Chapter Thirteen

As soon as they boarded the station, stepping into the cool, antiseptic-scented brightness of what had once been a cargo bay, she saw that it was more serious than she’d figured. Most of the team was waiting to greet them, excited and impatient for the culmination of their hard work, but there were six conspicuous absences.

“Welcome home, Doctors!”

John Connolly was wearing a huge grin, much bigger than his brother’s, standing next to him. Tom Connolly had been betting all along that the pressurized chemical vat prep would be a total failure, a bet that his younger brother had taken him up on. It had been Suni’s idea to use their names as signals, on the off chance that the station needed to contact them at the summit.

“John, not Tom,” Kettaract said, smiling. “What did you win?”

“It’s not what he won, it’s what I lost,” Tom said good-naturedly. “Top billing in the history books to my younger brother, thank you very much.”

Every one of the sixteen assembled scientists and technicians laughed, a sound of barely suppressed jubilance, the very air electric with a sense of gleeful accomplishment. She was glad to see them so excited, they deserved it. A few of them had been with Kettaract since the very beginning, when he’d been working out of an abandoned warehouse on a nonaligned planet in the Taugan sector. Before he’d met the people she worked for.

“Where are the others?” Kettaract asked.

“Cafeteria,” John said, his smile fading slightly. “When they realized how close we are . . . it’s not that they don’t believe in you, Bendes, they’re just scared.”

“Now that it’s actually happening, I think they just can’t believe it,” Wesker piped up, sniffing loudly. The physicist seemed to have a perpetually runny nose. “It’s a kind of denial. Fear of success.”

Suni had to smile. Success in this case meant fame and fortune, while failure likely meant death; she doubted very much that they were terribly afraid of succeeding. The problem was faith, as it had been all along. Faith in Bendes, faith in themselves.

“I believe I could use one last meal before we forever change the course of history,” Kettaract said, initiating more laughter. “Let’s all go. I have a few things I want to say, to everyone.”

The group broke into couples and trios as they trooped out into the station’s interior, chatting happily at each other. Suni hung back a little, watching them. It was amazing to see, after so many months, years, of knowing them as pale, solemn people, always with clipboards in hand, always frowning.

I probably looked the same way, skulking around this cavernous, empty station with no real life, calculating and recalculating the probabilities over and over. . . .

Not anymore, not ever again. She’d done her part, as a scientist and as a motivator—running equations, keeping her contacts informed, teaching Bendes how to inspire his team. Taking care of problems. When the cloak had become available, she’d been the one to talk him into it, pointing out how close they were, how they couldn’t afford to be interrupted.

She had kept the project going, all in the name of making the Federation into what it should be. With the power of the Omega molecule backing it up, there would be nothing to stand in the way, nothing to keep the Federation from its altruistic goals— uniting all worlds, creating peace and prosperity for every living being who wanted to be a part of it.

Not a bad way to have spent her time . . . but she was exhausted, tired of accepting the harsh responsibility for so many of the setbacks and mistakes, tired of carrying Bendes and the others through their tantrums and doubts.

Let’s not forget the loneliness, Jain, her mind whispered cruelly, all those days and weeks and months of secrets. She didn’t need a reminder; it wasn’t possible to forget. Not even Kettaract knew who she really was.

But after tonight, everything changed. There’d be a few weeks of initial research before they officially went public . . . which meant she’d be able to get away for a week or two while the med docs and engineers started in, to take a real break. There was no way anyone would begrudge her that.

A week or two with Jim Kirk, she hoped— fulfilling the promise of that lingering kiss, definitely, but she thought there could be more. It would be a chance to find out . . . and even if nothing lasting came from it, she wasn’t going to be worrying about having wasted her time, relaxing with an attractive, strong, honest man, maybe even telling him a few of her less compromising secrets. The irony really was something, considering his part in collecting the cloaking device that concealed the project. . . . not that he ever needed to know about that.

But I could talk about my work on the molecule. He’s Starfleet, he’d be thrilled. In another hour or two, it wouldn’t really matter if the truth got out about Kettaract’s work. It just meant there’d be more people glorying in their success.

The renewed thought of what was about to happen made her heart pound. As she followed the others into the cafeteria, she could barely resist a sudden urge to dance. It was happening, it was finally happening.

The six scientists who were already sitting in the

“Everyone, take a seat, please,” Kettaract said, walking toward the front of the room. “I’d like to say a few words.”

Suni silently willed him to remember at least some of her extensive advice. It should be fine, he was in too good a mood to go off on one of his tears, as he’d done only the night before. She still couldn’t believe that he’d been stupid enough to draw so much attention to himself, without even knowing how close they were to finishing.

Anyway, he can hardly screw up. Everyone here wants to believe.

“It appears that tonight’s the night,” he said, smiling widely. A few people applauded. “And it seems appropriate for me to stand up and tell you all how proud I am, that each of you is here with me, now. I know it hasn’t always been easy, but you stuck it out; you studied the work, you saw its integrity . . . and you made sacrifices in your own lives to come here, to live and work with me on my dream. And that’s made it your dream, too.”

Sounds like he actually listened for a change. He’d touched on the solidity of his work, added a note of humility and an acknowledgment that they’d all suffered a little. Exactly as she’d suggested.

“I realize that there’s some concern out there, some nervousness,” he continued, “and I think that’s only natural. The awesome power of Omega is nothing to take lightly . . . but neither is the importance of what we’re doing here. Is there a risk? Of course, though we all know that it’s infinitesimal. But changing the course of history . . . well, that’s a risky business. And I believe, absolutely, that we are about to get a huge payoff for taking a very small chance.

“We are about to create a universe of possibility for our children, and our children’s children . . . for the future of every Federation citizen. Peace, forever.”

He had them, the doubters. Suni could see it in Kaylor’s eyes, in Patterson’s face, in the way Angelo was puffing out his chest. It was exactly what they needed to hear.

Kettaract smiled, shaking his head. “Look at me, making speeches. All I really wanted to do was say thank you, so . . . thank you. And thanks for listening.”

More applause, laughter, shouted you’re-welcomes. If Suni didn’t know better, she might actually think he was a humble man; he hadn’t bothered mentioning that in private he referred to most of them as lackeys, insisting that only a handful were actually competent . . . but then, that probably wouldn’t set the right tone for Kettaract’s big day.

Suni liked several people on the station. She’d taken pride in the work she’d done to contribute to Kettaract’s molecule, and she believed deeply in the ultimate objective, giving the Federation the power it deserved . . . but at the moment, tonight was all that mattered, and all that she really cared about. She’d been teamed with Bendes Kettaract to get results, and after nearly three years of hard work, she was finally going to prevail.

She was still thinking as much when she saw Dickerson motioning at her from the doorway. Kubaro Dickerson headed up the small group who kept the station’s essentials running, and was the only other person on board sent by the experiment’s supporters since Max had gone.

As soon as she reached him, he pulled her into the hall. He was uncharacteristically nervous, his expression worried, a small tic at the corner of his left eye.

“There’s a ship out there,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Instantly, Suni’s happiness dried up. “What? Federation? How close?”

“Starfleet, Constitution-class,” he said. “It’s about eight hundred million kilometers out, but it looks like they’re headed in this direction.”

“No problems with the cloak?”

Dickerson shook his head. “No—but what the hell are they doing out here?”

Suni didn’t answer. She was too busy mentally cursing Kettaract for his inflammatory rant back at the summit, practically begging for Starfleet to check him out.

It seemed that somebody had decided to take him up on it.

McCoy postponed the last of the crew physicals for a day, knowing that he was too preoccupied to do a good job. He paced sickbay instead, not sure what he should do.

If Spock’s theory was right—and his theories almost always were, confound him—Karen Patterson had hooked up with a rogue group of geniuses, convinced that they were going to change the universe. McCoy knew Jim well enough to know that he’d put a stop to their Omega experiment, one way or another . . . but what about Karen? How obsessed was she with what she was working on, what if she wasn’t interested in helping someone she’d barely known in med school?

And how am I supposed to get hold of her to find out?

Jim had been pretty vague about plans, beyond finding the station. The idea was to trace the Sphinx’ s recorded trajectory back into the Lantaru sector, and then look for recent particle exhaust from Kettaract’s ship. Assuming they could even find the damned station, assuming that the scientists on board didn’t try to escape when they realized they were found out, what then? Depending on how many people were involved, the Enterprise would either take Dr. Kettaract and his people into custody, or stand guard until a bigger transport ship could arrive . . . but either way, Karen Patterson was probably going to end up in a penitentiary somewhere, and it seemed pretty unlikely that any of those places maintained disease-research facilities.

For about the millionth time since he’d been diagnosed, McCoy felt a surge of guilt, for worrying about himself over everything else, for considering practically everything by how it related to him, to curing his xenopolycythemia. He couldn’t seem to help it. It was either that, or . . .

. . . or face death. Accept that you’re going to die.

He wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t about to give up, not when there was still a chance. When he realized that the ship had dropped out of warp, he headed straight for the bridge.

Everyone was at their stations, the viewscreen showing a big, empty nothing, as expected. McCoy moved to stand behind Jim’s chair, gazing out at the expanse of blackness and stars.

“Anything?” Jim asked.

Spock was bent over his sensors. “Negative. I don’t—”

He broke off, adjusting a knob on the side of his directed console. “Captain, I’m picking up matterantimatter particle exhaust bearing one one seven mark seven.”

“Slow and steady, Mr. Sulu,” Jim said, absently rubbing at his lower lip with the fingertips of his left hand, staring at the screen as though he expected to see something.

McCoy did the very same, and wondered if Karen was out there in the dark, staring back at them and wishing they would go away.