Agents of Influence

by Dayton Ward

  Where are they?

  No sooner did she consider the question than something made her rise from the blanket spread on the ground beneath her. Using her elbows to prop her upper body, Khatami looked across the meadow’s green grass and saw Kenji and Parveen walking toward her. The girl waved in her direction, and even from this distance there was no mistaking Parveen’s beaming smile. Upon seeing her, her husband and daughter began jogging across the meadow. Khatami watched them run toward her, but they did not come closer. The open field separating them widened, with more grass appearing as if from nowhere to block their path. She held out a hand and shouted their names, but she heard nothing. All was silent around her, while Kenji and Parveen now seemed to grow smaller. Khatami shouted again with as much force as she could muster but still heard nothing. Until…

  “Captain Khatami?”

  Her eyes snapped open. The blue sky, lush meadow, and her family were gone, replaced by the bland gray ceiling of her quarters on the Endeavour.

  The ship, her sleep-fogged thoughts reminded her. Asteroid. Crashed. Still here. Damn.

  “Yes.” It was an effort to force even the single word. Casting aside her sheets, Khatami sat up in the bed. She swung her legs over the side until her bare feet touched the maroon area rug situated between her bed and the divider separating the two halves of her quarters. While she thought of her family every day she could not remember the last time she dreamed of them. Was that a sign? She was not prone to superstition, but something about the vivid nature of the dream lingered. It was an odd, not entirely welcome sensation.

  Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Khatami looked across her quarters to the small foyer before the entrance to her suite’s seating area to see Katherine Stano standing there. It was no wonder she had not heard the first officer’s entrance, as the door in that half of the room was locked open. Like numerous other doors leading to all of the ship’s remaining noncritical interior sections, hers had been left in this state, reducing the power requirements needed for the computer’s automated entry and exit system. It was one of several ideas put forth by Commander Yataro and his engineering team as a means of conserving the Endeavour’s limited energy reserves. For the moment, privacy in this situation was a luxury.

  Khatami cleared her throat and waved toward Stano. “I was that far gone, wasn’t I?”

  “I really hated disturbing you, Captain,” replied Stano, her expression emphasizing her regret. “I know you’ve only been in the rack an hour or so, but something’s come up. Klisiewicz thinks there’s a ship out there. Somewhere close.”

  Khatami felt any possible chance of her returning to sleep vanish in the face of this news. “He’s sure?” Rising to her feet, she retrieved the black trousers she had flung across the chair next to her bed and pulled them on.

  “He’s Klisiewicz.” Stano shrugged. “Good enough for me.”

  “Fair enough.” After donning her gold tunic, Khatami reached for her boots and socks. “Any idea who it might be?”

  Stano shook her head. “Sensor returns are still being affected by the background noise around here. Even with our buoys and their little booster trick, it’s still too far away for him to get a lock on it.”

  Moving to the small bureau set into the wall opposite her bed, Khatami examined herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her black hair, which she kept styled in a simple bob cut. The feeble gesture was enough to get it to lay in something resembling a normal fashion and perhaps hide the fact she was just roused from sleep, and she declared victory.

  “Let’s pay a visit to Mister Klisiewicz.”

  The transit to the Endeavour’s makeshift auxiliary control center was easy enough, with Khatami and Stano making use of the engineering ladders connecting decks in lieu of turbolifts taken offline to conserve power. They arrived to find the science officer along with Lieutenant Estrada as the room’s only occupants. Both men were hunched over the console Klisiewicz had reconfigured to act as an interface to the main computer as well as what remained of the ship’s sensor array. They turned from the station upon hearing the sound of new arrivals.

  “Gentlemen,” said Khatami, forcing herself not to groan in protest as she caught sight of the console’s chronometer and the unholy hour displayed upon it. “We’ve got company?”

  Klisiewicz grimaced. “Looks that way, Captain. It entered our sensor range about ten minutes ago, and has been making a slow circuit through the area. Whoever they are, they’re definitely looking for something.”

  “Still not able to identify them?” asked Stano. The first officer had made her way to the console and was already studying the sensor returns.

  “Not yet, Commander,” said Estrada. “Whatever it is, it’s not very big. Maybe a scout-class vessel, but I can’t tell you who it belongs to. Its power signature isn’t consistent with a Klingon or Starfleet ship, but that’s as much as I can get with our current setup.” He gestured to the workstation. “If we boosted power to the buoys, that’d likely help, but it’d also be like ringing a bell.”

  Blowing out her breath, Khatami shook her head. “Right.”

  The new development only served to hammer home the harsh truth about their current plight. Lying on the bottom of a canyon on a desolate asteroid, damaged to the point that any kind of lift-off was impossible while her crew survived on the limited resources left to them until help arrived. They were completely helpless prey for anyone who might happen by and realize the opportunity for plunder the wounded Endeavour represented.

  Well, maybe not completely helpless, Khatami thought.

  Stano had ordered the security detail to prepare for the possibility of boarding by unfriendly operators such as pirates or others looking to take advantage of the crippled starship’s situation. Security details were posted to each of the ship’s access points, and the intruder control system would alert the crew if anyone or anything attempted to breach the hull. Khatami knew it might all prove futile in the face of a determined adversary like a Klingon boarding force or even a band of determined Orion privateers. Still, anyone taking up such a challenge would have to earn their spoils. Given the current circumstances, she almost welcomed such a fight. If nothing else, it would at least confirm someone knew they were here. The thought was enough to make her smile to herself.

  Come one, come all.

  * * *

  “Captain, I think we’ve got something.”

  Sulu’s comment, delivered with the first thing resembling anticipation since their mission began, was enough to bring Kirk running from the Dreamline’s passenger compartment. He crowded the cockpit’s entryway to find his helm officer leaning forward in his seat, reaching for controls positioned near his console’s forward edge just under the canopy. Outside the ship, a monstrous asteroid loomed ahead of them, cloaked largely in shadow as it filled Kirk’s field of view. Other than the color—deep browns instead of shades of gray—it reminded Kirk of Earth’s moon instead of a rogue piece of discarded interstellar flotsam. To Sulu’s left, Uhura once more occupied the copilot’s position, immersed in whatever scanning tasks with which she was assisting her companion.

  “What’ve you got?” asked Kirk.

  Uhura indicated the controls before her. “Sensors hit on something as we were flying past this asteroid, sir. The field’s background radiation along with interference from mineral concentrations inside the asteroid itself are continuing to hamper our scans, but we still picked it up.”

  “It happened pretty fast,” added Sulu, “so I brought us around to take another look.”

  His gaze shifting between his officers and the asteroid, which looked too close for comfort, Kirk asked, “Any signs of other ship activity out here?”

  “Not so far as we can tell, sir,” replied Uhura.

  “What about that Orion ship?”

  Sulu said, “Wherever they went after our last run-in, they don’t seem to be anywhere nearby.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way.” Kirk k
new their ruse likely would not survive another encounter with the Orion ship commander. Their cover story of being a civilian transport would evaporate if they were found still wandering around within the Ivratis field rather than having departed the area for their supposed destination. The longer Kirk and his people stayed out here with nothing to show for their efforts, the more dangerous their situation became.

  “Hang on,” said Uhura after a moment. Hunching over her console, she adjusted several controls and Kirk watched as the display screen she had configured to serve as a readout for the transport’s sensor data began scrolling in rapid fashion. “Wait.” She looked to Sulu. “Can you take us in closer?”

  The helm officer nodded. “How close do you want to go?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  His fingers moved masterfully across the pilot console as Sulu guided the ship toward the asteroid’s surface. Despite his confidence in the lieutenant, Kirk could not help the slight churning in his stomach as unforgiving rock drew closer, then began to shift beneath them as Sulu leveled out the transport and slowed its speed. Now the surrounding landscape looked no different than traversing the surface of a barren planet or a moon at night. Only the presence of other asteroids in the space above them disturbed the illusion. Jagged mountain peaks flanked the ship as Sulu guided it along the surface, and the terrain ahead of them offered nothing but the same grim view of utter desolation.

  “Something ahead of us,” reported Uhura. “It’s an energy signature. Very weak, but it’s there.” She tapped another set of controls before glancing over her shoulder to Kirk. “It’s a Starfleet sensor buoy, sir. Operating in a low-power mode, but definitely one of ours.”

  Sulu added, “There’s more than one.” He paused, checking his instruments. “There are three of them, sir. No, wait. Four. Readings show four buoys. They’re positioned at equidistant intervals from one another. No chance that’s an accident.” He tapped one of the sensor controls. “Scans show there’s a valley or canyon of some sort in that vicinity.”

  “A canyon?” Kirk stepped into the cockpit, leaning close to the console between Sulu and Uhura. “Big enough to hide a starship?”

  “Or what’s left of one?” prompted Uhura.

  Smiling, Sulu returned his attention to the pilot’s console. “Exactly what I was thinking.” Under his guidance, the transport’s course shifted to port as the lieutenant nudged the ship’s nose downward, reducing their altitude above the asteroid’s surface.

  Kirk stepped back from the console, giving his officers more room to work. “Any ideas about the sensor buoys? Maybe a way to increase communications? Sensors?”

  “That’s my guess, sir,” replied Uhura. “Buoys like this can be reconfigured to interface with a ship’s systems and act like boosters for weak signals. I don’t know how well they’d do combating the interference we’re dealing with, but maybe they figured they had nothing to lose by trying.”

  “And the low power signature would likely only attract attention if someone was looking for it,” said Sulu.

  “Someone like us,” replied Kirk. “Let’s hope no one else is as smart as you two.”

  The area ahead of the Dreamline was flatter now, though hills and peaks were still visible far ahead of them and to either side. Not so distant was a dark patch that had appeared from the gloom. As they drew closer, Kirk saw the gap extended for kilometers to either side of the transport, and was at least a kilometer wide.

  “That’s our canyon,” said Sulu. He pointed toward the canopy. “Look.”

  Ahead of them, Kirk recognized the shape of a Starfleet sensor buoy resting on the asteroid’s surface near the canyon’s edge. It had not crashed there; that much was obvious. No, he decided. It had been deliberately placed there, along with three others he could not see.

  “According to its encrypted transponder,” said Uhura, “it’s from the Endeavour.”

  Kirk felt excitement welling up within him. “Now we’re talking.”

  He resisted the urge to grab on to something as Sulu guided the transport into the expansive maw. The canopy’s imaging processors translated data from the sensors and provided depth and detail to the canyon walls rising past the descending ship.

  “Something’s definitely down here.” Uhura was making frequent adjustments to her sensor controls. A quick glance told Kirk she was refining the scan data that was now being fed to her in a torrent, filtering through whatever information failed to serve her more immediate needs. “Something big.” A telltale beep from her console made her look up, offering a triumphant smile. “I’m registering duranium, sir.”

  “Like a starship’s hull.” Kirk gestured to her console. “Uhura, open a channel. Low frequency and scrambled, just in case somebody else is out here. If those buoys did their job, then the Endeavour already knows we’re here.” He waited until Uhura established the frequency, then said, “Starship Endeavour, this is Captain James Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Captain Khatami, if you can hear me, Admiral Nogura sends his regards.”

  Static was the initial response through the open connection, but a few seconds later a female voice replaced it. “Jim? You won’t believe how happy I am to hear your voice.”

  “Same here, Atish.”

  “What the hell are you flying? We were sure you might be Orion pirates or some other lowlife looking for a quick score.”

  Kirk suppressed the urge to chuckle. “It’s a long story, and one of the admiral’s ideas. We found your buoys, and if my helm and communications officers’ instincts are right, we’re on our way down to you.”

  “We’ve got you on what’s left of our sensors. Just keep descending. You won’t be able to miss us.”

  “She’s right, sir,” said Uhura. “The duranium signature is growing stronger by the second.”

  Without saying anything, Sulu maneuvered the Dreamline so its nose angled downward. Even with the cockpit canopy’s enhancements, Kirk could see nothing but the walls around them. Then, more detail formed ahead of them and he realized it had to be the canyon floor. Near a point where the canyon narrowed, with rock walls stretching hundreds of meters above it, was an obviously artificial, circular shape.

  “Bingo,” said Sulu, his attention locked on his instruments.

  There could be no mistaking a starship’s saucer section, and Kirk’s pulse began to race as the transport’s descent brought them ever closer to their prize. Details were coming into view, and he recognized the raised section at the center of the hull cradling the ship’s bridge. That area was dark, and only a few light sources betrayed the vessel’s location. With the aid of the transport’s imaging processors, it was now easy to make out the lettering sprawling across the hull, which still proudly identified the ship as the U.S.S. Endeavour NCC-1895.

  “Well done, you two,” he said, reaching out to pat both Uhura and Sulu on their shoulders. “Very well done.” Then, for the benefit of the still-open communications frequency, he added, “All right, Endeavour. We’ve got you.”

  Over the connection, Khatami replied, “You’ll have to pardon our dust. We’re remodeling. You’re more than welcome to join us, but our transporters are offline. Feel like taking a walk?”

  “We’ll be right over,” said Kirk. “Uhura, break out some environmental suits.” As she maneuvered her way out of the cockpit, he looked to Sulu. “What do you think? Should we avoid landing on the hull?”

  The helm officer nodded. “I would. She looks to be in rough shape, but I can set her down pretty close. We won’t be outside for more than a couple of minutes, sir.”

  “Do it.”

  Noting some buckling along the saucer’s edges, Kirk could only agree with Sulu’s informal assessment of the ship’s condition. The damage was mute evidence of the stress put on the ship during its own descent and landing. Kirk wondered how sound the Endeavour might still truly be, and if it would hold up long enough to get Khatami, her crew, and her precious cargo to safety.

  One thing at a time
, Captain, he mused. One thing at a time.

  “All right, Mr. Sulu,” he told his companion. “Now the real work can begin.”

  Nineteen

  A full welcoming committee greeted Kirk, Uhura, and Sulu as they stepped through the airlock’s inner hatch and into the service corridor. There was no applause or cheering, but also no small shortage of relieved smiles as their hosts got their first look at their would-be saviors.

  “Permission to come aboard?” asked Kirk as he removed his helmet, and both he and Khatami could not help chuckling at the absurdity of observing protocol in such circumstances.

  She replied, “Permission granted. Welcome to what’s left of the U.S.S. Endeavour.” One of her officers, a young human male with lieutenant’s stripes on his blue uniform tunic, gestured to the helmet, and Kirk handed it off to him.

  “Lieutenant Klisiewicz,” he said, recalling the name from his review of the Endeavour’s crew roster. “Isn’t it?”

  The younger man nodded. “That’s right, sir. Good to see you.”

  “Likewise.” Turning his attention to Khatami, Kirk said, “I’m going to hazard a guess you and your crew aren’t exactly ready for a formal inspection.” He punctuated his statement with a small, knowing grin.

  Khatami replied, “I never liked inspections.”

  “Same here.” Kirk quickly introduced Uhura and Sulu, after which Khatami returned the favor with her own senior staff.

  “With your permission, Captains,” said Commander Stano, the Endeavour’s first officer, “we can get you something more comfortable to wear, and then I can brief Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu about our current situation and maybe get started on an evacuation plan.”

  “Sounds good,” replied Khatami. She gestured to Klisiewicz and her engineer. “Take Klisiewicz and Yataro with you. May as well get the straight scoop from the horse’s mouth.” Turning back to Kirk, she added, “And you and I should probably have a conversation as well.”