Star Trek Into Darkness Page 0,22
conference room, conversation suddenly ceased as all eyes turned toward the two men who had been whispering.
“Yes, sir,” Pike responded. “Mr. Kirk is just acclimating himself to his new position as my first officer.”
It wasn’t enough for Marcus. “You got something to say, Kirk, say it. Tomorrow’s too late.”
Kirk swallowed. “I’m fine, sir. My apologies for the interruption. I was thinking out loud.”
“Not loud enough, Kirk. I didn’t hear you. Last chance to share your thoughts with the rest of us. Spit it out, son. Don’t be shy. If you have something worthwhile to say, then say it. Speak up.”
There was only one man in the room, perhaps on the planet, to whom Kirk would have deferred, and that man was seated next to him. He glanced questioningly at Pike. With a diffident wave of one hand, Pike peremptorily gave his protégé permission to bury himself. It was all Kirk needed to plunge onward. Looking on, a couple of the other officers shook their heads incredulously. But most were attentive, if dubious; curious to see what the recently demoted captain might have to say with regard to a complex situation that was painfully devoid of facts.
“I was just wondering,” Kirk began, “why the archive? All that information is public record. If he really wanted to damage Starfleet, this could just be the beginning.”
Marcus stared across the conference table at the younger officer. “The beginning of what, Kirk?”
“And then there’s the question of what was in the bags he’s carrying, sir. He obviously came prepared for the consequences of his actions. What really has me puzzled is, if he went to all the trouble of somehow convincing someone else to do the bombing for him, and if the bombing is then traceable back to him—which it obviously is, since you just told us as muchwhy would he be anywhere near London when the event occurred, much less on a Starfleet base, where his presence could be recorded? Couldn’t he just as easily monitor its progress and ‘success’ from, say, Cape Town or Ushuaia, and then manage his getaway from there?”
Marcus didn’t hesitate. “Maybe he suffers from an overriding urge to observe his handiwork in person. Maybe it’s because he’s a psychopath. Maybe it’s because he—”
“If I might interject, Admiral . . .”
Attention swung from the byplay between Kirk and Marcus to the only Vulcan in the room. Next to him, his new commander struggled to keep himself under control as he admonished his recently assigned first officer. “Mr. Spock, first officers speak when spoken to, especially during a conference that is charged with—”
An irritated Marcus gestured impatiently. “It’s all right, Captain Abbott. Let him speak.” His tone was dry. “I’ll resume when everyone else has had their say.”
Whether or not the science officer discerned this most recent example of human sarcasm, it was impossible to tell, but in any event it did not dissuade him from continuing.
“It is curious that Harrison would commandeer a jumpship with no warp capability if his intention was to escape. Presuming the latter, one would expect him to try to reach a transporter-equipped orbiting station. I would think our efforts to interdict him would be better focused here rather than farther out, no matter whom he might count as possible allies. Unless, of course, his immediate intention is not to escape.” At which point the science officer directed his gaze not at the listening admiral, but at Kirk.
His thoughts already accelerating down the same horrible, unavoidable path, his friend needed no prompting to voice his corollary feelings.
“Sir,” Kirk said quickly to Marcus, “in the event of a terrestrial-based attack of the magnitude of the one London has just suffered, protocol mandates that if possible, senior command gather all available captains and first officers at Starfleet headquarters so that subsequent directives can be discussed and delivered in person. Right here. Right now. I’m of course familiar with security procedures for Starfleet in general, but at this moment I’m especially concerned about this one particular conference room.” He glanced meaningfully at his immediate surroundings. “Is this area secure?”
The admiral’s communicator beeped for attention. As he reached for it, Marcus nodded reassuringly at Kirk. “I’m well ahead of you. Standard perimeter automatics are on high alert and patrols with live personnel have been activated.” He addressed the open communicator. “This is Marcus.”
Having been caught up in Kirk’s line of thought, Captain Abbott leaned toward his colleague. “So let’s say that you’re right and this renegade doesn’t try to get