Star Trek: Vanguard: What Judgments Come

by Dayton Ward

  Looking to his would-be kidnappers, Reyes asked, “Okay, so you’re here to extradite me. Why are you talking to me, instead of stuffing me in a duffel bag and trying to carry me out of here?”

  “We considered it,” Gianetti said.

  Hetzlein cast a scowl in her companion’s direction before adding, “If we could’ve beamed you out of your quarters, we would’ve done that by now.”

  “Which raises another question,” Reyes said. “How the hell did you even get aboard in the first place?”

  She tapped the patch above her left pocket. “We just walked in the front door. So far as anyone else knows, we’re freight-haulers, from one of the civilian ships docked at the station, just looking to drink, lose some money, and have a good time.” Their coveralls were of a type Reyes recognized as being in common use aboard civilian merchant freighters. Above each of their left pockets was a patch denoting a shipping company that Reyes knew contracted with Starfleet as well as private sector construction and colonization organizations to transport matériel to worlds throughout the Federation. Below the patch was a tape with the name Tai’ Shan inscribed upon it in black letters. Reyes thought he recognized the name from various colony status reports and docking clearance requests during his tenure as commander of Starbase 47.

  Skeptical of this idea, he asked, “And you guys have the sort of credits that can get you aboard a gaming vessel like this?”

  Gianetti said, “We do if we’ve been on a long-haul run to a remote colony and back for seven months.”

  “Then you should probably go and enjoy yourselves,” Reyes said, “or, better yet, get the hell off this ship before Ganz or his people find out you’re here.”

  “Mister Reyes,” Hetzlein replied, “our orders are to get you off this ship, one way or another. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to stun your ass and have Gianetti throw you over his shoulder, but to be honest …” She paused, and Reyes saw the struggle in her face. “To be honest, I have too much respect for you, sir. So, I guess I’m asking you not to make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

  Reyes shrugged. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Not interested.”

  Behind him, Gianetti said, “Sir, it’s because we respect you that we’re also disobeying orders and telling you now that our worst-case scenario is to kill you.”

  Deciding that he would rather be conscious, and not dead, for the next few minutes, Reyes offered a reluctant nod. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely, have it your way, but good luck getting me out of here. The whole damned ship’s covered with transporter inhibitors.”

  Hetzlein answered, “Well, it’s not as though we’re old pals or anything, but there’s nothing that says we couldn’t have struck up a conversation, say, in the bar, in about thirty or forty minutes, after Joe and I have had a chance to venture to the bar and have a drink or two and work at blending in with the crowd. We’ll have a few drinks, maybe play a few games, and then make our way off the gaming floor to the private suites. We’ve identified a maintenance compartment in that section of the ship where the shielding is weaker than the surrounding areas. A transporter beam can get through, but only there and only one person at a time. That’ll be you. You’ll be beamed to a secure area aboard the station. Meanwhile, Joe here and I will return to the bar, and eventually make a casual exit from the ship by walking right out the front door.”

  “That plan sounds so stupid, it just might work,” Reyes observed.

  Rather than take offense, Hetzlein smiled. “My father always liked the K.I.S.S. principle: Keep It Simple, Starfleet. It’s not the flashiest plan, but it doesn’t have a lot of moving parts. Fewer things to screw up.”

  “Uh-huh,” Reyes replied, already considering different possibilities for gaining an advantage at some point before they could beam him off the ship. “And what happens if Ganz or one of his goons makes you, or us? What’s the plan then?”

  Hetzlein and Gianetti exchanged glances before Gianetti lifted his left leg so that he could reach for the sole of the boots he wore. Unlike Starfleet-issue boots, their footwear lacked defined heels, and Gianetti simply flipped the entire sole of his boot down, revealing a hidden compartment within. Resting in the padded niche was what Reyes recognized as a compact phaser not unlike the standard-issue Starfleet type-1 model. Gianetti’s concealed phaser was a civilian counterpart to that weapon, no doubt a deliberate choice so as to further hinder his and Hetzlein’s identification as Starfleet personnel.

  “Then we revise the plan,” Hetzlein said.

  Reyes did not have to wait long for opportunity to present itself.

  Following Hetzlein down a stretch of corridor and with Gianetti behind him and holding on to his right arm, Reyes watched as the lieutenant came to a T-intersection in the passageway. The doorway at the head of the junction was one he recognized as being the entrance to the maintenance area.

  “Sure you want to be caught doing that?” he asked, adopting a slight mocking tone as Hetzlein began to press keys on the pad set into the wall next to the hatch. His question earned him a squeeze on his arm from Gianetti.

  Hetzlein ignored him, instead focusing her attention on the keypad. She began pressing keys in what looked to be a random pattern, and Reyes heard her curse just under her breath as whatever she tried failed to open the door. “Something’s wrong,” she said after a moment. “The code’s not working.”

  “Are you sure you entered it right?” Gianetti asked, moving to get a closer look at the pad. His movements brought him abreast of Reyes, who took prompt advantage of the other man’s momentary lapse and punched him in the side of the head. Gianetti grunted from the force of the strike, staggering forward and falling into Hetzlein.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Ignoring Hetzlein’s cry of surprise, Reyes was already sprinting down the corridor, scrambling to put distance between him and his would-be captors. He turned a corner, but already he could hear the sound of boots running across the metal hull plating behind him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Hetzlein and Gianetti rounding the corner and running after him. Gianetti held his civilian phaser in his hand, and he wasted no time firing. The blast screamed past Reyes’s head and slammed into the wall ahead of him, and Reyes brought himself to a halt, holding up his empty hands.

  “Do that again,” Gianetti growled through gritted teeth as he closed the distance, pointing the phaser at Reyes’s face to emphasize his threat.

  Reyes eyed the other man. “If you don’t do it, Ganz or his people will if they find us.”

  “Move,” Hetzlein said, pulling Reyes by his arm and indicating for him to follow along. “We’re heading to the secondary extraction point.”

  Before Reyes could say anything in reply, a new voice entered the conversation: T’Prynn’s.

  “Mister Reyes,” the Vulcan said, her voice sounding small and distant due to a faint crackle of background static, “I am attempting to monitor the situation from my position, but I am still working to acquire information. Do not acknowledge this transmission, as these agents are unaware of our communications link.”

  Reyes was about to say something regardless of the Vulcan’s instructions, but the words died in his throat as two Orion males emerged from around a corner at the far end of the passageway. They were less than twenty meters away, which made it easy for him to identify the squat, short-barreled disruptor pistol each of them carried. He flinched at the howl of energy in the narrow corridor and the almost electrical sensation playing across his exposed skin an instant before realizing that the source was the weapon in Gianetti’s hand. The security officer had fired his own phaser over Reyes’s shoulder while standing directly behind him, with the blue-white beam striking the lead Orion in the chest. No sooner was he falling than Hetzlein followed with her own phaser, dispatching the other Orion with ease. Within seconds, the two security officers had released their hold on Reyes and were kneeling next to the fallen guards, retrieving their weapons and, to Reyes at least, looking for anyt
hing else of possible value. From one point, Hetzlein pulled what he recognized as a magnetic key.

  “Our cover’s blown,” Hetzlein said, dividing her attention between her immediate task and the corridor behind and ahead of them.

  Gianetti said, “They know we’re here, and they know why we’re here, but they don’t know that you know anything about it. Just play dumb.”

  Shrugging, Reyes replied, “Not much point to that. You know this ship has internal sensors, right? It’s not going to be hard for them to find us, even if they didn’t keep tabs on me every second of every day.” There was no turning back now, he realized; if this extraction failed and he ended up remaining on the Omari-Ekon, his death at Ganz’s hands was all but certain.

  “It’s been factored in,” Hetzlein said. “Right now, the station’s chief engineer is testing the main deflector array after it experienced an unexplained malfunction last night. The effects of these tests are that there’s all sorts of feedback and interference being thrown off by the thing.”

  “A malfunctioning deflector array,” Reyes repeated, for T’Prynn’s benefit. “Interesting. I suppose it’s affecting communications and maybe the sensors, at least for any non-Starfleet ship in close proximity.”

  In his head, Reyes heard T’Prynn add, “That would seem to be correct, Mister Reyes.” As before, static accompanied her voice, though Reyes could still hear her without too much trouble. “This is also the cause of our communications disruption, but our sensors are able to overcome the interference. I can track your movements, but it appears Ganz and his people cannot. You should keep moving.”

  “Why are we standing around, then?” Gianetti asked, a hint of anxiety in his voice. “Let’s get the hell out of here before they send everybody with a weapon after us.”

  Reyes felt the larger man grab his arm again as the trio once more set off through the winding corridors, and he could not help shaking the anxiety he was feeling at the thought of moving away from the ship’s more populated areas. Recalling what he knew of the vessel’s internal configuration, he knew that this section comprised living quarters, storage, and maintenance access points. The omnipresent hum of the Omari-Ekon’s engines was even more noticeable here, reverberating off the bare metal deck plates and bulkheads. The doors on either side of the passageway were unadorned save for a single small plaque set into the metal at eye level and providing its compartment designation. Reyes had taken the time to learn how the designators were assigned, so he was able to discern that they were on a lower level and nearing the aft third of the ship.

  Dark and isolated. Perfect for a nice, quiet execution.

  Turning one more bend in the hallway, Hetzlein stopped before a reinforced hatch set into the bulkhead at the end of a short corridor spur. A hexagonal keypad with a magnetic reader was set into the wall next to the door, with three rows of four keys highlighted in blue and featuring characters in Orion text. Without hesitation, Hetzlein swiped the card she had taken from the Orion, and this time was rewarded with the sound of the oversized door’s lock disengaging.

  “Where are we?” Reyes asked, for himself as well as T’Prynn.

  As the hatch slid aside, Hetzlein replied, “Maintenance passage. This’ll take us to the utility compartment.”

  “Maintenance passage,” Reyes said, hoping T’Prynn was still listening. “Sounds cozy.”

  Something bright flashed in the corridor an instant before the crackle of energy assaulted Reyes’s ears, and he cringed as a disruptor bolt slammed into the wall just to the right of his head. He felt Gianetti’s meaty hand on his arm just before the man pulled him aside and pushed him to the deck inside the maintenance hatch. Rolling onto his side, Reyes caught his first look back up the passageway and saw three more Orions at the intersection, firing from cover. Hetzlein, in the open, aimed her own weapon and snapped off several shots, which only added to the cacophony filling the corridor. The Orions ducked back around the corner to avoid being hit, giving her the opportunity she needed to get out of the line of fire. She jumped through the hatchway, vaulting over Reyes.

  “Let’s go,” she said, reaching down to pull Reyes to his feet.

  Gianetti, bringing up the rear, back-stepped toward the door, aiming his phaser back up the corridor. Reyes saw movement at the intersection just before one of the Orions ducked into sight, taking aim and firing his disruptor. The blast caught Gianetti in the thigh and the man grunted in pain as he fell to one knee.

  “Get off me!” Reyes said, but by then it was too late. Though he was able to get off a few more shots, the Orions were like feeding sharks at this point, all three of them taking aim at the wounded man and unleashing the full force of their weapons. Gianetti was struck by half a dozen blasts in rapid succession, each shot pushing him back until he slammed into the bulkhead behind him. He fell limp to the deck, coming to rest with his head facing Reyes, who saw the man’s lifeless eyes.

  “Move!” Hetzlein said, taking aim at the keypad set inside the hatchway and shooting it with her phaser. This had the effect of forcing the hatch to close and preventing the Orions from chasing after them. Without another word, Hetzlein pushed Reyes down the narrow, darkened passageway, their boots clanging on the metal grating that served as deck plating in this part of the ship while covering all manner of conduits along with power and other optical cabling. Never having been in this area of the Omari-Ekon, Reyes had no points of reference for determining his present location as they navigated the passageway’s numerous turns, though Hetzlein seemed to know with utmost precision just where they were going. Perhaps seeing the questioning expression on Reyes’s face, she said, “Almost there.”

  “Mister Reyes,” T’Prynn said. “Your current position appears to be in an area of the ship that is shielded from sensors. I am unable to isolate your exact location.”

  “Wonderful,” Reyes replied, a response that drew a quizzical look from Hetzlein.

  They reached another maintenance hatch, similar to the one they had accessed at the other end of the corridor, and once more Hetzlein entered a sequence of commands on the door’s keypad. The door slid aside, revealing what Reyes at first took to be some kind of storage compartment. Tables lined the bulkheads at this end of the room, accompanied by equipment lockers, packing crates, and an assortment of tools and other items strewn around the room. Hetzlein led the way into the room, inspecting its interior while sighting down the length of her right arm and the phaser she still held in her hand.

  “You need to get out of here before you get us both killed!” Reyes snapped. This was getting ridiculous. So far as he could tell, Hetzlein had led them into whatever passed for a mousetrap on this ship.

  “With all due respect, Mister Reyes,” Hetzlein said, her voice low and tight, “shut up or I’ll shoot you myself.” Taking a knee, she reached for the sole of her right boot and twisted it so that it dropped downward, revealing a small rectangle of burnished metal. Extracting the object from the boot’s concealed compartment, she turned it over to reveal a single, recessed button in the item’s metal casing. “Burst transmitter,” she said, holding up the device. “Single-use, tight-beam focused transmission. It’ll punch through any jamming field they might have up around the—”

  Something bumped into something else at the room’s far end, and Reyes and Hetzlein turned in that direction, each searching for the source of the odd noise. Reyes felt a knot form in his gut at the same time Hetzlein was retrieving her phaser from the deck next to her right foot. She managed to pick up the weapon before a burst of energy exploded from somewhere in the darkness and zipped across the room, striking her in the chest. Her face a mask of agony, Hetzlein crumpled to the deck even as a second disruptor bolt hit her.

  Something clanked against the metal near the fallen woman and Reyes saw that Hetzlein had dropped the transmitter. For a fleeting instant, he considered diving for the device, but at the last second he kicked at it with his boot, sending it sliding across the deck away from him. He h
eld up his hands to the approaching Orions, showing them that he was unarmed, but that was all he could do before something struck him in the back and he lurched as though touched by a live power conduit. His muscles jerked, racked by spasms, and his jaw clenched as the effects of whatever had hit him coursed over and through his body. Then, everything around him faded to black.

  16

  Heihachiro Nogura prided himself on not being a man given to negative displays of emotion. It was a rare event for him to raise his voice above a conversational tone, much less yell at anyone. Even more uncommon was his use of anything other than mild obscenities, and he preferred to avoid other abusive invective. He was confident enough in his position and in the authority he commanded that it was an infrequent occasion when he felt the need to make known his displeasure with anything other than a calm, professional demeanor.

  Today felt as though it might just be shaping up to be one of those occasions.

  His hands clasped behind his back so that they would not form fists of their own accord, Nogura stalked back and forth across the width of his office, pacing the section of deck between his desk and the silent, unmoving figure of Lieutenant Haniff Jackson. With the simple act of standing still and not saying a word, Nogura figured that Starbase 47’s chief of security was doing perhaps the smartest thing he had ever done in his young life. Though he might well have been content to let the younger man sweat for the next hour or so while pondering his fate, Nogura had no time for such distractions, satisfying though they might appear to be at the moment. With that in mind, he halted his pacing as he came abreast of the lieutenant, turning to face him from a distance of less than one meter.

  “Mister Jackson,” he said, his voice low and controlled even though he permitted a hint of menace, “perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell me just what the hell’s been going on aboard my station, and why I’m just now finding out about it?”