Before anyone could respond to his order, though, Chekov called out to him. “Captain! The Romulan vessel is closing on us!”
Damn, Kirk thought, not too surprised. Commander Motak was not going to give up until the Enterprise was captured or destroyed; it was just how Kirk would have dealt with a Romulan warship in Federation territory. “How much time do we have?”
Chekov wiped a trickle of sweat away from his eyes. “Gladiator will be within firing range in less than ten minutes.”
Kirk quickly weighed his alternatives. He might be able to outrace Gladiator again, but only by leaving the mystery planet behind and heading even deeper into the heart of the Romulan Empire. Forget it, he thought. We’ve come this far, we’re not going to leave until I get some answers.
A provocative question sprung to mind: Did Motak know about the cloaked planet? If this was a Romulan military experiment, then Gladiator’s commander was probably aware of its existence and location, but if Gary Seven or his mysterious associates were responsible for cloaking the world, as Seven had claimed they could . . .
“Mr. Sulu,” he ordered. “Take us into that cloaking field, into the planet’s atmosphere if necessary.” If there was even a chance that Motak did not know about the cloaking field, then Kirk had to risk it.
“But, Captain,” Sulu said, looking away from his personal viewing unit, “I’m not even sure where the planet is.”
“Best guess, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk told him, wishing he could offer the helmsman better prospects. He had never crashed the Enterprise into a planet before, Kirk realized, but maybe there was a first time for everything.
“Eight minutes, Captain,” Chekov shouted.
“Mr. Sulu,” Spock said calmly, scanning the readouts on his sensor control panel, “I have estimated the mass and diameter of the planet in question, based on the precise gravimetric distortions observed. I am feeding that data into your navigational sensors.”
“Acknowledged,” Sulu replied, glancing down at his control panel. Kirk saw the helmsman expel a sigh of relief.
“Just how reliable are these estimates of yours, Spock?” Kirk asked, anxious to know the worst.
“Approximately sixty-eight-point-four percent,” the Vulcan stated. “The key variable is the planet’s density. If the planet’s core is less massive than is customary for a Class-M planet, then its diameter may be larger than estimated.”
And we end up like a fly on a windshield, Kirk thought, keeping the grisly image to himself.
“Six minutes,” Chekov called out.
“Good Lord,” McCoy whispered. “We’re being chased into a brick wall. Made of invisible bricks, no less!”
“Take a sedative, Doctor,” Kirk suggested. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, but he kept a confident expression locked firmly on his face. It took plenty of self-restraint to keep from springing from his seat and taking the helm controls himself, even though he knew Hikaru Sulu was fully up to the challenge, if anyone was. “Mr. Sulu?”
“Coming closer,” Sulu reported, intent on his task. Even at mere impulse speed, the margin between safety and disaster might be a matter of seconds.
“Five minutes,” Chekov counted down.
Kirk nodded at the nervous young ensign. The big question now was whether Kirk would destroy the Enterprise, by ramming it into an invisible planet, before Commander Motak got a chance. Look out below, he thought.
For one endless moment, the viewer displayed nothing but the diamond-speckled blackness of interplanetary space. Then, as if the Enterprise was passing through a gauzy curtain, the view on the screen shimmered briefly before giving way to an entirely different scene. Kirk suddenly glimpsed vaporous white mists, billowing clouds, turquoise seas, and huge continental land masses, all rushing towards them at frightening speed. “Pull out!” Kirk barked.
A collision seemed inevitable, but Sulu was already way ahead of his captain. The view on the screen tilted vertiginously and Kirk felt inertia yank him into his seat as the Enterprise leveled off its flight path above the planet’s surface. A wave of nausea gripped Kirk, and he had to clench his teeth together to keep from vomiting. Caught off guard by the ship’s abrupt change in course, McCoy gasped and staggered back and forth a few steps before grabbing onto the security of the handrail once more. “Fascinating,” Kirk heard Spock observe.
Kirk’s stomach settled back into place as their flight stabilized. “Everyone in one piece?” he asked. A chorus of affirmative responses came from all around the bridge. Kirk nodded and took a deep breath before speaking again. “Excellent work, Mr. Sulu, and you, too, Mr. Spock.”
“I’ll send you the bill for my shattered nerves in the morning,” McCoy groused, his dour features more than a little green. “Next time you want a ride like that, I recommend you check out the Coney Island Historical Amusement Center instead.”
“Why, Bones,” Kirk joked, “I didn’t know you liked roller coasters.”
“I don’t,” the doctor declared, but Kirk was no longer listening. He turned toward Chekov. The young Russian still sat at his post about a meter to the right of Sulu. Like the rest of the personnel on the bridge, he looked shaken but steady.
“What about our pursuer?” Kirk demanded. This was the moment of truth: Would Motak realize where the Enterprise had gone? Kirk held his breath.
“Gladiator has slowed to impulse and is now scanning the vicinity. They do not appear to be following us.” Chekov grinned wolfishly at the captain. “I think we’ve lost them, sir.”
“Good,” Kirk said, breathing a sigh of relief. He had gambled and won. If nothing else, this ploy would buy them some much-needed time. He wondered what Motak thought when the Enterprise suddenly disappeared from his sensors. Was there any chance that the Romulan commander would figure out where they were hiding? Even at impulse speed, a starship could cover a lot of distance in five minutes. Kirk didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.
“Captain,” Uhura spoke up. “Commander Motak is hailing you on all channels.”
“Let’s hear what he has to say,” Kirk instructed, “but don’t respond unless I say so. Audio only.”
Uhura flicked a switch and Motak’s voice rang out from the bridge’s loudspeakers: “Captain Kirk, the Treaty of Algeron specifically forbids the use of cloaking technology on Federation starships. Despite your earlier protestations of innocence, you are now in flagrant violation of the Treaty on several counts. I demand that you turn yourself and your ship over to my authority immediately.”
“In a pig’s eye,” McCoy muttered.
Uhura cut off the transmission. “That’s all there is, Captain, although the Commander’s message is being repeated at regular intervals.” She removed her earpiece and put it down on the communications console. “Do you wish to reply?” she asked, although she clearly guessed what his answer would be.
“Not just yet, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. The last thing he wanted to do was let Motak get a fix on his position. He felt encouraged, though, by the Romulan Commander’s mistaken assumption that the Enterprise itself possessed some manner of cloak; better that he should hunt for a cloaked ship, which could be anywhere, than guess at the existence of the cloaked planet.
Satisfied that Motak had been thwarted for the time being, Kirk turned his attention to the newly revealed planet. He contemplated the image on the screen. So near to the planet’s surface, he could see only part of one hemisphere; it was strange to see the thinning blue atmosphere hanging over the planet instead of the open space he was accustomed to viewing. A heavy layer of clouds, dark with moisture, partially obscured the topographical features below. Rivers, lakes, and oceans of clear blue water divided large stretches of lush green landscapes. “One Class-M planet,” Kirk said, exchanging a glance with Spock, “just as predicted.”
The more he thought about it, the more intriguing he found it that Motak was apparently unaware of the cloaked planet’s presence. Whatever was hidden here had been kept secret even fr
om the commander of a Romulan battle cruiser. Now, more than ever, Kirk wanted to know what was up on the planet below—and just how much Gary Seven knew about it.
“Scan the planet for any signs of recent habitation or unusual activity,” he ordered. He peered again at the sunlit sky in front of them, then addressed Sulu. “How close to the planet are we, anyway?”
“Close enough,” Sulu informed him. “We’re cruising approximately twelve thousand meters above the planet’s surface.”
Kirk whistled appreciatively. He’d never been this close to a planet in anything larger than a shuttle. “How stable is our orbit?”
Sulu shrugged. “We can maintain this orbit indefinitely, as long as our power doesn’t run out.”
“I hope we’re not going to be around here that long,” Kirk said. Just long enough to find out what’s hiding down there, and why it was important enough to hide a whole world, and for Gary Seven to hijack my ship and throw it halfway across the known universe. Deep down inside, he knew that this impossible, invisible planet had something to do with Seven’s mysterious mission.
I don’t know what the connection is, he thought, but I’ll bet I won’t like it when I find out.
Chapter Eight
ROBERTA GOT UP off the floor and righted her chair, which had tipped over backwards during the Enterprise’s last abrupt change in course. The back of her head still stung where it had smacked against the floor. She winced and felt beneath her hair, searching for a bump. Just who is flying this spaceship anyway? she thought irritably. Isis?
She pulled the chair back into place before the computer terminal and plopped down in front of the screen, only to discover that the screen had gone black and that her green cube had also tumbled to the floor. She had to get down on her hands and knees and crawl under the desk to retrieve it. The glamorous life of a time-travelling secret agent, she thought. I bet Mrs. Peel never has to go poking around under the furniture.
Inspecting the cube, she was relieved to see that the fall had left it completely unscratched. I shouldn’t be too surprised, she thought. After all, Seven’s office back in New York had been blown up twice and attacked by killer robots once, and the cube had come through intact each time. One of these days she’d have to ask Seven what exactly it was made off.
“Restore image of brig,” she said, placing the cube back atop the computer terminal. The green cube flickered momentarily and Roberta found herself peeking at the row of detention cells once more.
Like the cube, Gary Seven appeared none the worse for wear. He stood patiently in front of the illuminated entrance to his cell. The doorway appeared open, which made Roberta wonder why Seven couldn’t just walk out of the cell. Were twenty-third century jails based on the honor system or what? For the brig of a starship, security seemed to be pretty lax.
As if in answer to her questions, Seven stepped closer to the doorway and held out his hand. To her surprise, Roberta saw coruscating flashes of white energy appear where Seven’s hand intersected the plane of the doorway. “Oh, my goodness!” she whispered, realizing she had severely underestimated the ship’s resources. Apparently, there was something holding Seven in his cell after all.
Grimacing, Seven attempted to push his hand through the invisible barrier. Judging from his clenched teeth and contorted expression, Roberta guessed this was far from easy. For a few tense moments, the tips of his fingers extended beyond the rectangular doorway and she actually thought he was going to break free from his cell; then, with a blinding surge of energy, Seven was thrown backwards, slamming into the rear wall. Looking slightly dazed, he slumped down onto his bench, cradling the hand that had initiated the jolt. Roberta suspected that he had just received a nasty shock.
This was not good. She knew she had to do something to help. “Computer, can you turn off that force field thingie?”
“Affirmative,” the cube replied. As she watched, a guard came into view on the screen. He was a beefy, blond man wearing a red shirt and black trousers, and he eyed Seven suspiciously through the invisible barrier; Roberta guessed that Seven’s escape attempt had not gone unnoticed. She was still seeing spots before her eyes from the incandescent flash that had repelled Seven.
She waited until the guard had turned his back on Seven. “Now,” she breathed. “Turn it off now.”
“Please specify which detention cell,” the cube prompted her.
Which one? Roberta had no idea how the cells were numbered, and she didn’t have time to figure it out. Captain Kirk was bound to figure out what she was up to eventually. “All of them,” she said. “Hurry.” She held her breath, waiting anxiously to see if her plan would work.
Instantly, the lights outlining the entrance to each cell blinked off. Breathing a sigh of relief, Roberta hoped the guard wouldn’t notice.
No such luck. The guard pivoted around quickly, his eyes widening at the sight of the unlighted doorways. He reached for the futuristic-looking weapon on his hip. What was it called again? she wondered. A laser? No, not quite, a . . . phaser! That was it.
Seven’s reflexes were even faster than the guard’s. He sprang through the now-open entrance and delivered a blow to the guard’s wrist with the edge of his hand. The gun spun through the air, hitting the floor a couple yards away, then skidding to a stop inside one of the empty detention cells. Roberta watched it land, wishing she were there to grab it. It was maddening to watch the conflict unfold on her little computer screen and not be able to take part.
The guard shoved Seven away and backed towards the wall opposite the cells. His fist slammed a button next to a circular metal grille mounted in the wall. The intercom, Roberta guessed immediately. He was going to raise an alarm.
“Computer,” she blurted, “kill the intercom in the brig.”
“The internal communications system is not a living organism.” The green cube flickered again. “Please clarify meaning of ‘kill.’ ”
“Jam it, stop it, shut it down!” Roberta stared at the guard on the screen, watched him open his mouth to call for reinforcements. Seven charged at the guard again, but he clearly wasn’t going to be able to shut the guard up in time. Roberta chewed her lip and crossed her fingers.
“Affirmative,” the cube reported. On the screen, the guard shot the intercom a confused look. He pressed the speaker button repeatedly, getting no response.
“Yes!” Roberta exulted as Seven barreled into the unlucky guard, knocking the breath out of him. The two men grappled next to the malfunctioning intercom, pitting Starfleet muscle against Seven’s specialized training, until Seven managed to seize his opponent by one arm and flip him onto the floor. Unfortunately, the guard landed right outside the nearest detention cell, only inches away from where his flung ray gun had come to rest. “Uh-oh,” Roberta muttered. She saw the danger immediately, but had Seven managed to keep track of the weapon as well?
The guard scrambled on all fours into the cell and reached for the gun. His fingers wrapped around the weapon’s grip and he spun around swiftly, sat up, and fired. A beam of brilliant red energy shot toward Seven, who ducked out of the way at the last second.
Roberta’s jaw dropped. She knew that Seven kept himself in peak physical condition for a human being, but she’d never realized he could dodge a laser beam. I want to see that in slow motion, she thought, wondering how she could get the screen to show her an instant replay.
The guard looked even more surprised. He gulped and fired again, but Seven dived beneath the beam. His hand reached out and struck a lighted panel next to the cell entrance. Wait a minute, Roberta thought. What’s he doing now?
Without warning, the lights came on again around all the doorways into the cells. This was bad news for the unfortunate guard, who still had part of one leg in the entrance when the invisible barrier returned. Glowing white sparks erupted all around his limb, which was forcibly squeezed back into the cell with the rest of him while he howled at the sudden shock. He grabbed onto his injured leg and glared at Gar
y Seven through the invisible prison bars.
Alerted by the sounds of the struggle, a second security officer ran into the brig, laser gun in hand. But Seven was waiting for him just inside the door. With practiced efficiency, Seven disarmed the man and blasted him with his own weapon. The burst of crimson energy dropped the second guard to the ground. Roberta winced in sympathy; she wasn’t sure exactly what those glowing rays did, but their effect looked a lot less humane than the tranquilizer beam Seven was accustomed to using.
Seven stepped away from the detention cell and inspected his borrowed Starfleet uniform for rips or tears. Apparently, he judged it in satisfactory shape, since he straightened his gold shirt, tucked the purloined ray gun in his belt, and headed for the exit to the brig. Before he disappeared from Roberta’s sight, however, he paused and looked up directly at the overhead camera lens. Once again, she had the distinct impression that her cryptic employer was making eye contact with her, an impression confirmed when he winked at her once, then stepped out into the corridor beyond the brig.
Roberta sagged back into her chair, feeling as if she’d just been through a fight herself—which, in a weird sort of way, she had. Okay, she thought, now what? Seven was on the loose again, but what was Captain Kirk going to do when he found out? Or had he caught on already? Roberta decided she needed to check on the opposition.
“Computer, show me the bridge.”
* * *
“Confirmed, Captain,” Uhura reported. “There is definitely an installation near the planet’s equator.”
“What kind of installation?” Kirk asked. So far, this installation Uhura had detected was the only sign of habitation on the cloaked world below them. He looked over Uhura’s shoulder, anxious to get down to the planet and find out what was going on, preferably before that Romulan battle cruiser figured out where the Enterprise had disappeared to.