by Dayton Ward
“We know from the reports of Raal’s interrogation that he left evidence and other information here, somewhere,” Paquette said. According to those same reports, the Bajoran had resisted even the most unforgiving interrogation techniques before escaping his restraints and attempting to overpower his guards. Raal had died in that attempt, taking to the grave whatever secrets he may have harbored.
“Whatever it is,” Paquette continued, “he obviously didn’t leave it in his own house or the Cardie’s. It has to be someplace they both know. A lab or office, or one of the dig sites, but a place Raal knew Daret would look.”
Contera scowled. “We’ve been over all of this several times.”
“No,” Paquette snapped, “we haven’t. At least, we haven’t been over it enough times to figure out what it is we’re missing. We’ve been approaching this whole thing all wrong, assuming these people are just lab rats who don’t have any common sense or ability to be sneaky or scheming. I don’t think it’s an insult to say that no Bajoran or Cardassian who lived through the Occupation didn’t figure out how to do something without getting caught. Hell, it was a survival tactic for any Bajoran with half a brain, and it’s standard operating procedure for any Cardie, and anybody who’s done any kind of sneaking around knows that the simpler your plan, the easier it is to get past someone looking for evidence of you being up to something.”
“Whatever we’re looking for, it’s hiding in plain sight.” Barrows had believed that to be true from the beginning, but was it possible that Raal Mosara and Ilona Daret still had managed to get something over on him and his team?
He turned to Fredil. “Go back over everything we recorded from both their homes and labs. Every picture, every data file, every journal entry.” To Paquette and Contera, he said, “We’ll start with their work away from the settlement. Contact the others, and have them do another pass through the whole camp.” The other Active Six members had spent the evening hours making a covert reconnaissance of the labor camp as well as the support settlement and had reported finding nothing. Barrows did not expect that to change with another sweep. “We might get lucky, but something tells me whatever they’re after isn’t here.”
“One of the other camps?” Contera asked. “Olanda or Pencala?”
“There also are a few other, smaller outposts scattered across the planet,” Fredil said. “I should be able to get into the central data banks where the scientists and other workers here have been entering their information and see if Daret or Raal have been to any of those locations.”
Barrows nodded, liking her idea. “Do it. Get us a preliminary list of targets. Weed out any place they haven’t visited within the last six months. We’ll start with whatever that leaves us, and go from there.”
“What do you think it is they found?” Paquette asked. “What is it that’s got so many people upset enough to send us all the way out here to this rock?”
“I don’t have the first damned clue.” As was standard procedure for a mission of this type, Barrows and his team had been given no specifics regarding the information Ilona Daret was supposed to be safeguarding. Active Six only had been told that the Cardassian and whatever materials he held in his possession were of vital importance to his employer, as well as to someone higher up in the food chain. Though Barrows had lobbied for more insight into the specifics—if only to aid him in locating the prize he had been sent to obtain—the person giving him his orders had refrained from sharing that information, instructing Active Six to apprehend the Cardassian and prepare him for transfer to a location to be named later.
That mission now had expanded to include at least four more targets, and his lack of knowledge regarding specific details made Barrows’s task that much harder. He had to wonder what the people directing his team’s actions were going to say or do if and when Active Six succeeded in uncovering whatever secrets Daret was protecting. Were the answers to such riddles worth killing people to keep them from being answered? What about those sent to retrieve whatever information might shed light on such dark matters? Were such parties also expendable?
Barrows was certain such questions soon would be answered.
Twenty-five
U.S.S. Enterprise
Picard sat in his command chair, arms folded across his chest while ignoring the status indicator on the seat’s armrest display informing him that his ship’s engines were threatening to give out. Instead, his gaze remained focused on the main viewscreen and the image of the small ship displayed upon it, framed as it was against the curtain of distant stars and the unyielding black of open space. Though the image appeared not to have changed since the beginning of the pursuit, reports and other information given to him by his officers told him a different story.
Almost there.
“Continuing to gain on them, sir,” reported T’Ryssa Chen from her post at the flight controller position. Was it Picard’s imagination, or did he detect a slight hint of fatigue in the lieutenant’s voice? Like most of the bridge crew, she had refused relief from her station. Only Lieutenant Šmrhová had asserted rank, replacing Abigail Balidemaj at the tactical console, but even the ensign had remained on duty, moving to the secondary tactical station. Like Šmrhová, Worf also had reported to the bridge within moments of the away team’s return to the Enterprise, delaying only long enough to don a regular-duty uniform before resuming her post. Given the current circumstances, he knew that all of the officers around him would remain on station until such time as he ordered them from the bridge or they caught their quarry: whichever came first.
“They’re maintaining warp seven,” said Šmrhová, “but I’m starting to pick up fluctuations in their warp engines, and I’m detecting power being rerouted from other systems.”
Though the Enterprise normally was capable of speeds greater than its current velocity, Picard had weighed the decision of attempting to overtake the fleeing vessel against causing further and perhaps even irreparable harm to his own ship’s engines.
“Hail them again,” he ordered. “Advise them that we are aware of their engine status.” He knew that the other vessel’s crew likely was scanning the Enterprise, as well, and that their crew knew of the starship’s own issues. “How much longer until we’re in weapons range?”
Šmrhová replied, “At this distance, less than one minute, sir. They are continuing to ignore our hails.”
“Place phasers and quantum torpedoes on standby,” Picard said. “Target their propulsion system. I want them disabled only.”
“Aye, sir.”
The signal for the intraship communications system sounded, followed by the voice of Geordi La Forge. “Engineering to bridge. Captain, we’re starting to redline down here. If we don’t drop out of warp soon, we’re going to have big problems.”
“Maintain speed, Mister La Forge,” Picard replied, his eyes still locked on the viewscreen. “We’ve almost got them.” The longer the chase endured, the more irritated he was becoming. The other crew by now had to at least be thinking escape was impossible, or were they gambling that the Enterprise’s own engine difficulties and damage would force it to break off the pursuit before their own ship’s engines overheated, or worse?
“We’re doing everything we can, sir,” La Forge said, “but I can only reroute so much. We’ve got real damage that needs repairing, and the longer we push it, the worse it’s going to be.”
“Do whatever you have to, Commander, but do not reduce velocity until so ordered. Picard out.” In his peripheral vision, he sensed Worf studying him, and he glanced in his direction. “Something on your mind, Number One?”
The Klingon replied, “Only that as your first officer, I am obligated to point out that Commander La Forge’s concerns are valid, sir. We risk considerable damage to the Enterprise if we continue this action.”
“Are you suggesting we break off and let them escape?”
Without hesitation, Worf said, “No, sir. They attempted to destroy a Federation starship, and tha
t cannot go unanswered.” He paused, and Picard heard him draw a deep breath. “There also are other questions for which I wish to have answers, as well.”
At the conn station, Chen called out, “Sir, we’re now in weapons range.”
“Phasers and torpedoes ready, sir,” Šmrhová added. “I’ve got their engines targeted.”
“Fire,” Picard ordered, rising from his chair as the first phaser beam leapt across space, accompanied by a pair of quantum torpedoes, all of which impacted against the fleeing scout vessel’s shields. Šmrhová followed that strike with a second barrage, and within seconds the assault on the other ship’s shields was repeated. It was not until the third salvo that Picard caught sight of an impact against the other craft’s port warp nacelle. There was a momentary flash of energy as internal components suffered whatever damage the torpedo had inflicted.
“Their shields are down, and they’re dropping out of warp,” Chen said, her fingers moving across her console. “Adjusting our course and speed to compensate.”
“Maintain weapons ready status,” Picard said, wondering if the wounded ship might now turn and try to make a fight of it. “Close to transporter range. Number One, you and Lieutenant Šmrhová take a security team to transporter room one and prepare to escort our new guests to the brig.”
Worf rose from his chair and nodded to Šmrhová. “Aye, sir.”
As his first officer and chief security disappeared into the aft turbolift, Picard stood at the center of the bridge, his hands clasped behind his back, eyeing the damaged vessel that—allegedly, he was forced to admit—had caused them so much trouble.
Maybe now we can get some answers.
* * *
Waiting until the security guard had returned to his station, Picard turned and gave his full attention to the two men standing at the center of their holding cell. Neither man had said anything since their arrival, and the ensign on duty from Lieutenant Šmrhová’s security detail had informed him that they in fact had remained silent since materializing on the platform in the transporter room. Despite their disheveled wardrobe, beard stubble, and unkempt hair—at least in the case of one man, as his partner was bald and possessing of a rather nasty scar running down the left side of his face—Picard’s practiced eye noted the way each man carried himself: their stances, or the way their arms were allowed to hang loosely at the shoulders. Only their eyes moved, studying every detail of their cell and the room beyond the energy barrier containing them.
Soldiers, of one sort or another, Picard decided. At least, at one time. They were human, according to the preliminary scans taken upon their arrival, but there was no way to know which military or government they represented. An attempt at identification already had been made, but no match had been returned from Šmrhová’s database search.
“My name is Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” he said after a moment. “You’re aboard the Federation Starship Enterprise, but of course you know all that already.”
Neither man said anything.
“Your vessel was scanned leaving the Drazen Nebula immediately following our destruction of the Andorian freighter. Our sensor logs reveal that you transmitted an encrypted burst transmission to that ship, just prior to the triggering of the computer command that enabled its warp core failure. That protocol also called for attempting to lock onto my ship with a tractor beam, ostensibly for the purpose of holding us close enough to be caught up in its warp core breach.” The revelation had come from Lieutenant Dina Elfiki, after her review of all the sensor logs recorded from the moment the Enterprise had rendezvoused with the Cereshta. Delivered as it was via a very low, oft-ignored frequency, the transmission had escaped the science officer’s notice at the time. Doubtless the frequency had been selected just for that purpose.
Though both men remained silent, the bald man’s eyes narrowed as he heard Picard’s words.
“Based on this admittedly preliminary evidence,” he continued, “I’m forced to conclude that you attempted to destroy a Federation starship and its crew. That will be the charge with which I’ll remand you to Starfleet, along with fifteen hundred counts of attempted murder.” He paused, allowing just the trace of a smile to tease at the corners of his mouth. “I doubt all that will stick, of course, but I’m fairly certain there will be sufficient evidence to ensure you’re imprisoned for the rest of your lives.”
“You’ve got nothing on us, Captain,” said the bald man.
His companion turned to glare at him. “Shut up.”
“Who are you working for?” Picard asked. “We’ve already tried to identify you through official channels, and so far we’ve found no record for either of you. Either you’re not Federation citizens or anyone who’s ever done any business with any Federation entity, or else your identities have been concealed or classified in some manner.” For the first time, he moved, taking one step closer to the force-field barrier separating him from the prisoners. “However, my people are continuing their efforts. They will find out who you are, eventually.” In truth, he had hesitated to order any overt attempts at identifying these two strangers, fearing that such efforts would attract attention from parties he wished for the moment to avoid.
The bald man grunted. “You won’t find anything, Captain.”
“Be quiet!” snapped his partner.
Ignoring the second man, Picard stepped toward the one who had spoken first. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll do what I can to have any charges against you dropped.”
“You keep your mouth shut,” growled the other man.
Before Picard could further press the matter, the doors to the brig section parted, allowing Worf and La Forge to enter the room.
“Captain,” said his first officer, offering a nod of greeting. Picard watched his gaze shift to the two men behind the force field.
“Status of your repairs, Mister La Forge?”
The chief engineer replied, “We’re getting there, sir. Most of the damage to the warp drive was circuit burnouts, but we also had some buckling in the antimatter containment pods. We came pretty close to an automatic jettisoning of the warp core, and you know how much I enjoy those.”
“Indeed,” Picard said, recalling the last time the Enterprise had been forced to eject its warp core in order to contain a subspace tear resulting from the detonation of an isolytic burst weapon deployed by a Son’a vessel in the unstable region of space known as the “Briar Patch.” At the time, ejecting and exploding the core to seal the tear had been the only course of action available to La Forge and Will Riker, still serving at that time as the Enterprise’s first officer. Though the drastic action had worked, it left the ship requiring a tow to the nearest starbase so that a new warp core could be installed.
And we certainly can’t risk needing such repairs right now.
“How much time until we’re back to one hundred percent?” Picard asked.
La Forge said, “About three hours, sir. We can get under way now, but I’d recommend going easy on the warp drive until I finish my final checks.”
“Understood.” Noting that Worf was continuing to stare at the prisoners, and seeing that his scrutiny was beginning to have an effect on the two incarcerated men, Picard said, “What have you learned, Number One?”
Bringing himself to his full height, Worf looked away from the prisoners as he replied, “Our inspection team is continuing their investigation of the vessel. It is a civilian craft, though it possesses several upgrades and components not typically available to private ships.”
“Starfleet issue?”
“Yes,” La Forge replied. “Some of the propulsion and weapons upgrades in particular are Starfleet-grade and most definitely not available on the open market. Still, stuff like it has been known to turn up on black markets and non-aligned planets from time to time.”
“What about their flight log?” Picard asked.
La Forge sighed. “Wiped clean, but I’ve got Elfiki and Chen going through the onboard computer, seeing if t
hey can reconstruct the deleted portions of the data banks.” He glanced from Picard to the prisoners as he was about to say something else, but instead said nothing, his mouth dropping open and his eyes widening in obvious surprise.
“Oh my god.”
Frowning at the chief engineer’s sudden emotional outburst, Picard asked, “Geordi? What is it? Do you know these men?”
“No, sir,” La Forge replied, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “I . . .” He stopped himself, looking first to Picard, then to Worf, then returning his gaze to the prisoners. “Captain, I need to talk to you in private.”
The three of them stepped into the hallway outside the brig, and La Forge waited until the doors had slid closed before saying, “I think those men are mercenaries or some kind of special-operations team.”
“I suspected much the same thing,” Worf said.
Picard asked, “As did I, but you obviously have something more to go on than gut instinct, Commander?”
“Yes, sir. It’s something Captain Gomez told me back on Acheron. The da Vinci had received some unusual orders to take on passengers from a colony transport ship and take them to rendezvous with another transport. One of the things she mentioned was that even though the passengers were supposed to be engineers, she was sure they were some kind of soldiers or mercenaries.” He paused, gesturing toward the doors leading back to the brig. “Captain, she said one of them had a scar running down the left side of his face.”
