crescent-shaped sword with cruelly sharpened points at each end. Whether this grand entrance had been masterfully planned to produce a terrifying effect, from David's perspective it most certainly had achieved that result.

Kruge took his position directly in front of the chair, with Maltz and Torg standing idly along the wall behind him. But Kruge did not even look at David yet; instead, he faced the side walls and began casually performing some form of martial arts exercises with his weapon, while leaving his formidable animal sitting at the foot of David's chair to snarl menacingly at him.

With his eyes anxiously trained upon the beast, David decided to go ahead and open up the negotiations. "Uh, have you informed the Federation that you're holding one of their citizens? There's not much I can do to help you, but I'm sure they'd be willing to negotiate. I mean, you don't want to start an interstellar incident, right?"

Kruge halted and slowly turned his head to the young man. "An incident?" he said incredulously. "You have the audacity to suggest that I may begin an incident? The Federation creates a technology capable of incalculable destruction, they even allow a Romulan woman access to its secrets, while at the same time insulting the High Council on Qo'noS, and yet with typical Federation bravado and insolence, you claim to be the injured party."

He stepped up to the chair and leaned forward menacingly until he hovered just inches from David's face. "Then injured you shall be," he snarled, as droplets of spittle shot out from between his teeth, "unless you tell me what I wish to know."

David gulped. He was going to have to try awfully hard to make this sound believable. "Look, I'll be glad to share whatever information I have," he said, grinning in what he hoped was a cooperative-looking expression. "But I didn't even know anything about Genesis until I received the a.s.signment to investigate the planet. When I..."

The back of Kruge's hand made a violent impact against David's nose.

The young scientist's vision exploded with a white flash as the pain shot up through his sinus cavities, and moments later the blood began to gush forth from his ruptured mucous membranes.

"Don't toy with me, human," Kruge said calmly. He motioned for Torg to join him in front of their bound captive, and the subordinate obliged all too eagerly.

David lay back as the searing pain continued to pound throughout his nose, up into his forehead and back to his temples. He opened his mouth to let out an agonized groan and tasted the saltiness of his own blood dripping down past his lips.

Kruge had nonchalantly resumed his swordplay routines. "Let me keep this simple for you, human," he said amid a phantom parry and a lunge. "If you are telling the truth, then you are of no use to me. I would advise against any further attempts to convince me of your ignorance."

The possibilities raced through David's mind, and he struggled to evaluate his options despite the pain. Perhaps he should tell Kruge something...A few base principles about metastatic waveform matrices, or the propagation of protomatter...Surely that wouldn't be enough for these adversaries to actually build a weapon, would it?

"Perhaps a simple question will spark your memory," Kruge said. "Where is the base of operations for the Genesis research team?"

No, that would be too much information. Granted, the Regula One s.p.a.celab was now deserted, but unless Starfleet had retrieved them, the databanks were still hidden away in the Genesis Cave beneath the surface of the planet. "They never told us that," David lied. He sniffed and briefly gagged as the blood continued to flow freely down the back of his throat. "They just sent us directly to the planet."

"Torg," Kruge commanded. "See if you can jog his memory."

Torg balled up his fist and swung in a wide arc, viciously connecting with the left side of David's face.

His vision flashed again and he cried out, and for the moment the pain was replaced by a thundering dull ache that permeated his entire skull. His vision slowly returned but was altered and unfocused as the room swam dizzyingly around him, punctuated by tiny flashes of colored light. With each beat of his heart the pain became more p.r.o.nounced until the pounding throb felt as if his head might suddenly explode. He heard the fevered snarlings of the foul animal at his feet, expressing its approval of the proceedings.

"It is pointless to prolong the inevitable," Kruge p.r.o.nounced, now parading back and forth in front of his prisoner like a crazed martinet at a military tribunal. "One way or another you will tell me what I want to know."

"Commander," Maltz called out from the back of the room. "We could simply use the mind-sifter to retrieve all his knowledge."

Kruge swung around to face him. "I am not interested in your infernal gadgetry!" he shouted. "You'll leave me with a prisoner who is a drooling vegetable without control of his own bowels. I may still need him for leverage." He turned back toward the chair and held up the end of his weapon, prodding David's chest with one of the sharply pointed tips. "And that fact may keep you alive, though you'll wish you were dead. Torg, break his finger."

Grinning wickedly, Torg reached down and curled his fingers around the pinky of David's left hand. David's eyes widened with horror. For an instant he was willing to blurt out anything at all to prevent the forthcoming infliction-he wanted to yell out an impa.s.sioned plea to stop the torture, and to pledge his cooperation, but some part of his mind refused to offer up the words...refused to surrender while he still drew breath...

With a yank of Torg's grip the bones of David's finger emitted a gruesome cracking sound.

Like a jolt of electricity driven by a force of thousands of volts, the excruciating sensation shot through the nerves of his hand and arm. From deep within David's chest an agonizing wail burst forth, nearly powerful enough to shake the bulkheads loose from the s.h.i.+p's inner hull.

Kruge waited for the scream to abate, but still had to raise his voice over the din of David's labored breathing. "You have the power to make it stop, human," the Klingon commander hollered. "It's time to cooperate. Now, tell me where the Genesis Project is headquartered."

Regula, David thought, envisioning the planet as his eyes remained tightly squeezed shut. Just say the word. The Regula One science station. Say it and the pain will stop...

And the voice of Saavik echoed in his memory. Remember your friends on Regula One. His friends-those who gave their own lives to protect their secrets from those with evil intent.

"Shall I try another finger, sir?" Torg asked impatiently.

Kruge considered this. "No," he decided. "Let Maltz do it."

Standing several feet away, wide-eyed, the Klingon demurred. "Thank you, sir, but that is not necessary."

"Necessity is irrelevant," Kruge barked back. "I'm giving you an order."

Maltz stepped forward but did not yet make a move toward their wounded hostage. "Commander, where is the honor in torturing a frail human who perhaps has no information to give?"

"Do not lecture me with plat.i.tudes about honor!" Kruge bellowed. "You have been a constant thorn in my side with your spineless compunction! Why don't you show your honor by protecting the entire Klingon race from this scheming human petaQ?"

Maltz sighed with contrition. "Yes, sir," he said, and stepped up to the interrogation chair.

David lifted his head from the back of the chair where it had lain, having focused on a single spot on the ceiling during the recent discussion to try to regain his composure, despite the fiery anguish that burned throughout his body. He looked down at his left hand and for the first time saw his pinky finger pointed upward at a grisly unnatural angle, until the view was obscured by Maltz as he reached down to grip the next finger from the same hand.

Regula, David thought. Just say the word and the pain will stop. In his mind he could see the lab, the computer banks, the Genesis torpedo in its storage ark as they fled the onslaught of Khan; and he could hear the screams of those they left behind, who bought time for their escape with their own lives, the screams that continued to echo through his mind...

His own scream rang out in sympathy as another finger was brutally snapped. No longer could he distinguish the pain of one injury from another; the pain surrounded him-enveloped his entire being. He was submerged in its cold fluidity. He struggled against his restraints, frantically trying to kick his legs, as a drowning man attempts to claw his way through the oppressive medium without purchase or foothold, desperate for one last lungful of air...

Kruge resumed his exercises with renewed vigor, seeming to draw energy from the suffering of his prisoner. "It is time to end this now," Kruge said stridently. His movements with the sword grew more frenzied. "Give me a name. Where can I find the secrets of Genesis?"

Visions flashed through David's mind: Doctor Delwin March on a slab in the Enterprise sickbay, his throat slit from ear to ear...the pale visage of Doctor Vance Madison, who had exsanguinated while strung upside-down in the slaughterhouse of Khan's creation...the shrill screams of Zinaida as Khan repeatedly slashed her flesh into ribbons, demanding to know the escape route of David and his mother...

The weapon spun around furiously in Kruge's nimble hands. "Tell me what I want to know!"

So many lives lost...lives that must not have been given in vain...

The sword now rose up high above Kruge's head, still spinning with uncontrolled hysteria. "Give...me...Genesis!!!" he shouted.

David achieved a moment of calm confidence, and met Kruge's eyes, burning his gaze deep into the Klingon's pupils. "You can all rot in h.e.l.l," he hissed.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!!" Kruge screamed, his banshee wail slowly building until with a blur of motion the sword descended onto David's exposed wrist, instantly slicing through flesh and bone and impacting the hard steel of the underlying armrest with a cold, metallic thunk.

His eyes wide as saucers, his mouth gaping in a silent scream, David watched as his left hand rolled away and fell to the ground with a pitiful thud, leaving behind a severed stump spraying forth his blood in steady, rapid pulses. The pain was gone as he quickly succ.u.mbed to shock. The periphery of his vision began to shrink into darkness.

"Maltz, take him to sickbay," the voice of Kruge commanded. "Cauterize his wound. Then leave him in the brig while you prepare your mind scanner."

The sound of the words and the lights of the room faded into oblivion as David sank into unconsciousness.

"Ah, here we go!" Kirk finally reached into one of his kitchen cabinets, having already opened three of them in quick succession while trying to remember where he'd stashed the recent gift. "I really need to get myself a wine rack."

Carrying a bottle in one hand and two gla.s.ses in the other, he returned to the sitting room of his San Francisco apartment, where Thelin was seated comfortably and watching him with interest.

"Romulan ale?" Thelin said, his eyebrows raised. "Jim, you know this stuff is illegal?"

"Transporting it is illegal," Kirk clarified. "You'll have to speak to the good Doctor McCoy about that. But as long as it's here...Cheers."

"Cheers," Thelin responded in kind, holding up the gla.s.s of bluish liquid in keeping with the human tradition before taking a sip, and feeling the caustic liquid a.s.sail his palate, some of it wasting no time and being absorbed directly through the soft tissue of his mouth into his bloodstream. Romulan ale was one of those rare spirits that seemed to affect all species equally, whether their blood was based on iron or copper.

Kirk smacked his lips, and then peered into his gla.s.s for a moment as if pondering the motion of the slos.h.i.+ng fluid within, before setting it down on the small table that stood between them. He looked up at Thelin. "Thank you for coming," Kirk said. "I wasn't sure if we were still on good speaking terms."

"What?" Thelin said incredulously, his eyebrows raised and his antennae turned inward. "For what possible reason would that be so?"

"I took command of your s.h.i.+p," Kirk replied. "I took your cadets out on an a.s.signment that they weren't prepared for. A lot of good young officers died." He picked up his gla.s.s again, paused for a moment in thought, then tipped it upright and downed the rest of the drink in a single swallow. "And then..." he said, his voice slightly hoa.r.s.e from the irritation of the ale, "I gave your s.h.i.+p back to you as a banged-up hunk of wreckage. Both you and the Enterprise deserved better."

"Jim," Thelin said, setting his own gla.s.s on the table. "First of all, those cadets knew their responsibilities when they took their oaths. Don't trivialize their sacrifices by blaming their unpreparedness."

Kirk stared off at the opposite wall. "You're right, of course. Again, I owe you an apology."

"Second," Thelin continued, brus.h.i.+ng aside Kirk's contrition. "You did what was necessary to save the galaxy from the machinations of a madman intent upon getting his hands on a weapon of practically limitless power."

"You were the one who saved the s.h.i.+p," Kirk said, pointing at the Andorian.

"Jim, all I did was use the knowledge I had acquired purely by good fortune. You were the one forced to make the difficult decisions. It's what you've always done. I don't have your gift to always recognize what must be sacrificed to accomplish the ultimate goal."

"Sacrifice..." Kirk mumbled. He stood, and began slowly pacing the floor. "That's what the no-win scenario is all about, isn't it? Knowing when to make the ultimate sacrifice?" He stopped, and his shoulders drooped in dismay. "And in my own vanity, that's something I was never willing to do. None of us sacrificed anything to stop Khan-not me, not you...only a bunch of wide-eyed kids blindly following orders like good little soldiers. I don't know if I want to make those...'difficult' decisions anymore."

Kirk turned toward the window and looked out at the skyline. The sun had begun to sink below the horizon, its reflected rays s.h.i.+mmering in the waves of the nearby waters and casting an auburn glow over the distant span of the Bay Bridge. "Seeing my son on the Enterprise bridge with us made me realize a lot of things...like the fact that these kids aren't giving their lives for my personal glory. They're the future of Starfleet, and David is my own future." He turned back toward Thelin. "I thought that my life seemed so empty and meaningless because I wanted back my command. Only now do I realize that all my life's accomplishments mean nothing unless I can pa.s.s on a legacy to my son."

Thelin considered the middle-aged human and the pain of his sudden epiphany regarding the responsibilities of fatherhood. Human society, he knew, was quite varied in its approach to marriage and child-rearing. Unlike Andor, Earth did not provide the same level of education, the same culture of preparation for the duties of parenting. But even on his own homeworld, some had begun to reject the honored traditions of family loyalty-the First Truths-as quaint and archaic. He didn't entirely understand how a man could choose not to play a role in the life of his son, though he had gained painful firsthand knowledge of just such a tragedy from his own childhood. But neither was he prepared to judge the human for it.

"The child is flesh of your flesh, blood of your blood," Thelin said to the admiral. "David is your continuation. You are wise to recognize this."

Kirk softly laughed. "I can't say that I feel very wise right now. I feel like I'm plotting a course into uncharted territory. And it's d.a.m.ned frightening."

Thelin picked up the empty gla.s.s from the table next to him. "If I may be so bold, perhaps it is time to refill the drinks."

Kirk smiled, seated himself back in his chair and began to pour more ale from the bottle. Thelin watched him as he set down the bottle and stood up to hand over the gla.s.s. Even as Kirk felt these moments of uncertainty, he still carried himself in the manner of a person who would show no vulnerability-the manner of a leader.

"You'll do fine as a father, Jim. In fact, I daresay you're the closest thing to a father I've ever had."

With the gla.s.s at his lips, Kirk nearly choked on a mouthful of the blue liquid. "Thelin, we're practically the same age!" He wiped off his mouth with his sleeve.

"Age is irrelevant," Thelin replied. "You've been a mentor; you've provided authority and discipline. We've known each other for twenty years, and in that time, I've grown more under your guidance than in all my years spent from birth to adulthood."

Kirk waved him off. "That's the alcohol talking."

"Perhaps. But even if so, it nonetheless speaks the truth."

Kirk s.h.i.+fted in his seat, his nonplussed expression s.h.i.+fting through several distinct phases as he attempted to reprocess the nature of the relations.h.i.+p they had shared all these years. "Well, Thelin, I'm...touched," he finally said. "But...what about your own father? I don't recall you ever sharing much about him. Is he still alive?"

Thelin stared into his drink. He considered trying to change the subject, but as the ale had somewhat dulled his inhibitions, he instead chose to relent and respond with frankness. "My charan yet lives, but traditionally he would not be actively involved in child-rearing. My thavan, however...I do not know. I've had no contact with him since I was very young."

"I'm sorry," Kirk said. "I hadn't known."

"Of course not. We would not normally speak of such things. Our privacy is sacrosanct." He finished his drink, set down the empty gla.s.s, and continued. "My zhavey, I believe you know, is an Aenar from the northern provinces of Andor. My father met her while vacationing in the Weyzhiss Mountains, and she returned with him to Laibok. The sanctioning of marriage was less restrictive at that time, and interracial unions were never arranged at all. So, they found suitable partners on their own and bonded.

"They were something of a novelty at the time, with so few having intermarried with the Aenar. But then it was during my youth that the race riots began."

Kirk nodded. "Yes, I remember hearing about the uprisings while I was living on Tarsus."

"The government's climate-change project had been a veritable disaster for the northern regions, and violent responses were met with more violence. My mother became a target of public scorn, and the rest of her bondmates lacked the courage to defend her. So the bonding was dissolved, and my zhavey was left to raise me on her own." He sighed with resignation. "I wish I could report that things have markedly improved, but I do not believe it to be so."

Kirk set down his own empty gla.s.s. "These racial problems," he said. "Is that the reason you haven't begun a family yourself?"

"Partly," Thelin replied, trying to stem the flood of memories of Thali flowing into his mind. "Suffice it to say that Andorian courting and bonding rituals are...complicated."

Kirk grinned and gave a friendly roll of his eyes as he stood and gathered the gla.s.ses from the table. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"It doesn't really matter anymore," Thelin said, forcing an air of confidence. "Starfleet has provided me with all the family I need."

Kirk moved toward his kitchenette area, calling back over his shoulder to Thelin. "We've polished off the ale, I'm afraid. But the food synthesizer was just restocked. Anything you want, it's on me." Having quickly washed his hands, he turned back around. "The perks of being an admiral include delicacies, you know," he said, winking. "Fresh Andorian redbat with tuber roots?"

Thelin opened his mouth to politely decline the offer when the doorbell suddenly chimed. Puzzled, Kirk looked at his current guest and gave a slight shrug. "Hold that thought," he said, and started toward the entrance to his apartment.

"You weren't expecting anyone else?" Thelin asked.

"Not tonight, no." Kirk reached the door and pressed the control near the frame to slide it open.

At the door stood Carol Marcus. Though she was smartly dressed in an attractive blouse and slacks, her clothes appeared unkempt, and her hair was similarly disheveled. Her swollen eyes were red with irritation and dried tears left streaks down her unblemished complexion. "Oh, Jim, I came as quickly as I could," she said in a shaky voice, then stepped through the doorway and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

Though Thelin could not see his face, the bewilderment in Kirk's voice was apparent as he tried to calm the distraught woman. "Carol? What's wrong? Tell me what happened!"

She lifted her head and sniffed, looking into his eyes with her own confused expression. "You haven't heard? You're not monitoring the subs.p.a.ce feeds?"

"Well, I...No, I'm not. I mean, I saw that I had a message to contact Morrow, but I hadn't..."

"Jim!" Carol cried out, pounding her fists into his chest. "We lost David!"

Kirk stiffened and dropped his arms. He quickly swung his head round to look at Thelin, who still sat observing, mirroring his own dumbfounded expression, then turned back to the mother of his son. "Lost? What...Carol, what are you saying?"

Carol pushed past him into the apartment. She sniffed again, wiping her nose with her hand, and then letting out a quiet wail as she threw her arms back down to her sides. "The Grissom was destroyed," she said.

"Destroyed?" Kirk said incredulously, walking up from behind to stand next to her. "How?"

"I don't know," Carol replied. "Attacked maybe...the last transmission said something about an artificial disturbance and an energy surge."

"Artificial? What does that mean?"

"G.o.ddammit, Jim, I don't know!"

Kirk grabbed her arm, spinning her around, away from Thelin. "Carol," he implored her, "they were on a mission to explore the Genesis Planet. It's possible that they weren't aboard the s.h.i.+p."

Carol's voice dropped to a dull monotone as she had now drained her last reserves of emotion. "There is no more Genesis Planet. It's gone."

Kirk opened his mouth, agape, then shook his head before speaking. "I don't understand."