Empire's Fall CH3

Stardate 2284.279, 0230 hours
Starship USS Lexington NCC-1709, two hours from Mutara System

It was now six hours since the Lexington had left the Sol System in pursuit of the Enterprise. Most of the crew had recovered from the shock of suddenly wrenching the ship from spacedock in the middle of the night to chase down the Starfleet Flagship. Most of the primary crew were resting now, with the second shift now manning critical stations on the bridge and in engineering. Which left one Commander Riley in that most uncomfortable of seats in the center of the bridge.

Jack had never liked sitting in the Captain's Chair. He wasn't sure if it was just in his head, but he could always feel the pressure of responsibility for every soul on the ship pressing down on him as he sat there. Actually, he was fairly sure it was in his head. He also felt is was just too big of a position for him to fill with the examples he had seen while serving on the Lexington.

Robert Wesley and Jessica Rodriguez were both hard acts to follow, and Captain Corris – while surely not in the same league as the two others when it came to a stand-up fight – had great strengths of his own. He didn't really see any of these things in himself. Never had. Or maybe I'm just more comfortable following someone else's lead.

Jack leaned back into the Big Chair, his eyes wandering around the bridge. With most of the senior officers resting now before they caught up with the Enterprise – Jack had taken a few hours to sleep shortly after they had left the Terran System - the bridge stations were manned mostly by non-commissioned officers. Chief Belton was the senior noncom on the bridge, once again manning the ships main sensors from the Science station.

"Time to intercept the Enterprise, Chief?" he asked.

The chief leaned over the main sensor display for a moment. "Thirty-one minutes, sir," he replied in a monotone. Belton hadn't left that station since they launched from the Starbase, yet he still seemed as cool and fresh as he did when they left the spacedock... That seemed terribly unfair.

"All right," he said with hidden relief. "Let's wake everyone up." He turned the chair towards the junior petty officer at communications. "Pass the word: thirty minutes to intercept – Yellow Alert."

A harsh alarm sounded from hidden speakers all over the ship, and the crew started buzzing with muted anxiety as they shook themselves out of bed, grabbed one last bite to eat, put away books or data pads, and pulled their uniforms on, moving purposefully but unhurriedly to their stations. Jack punched a button on the arm of the Big Chair. "Bridge to Captain: Thirty minutes to IP."

Corris' voice came through speakers on the armrest: "On my way."


At the same time on the USS Enterprise:

Kirk was nearly as nervous as Jack Riley was, six hundred thousand kilometers behind him – albeit for very different reasons.

Kirk was used to the terrible pressure that came with the Center Seat, for he had dealt with it almost every day for over a decade, but it wasn't there when he sat down now, for the Enterprise had only four other people on board, thanks to Scotty's automation system – computer controls and robotic remotes all over the ship to operate all the systems they needed to effectively fly the ship. No, Kirk's nerves centered on the planet he raced towards - the friend he had left behind there – much more than they did with the starship he raced away from.

At least so far. The Enterprise's damage had taken it's toll on the warp drive again, and they'd dropped down to less than warp 5. At that rate, the ship chasing them – the Lexington from McCoy's (McCoy's of all people) analysis – would intercept them in less than twenty five minutes.

Kirk knew exactly what he had in store for him if – when he corrected himself firmly – he returned to Starfleet. Court martial and prison. He knew that going in, and accepted it. The people with him accepted it. But they couldn't be stopped now.

Which left Kirk with few options – none of them pleasant to even think about. He could fire on the Lexington to drive her off. That was assuming that Scotty's automation systems would be able to operate the phaser banks – which neither of them were confident of. He could try and evade them, which depended heavily on what was around to evade through. Modern starship sensors were difficult to fool, even with equally modern jamming equipment – which the Enterprise didn't have. Although, fortunately the Lexington didn't either. Kirk remembered using the Mutara Nebula to evade Khan's attack in the Reliant but the Mutara Nebula was now gone, and there wasn't anything like it within thirty light-years.

The last option was to give it up. As bad as the other options looked, Kirk shied away from this one the most. Part of it was how much he hated to lose but even more than that was the thought of losing two of his closest friends. Spock had left his spirit – his katra – in McCoy's brain before he stepped into the Enterprise's radiation-filled Main Power room, saving the ship from being swallowed into the Genesis wave. Reuniting the katra with Spock's body was the only way to save him – and McCoy, for that matter. The katra was starting to drive Bones over the edge. Whether that was something that it did normally, or just something it did to a human mind or just a freak occurrence, Kirk didn't know. All he was sure of was that failing meant losing them both.

Which brought him back to one option that almost certainly wouldn't work, and another that not only probably wouldn't work, but also would make things infinitely worse. If only--

"Jim! They're breaking off!"

Everyone's eyes turned incredulously towards McCoy at the science station.

"Breaking off? Why?!" Kirk demanded, genuinely shocked.

"I don't know!" McCoy sounded defensive. "They dropped to warp 4 and they're turning away! I don't know 'why'!"

"They could have easily owertaken us before we reached Genesis... What reason could they have for breaking off?" Checkov asked no one in particular, speaking for everyone on the bridge.

Kirk shook his head. "Don't jinx it, Mister Checkov." He turned to look at Bones, "Keep an eye on them. Report if they change course again."

McCoy grumbled, looking disgustedly at the rapidly-retreating blip on the scanner in front of him.


Stardate 2284.279, 0942 hours
Starfleet Command Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth

Vice Admiral Jessica Rodriguez did her best not to bounce impatiently on her heels as she stood outside the door to Starfleet Commander Morrow's office like a junior officer waiting to be disciplined by her captain. She'd been here before, when she received her flag from Admiral Morrow's predecessor, but she had also met with Morrow himself several times. Neither the dark-skinned man or the office he worked in had ever made her nervous before – which was one of her virtues, she had been told, never feeling nervous in the presence of a superior. In fact, Morrow had a reputation of being one of the friendlier persons to ever hold the position of Starfleet's senior uniformed officer.

Then why, she asked silently, am I feeling like a schoolkid waiting on the principal?

The corridor was much like any other corridor at Starfleet Headquarters. Decorated by paintings or posters depicting Starships or stellar vistas – often both – at regular intervals along the wall. Plants added a little life to the subdued grays and browns of the corridor itself, but none of that could keep one from feeling a sense of foreboding when you approached the office of the Starfleet Commander in Chief. Hell, that sense was everywhere now. Just a little worse here.

Kirk's treason – no, they were insisting that the word 'treason' not be used, weren't they? James T. Kirk had been an icon, a living legend in Starfleet since the end of his five-year mission on the Enterprise. The notion that he could do the things he had done was finally starting to sink in around the fleet. It wasn't anything immediately obvious, but she could tell – people were nervous. Not insomuch as 'Kirk did it, maybe they will too', but as people who'd lost their center, or something like that. Even Jessica herself was feeling it, by extension. By extension since I don't even like Kirk.

It wasn't something she talked about, nor did she have any intention of ever mentioning it to anyone, but she couldn't stand James Kirk. His brash attitude and undeniable swagger rubbed her the wrong way every time they entered one another's orbit. Even Kirk's reputation as a ladies man didn't bother her as much as that arrogance of his – however justified it might have been.

Jessica paused her train of though and jerked her blood-red tunic straight. She was in full dress uniform, her uniform festooned with gold braid and award medals beneath her Starfleet insignia. She personally preferred the new tunics to the dress uniforms she used to wear, but it seemed uniform designers the world over always had one singular goal in mind – make it as uncomfortable as you possibly can.

The sound of booted heels against the deck drew the admiral's attention. Another Starfleet officer in dress uniform rounded the corner towards Admiral Morrow's office. The form was looking over her own uniform, as if it had been put on hastily. The uniform lacked the gold braid of a flag officer, and the turtlenecked blouse beneath the blood-red tunic was dark blue – almost black. It was a combination Jessica didn't see often, and didn't relish when she did, for a dark blue blouse denoted the office of Starfleet Security. I hate spooks.

Jessica's distaste lessened significantly as she got a better look at the officer wearing that uniform. She was humanoid, but she had several feline characteristics that made it impossible for her to be mistaken for a human. Her ears were large and triangular, high on her head, like a terrestrial cat, and a black tail swished nervously behind her. The officer looked up from straightening her own uniform with large, bright blue eyes, widening slightly in recognition. The officer's face had a slightly angular, feline cast to it, one that suited her well.

"Commander Storm," Jessica greeted her.

Commander Briana Storm, Starfleet Security, didn't often let herself show how surprised she was. But it was hard this time. She hadn't seen that face or heard that voice or felt that presence in nearly sixteen years. It brought back a lot of memories. Some better than others...

Storm gave herself a mental shake, reminding herself that former captain or no, Jessica Rodriguez was still her superior. "Admiral," she replied.

Briana stopped herself from actively scanning the Admiral. Her training in Starfleet Security had made it a reflex to take a telepathic scan of anyone who she met – although they made it clear that she shouldn't let anyone EVER know that she did. But it didn't take a scan to know just how on edge the admiral was.

"Are you all right?" Curiosity forced the question out of her before she had a chance to think about it.

If Rodriguez was offended by her concern, however, she didn't show it. "About as well as anyone, I guess..." She shrugged, rolling her violet eyes. "Despite the fact the whole galaxy's gone loco." She looked at Briana as the half-Ki'Taran woman tilted her head curiously. "Think about it: Kirk has gone renegade, the Klingons are starting to talk peace, and now..." She closed her mouth before she said any more, but she glanced meaningfully at the door to Admiral Morrow's office.

Briana nodded, understanding what she meant, even if she couldn't say it aloud.

"So why'd they bring you here?" the admiral asked. Seeing Briana shrug made her grimace. "Sounds familiar. Just pulled you from wherever you were to stand out here like waiting on the principal's office... Though I guess I shouldn't complain." Jessica looked at Briana with a frustrated expression. "Jack got a hold of me a few hours ago from the Lex. Seems they were only a few minutes from intercepting Kirk when they got ordered to turn around."

Briana Storm was very good at hiding her emotions on her face... but a brief flicker of pain flashed in her expression, just long enough for Jessica to see it. And she didn't need to ask what it was about. Officially, while she had been captain of the Lexington, the fact that her helmsman and chief of security were romantically involved was none of her business – as long as it didn't adversely affect the performance of their duty. But Jack Riley was more than one of her officers. He was a man who had suffered a terrible injury to save her life and he was also one of the most promising junior officers she'd ever served with. And he was her friend.

So Captain Rodriguez had known about it. And while she had made no particular issue of the matter, she was pleased to see the effect Briana had on him. While he was a lieutenant, Riley was taciturn and shy. He still wasn't particularly talkative, but nowhere near as much as he was before.

But while Jack had stayed on the Lady Lex, Briana had been picked up by Starfleet Security and transferred to God-knows-where. Jack had never said anything, but he'd made it clear that he and Ms. Storm were no longer involved with one another. And apparently, Commander Storm is as unhappy about that as Jack is.

"I... don't imagine he was happy about that," Briana said quietly, stiffening a little at the hesitation in her voice.

"More frustrated, actually. He pulled off a nice bit of flying to be able to get on the Enterprise's tail, and it was all for nothing because some brass shirt decided to pull the plug on him."

The door to the Admiral's office slid open. A Vulcan lieutenant wearing a Staff officer's aiguilette whispered to them. "Admiral Morrow would like to speak to you both now, Ma'am."