Star Trek: Vanguard: Declassified

by Dayton Ward

  The Vulcan shook her head. “No, you asked if you could offer me something to drink. I merely granted your request.” Why was she acting this way? T’Prynn knew that her verbal wordplay might be seen by the other woman as being critical of her grammar, but at the same time she found she could not resist the gentle teasing afforded by the exercise.

  Sandesjo’s mouth curled into a small, hesitant smile, and her green eyes bored into T’Prynn’s. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No,” T’Prynn said, and when she spoke this time she arched her right eyebrow, and Sandesjo was unable to stifle a louder laugh.

  “Commander,” the aide said, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me, but I didn’t think Vulcans flirted.”

  Pausing to consider her answer, T’Prynn replied, “Vulcans do not engage in the activity with the same proclivity as humans, but we recognize it as a desirable means of discourse with a potential companion.” Having observed the behavior in her human friends over the years, she felt as though she understood how to employ the conversational tactic effectively.

  Her blunt remark seemed to catch Sandesjo by surprise, and she blinked several times before offering a response. Then, leaning forward so that her elbows rested atop the table, she regarded T’Prynn with a bold, unflinching gaze. “Is that what we are? Potential companions?”

  “There are always possibilities,” T’Prynn said. For the first time since entering the officers’ club, she reconsidered the course of action she had undertaken. Getting involved in any kind of personal relationship was something she had not done since Sten’s death. Given her dead fiancé’s lasting effects on her psyche thanks to their frantic mind-meld in his last moments of life, T’Prynn had long been wary of further emotional entanglements with anyone. Still, this woman fascinated her for several reasons, some of which she could not describe or even identify. This of course troubled T’Prynn, given what she now knew about the young ambassadorial aide.

  Anna Sandesjo was the spy she sought.

  At first unwilling to believe the conclusion to which her investigation had led her, T’Prynn had rechecked the information compiled and collated by the search algorithms she had launched into the station’s main computer and communications systems. On its own, the evidence she had found was largely circumstantial, revolving around the woman’s occasional presence in the Federation Embassy offices at odd hours of the night, each instance of which was followed in short order by the inclusion of the encrypted and purposely fragmented messages T’Prynn had found embedded in outgoing communications traffic. The gap of time between Sandesjo’s working late hours and the inclusion of the covert messages was always less than two hours. Working backward from what she knew might still be a coincidental connection, T’Prynn had performed a thorough review of Sandesjo’s background information and other personal data. The anomalies she found might be dismissed by a casual inspection as errors or oversights, but a more comprehensive analysis revealed to T’Prynn a pattern of minor, even unconnected inconsistencies, which someone skilled in counterintelligence might conclude were unavoidable gaps in an otherwise well-crafted false identity. As the recipient of the messages appeared to be someone affiliated with the Klingon Empire, T’Prynn now also had cause to wonder if Sandesjo herself might be a Klingon agent. Was she simply a traitor to the Federation, or might she be an alien—perhaps even a Klingon—surgically altered to appear human?

  There may be only one way to be certain.

  While it might not be enough to engage the services of the Judge Advocate General or even Starfleet Security, T’Prynn felt she had sufficient information to act on her own and determine the true nature of Anna Sandesjo’s apparent clandestine activities. In order to prove her theories without alarming either Sandesjo herself or whoever might be providing her instructions and receiving her reports, T’Prynn would have to proceed with caution.

  “I have to tell you,” Sandesjo said, clasping her hands atop the table and looking down at her fingers as she interlaced them, “this isn’t the sort of thing I do very often.”

  T’Prynn nodded, recognizing the attempt at erecting an emotional barrier. Sandesjo, if she was a spy, also would be leery of placing herself at risk of exposure, while at the same time endeavoring to ascertain T’Prynn’s own motivations. It would require patience on T’Prynn’s part if her scheme was to succeed, despite whatever personal feelings she might be experiencing toward Sandesjo.

  The mission must come first. It was an unconvincing rebuke, T’Prynn decided.

  “Nor is it something with which I have much familiarity,” she said, sensing an opportunity to perhaps put them both at ease. “Perhaps we should ‘take things slowly,’ as you humans sometimes say.”

  Sandesjo smiled again. “Perhaps, but not too slowly, I hope,” she said, holding T’Prynn’s gaze as she spoke the words. There was no mistaking the sentiment being expressed. What T’Prynn now required was a strategy for turning this evolving situation to her advantage, and to do so without alerting Sandesjo to her true agenda. That would be a challenge, she realized, given that she could not deny her own physical attraction to this mysterious young woman, which only seemed to be amplified when considering her possible true identity and affiliations.

  A challenge, indeed, but one T’Prynn welcomed.

  9

  Jetanien always had fancied himself rather accomplished when it came to studying and deciphering the nuances of facial expressions and body language. In particular, having lived and worked in proximity to many representatives of Earth during his long diplomatic career, he considered himself more than capable of discerning much from the way humans emoted and carried themselves.

  Such proficiency was not required on this evening as he stood before Diego Reyes in the commodore’s office, looking across the station commander’s desk as the human rubbed his temples and offered the latest in a series of fervent wishes that he were anywhere but here on Starbase 47.

  “They told me this job would be hard when they offered it to me,” Reyes said, shaking his head as he reached for the cup of coffee sitting on the desk near his right hand. “But I had to be stupid and call their bluff.”

  Amused by his friend’s penchant for self-deprecating humor, Jetanien laughed. “On the contrary, Diego, I can think of no one offhand who I believe is as suited to this assignment. You have the perfect blend of healthy skepticism and objectivity as well as the consummate leadership skills which will be required in order to guide this mission no matter what course it ends up charting.”

  “Remind me to hire you if I ever need a publicist,” Reyes said, pausing to sip from his coffee. “You can write all the press releases to go with the book I’ll write when this is all over, assuming it ends up being a story worth telling.” He reached for the computer terminal positioned at one corner of his desk and swiveled the unit so Jetanien could see its display monitor. “Take a look at this. It’s a report from Starfleet Intelligence on the latest Klingon ship movements in the Taurus Reach. It seems our friends from the Empire have taken an interest in several systems besides Traelus where we’ve been poking around.”

  Studying the report displayed on the monitor, Jetanien noted that it had been coded and stamped with a top-secret Starfleet Intelligence classification, no doubt sent to Reyes under heavy encryption and intended only for his eyes as well as the small number of people who were aware of Starbase 47’s true purpose in the Taurus Reach. A perusal of the systems cited in the report gave the ambassador pause.

  “Typerias,” he said, reading from the screen, “along with Korinar, Borzha, and Dorala.” He paused before reading the last two names. “Palgrenax, and Gamma Tauri, as well?”

  Reyes nodded. “I thought you’d like those.”

  Though the commodore had no reason to suspect as much, Jetanien in fact was not surprised to see such a list. While the first four systems were interesting with respect to their relative locations within the Taurus Reach and the possible s
trategic value to whoever claimed them or—in the case of the Federation—allied with any indigenous populations, the last two entries on the list were troubling for different reasons. Both the Palgrenax and Gamma Tauri systems had been surveyed first by automated reconnaissance drones, followed by more detailed examinations by the U.S.S. Sagittarius. Both systems harbored worlds where evidence of the Taurus Meta-Genome had been found, moving them to the top of the list for further research and exploration. However, while the planets in the Gamma Tauri system were uninhabited, one of the Palgrenax worlds was home to a preindustrial civilization. The Federation’s Prime Directive was of course in full effect with respect to any Starfleet expedition to examine the planet and pursue any leads pertaining to the meta-genome. Such considerations would not be of paramount importance to the Klingon Empire should it decide to occupy the planet and press its native population into servitude.

  “Do we have any reason to believe the Klingons are aware of the . . . special nature . . . of planets in the Palgrenax and Gamma Tauri systems?” Jetanien asked.

  “Not yet,” Reyes said, rising from his desk and taking his coffee cup with him as he made his way to the food slot at the rear of his office. He held up the empty mug for Jetanien’s benefit and asked, “Care for a bowl of mud, or whatever?”

  “Thank you, no,” Jetanien replied, his attention still focused on the intelligence report. “Does Starfleet have any idea why the Klingons are so interested in these particular systems?”

  The food slot’s hatch rose to reveal the commodore’s fresh cup of coffee, and Reyes retrieved it before turning back toward his desk. “So far, they seem motivated by the fact that we’ve shown interest in them. The problem with that theory is that no one can figure out how the Klingons even knew we were giving some of those systems a once-over. Palgrenax is pretty far off the beaten path, for example. Likewise Typerias and Korinar. Even though we think a few of those might make good anchor points as we expand colonization efforts into the region, the Klingons shouldn’t know that; at least, not yet.” Returning to the chair behind his desk, Reyes sipped from his coffee. “If I were a more cynical person, I’d say we’ve got a spy somewhere in the works.” He then directed his gaze back to Jetanien. “But we all know how cheery and upbeat I am. Right?”

  The ambassador laughed once again at the commodore’s attempt at dry humor. “That would seem a logical deduction. Does Starfleet concur?”

  “They say the same thing you just did,” Reyes replied, “and they also say that while it’s a nice theory, without proof that’s all it is.”

  Unfortunately, it seems your superiors are mistaken, my friend.

  Jetanien had entered Reyes’s office armed with the knowledge that not only was there a spy feeding information to the Klingons about Starfleet operations and ship movements within the Taurus Reach, but that this covert agent also was working right here on the station. The ambassador’s surprise at this discovery was surpassed only by shock, embarrassment, and a sensation of utter betrayal upon learning that the operative was his own assistant, Anna Sandesjo. If not for the attentiveness of one of his other trusted assistants, Jetanien knew he might still be ignorant of the woman’s activities. The alert aide had, while working late one evening, become aware of an unauthorized message being transmitted from the embassy offices as part of several other communiqués being dispatched from the station. Though he had no idea what he had found, the aide had brought this to Jetanien’s attention, and the ambassador himself had investigated the anomaly until he found the message’s creator. That the message had contained information on the movements of Starfleet vessels in the Taurus Reach, in particular those assigned to Starbase 47, was itself disturbing. Even more appalling was its apparent recipient: someone within, or at least working for, the Klingon Empire.

  How could Sandesjo work alongside him for the past several months without his having the slightest inkling as to her true nature? That she was remarkably skilled in her chosen profession went without saying, but it was small comfort for Jetanien. What had he allowed to happen from within his own offices? Had he enabled Sandesjo’s efforts to pass on sensitive information to her handlers, whoever they might be? The very notion infuriated him.

  And yet, you’ve elected to keep this information to yourself.

  “So,” he said, eyeing Reyes, “what do we do now?”

  The commodore leaned back in his chair, holding his coffee cup in both hands as his gaze shifted to the viewscreen on his wall that displayed a series of updated status reports on the station’s progress toward completed construction and full operational capability. He said nothing for a moment as he studied the schematics and the scrolls of accompanying text. Finally, Reyes said, “It’s obvious the Klingons are going to be an even bigger problem than we thought going into this thing. If they’ve got spies running around the station or even one of the other starbases, how long before they stumble across information about why we’re really out here?” Shaking his head, he placed his mug on the desk. “I’m going to have T’Prynn and Lieutenant Jackson conduct another sweep of background checks on everyone on the station, and anyone who’s been here since we started accepting civilians and visitors.”

  Jetanien nodded. “A sound strategy. I understand Mister Jackson is a capable officer.” Haniff Jackson, Starbase 47’s chief of security, by all accounts was well suited to the task Reyes would soon assign him. “And there can be no doubting Commander T’Prynn’s investigative abilities.” If anyone could learn the truth about Anna Sandesjo without the benefit of fortunate happenstance, as the ambassador had enjoyed, it would be the station’s shrewd Vulcan intelligence officer. Indeed, he had seen her and Sandesjo together in the officers’ club the previous evening. Armed with the knowledge he now possessed regarding his aide, Jetanien had to wonder if T’Prynn either suspected Sandesjo’s identity or else had already discovered it on her own. If it was the former, then the ambassador was certain T’Prynn would find the truth in short order, but if it was the latter, then Jetanien had to wonder why she had not yet seen fit to inform Reyes about what she had learned. Might she be hiding some agenda of her own?

  Interesting, that, Jetanien conceded.

  “Finding a spy, if there is one, is just one of our big problems,” Reyes said. “The bigger one is what, if anything, the Klingons plan to do with the information they’re getting. Do they just want to screw with us, or try to claim resource-rich or strategically valuable planets before we can get to them?”

  Jetanien said, “There is another aspect to this new development which also bears consideration. Should the Klingons elect to seize worlds which already are inhabited, one could argue that the Federation holds some measure of responsibility for the affected people’s fates.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that,” Reyes replied, shaking his head. “But you could also argue that much is true even with respect to normal exploration efforts. We’ve been crossing paths and butting heads with the Klingons for more than a century. How many worlds have they conquered or claimed that they might otherwise have bypassed if not for trying to counter some move on our part?” He paused, and Jetanien saw the look of resignation in the commodore’s eyes as he waved a hand as though to sweep aside the question. “Those are problems for somebody way above my pay grade. I’ve got enough to worry about just keeping what we’re doing here secret while trying not to start a war at the same time.”

  Nodding in agreement, Jetanien decided a change of subject was in order. “Have you heard anything more from the Sagittarius?” According to the last report Reyes had shared with him, Captain Nassir and his crew had sought refuge on the surface of Traelus II while effecting repairs to their damaged propulsion systems.

  Reyes said, “Nothing since their last report. They went quiet when their sensors detected Klingon ships heading their way.” He released a long, slow breath, his expression turning to one of concern. “I figure if we don’t hear from them by the end of the day, that’s the ballgam
e.”

  10

  Captain Kutal was not pleased.

  “Helm,” he snapped. “Assume standard orbit.” Sitting in his command chair at the center of the bridge aboard the Imperial Klingon cruiser Zin’za, he watched and listened in silence as his crew went about their various tasks, all of them doing their part to hunt for their supposed adversary. He overheard fragments of the discussion taking place in hushed tones between his first officer, Commander BelHoQ, and the Zin’za’s weapons officer, Lieutenant Tonar. While he could not discern everything, what Kutal could hear he did not like.

  “Where is the Starfleet ship?” he asked, the words laced with mounting irritation. Though he did not turn his chair to face the tactical station, Kutal watched in his peripheral vision as Tonar stepped away from the console and stood at attention to make his report.

  “Our sensors do not detect it, Captain,” the lieutenant said. “I am unable to explain it.”

  “We’re certain it did not leave the system?” Kutal asked, reaching up to stroke his beard.

  “If it did,” replied BelHoQ, “then they would have had to leave before we entered sensor range. We detected no such activity, though there was that momentary reading during the previous duty shift.”

  Kutal nodded, remembering the fleeting sensor contact that had been visible above the surface of Traelus II for mere moments before disappearing. Could that have been the Starfleet ship? It had been nearly a day since the Klingon scout vessel assigned to survey this system had encountered the Starfleet ship. Despite its gnatlike size and the significant damage it had absorbed, the vessel had managed to hold its own during the brief skirmish that ensued. While Kutal credited that to the tenacity of the ship’s captain, whoever that might be, his admiration would grant the Earther or his crew no leniency. Kutal’s orders on this point were explicit, in that he was to prevent the Starfleet ship from escaping the system, capture it, and retrieve any and all useful information from its computer systems. As for the ship’s crew, they were expendable.