Bloodthirst (32 page)

Kirk wasted no time on diplomacy. His heart was still hammering in his chest from the sudden realization that McCoy and Spock were on board the Romulan vessel. It took all his self-control not to immediately ask whether they were all right. “Subcommander, you have violated the Neutral Zone Treaty, committing an act of war. You have kidnapped my men, showing that your intent is aggression. If anything happens to them, the Federation”

Khaefv smiled, unaffected. “No one has been harmed, Captain. We could certainly debate ownership of this particular area of space with you, but in any case, we have not violated the spirit of the treaty. Our mission is one of rescue, not aggression.”

Kirk's scowl deepened as he tried to second-guess Khaefv's motivation. Obviously, Romulan intelligence must have heard that the Federation had developed a bioweapon against them. Despite his outer calm, Khaefv was probably on a suicide mission to recover or destroy the microbe at any cost. “We have detected no other Romulan vessels in this area. Certainly no crippled ones. There's no one here for you to rescue.”

“On the contrary. We have come to free a political prisoner from the oppressive Federation regime. Someone on board the
Enterprise
a Dr. Jeffrey Adams.”

Kirk laughed out loud. “A political prisoner? Dr. Adams is accused of murder. That's hardly a political charge. And I seriously doubt he'll go with you.”

“I regret having to contradict you again, Captain. Dr. Adams contacted us to request the rescue.”

“I refuse to believe it.”

“There is one way to find out. Why don't you ask Dr. Adams?”

In the outer office of sickbay, M'Benga was incredibly ecstatic, so much so that the flashing yellow alert beacon and the scowl carved into Kirk's forehead failed to discourage him.

“Captain.” His tone was one of delight at serendipitous coincidence. “I was just about to call you again. I tried during the red alert, but the board was jammed. We gave Christine Chapel the serum, and it's stabilized the anemia.”

“A cure?” Kirk was still frowning. Certainly he was happy for Chapel, for Stanger, maybe in some distant humanitarian part of himself happy for Adams—but right now he couldn't afford the time to show it.

“Close to it. They'll need regular doses of the medicine for a while not a one-shot cure, but an eventual one. It definitely suppresses the virus' action.” M'Benga rattled on happily.

“The Romulans have got McCoy and Spock,” Kirk said. “Adams signaled them to come here. He's trying to cut a deal.”

It worked. M'Benga stopped smiling, closed his mouth, and stared at the captain. Kirk felt bad doing it this way, but it was fastest—and there was very little time. He hadn't known exactly how he was going to get Adams to cooperate until this very moment.

“Have you given it to Adams yet?” he asked M'Benga.

The doctor shook his head. “Not yet. But I was just about to administer it to him and Stanger. It won't interfere if you want to question him.”

“Give it to Stanger. I want to talk to Adams first.”

M'Benga's reaction was swift. Kirk had never seen him in anything but a pleasant mood, but now something hard crept into the doctor's expression. “The man is dying, Captain. He's dangerously ill. It would be unethical for me to withhold treatment.”

“Let me talk to him first,” Kirk repeated. He held back his growing frustration.
He's as bad as McCoy
.

“I'd rather not.” A muscle under the smooth skin of M'Benga's jaw twitched.

“I could order you,” Kirk said, without emotion. He did not like having to say it, but there was no time for a discussion of ethics.

“And as acting chief medical officer, I could override your order.”

“Five minutes,” Kirk said in a humbler tone. “Do you think he could make it five minutes? Especially since we're talking about saving two lives?” He didn't count Mendez.

M'Benga sighed and stroked his jaw as if to soothe all the tension from it. “You have a point there, Captain. But only five minutes. Then I go ahead and administer the serum to him.”

“One last thing, Doctor. I promise not to physically harm Adams, but I'm going to have to use scare tactics on him.” He looked intently into M'Benga's black eyes. “Spock and McCoy's lives.”

M'Benga sighed. “I won't interfere unless you hurt him, Captain.”

He put on an infrared visor and gave one to the captain. Kirk followed him from the office to the darkened corner of the treatment area where Stanger and Adams were held. The Andorian ensign was standing guard this time, anxiously watching Stanger, who seemed to be resting more calmly now.
The man has a lot of friends
, Kirk thought.

Adams lay on his bed looking gray and shriveled.

“Adams,” Kirk said softly, as M'Benga went a few beds over to Stanger. He could hear a delighted exclamation from Lamia as the doctor explained the drug.

Adams opened one dull eye and glanced up listlessly, then closed it.

“Dr. M'Benga is administering a cure to Mr. Stanger,” Kirk said in an exaggeratedly pleasant tone. “It stabilizes the anemia.”

Adams' eye opened again. “A cure?” he whispered.

Kirk grabbed a handful of fabric on either side of Adams' neck and pulled him to a sitting position. It was cathartic, pleasurable, good to be able to scream with hatred at the man. “Your ride is here!”

Adams made a small squeaking sound.

“You miserable liar!” Kirk thundered. The others in the room had grown very quiet. “They're
here
, just like you've always planned it!
Where
is the R-virus they're asking for?
Where is it?”
He shook until he could hear Adams' teeth clicking together.

“Stop it!” Adams moaned.

“Go to the Romulans, then! Sell them the R-virus. Sell them the H-virus, too—why not? You're a walking lab culture. Because it doesn't matter! We've got the cure for it right here. Too bad you've got to leave with the Romulans. Let's see if they're in such a hurry to find a cure just for
you!”

Adams was making a strange gasping sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob.

Kirk lowered his voice. “You'll be dead by morning, Adams.”

The terror in Adams' eyes gave him a twisted pleasure. “No”

He forced himself to speak calmly, though it was difficult. He didn't want to stop shaking the man; it would have been so easy just to raise his hands to the thin throat and squeeze. “The Romulans have two of my men. And if you don't do everything I tell you to
now
, I'm going to send you to them without the drug and let you die.” He paused. “If they don't kill you as soon as they get a blood sample from you.”

That much was true and surely Adams must have considered it himself. Kirk glanced to one side and saw M'Benga frowning, his arms knotted in front of his chest. It was probably all the doctor could do to hold himself back.

As bad as McCoy.

Shaking weakly with dry sobs, Adams pulled the amulet from his neck and handed it to Kirk. “Take it.
Take
it.”

Kirk stared. “What's this?”

“The R-virus,” Adams whispered. “Sealed inside. It's what you want, isn't it? Take it. Give me the drug.”

M'Benga rose, but Kirk shook his head at him and handed him the pendant. To Adams he said, “I need you to talk to the Romulans for me. They say you want political asylum in the Empire. Tell them they've made a mistake. Tell them to leave.”

“All right. Just give me the shot.”

“You killed them, didn't you? The other researchers?”

“Yes,” Adams hissed through gray, cracked lips. “I killed them. Lara first, and then Yoshi. In arranging the ‘accident' for Sepek, I inadvertently exposed myself to the mutated form of the virus. Sepek died quickly, but I wasn't as lucky. The hunger” He twitched painfully. “When they were all dead, the hunger stayed. I realized I would starve to death alone, so I sent the distress signal. I couldn't help it. Give me the shot.”

Kirk leaned closer. “And what you've said about Mendez is it all true?”

“All true.” His head lolled weakly on his neck. “Please”

Kirk looked at him without pity, thinking of Yoshi, of Lara Krovozhadny, of Lisa Nguyen, of Chapel and Stanger.
"After
you do as I say.”

They used the viewscreen in the doctor's office and had Uhura relay a channel down to sickbay. Adams was so weak that his head fell back against the headrest of M'Benga's chair. The doctor stood to one side with the hypospray ready.

Adams was desperate enough to do a convincing job. Subcommander Khaefv listened expressionlessly and said, “This is all very interesting. However, we feel that Dr. Adams has been coerced into a change of heart, if I am using the idiom correctly. Since you clearly have no intention of turning him over to us, I have no choice but to order the execution of the prisoners.” He signaled to his communications officer to close the channel.

“Wait!” Kirk leaned toward the screen. “There's no longer any point in trying to play games, Subcommander. Why can't we bargain truthfully?”

Khaefv folded his hands patiently and said nothing.

“We have the R-virus,” Kirk said, hoping like hell he wasn't getting in over his head. Khaefv seemed young for a subcommander, so it was a safe bet he got there by being shrewd. “That's what you want, isn't it? So you can develop a cure, neutralize the threat? Although"” he swung the pendant in front of the screen—I guarantee this is the only live culture remaining.”

Khaefv's placid expression didn't even flicker. “We want that, and Dr. Adams.”

“Because he harbors the mutated form deadly to humans. But as a bioweapon, its use is now limited. We've found a cure.”

“Dr. Adams,” Khaefv remarked dryly, “does not look very much to me like a man who has been cured.”

“It's true,” Adams croaked haggardly. “He's withholding it so I'll talk.”

Khaefv glanced from Adams to Kirk with an expression very like admiration for a worthy opponent.

“I'm sure you realize by now that Adams is a criminal. The Federation hasn't broken its own laws on biowarfare. The R-virus was developed illegally, and I'm trying to repair the damage.” Kirk gazed intently at him with what he hoped was his sincerest expression; if there were only some way to reach inside Khaefv's skull and show that he was telling the truth “Believe me, Subcommander, we both have the same aim: to destroy the threat posed by the R-virus.”

“How very interesting,” Khaefv murmured, trying to seem disinterested, but Kirk caught the glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

“Suppose we compromise and meet someplace neutral to destroy the R-virus?”

“We can just as easily destroy it aboard our ship,” Khaefv countered.

Kirk half smiled and shrugged apologetically. “Subcommander, you can appreciate the Federation's concern about a virus that affects Vulcanoids.” Surely he was giving nothing away; the Romulans no doubt were planning to test whether Vulcans were affected by the virus. And Vulcan was the backbone of the Federation. “A neutral area would be best.”

“I suppose you consider your ship a neutral area,” Khaefv said acerbically.

“I was thinking of Tanis base.”

Khaefv considered for a moment. “Frankly, Captain Kirk, we have absolutely no way of knowing whether the sample you bring us contains the R-virus. And certainly no way to be sure that it is the only sample left in existence. There could be hundreds of vials of it on your ship or anywhere else in Federation space.” He smiled humorlessly. “I would be very foolish to accept your offer.”

“Dr. Adams and I would be willing to submit to a verifier scan,” Kirk said, desperate, but he knew from the cold in Khaefv's eyes that the matter was closed.

“I am sure you are a man of honor"” there was not a trace of sarcasm in Khaefv's tone—but as you mentioned, Dr. Adams is a criminal, and may have misled you. And verifier scans are not one hundred percent conclusive, especially with certain personality types.” He paused, and a subtle hardness crept into his expression. “No, Captain, I cannot agree to your proposal. The prisoners will be questioned, then executed. I regret that we could not come to an agreement.” He signaled again to his communications officer, and this time, Kirk's protests did not prevent the screen from going black.

SPOCK LAY STRETCHED out on the cold floor. The cell was apparently designed for sensory deprivation: no furniture, bare walls and floor an unbroken gray. Intended to cause boredom and anxiousness, perhaps, but Spock found it restful.

He was concentrating on one of the two burly Rihannsu guards just beyond the force field that held him captive. Their brains were structured almost exactly the same as his own, although Rihannsu minds were undisciplined by Vulcan standards. Still, it was more of a challenge for Spock to implant a suggestion in the guard's mind than in a human's.

Spock chose to concentrate on the less intelligent of the two; it would increase the chances of his plan's working. Certain Vulcans would say that what he was doing to the guard was immoral, yet Spock was firmly convinced that, in light of the threat posed by the R-virus, what he was doing was justified. Better to use what methods he could, if it would help to save lives. Besides, he was not technically violating the guard's mind. He took nothing from it, only planted an image.

A vivid one, at that: Spock, dying on the gray floor of the cell. He concentrated on the image until it became so real in his own mind that he did not doubt it and then he directed it to the mind of the guard.

Outside, the guard began to squint through the force field at his prisoner. Spock's eyes were closed, but he knew it just as surely as if he had seen it. He concentrated harder on the image of death; the muscles in his face sagged.