“No, that’s fine. I don’t really have an open slot here—in fact, I’m looking forward to getting you people off here so we have some space again—and I don’t think Darleen’s ready to serve with our Mr. Tuvok just yet.”
Tuvok nodded. “I would tend to agree. Therefore, Captain Chakotay, I accept your offer.”
“Bridge to Hudson,” said Mastroeni’s voice over the intercom. “We’re entering the Badlands. Still no sign of pursuit.”
“Good. I’ll be right up.” He turned to Chakotay. “Speaking of space—will you please go change your clothes so people don’t have to stand three meters away from you?”
Tuvok added with as much emphasis as he was ever likely to use, “A most apt suggestion.”
Laughing, Chakotay said, “Fine, fine, I’m going.” He moved toward the door, then stopped and turned around. “By the way, when we make it to the safe house, I want to have a service for Tharia. I think it’s the least we can do. Will you join us?”
“Of course,” Hudson said.
“Thank you.” With that, Chakotay left. Hudson’s nose was relieved.
He turned to the Vulcan. “You realize there’s no going back, Mr. Tuvok.”
“I can assure you, Mr. Hudson, I am fully cognizant of the consequences of what I have done today. The only regret I have is that we were not able to save Mr. ch’Ren. In retrospect, I should have realized that suicide was a danger. The first person to find the artifact also took her own life when confronted with the possibility of capture.”
“Even if you had anticipated it, I doubt we’d have been able to get the phaser out of Tharia’s hands before he turned it on himself. Don’t tell me you’re having the same doubts as Chakotay?”
Tuvok’s eyebrow raised. “Doubts? No. As I said, it was merely a regret. And, as I told Captain Chakotay, dwelling on regrets is illogical. If you will excuse me, Mr. Hudson.”
“Of course,” Hudson said.
That man’s going to make an interesting Maquis, Hudson thought.
Captain DeSoto had already watched Tuvok’s recording, so he instead watched Kathryn Janeway’s reaction as she watched it.
They sat in the conference lounge on the Hood, the latter ship having returned to Sector 001 after a quick and fruitless search for the Maquis ship. Voyager had made it safely back to Utopia Planitia and was now undergoing repairs. Janeway had taken a shuttle to rendezvous with the Hood at Earth, where Voyskunsky, Dayrit, and a security detail had been tasked with delivering the Malkus Artifact to the Rector Institute. In addition, Admiral Nechayev had sent a sufficiently edited account of the mission to Gul Evek, thus keeping the Federation’s side of the bargain that allowed the Hood access to the DMZ.
Tuvok’s message was being delivered in the corner of what appeared to be a cargo bay. “While it is true that there would be short-term benefits in turning Lieutenant Commanders Hudson and Chakotay over to Starfleet, it is my opinion that more information on the Maquis can be gathered in a long-term infiltration than any attempt at questioning the lieutenant commanders—who would not, I believe, part with any useful intelligence. In addition, with the death of Lieutenant Phifer, we have lost a long-term operative. I am the logical replacement for him, especially given the level of trust that I believe I have engendered with the Maquis. I will attempt to make regular communications to Deep Space 9 to apprise Starfleet of my progress. Lieutenant Tuvok out.”
Janeway smiled and shook her head as Tuvok’s face faded from the screen. “Typical.”
“What?” DeSoto asked.
“All of it. Everything Tuvok does is proper and logical—even by Vulcan standards. Notice how he referred to Hudson and Chakotay by the rank they each had when they quit Starfleet? Not to mention calling himself ‘Lieutenant Tuvok.’ That’s his way of reassuring us—or me, at least—that he hasn’t abandoned us.”
“Either that or he’s putting up a very good front.”
Shaking her head, Janeway said, “No chance of that, Captain.”
“Please,” DeSoto said, “it’s Bob. After over ten years in the center seat, I’ve gotten sick of the word ‘captain.’”
“All right, Bob,” she said with a small smile. DeSoto noticed that the smile didn’t change her face all that much—Janeway always seemed to be alert, her eyes always probing. “And I’m Kathryn.”
“Not Kate?” he said with a smile.
The smile widened, and this time it did change her face to a mischieviously vicious expression. “Not twice.”
“Kathryn it is.”
“In any case, Bob, I’ve known Tuvok for a long time—he wouldn’t betray the uniform.”
DeSoto leaned back. “I hope you’re right. ’Cause I gotta tell you, he certainly had me fooled.”
“Then he’s doing his job right,” Janeway said. “In any case, thank you for showing me this. Once Voyager’ s back up and running, Tuvok should have gathered enough intel to make the mission a success. Then we can start solving the Maquis problem once and for all.”
Remembering the chaos on Slaybis IV, DeSoto said, “I hope so, Kathryn. I truly hope so. This whole mess has gone on too long as it is.” He smiled. “When are you due back?”
“Tomorrow.”
“In that case, can I interest you in a tour of the ship—maybe some coffee, a meal, even a friendly game of Go?”
Janeway laughed. “Nice try, Bob, but I’m not about to get hustled by a champion Go player. Besides, I haven’t played in years. And even at my best, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
Shrugging, DeSoto said, “Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Besides,” Janeway said, standing up, “since I am back on Earth, there’s someone I have to go see.”
DeSoto recognized the glint in Janeway’s eye. He saw it in the mirror every time he was able to get back to the Rigel colonies where his wife lived. Also rising from his chair, he offered his hand. “Well, have fun, Kathryn. Once my people report back, we’re going to be heading off to Starbase 96 in order to take some supplies to Brackin’s Planet. But I hope to get some progress reports from you on how Mr. Tuvok’s doing.”
Accepting DeSoto’s handshake vigorously, Janeway said, “I’ll do my best. Oh, and say hi to Commander Ju’les for me when you reach the starbase.”
“I will.”
With that, Janeway departed the lounge. DeSoto sighed. I was really hoping to get her into a game of Go. Need to find someone besides Dina to go up against…
Dina Voyskunsky returned to her quarters after she and the security team had beamed back up from Earth. The people at the Rector Institute had been thrilled to see them—except, of course, for the wizened old Vulcan woman T’Ramir, who simply nodded. She had apparently been studying the Zalkat Union all her life, and had been trying (mostly in vain) to learn more about the Malkus Artifacts since the first one was brought back to Earth by the Enterprise a century earlier.
Voyskunsky had hoped to visit her aunt Irina in Estonia before they had to ship out again, but she only had time to send a quick message. Dayrit had expressed a similar regret regarding his sister in the Philippines.
As she entered, she asked the computer for any personal messages. She was off duty, so any official communiqués could wait.
“You have two personal correspondences. One from Irina Voyskunsky and one from Lieutenant Commander Aaron Cavit.”
She blinked. Then she smiled and sat down at her desk. “Put the message from Commander Cavit on screen.”
“Dina, it’s Aaron.” The look on Cavit’s face was one Voyskunsky hadn’t seen in a very long time: contrition. “Look, I’m sorry about how I behaved. I wasn’t expecting to see you again, and I—” He hesitated. “You were right, it was my fault. I’m the one who got cold feet on Pacifica. I guess I just wasn’t ready to deal with what it might mean for both of us, for our careers, if we kept going the way we were going and good God, listen to me, will you?” He suddenly burst into a smile. “I’ve been in bad holonovels that we
ren’t this overdramatic. Let me try that again.” He looked right at the viewer. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Forgive me.” The smile came back. “How’s that?”
“Better than whining,” Voyskunsky muttered with a smile.
“Unfortunately, I’m stuck at Utopia Planitia for at least a few more weeks, and my sources tell me the Hood’s off to Starbase 96. And once we’re done here, we’ll be off to the Badlands to ferret out the Maquis. But once that’s done, I’ve got some leave time coming. The way these things usually go, it probably won’t be for another month or three, but maybe we can get together—on Pacifica or somewhere else—and see if we can make up for lost time.” He grinned, a facial expression she wouldn’t have credited him with being capable of based on his last visit. “Or, failing that, at least catch up on the last twelve years. I seem to recall your being an excellent dinner companion. What do you say? Let me know. I’ll be on Mars for quite some time.”
The screen went blank.
Voyskunsky stared at it for several seconds.
Part of her was sorely tempted not to respond. Let him twist in the wind the way I did on Pacifica. Three days I waited for him to show up…
Then she decided that she was too old for such pranks. Besides, much as she hated to admit it, she missed Aaron Cavit, and wouldn’t mind finding out what he’d been up to.
“Computer, reply to message from Lieutenant Commander Cavit. Simple text message: It’s a date.”
Aidulac piloted the Sun through the Demilitarized Zone.
For the third time, she had failed. Again, Starfleet had managed to get there before her. She had no idea how or why the Hood had been able to enter the DMZ unmolested, but there it was.
At least her biggest fear—that the people who found the Instruments would use them to re-create Malkus’s tyranny—were unfounded. Starfleet had, at least, managed to confiscate the Instruments before the damage they did was too extensive. Given the number of people Malkus killed during his reign, the paltry few who died on Alpha Proxima II, Bajor’s moon, Nramia, and Slaybis IV were minor.
Still, the most dangerous Instrument was still out there. Somewhere. And Aidulac was quite sure that the last would prove to be by far the most dangerous.
Especially if her suspicions were true.
The one thing that was different this time was that the Instrument had been moved from where it was found. She had never been able to examine the sites on Proxima or the Bajoran moon.
But she was able to backtrack to where, precisely, the Maquis had found the third Instrument—a moon surrounding a gas giant in the Grovran system.
The Sun pulled into orbit around the moon. Her scanners showed her a most uninteresting world: rocks, vegetation, more rocks. A pang hit her as she realized that it was much like the planetoid where she had lived before Malkus took her away to have her supervise the creation of the Instruments. Like that long-dead planetoid, this moon was of no interest or consequence to anyone. That was why she had chosen the planetoid then, and also no doubt why the rebels chose this moon as a place to dispose of the Instrument.
The only thing to mar the landscape was the wreckage of a shuttlecraft.
She landed the Sun near that wreckage. A fierce wind blew through Aidulac’s hair as she stepped out, but she paid it no heed. Instead, she checked the scanner she had built into her forearm, and found an area of ground that had a higher heat index than it should.
Approaching it, she found that the area had been fired upon by some kind of directed energy weapon. It was also the spot to which the trail of the Instrument led.
Her scanner found something else, as well. It was buried beneath the rock, and Aidulac needed to use her own weapon—a laser she had convinced a friend to give her years ago—to cut through the rock to get to it.
The component was small—probably too small for most eyes to see—and green and it glowed slightly. Aidulac recognized it as easily as she would have recognized a piece of her own flesh.
A segment from the weather controller.
Even her own work was subject to the ravages of entropy, it seemed. The component was a minor one, but it probably affected the Instruments’ability to interconnect.
For the first time in ninety thousand years, Aidulac smiled.
She placed the component in a pocket of her jumpsuit and walked back to the Sun. For the first time, she retrieved a part of her legacy. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the final act to start.
The third planet in the Narendra system had been part of the Zalkat Union once. It was called Horbin then, and it had been used as parkland. Few visited the world, and the parkland fell into disuse. It was an inconsequential part of the Union—which was why, when the rebels overthrew Malkus the Mighty, they chose this as one of the places to hide one of the Instruments of his rule. After all, why would anyone wish to come to this place?
After the fall of the Union, it lay unoccupied for many millennia. Until the Klingons came and put a base there.
Decades passed. The planet that one government had made into an uninteresting parkland had been transformed by another into a thriving colony. Dozens of cities had been built, many thousands of Klingons lived long and fruitful lives on the world, and it had become a prosperous part of the Klingon Empire.
Yet, in the ground beneath the smallest of Narendra III’s twelve continents, the fourth and final Instrument of Malkus the Mighty’s rule lay undisturbed. The only clue to its existence was a mild green glow and the endless yet silent scream of the mind that occupied it.
Or, rather, one of the minds. The psionic impressions of seven others had been made on the Instrument, simply waiting for the time when it was unearthed.
Then four more were added.
This surprised the screaming mind. He had not realized that the third Instrument had been found. But apparently it had.
Still, if more minds had been imprinted, then whoever possessed the third Instrument had failed just like the first two.
And so the screaming continued….
Third Interlude
“CAPTAIN’S PERSONAL LOG, U.S.S. Voyager, Captain Kathryn Janeway, Stardate 48391.7.
“While our mission to capture Captain Chakotay’s Maquis cell and retrieve Lieutenant Tuvok from his undercover operation has technically been a success, everything else has gone to hell in a handbasket. Voyager is trapped in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay’s ship has been destroyed, and several of my crew were killed when the Caretaker violently took us seventy thousand years across the galaxy to the Ocampa homeworld. We have now begun our long journey home, with members of Chakotay’s Maquis cell replacing the Voyager crew that was lost. Chakotay will replace Aaron Cavit, who was killed, as my first officer and serve as liaison between the Starfleet and Maquis crew members. I don’t know if terrorists and officers will be able to work together, but I have to give it a try if we’re to have any hope of getting home.
“The details of our enforced exile are in my official log, but I would like to take this opportunity to note those under my command who lost their lives needlessly. Cavit was due to be reunited with an old friend when this mission was complete. My conn officer, Stadi, had family on Betazed. Chief Engineer Honigsberg had been chomping at the bit for months to take Voyager out into space. The entire medical staff…
“Computer, pause.
“Dammit.
“Computer, resume.
“I will get the rest of us home, one way or another.”
Part 4: The Final Artifact
2376
This portion of the story takes place two years prior to Star Trek: Nemesis; it also takes place shortly after the Star Trek: Gateways book series, and a couple of months after the Star Trek: The Next Generation novel Diplomatic Implausibility.
Chapter Ten
J’LANG WISHED HE COULD REACH THROUGH the viewscreen and rip the Ferengi’s ears off.
“The marble still hasn’t arrived, Quark. We’re breaking ground on the memorial today, and I don’
t have my marble. Why is that?”
“Captain Butterworth’s freighter left Deep Space 9 yesterday,” Quark said. “They had a couple of delays—”
J’lang growled. “I’m a sculptor, not a navigator, but even I know that your space station is not on a direct course from the Sol system to the Narendra system.”
The Ferengi seemed unimpressed. “And if the freighter was only carrying your marble, that would be an issue, but they also supply me with various other items from Earth. There’s a good number of humans on this station, and I like to give them a taste of home. That’s how I know Captain Butterworth in the first place, and how I was able to get you your precious marble. In any case, he’ll be in orbit of Narendra III first thing tomorrow morning, guaranteed.”
“Quark, throughout this business association, every time you have ended a sentence with the word ‘guaranteed,’ it has been preceded by words describing events that have never happened as you described.”
“Well, that won’t be the case this time,” Quark said primly.
J’lang scowled. “I was given this commission by Chancellor Martok himself, Quark. Do you know what that means?” The Ferengi opened his mouth to reply, but J’lang didn’t give him the chance. “It means that this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. If the chancellor likes my war memorial, then it’s only a short step to doing something for the Hall of Warriors! Artists kill for chances like this,” he said, leaning forward, hoping that the Ferengi understood that he spoke literally, “and I’m not going to let it be destroyed because a Ferengi petaQ was too inefficient to get me my marble on time!”
Now, finally, Quark looked concerned. In fact, he seemed to be quivering. “Look, I want this deal to go through as much as you—I just had a big land deal get yanked out from under me and honestly, I could use the latinum. Trust me, you’ll have your marble.”
“I’d better. Because do you know what will happen if I don’t?”
The Brave and the Bold Book Two Page 12
