Fifty-two
RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT DEPOT
STARBASE 24
“Okay, Tuvok,” La Forge said. Trying to keep his balance atop Houdini’s hull, he braced himself against the large spire-like emitter with one hand and took another reading with the tricorder in his other hand. “I think we’re ready.”
On the deck, Tuvok walked into the space they had created by relocating other parked ships. Facing Houdini’s forward ports, he spoke into his combadge. “Ready, Doctor Aggadak.”
A flash of light—and in place of Tuvok stood a giant Gorn, nearly double his mass. The creature waved to either side, where a group of engineers from the Enterprise wheeled over the portable sensor arrays comprising dozens of slate-colored panels. “Whaaat is the reeeeading?” the Tuvok-Gorn hissed.
Lieutenant Corrine Clipet checked the array data on her padd. She walked over to Tuvok and showed it to him. “Aggadak’s theory checks out.”
“I concurrr,” Tuvok said. He raised his hand—and turned back into himself. He waited for Aggadak to exit the Houdini. “Our work would be more efficient if the transformed subject did not have such a pronounced vocal effect.”
Aggadak shrugged off the suggestion. “That’s the biggest creature in the database—and you get more of a reading from bigger illusions.”
“Agreed. The illusion we apparently interdicted on Yongolor years ago was immense.” Tuvok passed the padd to the Nausicaan. “You were correct. Houdini’s emitter is indeed opening a pocket subspace continuum.”
“An ad-hoc dimension,” Clipet said, “strictly for the purposes of channeling information to and from the illusion site.”
Aggadak laughed loudly, slapping the Vulcan on the back. Tuvok endured it. “I told you,” she said. “There was no way such a high-powered transmission could go through normal subspace without someone sensing it.”
“Indeed, I barely noticed the effect a century ago. And the technology appears to have advanced since then.”
La Forge approached from the foot of the ladder they’d placed beside Houdini. “We know what it’s doing, but without completely dismantling the ship, I couldn’t tell you why.”
Aggadak snarled at him. “You are not taking apart my ship!”
Clipet was about to say something, but Tuvok’s raised eyebrow silenced her. “Drastic steps may not be necessary. Does what we have learned give us a method for both detecting and interdicting these signals?”
“I think so,” La Forge said. “If the system can sense its own illusions, it ought to be able to do the same for data coming from another ship. That should be no problem for Enterprise’s computer to replicate.”
“Excellent,” Tuvok replied. “In the vicinity, a protocol suggested by Houdini’s systems could help us locate the vessel following the Unsung.”
Aggadak looked back on the starship with maternal pride. “Dunsel, they said. I knew there was more to this ship than—”
La Forge’s and Tuvok’s combadges activated at the same time. “La Forge here.”
“Enterprise has been called to rejoin Titan,” Captain Picard said.
La Forge and Tuvok looked at each other. “What has happened, Captain?” Tuvok asked.
“The Unsung have been located. They are racing for Ghora Janto, presumably to attack. General Lorath intends to stop them. Titan is already on her way.”
La Forge frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, Captain. The data you just sent us on Object Thirteen suggest it left the Lankal Expanse in the direction of Morska. Ghora Janto’s nowhere near that.”
“The admiral would not share the source of his intelligence. But we were looking for Object Thirteen as a means of locating the Phantom Wing, after all. It appears it has been found.”
Tuvok interjected, “Object Thirteen may be more than that, Captain. If our theory is correct, the ship generated the fake Kruge. If it has split off from the Phantom Wing, it may be advisable to follow both parties.”
“I have my orders. Stand by to beam up.”
“Captain,” La Forge said, “there is another way. There’s Houdini.”
“Ardra’s ship?” Picard’s distaste in saying the name was audible.
“The ship’s already set up to detect the emissions created in illusion generation. Tracking the flaw in Object Thirteen’s cloak just gets us in the neighborhood. But if we take the Houdini there, we can pinpoint where they are.”
“It’s hasn’t been out of the bay in years,” Aggadak said, looking alarmed. “I don’t have the authority to remove it. They don’t even invite me to staff meetings.”
Picard said, “I may have some pull with the administrators. Your plan is approved, Commanders—and I have a certain security chief here who would be eager to join you. Good hunting.”
PHANTOM WING VESSEL RODAK
GHORA JANTO
Ignoring the pain in his leg, Worf clambered over an aggregation of pipes. The bird-of-prey had no Jefferies tubes in the Starfleet sense: only a network of crawlspaces and crannies wending around the guts of the vessel.
Sarken was built for this kind of travel. She had been instrumental in helping him keep to the right path. “Shine the light over here,” he called out, and she skittered along a crossbeam like a Cardassian vole.
His search had taken far too long and had been aggravated by the fact that Rodak was at high warp. The whine from the straining engines reverberated in these spaces, making it difficult to concentrate, let alone communicate. Worf didn’t think anyone was looking for him, but he had no idea how long that would last.
“These are the correct ODN lines,” Worf said. They matched what had been detailed in the plans he’d studied. “We are nearly there.”
The goal was up ahead: a small crawlspace beneath a jutting metal protrusion. Arriving at the spot, Worf took the light from Sarken and lay on his back. Scooting underneath, he was just able to clear the obstruction. Fumbling with the light, he brought it upward and took a look.
A minute passed. “Worf?” Sarken called out from the space beyond his feet. “Worf? It’s scary out here.”
“Do not fear.”
“What’s wrong? Is it not what you expected?”
“You could say that. Stay there—I am coming back,” Worf said, beginning to reverse his direction. “And then I will need you to be brave. There is something very important you must do.”
Fifty-three
HOUSE OF KRUGE INDUSTRIAL COMPOUND
KETORIX PRIME, KLINGON EMPIRE
Korgh walked through the forests of Cygnet IV. He had never been to the planet before, but somehow he knew the name—just as he knew the name of its sole resident. It was the sylvan home that the emperor had retired to. The clone of Kahless had lived here before Korgh got him away with the invitation to visit Gamaral.
Gamaral, where the emperor had been kidnapped at Korgh’s orders. Kidnapped and taken to Thane, where the clone had been executed, again at Korgh’s behest. There should be no one on Cygnet IV at all.
And yet Korgh could see a figure up ahead, carrying a bat’leth and lurking after something. Korgh approached quietly, careful not to disturb hunter or prey. The stalker pounced. An animal roared—and fell, the blade having found a neck. It was over in seconds.
As the hunter severed the creature’s head, Korgh stepped forward. His breath caught in his throat. It was Kahless wielding the weapon. “How is it that you are alive, clone?”
The hunter did not respond. Circling the majestic warrior, Korgh put his hand over his mouth in wonder. His eyes grew wide. “Are you the clone? Or—are you the true Kahless?”
Still no response. The hunter draped the now-headless carcass over his shoulders and rose. He walked away, his back to Korgh, never having noticed the old man once.
“Kahless! Why will you not hear me?”
“Kahless!” Korgh awoke sweating and wondering where he was. In the dark, it took him several seconds to get his bearings. Days earlier, he had moved from the humbler gin’tak’
s quarters that he had resided in for fifty years to the lord’s suite. It was deservedly his, but he had still not gotten accustomed to it. Perhaps that explained the bad dreams.
He was not given to placing stock in dreams. That was for the simple-minded and the superstitious, those who deserved to be ruled. Never for him—he had made visions into reality. Korgh had created a nightmare for the Empire in the Unsung and had profited from it. Now, with their puppeteer departed, Korgh would dispel the nightmare—and all credit would go to his eldest son.
He lit a burner and checked the time. A message had arrived from Lorath. The general was lying in wait a short warp jump from Ghora Janto with a hastily assembled battle group. V’raak was supported by two other Vor’cha-class attack vessels, more than enough to eliminate the Unsung—especially given the modifications Lorath had quietly ordered made to their targeting systems. Attuned to the Phantom Wing’s stealth positioning system, the warships’ disruptors and photon torpedoes would eliminate all evidence and make Lorath a hero in the same swath.
Donning a robe, Korgh rose and left the residence, stepping into the atrium. Past Kruge’s statue, he could see down the hall that the door to J’borr’s office was open. He walked toward the light, confident Odrok was inside, monitoring the impending battle.
Instead, he found the room unoccupied. The screens showed the positions of the ships she’d been tracking; the Phantom Wing was almost to Ghora Janto. Standing in the doorway, he heard voices from one of Odrok’s computers. It was the audio feed from V’raak, piped in from the Klingon Defense Force’s network. The voices were excited, expectant. The game was on the hoof.
He looked back and forth down the long corridor. Even though Odrok and Korgh were the only two beings on this floor of the building, he considered her absence a breach of operational security. All our secrets, and the door wide open!
“Curse you, old woman.” He entered the office and closed the door. He had worked too long to miss the last act.
HOUDINI
DEEP SPACE
Houdini raced through interstellar space, and seldom had a stranger ship been operated by Starfleet. It was now an official/unofficial part of the Unsung investigative task force. It had only navigational shields and no weapons. The ship’s illusion generation and sensor package required immense power, so there wasn’t any power available to protect or arm the ship.
Before departing for Ghora Janto, Enterprise had detached Šmrhová and five security officers as well as six additional engineers to fully crew the vessel. Clipet had also remained. Picard had cleared Houdini’s departure with Starbase 24, but he had needed to report the name of the commandeering captain.
“You’ve got seniority within the task force,” Commander La Forge had said.
“I have never wanted to command,” Commander Tuvok said. “Your knowledge of this vessel both precedes and supersedes mine. And there is someone else who is better suited to be first officer.”
A simultaneous look at their Nausicaan lieutenant followed. They reported Commander La Forge as Houdini’s commander with Aggadak, over Tuvok, as its first officer. She seemed to appreciate her temporary field promotion, and it also reflected reality. Aggadak knew more about the vessel than anyone else.
Houdini dropped in and out of warp as it followed the projected path of Object Thirteen. Houdini’s propulsion systems, long idle, had required some coaxing. Tuvok had taken the time to study the vessel—and to reflect on its history.
“I have been looking more into this Harry Houdini,” Tuvok said as he dropped in a seat, his uniform covered in lubricant from the systems he’d been working on. “While he is known as an entertainer, he also debunked people who claimed to be mystics, particularly when they did so for personal gain.”
“Then this mission is following in his footsteps,” La Forge said, poring over a display. “I think we’re getting close. Do you see where the highest probability path leads to?”
“Cragg’s Cloud.” Tuvok studied the data. “A classic absorption nebula—nearly opaque. Carbon monoxide, nitrogen, ammonia.”
“You wouldn’t even need a cloak to hide in there.”
“Small, with no planets. In an unclaimed region partially surrounded by Klingon space.” Tuvok nodded. “It is a logical destination for someone evading pursuit.”
La Forge saw Aggadak approaching. “I think we have our next stop, Number One.”
“I heard,” she said. She crossed her arms. “If this cloud damages my baby’s finish, I’m holding you both responsible.”
BLACKSTONE
CRAGG’S CLOUD
“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Gaw said as he looked out the forward port. “To the extent anyone can see anything here.”
Cross agreed. The unmanned Ark of G’boj had slowed to a stop right where it was supposed to, deep inside Cragg’s Cloud. That location, however, made the massive freighter no more than a hazy smear outside Blackstone’s front port, even though it was less than a kilometer away.
“I had our pet Klingons go over the thing already,” he said. “But to be safe, give it a life-sign scan.”
“Our regular sensors are pretty much useless in this guck,” the Ferengi said. “We’re going to have to decloak and turn the projector on it, full power—model the interior as if we were going to generate an illusion. It’ll take a while, but if something’s moving, we’ll know it.”
Cross’s attention was on something else moving down the spiral staircase from the loft. Shift descended as lithely as one walking on air. Dressed in a gray jumpsuit with a black jacket and boots, she had put her hair up into a tight bun. It was exactly what she’d looked like the day he met her—right down to the gym bag she carried holding all her belongings.
“Hey, you’re not running away, are you?” Cross grinned. “This is the best part.”
“You said we’d go over to get the first taste.” She jerked the bag upward, indicating it was light. “I want to bring a couple of bars of latinum over to sleep with.”
“Smart woman,” Gaw said. His eyes darted to Cross. “Too smart to be with you.”
Cross chuckled. “It’ll be just a few minutes—we’re scanning for Klingon stowaways. Take a seat.”
With all the truthcrafters on deck, she looked in vain for a chair. When he indicated his lap was available, she smiled primly and approached. Cross smiled back.
Life doesn’t get any better than this.
Fifty-four
HOUDINI
CRAGG’S CLOUD
“I think we’ve got something,” La Forge said as Houdini cruised into the darkness of Cragg’s Cloud.
“I have a ship identification on the nearer contact,” Tuvok said, examining records on a screen. “It is a Klingon high-security cargo hauler—of the sort the large houses use to transfer valuables. According to an alert issued by the Klingon Defense Force, one such ship has just gone missing: the Ark of G’boj.”
The discovery of the Ark would have disappointed La Forge were it not for the second contact beyond—the vessel whose emanations had led them to the nebula.
“I can just barely see an outline,” Šmrhová said, her eyes on the long-range sensors. “Hello, Object Thirteen. You look a lot like us.”
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “It is not cloaked?”
“Probably not expecting anyone,” the Enterprise’s security chief offered. “They’re directing their image-projection energy toward the Klingon ship. Good thing for us. I don’t know that we would have found it in here otherwise.”
The Vulcan nodded. “They could be projecting an illusion—or simply using their sensor package to monitor the drifting vessel. We must assume that Ark of G’boj is under hostile control—perhaps even that of the Unsung.” Tuvok looked forward to Aggadak and the Enterprise crew at the controls. “It would be helpful to engage the cloaking device before we approach.”
“It doesn’t work perfectly,” La Forge and the Nausicaan said almost in unison.
&
nbsp; “In this morass, perfection is not necessary. We only need to get close. But I am concerned that under the Treaty of Algeron, our use of the device, even aboard this ship, might be seen as a violation.”
“I’ll take responsibility,” La Forge said. “I have a feeling the Federation will back us up on this one.”
“Very well.” Tuvok turned, and ordered, “Security team, stand by in the transporter room.”
Houdini hummed, indicating the cloaking device had powered up. La Forge kept his eyes on two vessels ahead. “Whoops—Object Thirteen just shut off its projections and cloaked.”
“In reaction to us?” Aggadak asked.
“I doubt it—but I can’t say for sure.”
Tuvok made a quick decision. “Keep scanning as we approach and remain on alert.” He headed for the transporter room.
BLACKSTONE
CRAGG’S CLOUD
Gaw had been right about the scan of Ark of G’boj taking a while. Cross and Shift had taken seats in the transporter room—and while they waited, he’d shown her on his padd the locations of the Phantom Wing vessels.
Blackstone’s systems had long had, via Korgh’s engineer, the ability to track the birds-of-prey’s movement through their stealth positioning systems; he’d loaded the key algorithm onto his padd. The inventory of the treasure ship might take days, and he wanted to know the instant the Unsung met their doom.
Gaw entered. “Looks good,” he said. “There might be a few rodents running around the ship—if the Klingons forgot to eat them. Otherwise you can count to your heart’s content.”
The Bynars, 1110 and 1111—no one aboard Blackstone seemed to be able to name them in anything but numerical order—entered the transporter room with their equipment, ready to go to work. Cross put the padd in his vest pocket and stood and stretched. He patted the Ferengi on the shoulder and followed Shift and the Bynars onto the transporter pads.
Turning, he pointed back at Gaw. “Make sure the myth team wraps up its work today. I still want to get started on Project Kahless.”
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