“Come with us,” Ruiz said, “and you’ll see.”
The resistance members led the Starfleet team on a hike upriver, along the increasingly narrow shore between the Vasakleyro and the canyon wall. The walls’ sheer faces on both sides of the river were notched with deep vertical fissures carved by the steady trickle of water from the rainforest above, giving them the aspect of enormous stone teeth. Atop the cliffs, the roots of the rainforest’s massive trees curved over to hug the walls, while the tree canopies on both sides stretched far outward overhead, nearly meeting in the middle and providing the canyon with the kind of constant shade that the nocturnal Saurians relied on for their permanent habitations. It was no wonder Akleyro had been built here—and that the resistance was centered here, for the canopy and canyon walls also provided excellent cover from the sensors of orbiting battleships and spy satellites.
“Keep your night-vision scopes on and your phase pistols handy,” Ruiz cautioned. “Sauria’s a harsh planet, and we humans are a lot more fragile than the natives, or than Coraniach here,” he said, slapping the Chelon on his dorsal shell. “There are serpents in the water that attack if you get too close. Oh, and keep your eyes on the rock fissures. There are giant crustaceans that hide in them, lying in wait for prey.”
Kelly looked around warily. “So don’t get too close to either the river or the walls. Exactly how narrow is the safe path between?”
“Depends on how hungry they are,” Ruiz said.
“Right,” the statuesque woman replied. “Single file, everybody.”
Either Ruiz was bluffing or the local fauna had already dined, for the group made it to the city without incident. Akleyro did not disappoint. It was carved right into the vast stone teeth of the canyon walls. Within the twilight of the chasm, thousands of windows, archways, and galleries within the living stone gleamed with multicolored bioluminescence. The plazas carved from the more expansive fissures were crowned by large firewasp nests overhead, ensuring that many of the glowing, bioengineered insects congregated around them. Hundreds of rope bridges, made (according to Ruiz) of specially bred plant fibers nearly as strong as steel cable, formed precarious catenaries across the gorge, yet numerous Akleyro citizens traipsed across them as confidently as Mullen would stride down a starship corridor.
“That looks like fun,” Kelly remarked, and Mullen couldn’t tell from her dry tone whether she was kidding or not.
“In the dark?” he muttered back. “No, thanks.”
“We’ve got night scopes,” Kelly replied, tapping the glowing monocular lens that covered her right eye.
“Yeah, but it’s all green on green.” He fidgeted with his own scope briefly, then shrugged. “On second thought, I’d probably hate it even more if I could see clearly.”
She moved in closer. “If we do have to cross one of those, just keep your fears to yourself,” she murmured. “Remember, you’re our leader now. Your doubts become your crew’s.”
Mullen nodded. “Right. Thanks.” The reminder of his inexperience embarrassed him—but at the same time, he felt grateful for Kelly’s support.
Fortunately, Ruiz’s destination proved to be on the north side of the river, sparing the Essex team from the need to reconnect with their brachiating-primate roots. It felt more like reverting to the stage of burrowing rodents as the resistance members led them through the dark, twisting passages carved deep into the rock, finally emerging in a large, low-ceilinged chamber. The room was moderately well lit, no doubt to accommodate the offworlders of various species that Mullen noted among the group, so the Essex team members were able to deactivate their night scopes and fold their lenses back.
Ruiz and Coraniach led the team toward a large central desk where a wizened, green-bronze Saurian female sat surrounded by advisors. Mullen recognized her as Moxat, the deposed presider of the Saurian Global League and leader of the government in exile. She rose to greet them, the dignity in her bearing undiminished. “Lieutenant Commander Mullen. It is good to see you again.”
He shook her hand. “It’s commander now, Presider. I’m Essex’s first officer, and leader of this party.” He proceeded to introduce Kelly and the rest of the team.
“I trust no harm has befallen Captain Shumar or Commander Paris,” Moxat said.
“On the contrary, ma’am. Commander Paris was recently promoted to captain. I’m trying to fill her shoes as Captain Shumar’s exec.”
“Shoes?” Moxat asked, tilting her head quizzically. Even Saurian leaders rarely covered their webbed feet.
“Um, just an idiom, ma’am. What I mean to say is, we’re here to provide whatever assistance we can, and to lay the groundwork for future Starfleet aid toward the restoration of freedom to the Saurian people.”
Moxat’s wide-set, bulbous eyes caught him between them. “I note you take care to emphasize the positive goal, rather than the act that we both know will be necessary to achieve it: the death of Maltuvis.”
Mullen fidgeted. “His removal from power, certainly. I’m sure you’d like to see him stand trial for his crimes, if possible.”
“That is the ideal, according to my upbringing and the principles of the Global League. But in practice . . . I recognize that there is no way a tyrant like Maltuvis would let himself be taken alive, and I admit to being glad of it. I would not have admitted that a month ago, perhaps not even to myself. But after what his ships did to my home city, Commander, I admit it freely.”
Kelly spoke up. “That’s your right, Presider. We’re not here to tell you what to do, but to help you do it yourselves.”
“I know, Lieutenant Kelly. That is why my government chose to welcome the Federation in the first place. If you had come as conquerors . . .” She paused. “Well. Perhaps my people have proven more passive in the face of conquest than I would have believed before.”
“When it’s one of their own,” Antonio Ruiz interposed. “And when he spins it as a common defense against aliens.”
“Then we have to remind the people that the aliens aren’t their real enemy,” Mullen said. “That’s why I want to focus on the positive, ma’am. On providing relief, medical aid, whatever we can do to repair the breaches of trust that Maltuvis engineered between your people and ours. A military victory over Maltuvis won’t last unless it’s legitimate in the eyes of the people.”
Moxat looked pleased. “I think I underestimated you, Commander. That is an excellent point.” She sobered. “Nonetheless, military victories will be essential. Most of all, we must direct our efforts toward destroying Maltuvis’s orbital ships and the factories that create them. More of those factories are under construction even now, being built in conquered territories and using slave labor—forcing the oppressed peoples to participate in creating the engines of their own oppression.”
“We’ll do what we can to assist with that as well, Presider,” Kelly said. “But for now, until we can devise a more reliable way past the blockade, there’s not much we can offer militarily beyond advice and training.”
“Luckily,” Ruiz put in, “we already have some help on the guerrilla side of things.”
After getting Moxat’s leave to withdraw, Ruiz led the team toward a corner where a group of Saurians and a few offworlders were unloading a large crate of phase rifles under the supervision of another offworlder—a broad-faced, hairless humanoid male with gray reptilian scales. Several low, parallel ridges of raised scales adorned his scalp and cheeks, and two others shaded his eyes. The species looked familiar to Mullen, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Ahh, at last our Starfleet benefactors have deigned to arrive,” the humanoid boomed in a deep, resonant voice.
“This is Commander Steven Mullen of the Essex,” Ruiz told him, going on to introduce the rest. “Commander, this is Dular Garos of Maluria. His organization, the Raldul alignment, has been providing arms to the resistance.”
Kelly stepped forward to confront the Malurian. “Garos! You were the one who helped the Orion Syndicate stir up the Vertian crisi
s. You destroyed an Andorian battle cruiser. And you tried to sabotage Rigel’s admission to the Federation!”
“I did have an alliance with the Three Sisters, I admit,” Garos replied in a mollifying tone. “It was a partnership of convenience. My alignment works to promote Malurian expansion into space, in the name of the long-term future of our civilization. In the ideology of our rulers, that makes us criminals, so we have had no choice but to ally with criminals to survive.” He tilted his head back. “But if you know my record so well, Lieutenant . . .”
“Kelly,” she reminded him. “Morgan Kelly.”
“Then you should recall that I turned against the Rigelian faction behind the sabotage and provided intelligence that helped Starfleet prevail in the crisis.”
“Only because your partners betrayed you first.”
“Precisely. They forced me to employ my defense mechanism—which foiled the Sisters’ plans as well as my own. Yet the Sisters are not known for their forgiving nature. They blamed me for the failure of their Rigelian scheme. They classified me and my alignment as their enemies.” He crossed his arms. “So we have chosen to live up to their expectations. If helping Maltuvis in his conquests helps the Sisters’ plans, then Raldul will support Maltuvis’s opponents.”
“And just how much is this ‘support’ costing them?”
“We still have to make a profit. But Sauria is a wealthy world. Its people can afford to sign away a few mining rights and trade concessions.” Garos shrugged. “More than they can afford to live under a brutal tyrant. So you see, we’re all on the same side here.”
“But not for the same reasons.”
“It’s not as if the Federation’s motives are selfless. Maltuvis would still be the despot of a small, impoverished land if not for your insatiable appetite for dilithium.” His scaled face twisted into a smile. “So can we accept that we both have a vested interest in making up for past mistakes?”
Kelly bristled, but Mullen touched her arm. “It’s the Saurians’ world, so it’s their decision. If they trust you,” he said to Garos, “then that means our interests align, at least here and now.”
“I appreciate it, Commander Mullen. That’s the Starfleet spirit I’ve seen before. Perhaps someday my people will have the luxury of your ideals.”
Once they’d parted from Garos, Kelly remained tense. “I’ll work with him for the Saurians’ sake . . . but I still don’t trust him.”
Mullen held her gaze. “Good. Because somebody needs to keep an eye on him.”
February 20, 2166
Stameris (Lambda Serpentis VII)
The rendezvous site that Charles Tucker had transmitted to Devna two weeks before was on Stameris, an unaligned planet ten light-years from Sauria. There were several reasons he had chosen to meet with her near their destination rather than arranging to travel together. For one thing, Stameris was an obscure planet, as yet unexplored by Starfleet. Though less than forty light-years from Earth, it was more or less in the opposite direction from the Federation’s recent growth, and its system contained no naturally habitable worlds. Tucker had first heard of Stameris some fourteen years before, when Enterprise had been hijacked by pirates from an unidentified species of diminutive, large-eared humanoids who had intended to sell its female personnel at a slave market on the planet. That market, he had since learned, was held periodically at a trading outpost on the otherwise barren world, far from the reach of any interstellar authorities. Naturally, the Orion Syndicate was one of the criminal organizations that patronized the slave market, and that gave Devna an excuse to travel here without arousing suspicion.
The other things Devna might arouse were yet another good reason Tucker had not wanted to be alone with her in a small ship for two weeks. His bond to T’Pol had made him immune to Orion pheromones in the past, but he was unsure if that was still the case. Last year, an ordeal T’Pol had suffered on Vulcan had shut down their ability to communicate telepathically over great distances, and since that ability had been anomalous even for bonded Vulcan couples, T’Pol was inclined to doubt that it would ever return. Tucker was not yet sure whether his resistance to Orion pheromones had gone with it. Even if his resistance remained, Devna was still an extremely beautiful woman whose entire life revolved around seduction. He had no wish to be unfaithful to T’Pol, but there was no point in testing his resolve more than he had to.
Tucker attended the slave market disguised as a member of the Eska species—a people who relished hunting and were not always concerned with ethics. Devna had somehow managed to arrange for her master, an Orion male named Parrec-Sut, to assign her a mission to infiltrate an Eska criminal operation engaged in smuggling the skins and organs of endangered or sapient animals from multiple worlds, in order to assess whether it was worth the Syndicate’s while to muscle in on the operation. Tucker’s years of espionage training let him mask his distaste as he attended the slave auction as an interested customer. It took rather less acting to appear intrigued by Devna when Parrec-Sut brought her out to dance for him in extremely skimpy attire. The Orion spy was certainly lovely, with a lissome, agile frame, lime-green skin, almond-shaped eyes with large, emerald irises, and void-black hair that tumbled to the small of her back. But it was the grace and beauty of her dancing, the sense of liberation and joy he felt from her as she performed, that he found truly compelling. He remembered how trapped Devna had seemed when they had first met. There was no trace of that burden upon her now—though it returned once she stopped dancing.
Tucker’s plan was that, when his mission on Sauria was done, he would tip Starfleet off to the Eska smuggling operation, providing a pretense for Devna’s “rescue” and return to Orion, and incidentally saving the creatures the Eska murdered for sport. But even as he haggled with Parrec-Sut for the purchase of Devna, he hoped that he could persuade her to take the opportunity to escape slavery once and for all.
Once the sale was made, Devna came aboard Tucker’s scout ship with no possessions save a small bag of even smaller garments, makeup and grooming items, and sexual paraphernalia. He showed her to a private cabin and invited her to select an appropriate garment from its wardrobe fabricator while he removed his Eska makeup. It was rather a relief to confirm that he still could resist her allure enough to leave her alone in the room.
When he emerged barefaced once more, he found Devna far less bare-bodied than before, attired in a short-sleeved, functional catsuit in dark red. Tucker couldn’t help staring. “This is the first time I’ve seen you actually wearing anything to speak of,” he explained at her inquisitive look. “It, uh, it suits you.”
She was unmoved by the compliment. “It suits the mission,” she replied in the breathy soprano lilt he remembered so well. “Personally, I find it confining.”
“Well, I-I appreciate it,” he said. “After all, this is a working partnership. I’d prefer to avoid any distractions.”
“You’re clearly still immune to my influence.”
“To your pheromones, yes.” Thank God. “But those are far from your only charms.”
She gave him a smile that seemed oddly pitying. “I promise not to take advantage of your vulnerability, Charles. It’s all right for you to relax.”
“Yeah, that’s not likely. Best if we just get a move on. The sooner we can get to Sauria, the better.”
Tucker moved to the cockpit, where Devna joined him in the copilot’s seat. Once they were under way, he turned to her. “How much do you know about the Three Sisters’ plan to cause a disaster on Sauria?”
“Thanks to my mistress Maras’s indulgence, I was on hand to hear much of their planning. I have all the information we should need to expose and prevent the plot.”
“And frame my employers for initiating it. Don’t forget how important that part is.”
Devna’s emerald eyes pierced his. “I had thought the most important part to you was to save lives. That that was why you did this.” In his abashed silence, she went on, lowering her gaze. “Among th
e Dhei’ten—the Deltans—I gained a greater appreciation for . . . the unity of life. The shared value of it.”
“Of course. You’re right, that is why I’m doing this. And the fact that I needed an Orion spy to remind me of that is why I so badly need to get out.” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put it that way. If there’s one thing you aren’t, Devna, it’s a typical Orion spy.”
After a hesitant moment, she faced him again. “In fact . . . you are not alone in having an ulterior purpose. You seek to tie your employers to the Syndicate. My condition for helping you, Charles, is that, in doing so, you tie them solely to D’Nesh, the middle Sister. I have the information you will require to plant evidence linking to her—but only to her. Do you accept this?”
He studied her for a moment. “As long as my employers are compromised, it doesn’t matter which Sister we use.” A pause. “Can I ask, why D’Nesh?”
She considered her response. “No one who has been her slave would need to ask why.”
Tucker nodded. “Okay. I won’t pry. One thing about bein’ free—you’re entitled to your privacy.”
“I’m not free, Charles. Technically, I belong to you now.”
“Then consider yourself manumitted, Devna. I need a partner, not a pet.”
Devna was skeptical. “It can’t be that easy.”
“Freedom is your right by birth. It always has been. All I have to do is acknowledge it.”
After a tense moment, Devna shot out of the chair and moved to the rear of the cockpit. It was the first movement he’d ever seen from her that wasn’t composed and graceful. After a few moments, she spoke even more softly than usual. “I would make a request of you.”
“Anything.”
“We both have a mission to complete. That is where I need my focus to be. I need a clear sense of who I am and who is in charge. These . . . larger questions . . . they are too much for me now. So . . . please, Charles . . . let me have the comfort of considering you my master. It gives me structure.”
Tucker wanted to protest that the request caused him considerable discomfort. He was unsure enough of his ethics as it was. And absolute power over another being was a difficult temptation to resist. But by that same token, it would be selfish to place his own discomfort over hers. “All right, Devna,” he said, feeling compelled to use her name, to remind them both of her personhood. “You can define our relationship however you want. And as far as chain of command goes, sure—this is my operation, so I give the orders. But I don’t want you to be passive and unquestioning. You’re smart, you’re experienced, you’re a keen observer—I expect you to contribute. Assert yourself when you have an idea or a question. Argue with me if you think I’m about to make the wrong choice.” After considering his words, he smirked. “Like . . . you’ve already been doing all along.”
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