Takedown

by John Jackson Miller

  “Not yet,” Akaar cautioned. “We’re getting nothing but denials and confusion from the other powers—on the backchannels that still work. There’s been no declaration of intent or claim of responsibility from anyone.”

  “There’s no doubt about responsibility here, Admiral,” Picard said. “The attacker was definitely Romulan.”

  The news seemed to sadden Akaar, but not surprise him. “Who was it?”

  Picard nodded to Worf, who spoke up. “D’varian, a D’deridex-class—under command of a Senator Bretorius.”

  “I’ve never heard of him,” Akaar said. “There have been confirmed sneak attacks by Gorn and Tzenkethi vessels, which would seem to support the notion of a Typhon Pact action. Our Khitomer Accord allies report similar provocations, coming additionally from Romulan and Tholian attackers.”

  “The targets?”

  Akaar looked down, clearly skimming over a series of reports. “All communications systems, so far as we can tell. It’s what’s made it so damned hard to get confirmation.” Akaar looked up, gravely. “We have an unconfirmed report that one of our arrays was attacked by the Cardassians.”

  Dygan, an officer holding the rank of glinn in the Cardassian military, looked up in surprise. Catching the captain’s eye, he said, “Sir, that is simply not possible.”

  Akaar continued his litany of madness. “And Starfleet Intelligence tells me that a Cardassian station was targeted by the Klingons.”

  Worf shook his head in disbelief.

  Akaar’s eyes narrowed as he leaned in. “And don’t even ask me to make sense of what’s coming in from our diplomatic channels. It borders on mass hysteria.”

  Picard looked around the room, astonished—and saw the same reflected in the faces of the other listeners. “It sounds as if galactic order is in a state of . . .” He grasped for a term. “Meltdown is the only word.”

  “Meltdown . . .” Akaar rubbed his forehead. “However, the governments involved haven’t responded the way they would if this were an intentional move to war. I believe they are all in the same situation as the Federation.”

  They could be overwhelmed, too, Picard thought. The very systems tasked with sharing information were under attack. Still, he couldn’t imagine that nothing else was known. “How many vessels from each power are involved in the attacks?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Sir,” Worf asked, “have we captured anyone?”

  “No,” Akaar said. “However, all of the attacks are carried out with precision and guile.”

  “As with Epsilon 11,” Picard said.

  Akaar cleared his throat. “SI proposed that this is a cabal of rogue officers who are acting without orders and with the assistance of loyal crews.”

  Picard nodded. “With all the politicking that goes on in the Romulan fleet, I agree. Romulan diplomats would be reluctant to acknowledge if that was the case.”

  “One moment, Enterprise.” Akaar turned to someone off-screen.

  “That explains the Romulans,” Dygan said. “What about everyone else?”

  “Forces from opposing sides have acted in collusion before,” Worf replied. They all knew about the events in the run-up to the signing of the Khitomer Accords of 2285. A cabal—including Klingons, Romulans, and some Starfleet officers—had attempted to prevent the signing of the treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. “It is a dishonorable way to achieve a goal.”

  Picard clasped his hands together and considered personalities and motives. What could possibly be the goal of those involved?

  As he wondered, the image of Akaar flickered. La Forge quickly attempted to make adjustments. “We’re losing the signal,” the engineer said.

  Akaar reactivated the audio. “We’re sending you the locations that have been targeted and what we have on Bretorius.”

  Picard looked to Dygan while Akaar was once more called away. “Would you coordinate our investigation?”

  Dygan blinked. “Certainly, sir, but Lieutenant Šmrhová is security chief—”

  “She will be one of many involved. But this mystery touches on several different spheres. I’d like a non-Federation perspective.”

  Dygan nodded. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

  Picard was pleased with the young man’s response.

  Akaar seemed to freeze for a moment, and Picard wondered if the connection had failed. But then he realized the Capellan was receiving new information from someone they couldn’t see.

  “Enterprise, there is more,” Akaar said in low, even tones. “I have just been informed that a Ferengi station in your sector is currently under attack.”

  Picard asked, “By the D’varian?”

  “I wish it were.” For a few long moments, it appeared that Akaar didn’t know what to say. “The Aventine has gone rogue. And Admiral Riker is aboard.”

  Sixteen

  AVENTINE

  FERENGI STATION 71

  “What the hell just happened here?” Dax wanted to know as she stared at the main viewscreen. The scraps of what had once been the Ferengi station floated in deep space before Aventine, even as the shuttle that had been attached to it jumped to warp.

  “I did nothing,” Flight Controller Tharp said. “I swear, Captain, Aventine did not move on the station, and we definitely did not fire!”

  “We definitely did,” Dax said, trying to remain calm. She had felt Aventine shudder slightly as she and the others stepped onto the bridge. She’d watched in horror as a photon torpedo was fired at a transceiver panel, which sheared off its vane. She had just ordered Aventine’s bridge controls locked out on her personal voice command when another photon torpedo rocketed from Aventine. No portion of the target was spared this time: the gleaming missile struck Ferengi Station 71 dead center, blowing it to bits.

  It was the assassination of Klingon Chancellor Gorkon all over again—and she and Aventine were in the unenviable roles of Kirk and Enterprise. Alive during that scandal, Dax remembered the horrifying news stories. She knew there were no secret conspirators hiding among her crew, harboring a grudge against the Ferengi. What the hell is going on?

  Helkara spoke from the science station. “Everyone got out on the shuttle.” The Zakdorn scratched his fleshy cheek-wattles as he studied his display. “But one thing doesn’t make sense.”

  “Just one thing?” Bowers asked.

  “Someone on Aventine checked to see if all of the Ferengi had evacuated.”

  Leishman, nearly out of breath from her constant conversation with her engineering team belowdecks, hustled to Helkara’s side. “You didn’t run that check?”

  “No one did.” He pointed at the science station.

  Dax looked around the bridge. At the tactical station, Kedair shrugged. She had already found the same thing—and her security forces aboard Aventine had reported seeing nothing unusual anywhere. Bowers, as unwilling to take a seat as Dax was, gave her a plaintive expression that said what she was thinking. What now?

  Dax knew that Admiral Riker had been listening in remotely from his makeshift office since the first weapon was launched. He’d said nothing, letting them work the problem. Aventine should be heading to Starbase 23; instead they had destroyed an ally’s station. Dax wondered if Command would believe her—or if her passenger could help in any way. Their last conversation had ended so badly, but there wasn’t much choice. He was the superior officer on board. Bowers leaned in and whispered, “We have to ask.”

  She knew. “Bridge to Admiral Riker.”

  “Riker.”

  “Have you ever seen a starship act on its own, Admiral?”

  “Not without an explanation. You and I know what that explanation is, Captain.”

  Dax held up a hand to forestall Leishman, who was certain that there was no hostile programming inhabiting any of Aventine’s systems.

  “Chief?” Dax asked.

  “There were seven separate commands,” said the engineer, checking the station Helkara had vacated. “We went to impulse
and executed an aspect change. A targeting resolution and one torpedo fired. Then a life-sign check of the shuttle, another resolution, and another torpedo. Seven commands, not ordered from any bridge station, nor anywhere else, that my people have been able to find.” She stepped into the command well. “Frankly, I would start looking for other explanations.”

  “What’s left?” Dax asked. “Nanites? The paranormal?”

  “May I?” Riker asked over the intercom, sounding polite.

  Dax looked to the ceiling. “Certainly, Admiral.”

  “I think the only thing to do is to find the nearest Corps of Engineers ship and rendezvous with them. Have them find out what’s wrong with Aventine.”

  Leishman gave a start. “Admiral, our team knows this ship better than anyone.”

  “There could be . . . other benefits to having another ship around.”

  He means a ship to evacuate to, Dax thought. The very idea gnawed at her gut. But it might be necessary. “Admiral, is it safe to get near another vessel, if our systems are infected?”

  “Captain, you decide what procedure you think is best. If you want to power down completely and lifeboat across, that’s acceptable.”

  Dax looked at her first officer, who like her, had noticed the resignation in Riker’s voice. “Admiral,” she said, “what you’re proposing would end our mission.”

  “It would.” He sounded defeated. “This sequence of events has gotten out of hand. If we are infected, as I think we may be, then we need to be out of the game.” He paused. “Aventine is your ship, Captain Dax. You decide what’s best for her and your crew.”

  “Where’s the nearest S.C.E. vessel?”

  They heard a weary chuckle from the speakers. “I’m in a holodeck, dressing for bed. I’m actually going to get some sleep.”

  The communication ended.

  Dax felt as though a weight had been lifted. No captain liked to go toe-to-toe with a superior officer—and certainly not a respected admiral. “Okay, let’s do this.” She looked back to Mirren at ops. “We’ve been out of touch for a while. Any S.C.E. vessels stationed near where we are now?”

  She looked. “Laplace at the Corvus Beacon. If they’re still there.”

  “They are,” Leishman said, her arms crossed. She was still steaming from the twin ideas that something was wrong with Aventine and that her people couldn’t fix it. “Laplace is on a long-term refit of the beacon. Captain, do you really think we need to go there?”

  Bowers shook his head. “I’m not sure we should.”

  Dax looked to him. “Sam?”

  Looking around the bridge, he leaned in closer to her. Speaking softly, he struggled to put his reservations into words. “The thing Admiral Riker was trying to get us to do, against our will, happened. He just shrugs and goes to sleep.” He shook his head. “This isn’t right.”

  “What are you saying, Sam?” she asked, matching his tone. “Are you saying you believe that he took control of our propulsion and weapons systems?”

  “He didn’t seem at all alarmed by the fact that we just lost control of Aventine. And he’s not unhappy with the results. The Corvus Beacon is another communications installation. Do we really want to go there?”

  “It’s a deep-space listening post. It’s not part of the wider comm network—and it’s down.” Dax pointed out, “If Takedown does exist, it’s not going to do a hell of a lot to it.”

  “Great,” Bowers grumbled. “Something the admiral doesn’t want to blow up.”

  “Sam!” Dax whispered.

  He put his hands before him apologetically.

  This was more than they could handle, Dax realized. Whether or not rogue code had invaded her vessel, paranoia certainly had. There was only one thing to do.

  “The Corvus Beacon, Warp Factor 8.”

  Seventeen

  ENTERPRISE

  EPSILON OUTPOST 11

  Aventine had attacked a Ferengi outpost. It had taken every bit of strength Picard possessed not to rush across the light-years to the Ferengi station to get answers the second Akaar had announced the news. But Enterprise could not risk its tenuous link with Starfleet Command—not getting every last bit of vital data Akaar was sending.

  Just moments after Enterprise received the data, the screen had gone black. Picard was left wondering if another vital station had been destroyed. The last scan the Ferengi station sent—relayed to Starfleet Headquarters—was an image of the ship that was about to destroy it. Racing for their lives, the Ferengi aboard the shuttle had retained the presence of mind to turn their sensors on the attacker.

  Picard had seen a Vesta-class ship, clearly visible through the debris of a photon torpedo strike on the station. Only half of the vessel’s hull lights were on, but the “NCC-82602” was unmistakable. It had been confirmed by further visual analysis that it was Aventine.

  The Ferengi’s frantic last communication had revealed that all had escaped the station and that Aventine was making no move to pursue. When a quick check confirmed that the Ferengi station had a warp-capable shuttle, Picard decided against a rescue mission. There wasn’t any sense in appearing someplace one of the attackers had already visited, and there was no suggestion in Akaar’s report that other ambushing vessels had stuck around their targets. Picard also already knew from their time at Outpost 11 that no invasion force had come to take possession of the place. A target, once struck, was left behind.

  Enterprise’s play had to be appearing at a station before it was attacked. And that meant analyzing the events of the last few days in detail, poring over the data Akaar had provided.

  Picard and his officers had gotten to it immediately. Worf and La Forge were among Riker’s closest friends. Worf had been married to Jadzia Dax. The proud Cardassian, Ravel Dygan, still stung from the suggestion that his people had attacked the Federation without provocation. It simply wasn’t possible that Riker and Aventine’s crew could be part of some wide-ranging cabal of rogue officers.

  They had to catch someone in the act.

  Whether it was Will Riker or not.

  Stellar cartography was too restrictive for the analysis: they were interested in where attacks had taken place, and Picard knew they also needed to look for other patterns, such as who had attacked what and in what order. As instructed, Dygan took the lead sifting through the information, putting his unique perspective of covert intelligence operations to work. He had established an investigation center on holodeck three, where several of Enterprise’s security, intelligence, and communication experts studied every minute detail in Akaar’s report. Dygan attacked the job with vigor: Picard knew the exchange officer had been struggling trying to live with his actions on an earlier assignment, and nothing communicated the Federation’s friendship with Cardassia like putting one of their own in charge of Enterprise’s investigation.

  Picard felt as if he had looked at all possibilities after an hour in Dygan’s “evidence room.” Less than eight hours had elapsed since the jarring news, and holodeck three buzzed with activity. The room was divided into specialized areas. One was devoted to the attacking ships that had been identified. Only D’varian, Aventine, and the G.C.S. Glavakh, a Gorn MA12-class cruiser, had been visually confirmed as being involved in attacks. Another focused on the information available on the other assailants involved. Officers labored in each of the areas, trying to narrow down who else might be involved.

  Picard stopped by the team focused on the Romulan warbird. Senator Bretorius of D’varian had once been the captain of that vessel: according to Starfleet Intelligence, he had served with no distinction other than his rank. His senate career appeared to have gone the same way. They had no idea why he was aboard D’varian, or why he would be in command of a warbird. But then, they didn’t know why Riker would be aboard Aventine, either. He’d reportedly transferred off Titan, now out of reach at the Genovous Pulsar, after some Federation assignment Akaar was reluctant to discuss over their secure channel. There hadn’t been time to learn
more about it before the connection had failed.

  Less was known about Vekt, identified as the female Gorn who commanded the Glavakh. She had distinguished herself enough that Starfleet had at least heard of her, but nothing they knew was fresher than a decade old. Not the best and the brightest, Picard thought.

  Dygan knew he was risking backlash by setting up research nodes into Will Riker and Ezri Dax, but it had to be done. Riker was one of Starfleet’s shining stars, though his career was not without blots. Dax had found herself in command of a starship, much like Picard, elevated by a battlefield promotion. The captain knew from experience she could be bullheaded and willing to break the rules to do what she thought was right. She had been removed from command, though she had later been fully exonerated. However, Dax had had many hosts, some of whom had lived shadier lives. The Dax section of the evidence room was larger than Riker’s; Picard was glad that Worf, who had been married to Jadzia and remained friends with Ezri, had thus far avoided that section.

  Picard rubbed his face in exhaustion and cast his eyes again across one of the several table displays that had been holographically prepared to help cross-reference information. So much information. It seemed to swim before his eyes. But Riker might be in trouble—and so might everyone else. They had to go on.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Picard said as Dygan joined him at the display. “It’s hard to draw a line from one event to another, saying this attack provoked that one. They seem to have started at the same time.”

  The Cardassian nodded. “But at least for now, it’s only the initiators causing the incidents. That won’t be the case for long. There will be counterattacks.”

  Perhaps that was the plan, Picard thought.

  He heard Worf, calling out from the section he’d been working on with La Forge. “Captain, a moment.”

  Picard and Dygan walked to the other side of a display table where La Forge stared intently at a holographic projection showing the locations of attacked stations.

  “We have been looking at the positions of the targets,” Worf said, “but maybe it’s better to focus on the nature of the targets. What do they all have in common?”