Purgatory's Key

by Dayton Ward

  Thankfully, he now had an entire crew of highly trained personnel to help him, such as young Pavel Chekov. Though formally assigned to the Enterprise the previous year as a junior navigation officer, the young ensign had demonstrated a keen interest in other facets of the starship’s operations, including sensors, tactical systems, and internal security. Spock had taken notice of Chekov’s off-duty study habits and recommended him along with a handful of other junior officers to Kirk for accelerated training in a number of subjects. According to Spock, Chekov was distinguishing himself in these extra courses and his duty performance since reporting aboard had been nothing short of exemplary.

  “It started transmitting the signal after we dropped out of warp,” said the ensign, standing at the table and gesturing to the Transfer Key. “The signal is on a very low frequency, sir. The only reason I saw it is because I’ve been subjecting it to a variety of scans and checks designed to detect even the slightest change.”

  To Kirk, the alien device looked as unassuming and inert as always. “And it’s continuing to transmit even now?”

  “Yes, sir,” Chekov said. “It’s a constant broadcast. I don’t think we were supposed to notice it.”

  “Do you think the Klingon ship has picked it up?”

  The ensign shook his head. “I doubt it, sir. They would’ve needed the same kind of access to the Key that we’ve had, taken the same kind of sensor readings that allowed Mister Spock and me to modify our scanners to detect the signal in the first place.”

  Kirk looked to where Spock stood at the large control console dominating the lab’s forward bulkhead. The Vulcan seemed engrossed in several of the station’s displays.

  “Spock?”

  Turning from the console, the first officer said, “I have compared these readings to the sensor scans of the citadel we have been collecting since our arrival in the Libros system. According to the time codes, the signal from the Transfer Key immediately preceded the citadel’s latest round of internal reconfigurations.”

  “Are you sure?” Kirk asked, then held up his hand. He offered a small smile. “I’m sorry, Spock. You’d think I’d know by now not to ask something like that.”

  “No apologies necessary, Captain.” Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “It is a most unusual development.”

  “The Key did not exhibit this type of behavior when we took it from the planet,” said Chekov.

  Spock replied, “It is entirely possible that it was transmitting such a signal at that time, or perhaps something similar, and we simply did not know it.”

  “We hadn’t had the chance to study it,” said Kirk.

  The Vulcan nodded. “Precisely. Even with all that we have learned with it in our possession, the Transfer Key likely possesses several qualities that remain unknown to us. Given this new development, I would advise caution as we proceed.”

  “That’s good advice, regardless.” Kirk sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “What about the Klingons on the surface? Can you tell what they’re doing down there?”

  Chekov said, “Our sensors show no Klingon life signs inside the citadel, sir. At least, not within those areas our scans can reach.” He nodded to the first officer. “Mister Spock has been teaching me the finer points of configuring our sensors to detect readings beyond their usual range and specifications. Even with those modifications, we’re still not able to scan the citadel’s complete interior.”

  “But you can see that the transfer-field generator is on­line.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s definitely active, though based on our earlier readings, we think it’s operating in a lower power or standby mode. Definitely not at the capacity we saw during our first visit here.”

  Kirk considered this. “Like it’s waiting for something. Instructions, or the Transfer Key itself.”

  “That is our current theory,” said Spock. “We also believe that these new readings are connected to a report provided by a member of Professor B’tinzal’s science team about how they were forced from the citadel.”

  The captain of the Vron’joQ, J’Teglyr, had wanted no part of the explanation Kirk provided about their rescue plan for Captain Una and the others. Instead, the Klingon captain had shunted the communication to the planet’s surface, leaving Kirk to speak to a Klingon scientist who had assumed B’tinzal’s duties following her apparent death inside the citadel. Kirk had listened as the Klingon conveyed the details of the alien complex’s sentry globes attacking the research team. While he was sympathetic to the losses suffered by the team as they were evicted from the citadel, Kirk weighed that against the continued plight of the Usildar who remained under Klingon rule. That was an injustice that needed correcting, and Kirk wondered what if any influence he might exert on the Usildar’s behalf.

  And of course the Klingons will be thrilled to work with me.

  “They’ll be watching every move we make,” he said. “Particularly now that they’re on the outside looking in, figuratively and literally.” They would, Kirk suspected, be watching and waiting for any opportunity to take advantage of the situation and try to seize the Transfer Key. The next steps taken to assist Una, and everyone else trapped in the Jatohr universe, would have to be undertaken with care.

  “Is the test probe ready to go?” asked Kirk.

  “Mister Scott and his team are making their final preparations now, sir,” Chekov replied. “They expect to be ready for launch within the hour.”

  Nodding toward the Transfer Key, Kirk asked, “And you’re sure you know how to work this thing and get it to transport the probe somewhere close to where we hope Captain Una is?”

  “There is still a degree of uncertainty, of course,” replied Spock. “Targeting the object to be transferred is a rather simple process, whereas the calculations to send it to a particular point in space within the other universe are a good deal more complex. However, I have had the computer analyzing the Enterprise’s sensor readings taken of the citadel during our first visit here, including the point when Captain Una transferred herself. With the computer’s assistance, we are using those readings as a referent for creating a set of computations that I believe will place the probe in the same approximate area as the captain’s destination.”

  “So, you’re saying it’s still a big guess as to whether we’ll find her,” said Kirk.

  The comment elicited a raised right eyebrow from the Vulcan. “That is essentially correct, Captain.”

  “Well, I suppose there’s really only one way to find out,” said Kirk. “Have Scotty report to me when he’s completed the probe’s preparations. I want to launch it as soon as possible.”

  “I am finalizing a procedure to integrate the Transfer Key into our power systems,” said Spock. “With Mister Scott’s assistance, the installation should take very little time, and we should avoid the problems encountered by Sadira and the Romulan vessel.”

  Kirk nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “What about the Klingons, sir?” asked Chekov. “Do you think they might try to interfere?”

  Spock replied, “If all goes according to our plan, Ensign, they will not have an opportunity to take action against the probe.”

  “But that doesn’t mean they won’t take action against us.”

  * * *

  It was not until her helm officer turned in his chair and regarded her with a puzzled expression that Visla realized she was absentmindedly tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair.

  Now conscious of the involuntary act, the commander halted her fingers and pressed the palms of her hands against the armrests. Eyeing her subordinate, she asked, “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

  K’darqa replied, “No, Commander.” He paused, his gaze dropping for a moment to the metal deck plating as though deciding the wisdom of his next words, before returning his attention to her. “You appear troubled.”

  �
��Thank you for your observation. Should I feel the need to give voice to my inner turmoil, rest assured that yours are the first ears I shall seek out. Until such time as that unlikely event comes to pass, mind your station.”

  Stiffening in his chair, K’darqa offered a single, formal nod. “Yes, Commander.” He turned his seat so that he once more faced his helm console.

  Visla scanned the faces of the rest of her bridge crew, noting the furtive glances exchanged between the other officers, though none were cast in her direction. She did see at least one relayed from her first officer, Lieutenant Woveth, to Lieutenant Koveq. Her tactical officer appeared as unimpressed with the potential for distraction as she did, and she even heard him growl as he gestured for Woveth to return to his duties. Chastened, and unlikely to forget this fleeting insubordination, the first officer began once again stalking the Qo’Daqh’s bridge perimeter stations.

  For her part, Visla was surprised by Woveth’s breach of protocol, as he normally presented the very picture of military bearing and control, in particular when in the presence of subordinates. She watched him walk past several of the workstations, inspecting the displays and indicators on each console, and waited for him to look in her direction before silently indicating for him to join her.

  “Lieutenant Koveq,” she said, “you are in command until I return.”

  Rising from her chair, she saw Koveq’s small nod of understanding before moving to the pressure hatch at the rear of the bridge. The doors parted, and she stepped into the connecting corridor. Woveth followed her and she waited for the doors to close, leaving them alone in the narrow passageway.

  “Your eyes betray your uncertainty, Lieutenant.”

  Like most Klingons who possessed even the merest shred of honor, Woveth bristled at the very mention of the word “betray.” His eyes narrowed, appearing almost like black slits in the corridor’s dim, red-tinged lighting. What illumination there was reflected off the smooth skin of his bald head and his gold baldric. He stood at attention, his eyes locked on some point over her left shoulder.

  “It was not my intention to give offense, Commander.”

  Visla offered a dismissive wave. “If I was offended, you would already be dead. As my first officer, it is your responsibility to bring to my attention any matter you feel may have a detrimental effect on the crew. I sense your concern. Tell me what concerns you, Lieutenant.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Woveth replied, “The rumors are circulating throughout the ship, Commander, regarding our change of course and that you have not formally acknowledged our abandoning the mission to Centaurus. There is worry that you may be disobeying orders from High Command and about what that might mean for the crew.”

  “Divided loyalties, Woveth?” Visla stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Are you warning me that I may have a mutiny on my hands?”

  The first officer shook his head. “I have heard nothing to indicate anything of the sort, Commander. However, if there is to be no clarification of our present circumstances and the orders under which we are operating, the crew will soon grow suspicious.”

  He paused as they both heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching them from a connecting corridor. A moment later, another Klingon appeared in the passage, looking surprised to see the ship’s two ranking officers blocking access to the bridge.

  “Commander,” said the new arrival, his expression a mask of uncertainty.

  Visla gestured toward the bridge. “Attend your duties.” Despite the younger officer’s best efforts, she still saw the momentary flicker of his eyes to Woveth as he passed. He nodded as he drew abreast of her.

  “Thank you, Commander.”

  This time, it was Woveth who waited for the doors to close before speaking again. “As you can see, at least some of the crew have questions, even if such concerns are not given voice. They are unsure of their standing, both here, and with our superiors.”

  “You seek clarification.” Visla pondered the word for a moment before lifting her chin and fixing Woveth with a stern glare. “Very well. We are presently operating outside the orders given to me by High Command. How do you believe we should present this development to the crew?”

  Woveth stood ramrod straight, his expression offering no clue as to how he was processing this revelation. His eyes did not so much as widen, reinforcing her belief that his unflappable composure could still be counted upon, though recent events were still presenting a challenge to him as he worked to carry out his duties.

  “Speak freely, Woveth,” she said, after a moment. “You have more than earned that right.”

  For the first time, he broke his military stance and turned his head to look at her. “Is this departure from our orders necessary for the security of the Empire?”

  “I am convinced it is.”

  “I believe you, Commander.”

  “But you remain troubled.”

  “I do.” Woveth cleared his throat. “Based on the reports I have read, the Enterprise is en route to the Libros system. It is possible it has already arrived there. I am left to wonder if this has somehow motivated you toward the action you have taken.”

  Smiling, Visla replied, “You are very perceptive, Lieutenant.”

  “You seek to reclaim the honor taken from you.”

  “Correct, but not just from me. From everyone on this ship who so ably serves me, yourself included. So long as I am your commander, you will share whatever fate the High Command sees fit to inflict upon me.” Visla paused, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, fate has seen fit to provide us with an opportunity to reclaim that which was taken from us while acting in service to the Empire. I would be a fool not to seize that chance.”

  More footfalls in the connecting passageways caused them to again halt their conversation. As she watched a pair of her crew members walk past, Visla cursed whoever was behind the decision not to give this ship a private space for its captain to engage in privileged conversation. There was her cabin, but that was not an option. The last thing that she needed at the moment was a rash of unsubstantiated rumors about a romantic tryst with her first officer. Besides, she had Koveq for such things, and Visla trusted her tactical officer’s discretion more than Woveth in that regard.

  She could see Woveth working through conflicting thoughts and emotions. He also had the misfortune to be born into a house that had somehow disgraced the Empire, thanks to the actions of an ancestor now long dead. Indeed, Woveth was the first male from his house in four generations to join the military. He had never disclosed his reasons for willingly entering into service for a regime that would never grant him even the slightest fraction of respect. Visla suspected he one day hoped to regain his family’s honor, and perhaps he was forestalling direct action while waiting for the unlikely day when he would command a ship of his own. Or had he been biding his time until presented with a prospect like the one Visla now offered him and the rest of the Qo’Daqh’s crew?

  “And if we fail?” asked Woveth.

  “Then our fate will still be better than living out the rest of our days in shame.”

  “But what of High Command? Surely they will soon know your intentions. It is possible, even likely, that Captain J’Teglyr has already reported our approach and is wondering why such an unfit vessel has been sent to him as reinforcement.”

  Visla replied, “I am hoping that J’Teglyr will see that having any additional ship will prove useful against the Enterprise.”

  She had considered the difficulty when it came to dealing with J’Teglyr. First, there was the simple reality that his ship, the Vron’joQ, was not on equal footing with the Federation’s heavy cruisers. Then, there was J’Teglyr himself. She had never met him, but Visla was aware of his reputation, which while not glowing was at least serviceable in the eyes of the Empire. Based on what she had read of his official missions, she considered J’Teglyr to be an unimaginative
officer, prone to following rules and procedures to an exacting degree while leaving little room for imagination and innovation. Given the unconventional tactics exhibited by James Kirk, Visla believed that in a direct confrontation J’Teglyr would be outmatched. It galled her that a Klingon of his mediocre caliber held a rank greater than hers. Further, she scoffed at the notion that he was allowed to serve with honor while she was relegated to obscurity and ignominy for circumstances over which she had no control. Simply put, J’Teglyr was not up to the task of facing off against Kirk, let alone acting in the best interests of the Empire.

  “Whatever I may think of him personally,” said Visla, “he is an experienced and loyal ship commander, and he will see the virtue of greater numbers. Regardless of our differing standings, we are both warriors of the Empire, united against a common foe.”

  Woveth pondered this. “What if Captain J’Teglyr does not share your view of the situation?”

  “Then we may have a problem.”

  Visla did not expound on her reply, but the rest of her answer was already beginning to trouble her, and her thoughts turned to K’tovel, who along with the other HoS’leth survivors still waited for her on Centaurus.

  I swear on my life, my son, that I will allow no one to stop me from regaining our family honor.

  Sixteen

  Air buffeted the underside of the antigravity sled, and Anadac felt hir body swaying in rhythm to the vehicle’s rocking as s/he guided it over the rocky uneven terrain at the edge of the forest. The journey might have been less erratic, had s/he not been dividing hir attention between the landscape ahead of hir and the imaging display on the sled’s control panel. According to the tracking information s/he was receiving from the sensor drone, s/he was drawing ever nearer to hir quarry. It appeared that Una and her band of humans along with a group of Usildar had taken refuge within the forests at the edge of the salt lands. With the aid of a pair of sentry probes keeping watchful eye from the clouds, Anadac had managed to approach and covertly monitor the outsiders.