They had all come very close to death out here, and many had not been so lucky. The isolytic device on the shuttle had wreaked terrible damage, and according to Commander Aikyn, it was likely that the effects of the discharge on Da’Kel III would render the colony uninhabitable. There were civilians down there, families. The Klingons were already evacuating them, but not all would make it off the surface before the geological instabilities and atmospheric inversions grew too powerful.
Vaughn thought of Captain Sulu’s face as the Excelsior limped away on a course back toward the border. He remembered the sorrow and the regret hiding in his eyes. The captain had to be asking the same question that troubled Vaughn: Was General Igdar right? If they had not come to Da’Kel, would this attack have happened?
Part of him knew it was foolish to play a game of what-if. The terrorists had shown they were willing to take life without warning or compunction, and he had no doubt that they would have used their second device even if Excelsior had stayed on the Federation side of the border . . . Perhaps not here at Da’Kel, but somewhere. Of course they would have.
And yet, he couldn’t shake the sense of responsibility that dragged him down like iron chains. He sighed and took a seat on the narrow bunk, staring blankly across the space of the cabin Aikyn had assigned him. He had been ready for this for so long: Elias Vaughn insisted he was ready for field duty, and perhaps his arrogance had blinded him to the fact that, no, he really wasn’t.
Command training was something that every officer candidate in Starfleet went through, and buried in that curriculum was the lesson that every leader had to learn: people will die because of choices you will make.
Intellectually, Vaughn knew that could happen, but somehow he thought it would never happen to him. Placing his own life in danger, that he could handle, but suddenly shouldering the responsibility for the lives of men and women, for Klingons, for civilians, for people he had never met and would never know . . . Suddenly it was all too real.
“Did I make this happen?” he said quietly, to the silent room.
His answer was the chime from the door. Vaughn stood up and pulled his rumpled undershirt straight. “Who’s at my hatch?” he demanded.
“Tiber, sir,” came a weary voice. He opened the door and found the security guard standing with Valeris at her side. “She wanted to see you, Lieutenant,” explained the woman.
Vaughn found himself nodding. “All right. You can wait outside.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded again. “I’m sure.” Vaughn walked to the food slot and summoned a cup of raktajino as Valeris followed him in, the door sliding shut behind her. “What do you want?”
“I do not require a beverage.”
He gave her a hard look. “With me,” he went on. “What do you want with me?”
“There are questions I require answers to, and Commander Miller is unavailable.”
Vaughn took his cup and sipped at it. “I imagine he’s on subspace to Commodore Hallstrom and the admiral of the fleet, trying to convince them that we didn’t just incite an act of mass murder.”
Valeris glanced at the window. Matching Excelsior’s velocity in close formation, a D-7 cruiser hung off the starboard bow. With the damage suffered by the starship still being repaired, the journey was progressing at a comparatively slow warp factor one. “There was no way we could have known what would happen,” she said in her usual matter-of-fact tone.
Her manner grated on Vaughn. “Are you sure about that? Because if you—”
She raised an eyebrow. “My telepathic abilities do not extend to reading the minds of the Kriosians, Lieutenant.”
“If it was them,” he replied. “Igdar swore otherwise.”
“Igdar cannot appear to be wrong,” said Valeris. “His pride and egotism have blinded him. You heard his words: the moment the second attack concluded, he took the opportunity to place the blame on us. He refused to accept any measure of responsibility.” She looked away. “It is a Klingon trait. They cannot accept that any failure may be theirs. It must always be caused by an outsider. That is why the House of Q’unat is the perfect scapegoat.”
“Because they are Klingons; but they’re renegades, so they’re not true Klingons.” Vaughn’s lip curled. “And, of course, the idea that the Federation might be right about the Kriosians . . . If he agreed with that . . .”
“It would weaken him. Therefore, we have returned to the same state of affairs we were in before you took me from Jaros II. Nothing has changed.”
“Except that now more people are dead,” he said bitterly. “And we’re no closer to tracking down the Thorn.”
“What will happen to me?” she asked. “Commander Miller told me that if my information was of value . . .” Valeris trailed off. “If the investigation ends here, then I will not be able to prove my worth. You will return me to the prison.”
Vaughn studied the Vulcan for a moment, trying to put aside his prejudices about the woman. “We would all be dead if it wasn’t for you. What you did on the bridge . . .”
“It was not altruism on my part, Lieutenant,” she told him. “I was saving my own life.”
He snorted. “Is that what you want me to put in my report? That you didn’t give a damn about the rest of us?”
“I want you to be clear about me,” Valeris told him. “I want to ensure there is no misunderstanding between us.”
Vaughn eyed her. “Lojur’s healing in the sickbay. He said he wouldn’t have been able to do what you did. Whatever you say your motivations were, everyone on this ship owes you their life, so if I were you, I’d take that as a win and shut the hell up. Because right now you need all the goodwill you can get.”
“No amount of ‘goodwill’ will be enough to grant me my freedom. But perhaps that was the intention all along. Perhaps I was foolish to believe the Federation would ever be able to forgive me for my transgressions.”
The intership sounded: “Lieutenant Vaughn, Commander Miller. Report to Captain Sulu immediately.”
Vaughn put down the cooling raktajino and tapped a control. “Commander Aikyn? Is something wrong?”
“Lieutenant, bring the prisoner with you,” said the Rigelian officer. “There’s been a development. The captain will bring you up to speed.”
The cabin was an office-like affair on the bridge deck, essentially a workspace for the ship’s commanding officer. The ready room had been a fixture of Starfleet ships in the early pre-Federation era, but the notion had fallen into disuse through the twenty-third century. However, with the refit of ships in the Excelsior class and the newer designs rolling out from the construction yards, the concept had come back into fashion.
Sulu’s ready room should have been an oasis of calm for the captain, but, like a lot of his vessel, the cabin was a half shambles, panels on the walls hanging askew and sooty marks marring the ceiling where electroplasma conduits had taken damage. Vaughn’s nose twitched as he caught the burned scent again.
The Excelsior’s captain and first officer were already waiting for them with Miller. The expression on the face of Vaughn’s commander was stoic and unreadable; that didn’t bode well.
As Vaughn had done in his cabin, Sulu ordered Tiber to remain outside, and as soon as they were alone he gave the lieutenant a steady, level look. “I’m going to ask you this just once, Mister Vaughn, and if I don’t get an answer I like, you’re going back to your quarters and you’ll stay there until we reach Federation space, is that clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” he replied. His throat felt arid and he licked his lips.
“Are you certain that the Thorn are the antagonists behind these attacks? Beyond any shadow of a doubt?”
Vaughn hesitated, and his gaze flicked to Valeris, who stood silent beside him. She gave an imperceptible nod. He looked away. “If I didn’t think it was them, I would never have come to you on the starbase,” he said. “Frankly, sir, I may have destroyed my chances of a future career in Starfleet with the cho
ices I’ve made, but I know the data.” Vaughn looked back at Valeris. “And matters of trust aside, I’ve come to believe what she has told us is true. The Kriosians killed those people.”
“I agree with him,” said Miller. “But then, you knew that before I walked in here, right, sir?”
Sulu gave a nod. “Commander Aikyn, show them our surprise gift.”
The first officer opened a small equipment case on the ready room’s desk. Inside was a bed of grey foam, and on it lay a thick, bronze rod studded with gunmetal keys and glassy insets. “A damage control team found this in the observation room after we left orbit of Da’Kel III.”
“The design is clearly of Klingon origin,” Valeris offered.
“Correct,” said Sulu. “We can only conclude that one of our guests secreted it there when they were aboard.”
“So, what is it?” Vaughn peered at the object. “A surveillance device? A weapon?”
Aikyn shook his head. “Quite the opposite, Lieutenant.” The officer carefully picked it up. “Aside from a small anti-tamper charge, there’s little that’s dangerous about it.”
Miller tapped a finger on his lips. “It’s an encrypted communicator.”
Sulu gave him a sharp look. “You’ve seen this sort of thing before?”
“No,” said the commander, “but I know Major Kaj well enough.” He held out his hand to the Rigelian. “If I may?”
Aikyn warily handed over the device, and Miller fingered it, finding an activation switch. “Kaj,” he said into the air. “I’m here.”
The reply was almost immediate. “Good. It took you long enough.”
A crystalline node at one end of the rod shimmered and a beam fanned out, sketching a humanoid figure. The holographic image gained substance and the illusion of solidity. The Klingon intelligence operative stood before them in the ready room, her virtual ghost glancing around as if she were really there.
“You left a concealed mechanism on my ship, Major,” said Sulu. “What would General Igdar have to say about that? I wonder.”
“I needed a means of contact that we could keep between us,” she replied smoothly. “The general and I do not agree on all matters of protocol.”
A thought occurred to Vaughn. “A holographic transmission like this one . . . that’s a lot of data being transmitted. There’s hardly any signal degradation or response delay . . .” He smiled thinly. “She’s close.”
Valeris glanced at the monitor screen on the far wall, where a tactical plot of the Excelsior’s course and the parallel flight of the D-7 was displayed. “Aboard the escort ship?”
Miller watched the image of Kaj carefully. “I don’t think so. The captain of that cruiser is one of Igdar’s fleet officers.”
“I am nearby,” Kaj admitted. “What matters now is what we discuss in the next few moments.”
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to talk privately with us,” said Sulu. “I’m listening.”
Kaj folded her arms. “As Commander Miller will doubtless agree, it is often true that operatives in our line of work are unable to influence the choices made by the policy makers in government, even if they are clearly in error.”
“Can’t argue with that,” said the officer.
“General Igdar has influence with certain members of the Imperial Intelligence hierarchy. Political pressures within the High Council and the power games he and his clan are playing have made his position all but unassailable . . . for now. Even Chancellor Azetbur understands that Igdar’s fealty is required to maintain the status quo.”
“Yes, we’ve seen firsthand the breadth of his influence,” Aikyn noted. “What is your point, Major?”
“Prior to your arrival, I conducted my own inquiries into certain avenues of study that the general considered a waste of time.”
“The Thorn,” said Aikyn.
Kaj gave a sharp nod. “The information presented by Lieutenant Vaughn . . . ” She glanced at Valeris. “And the convict . . . it matches my own suspicions. I believe there is a high probability that the Kriosian terror cell known as the Thorn has been instrumental in the Da’Kel attacks.”
“Nice to know we’re on the same page,” said Miller, “but that ship has sailed. Literally, in our case. Or did you forget Igdar’s little ‘Get the hell out’ speech?”
The Klingon woman showed her teeth. “I do not support the flawed decisions of the general, nor will I stand by and allow this charade to continue in order to protect the vanity of his clan.” Her lip curled in a sneer. “It is my intention to pursue this ‘Kallisti’ network and hunt down the Thorn.”
“You will fail,” Valeris said, without weight. “The Kriosian freedom fighters have remained beyond the reach of the Klingon Empire for more than twenty years. You have not been able to find them in that time. You will not be able to find them now.”
Kaj’s hologram flickered, as if in concert with the Klingon’s mood. “That may be so. But you can find them, convict. You know the protocols set up by that traitor Chang and your scheming master, Cartwright. You know where to look.”
“You want us to turn Valeris over to you?” said Sulu. “We’ve already had that conversation. The answer is still no.”
Miller’s smile widened. “That’s not it, Captain,” he said. “I think what the major is looking for here is some cooperation.”
“Think of it,” said the Klingon, “as a secondment to another agency.”
“Ah.” Sulu paused, taking it in. “I see.”
Vaughn blinked as the import of Kaj’s words settled in on him. “Uh, sirs? Just so I’m sure I understand this, I’m going to say it out loud.” He swallowed hard. “We’re actually entertaining the idea of . . . what? Disregarding the authority of a ranking officer in the Klingon Defense Force, a politically connected sector commander no less?”
“Lieutenant Vaughn’s point is well made,” Aikyn noted. “We’re already looking down the barrel of one interstellar incident as it is.”
Sulu remained silent, turning the situation over in his thoughts.
Miller drew himself up; his manner became formal. “Captain,” he said, “we have no guarantee that the Thorn are done with this terror campaign of theirs. And they have shown a willingness to take Federation lives as easily as Klingon ones. We have an obligation to stop them.”
“I’m more than conscious of my obligations as a Starfleet officer, Commander,” Sulu replied. “Once we’ve crossed the Neutral Zone, we can contact Commodore Hallstrom—”
“And do what?” Miller broke in. “Ask permission? You know as well as I do how that’s going to go. After Igdar’s statement, President Ra-ghoratreii won’t risk antagonizing the Klingons any further. We’ll be reduced to watching this all unfold from the outside in, and if and when the Thorn destroy another one of our ships, we’ll be looking the wrong way.”
Sulu’s gaze was flinty. “Are you done, mister?”
Miller drew back, realizing he had overstepped his bounds. “Yes sir.”
Vaughn watched the captain weigh up his options; he didn’t envy the man. After a long moment Sulu spoke again. “A covert operation inside the borders of a nonaligned galactic power, conducted without oversight or support from either side . . . That would not only be illegal but reckless and dangerous. Starfleet could not allow itself to be connected to such activities in any way.”
“I’ve been there before,” said Miller.
“I’m willing to take the risk.” Vaughn heard himself say the words, almost by reflex.
Valeris folded her arms. “Is there an option here that does not require my presence?”
“There is not,” Kaj sniffed.
The Vulcan gave a nod. “Then it appears I have no choice but to make myself available.”
Aikyn’s brow furrowed. “We’re really going to do this?”
“Yes, we are,” said Sulu.
The damage the Excelsior suffered during the attack was being repaired en route as best the ship’s engineering team could m
anage. However, it was a piecemeal job and there were problems. It did not seem unusual when, two hours after the meeting in the captain’s ready room, the starship’s warp field suffered a sudden collapse that dropped the vessel out of light speed as it passed near to a rogue planetoid. The escort cruiser’s crew reacted quickly and came about, swiftly returning to Excelsior’s position, but for several minutes they were out of direct contact. The Klingons found the Starfleet vessel adrift, plasma streams venting from its nacelles. The gaseous discharge caused ghost images on the D-7’s sensor grid and made it difficult for them to get a thorough scan of the vessel or the surrounding area, but the point became moot as Sulu’s officers brought the ship back up to operational status. After a terse exchange of words, the cruiser’s commanding officer warned Captain Sulu to keep a better eye on his ship’s systems. Any more unscheduled stops would be considered disruptive and force the ship to take the Excelsior in tow.
The captain was contrite, and soon the two ships were under way once more. Had the sensor officer aboard the Klingon cruiser thought to run a comparative scan of Excelsior after it returned to warp, he might have noted the absence of three humanoid life-signs from the crew complement.
I.K.S. Chon’m
Mempa Sector, Klingon Empire
“They’re moving off, Major,” said D’iaq. “No sign of detection. As long as we remain in the shadow of this planetoid, we are invisible.” He glanced up at her, his one cybernetic eye glittering in the light of the cramped bridge pod.
Kaj ran a hand through her hair as she stalked across the room toward him. “Power status?”
“Adequate, for the moment,” reported Gadan, the ship’s whipcord-thin engineer. “I recommend raising our veil as soon as they are out of visual range.”
“Noted.” Kaj looked at D’iaq. “Our guests are safely aboard?”
“I put them in the cargo bay,” he replied.
“Good. Stand by to get us under way as soon as possible.” D’iaq bobbed his head in reply. On any other vessel in the Klingon fleet, answering the order of a superior officer with anything less than a salute would have earned him a punch in the mouth, at the very least—but Kaj’s command style was far more relaxed than the usual standards.
Star Trek: TOS: Cast no Shadow Page 15
