Precipice

by David Mack

  The transparent doors ahead of him were coated with black soot and dust, rendering them opaque. He wedged his fingers between the two door panels. With a pained grunt he forced them apart. They screeched and scraped in their tracks.

  He opened the doors wide enough to squeeze his broad chest through. As he pushed his way into the lab, he saw a shadowy humanoid figure at its center.

  The intruder’s build looked masculine to Jackson’s eyes. He was dressed in black and wore a balaclava-style hood over his head. His eyes were hidden by wraparound black glasses.

  Somehow the man had blasted through the protective shielding in the middle of the lab. He was standing in the experiment chamber, next to the testing platform for the Mirdonyae Artifact—and holding the skull-sized, twelve-sided crystal in one hand while giving Jackson a jaunty wave farewell with the other.

  As Jackson belatedly lifted his phaser to fire, the intruder ducked out of sight behind the bank of consoles that surrounded the experiment chamber.

  Jackson freed himself from the door and ran into the lab, toward the bank of consoles. When he reached them and looked into the area beyond, he saw that a panel had been pulled from the floor, exposing a half-height sublevel filled with machinery, wiring, circuits, and power conduits.

  He pulled his communicator from his belt and flipped it open. It responded with a dysfunctional-sounding “no signal” chirp, and he remembered with frustration that the interior of the Vault was hardened against signal traffic. Only hard-line communications could go in or out of the lab.

  Dammit, he raged, tucking his communicator back into place on his hip. He hurdled over the consoles and through the breach in the test area’s curtain of transparent aluminum. Scrambling through the gap in the floor, he dropped in a crouch to the cramped sublevel.

  The security chief spun in fast ninety-degree turns, searching the black maze of machinery and tubing for the escaping thief. All he saw was darkness.

  Take the path of least resistance, he told himself. If you were trying to make an escape, you’d want to move fast.

  He found the direction that had the fewest obstructions and started moving. He shuffled forward, ducking under low-hanging components and occasionally crawling on his belly.

  Then he caught a brief flash of dim light and motion directly ahead of him. He quickened his pace. Moments later he clambered out a small maintenance hatch into what he realized was the turbolift shaft disabled by the plasma fire. A few meters below him was a stalled lift car. On top of it, something was smoldering and giving off acrid smoke.

  Jackson climbed down the shaft’s emergency ladder. He stepped off the ladder onto the lift car and stomped on the burning debris until its fire was extinguished.

  Picking through what was left, he recognized a black balaclava hood and a synthetic-skin prosthetic face mask. Both continued to disintegrate even as he inspected them, leading him to suspect they had been treated with a chemical to catalyze their rapid molecular breakdown. Within minutes, both would likely be completely gone, vanished without a trace.

  Just like our thief, he brooded, looking up into the impenetrable darkness of the turbolift shaft.

  Nogura stood at the Hub, an octagonal situation table located on the elevated supervisors’ deck of Vanguard’s operations center, and listened to the latest reports with a mounting sense of dread.

  “Looks like he escaped up turbolift shaft four,” Jackson said over the comm. “I found the remnants of a disguise on top of a stalled lift car, but no sign of the artifact or the intruder.”

  As the operations staff routed the starbase’s interior schematics to the Hub, the tall, curly-haired XO organized them in response to Nogura’s demands for information. “Cooper,” Nogura said. “How many ways out of that shaft are there?”

  “Dozens,” Cooper said, highlighting all the access points. “And that’s not even counting the normal exit points on each deck—that’s just crawl spaces and emergency hatches.” He tapped some live vid feeds and with a fingertip dragged them across the Hub’s interactive surface. “We’re monitoring all the main exits from that shaft, and I’ve got security and engineering working to put eyes on all the other points, but it’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  Feeling his blood pressure rise ever so slightly, Nogura studied the map and ruminated aloud, “If I were looking to slip out of that turbolift shaft without being noticed, where would be the best place to do it?” He traced the station diagram with his index finger and noted all the parts of the station with which it intersected. Then he stopped near the center of the station’s massive primary hull assembly. “Cooper, have security lock down the main hangar deck. Search everyone. Verify their identification. Check every bag and every short-term locker.”

  Nogura turned away from the Hub and watched the vid feed from the Vault, whose internal sensors had come back online just in time to show off this spectacular breach of its security.

  He frowned and declared for everyone in the ops center to hear, “Ground all docked starships. Shut down all transporter systems. No one gets on or off this station until further notice.” He paused then added with grim conviction, “Whoever did this can hide, but they can’t run.”

  31

  August 1, 2267

  Sixty-four minutes after imposing the admiral’s lockdown on the station, Lieutenant Jackson ushered a man named Joshua Kane into an interrogation room near the security center.

  “Have a seat,” Jackson told the lean, bearded man.

  Kane’s face betrayed no hint of concern as he pulled back the lone chair from the gray metal table and sat down. His stare was all but blank as he watched Jackson pace on the other side of the table. He said nothing and remained still.

  The door signal buzzed. Jackson said, “Come in.”

  The door opened. A freshly minted Tellarite ensign from the security division stepped inside the room, handed a data slate to Jackson, and left without speaking a word.

  Jackson resumed pacing as he read Kane’s dossier from the Starfleet JAG office. “You’re a man of many incredible coincidences, aren’t you, Mister Kane?” The suspect remained silent. “Do you know what I have here?”

  With mock cluelessness, Kane replied, “A data slate?”

  “That’s right, genius. Know what’s written on it?” He waited until Kane shrugged, then continued. “Your life story.”

  “All of it? Skip to the part where I lose my virginity.” He grinned. “Talk about incredible coincidences.”

  “I’m more interested in your amazing knack for being in the vicinity of major crimes,” Jackson said. “According to your file, you just happened to be on eight far-flung planets at the exact time of a spectacular unsolved heist on each world. And if we count your presence here today, that would make nine.”

  Nakedly feigning surprise, Kane asked, “Has there been a burglary on the station, Lieutenant?” He deflected Jackson’s most withering glare with a smug half smile.

  “You were on Zeta Aquilae in 2254 when its national armory was broken into. The contents of a warehouse filled with military-grade small arms and starship munitions were stolen. Some of those weapons were later found in the possession of Orion privateers harassing shipping in Sector Four.”

  Kane lifted one bushy eyebrow. “Sounds like the Orions ought to be your prime suspects on that one.”

  Still reading from the data slate, Jackson said, “You were in the capital city of Denobula when its national reserve bank was broken into and relieved of nearly three hundred million credits’ worth of priceless ancient gemstones. Several pieces from that collection were later used by a Nalori arms dealer to solicit a shipment of antipersonnel mines from the Klingons.”

  Rolling his eyes as if to suggest that the implications of Jackson’s statement should be obvious, Kane said, “Well, the Klingons and the Nalori are both fierce rivals of the Federation.”

  “Let me jog your memory again,” Jackson said. “April of 2260. The Midas Casino on Risa. You were stay
ing there as a guest when its art gallery was burgled. Dozens of priceless works, including a pair of ancient Vulcan sculptures, were taken in a flawless overnight heist. You checked out the next day.”

  “Naturally,” said Kane. “You can’t expect me to stay in a hotel with such poor security. I didn’t feel safe.”

  For a fleeting moment Jackson wished he could beat the smile off Kane’s face. Instead, he inhaled deeply and moved on. “March 2261. You just happened to be in the city of Kefvenek on Beta Rigel at the precise time its—” The door signal buzzed, and Jackson snapped, “What is it?” He looked up as the door opened.

  Another civilian walked in—an Orion woman unlike any Jackson had ever seen before. Though she had the dark green skin common to her people, her black hair was cut short. She wore wire-frame glasses and a dark business suit over a crisp white shirt. Her shoes were low-heeled, and instead of the erotically charged atmosphere Jackson had come to expect from Orion women, this one was cold and aloof. She carried a metallic briefcase.

  “Lieutenant Jackson,” the Orion said as Captain Desai followed her inside the interview room, “My name is Denon Veril. I’m Mister Kane’s attorney.” She set her briefcase on the table. “I need to confer in private with my client, as per his rights under the First Guarantee of the Federation Charter.”

  Jackson looked to Desai, who nodded in confirmation and motioned for him to follow her out of the interrogation room. Desai left the room first, and Jackson was close behind her.

  As the door hushed closed behind him, he asked in a harsh whisper, “His lawyer? What the hell’s going on?”

  “Apparently, she ‘just happened’ to be on the station to negotiate a contract with a mining consortium.”

  “Sure she did,” Jackson said, folding his arms.

  “Her story checked out,” Desai said.

  Jackson shook his head. “Most good alibis do.”

  The JAG officer continued, “Veril says Kane’s lunch companion called her on his behalf after we arrested him. She contacted me and immediately filed a motion demanding we turn over any and all security footage of Café Romano in Stars Landing recorded during the time of the alleged heist.”

  A grim chortle shook Jackson’s chest. “This has setup written all over it.”

  “I agree, but she insists the footage proves her client is innocent. I had Seklir copy the requested files to a data card for Veril. My guess is she’s reviewing it with Kane right now.”

  The door to the interrogation room slid open. Veril poked her head out. “We’re ready to speak with you now,” she said.

  “After you,” Jackson said to Desai.

  He let Desai enter the room first then followed her in. They took up a position opposite Veril, who stood behind the still-seated Kane.

  “After reviewing your charges against my client and the alleged timeline of events that constitute the crime, and hearing my client’s alibi, I am prepared to make the following statement on his behalf.

  “Between the hours of twelve ten and twelve thirty-four, when your timeline indicates a series of disturbances and security breaches occurred on Cargo Decks A and B of this facility, my client was with his associate Leskon of Delta Leonis, having lunch in Café Romano, in Stars Landing. Mister Kane and Mister Leskon were both in full public view during a period extending from fifteen minutes before the alleged crime began and ten minutes after it is reported to have ended.

  “I can produce at least four witnesses who saw and heard my client and Mister Leskon in the café during that time period, including the establishment’s proprietor and chef, Matt Romano.

  “Furthermore, I offer as exculpatory evidence the following vid recorded by your own security system during the times in question.” Veril opened her briefcase, removed the data card, and walked it over to a wall panel with a display screen.

  She inserted the card into a slot and started the playback. An image flickered onto the screen. It clearly showed Kane and another man of an alien humanoid species Jackson didn’t recognize. The two sat at a table outside the entrance of the café, a popular dining spot in the mostly civilian residential sector, inside the terrestrial enclosure that occupied the upper half of the station’s hollow saucer.

  “Note the time stamp,” Veril said. “This is fifteen minutes before the first reported disturbance. Both men are in plain sight.” She fast-forwarded the playback. “Note that during the entire time of the incident on the cargo decks, neither man leaves the table.” She released the fast-forward and the playback continued at normal speed. “The time stamp is now twelve minutes after the cargo decks were declared secure. Both men are still at the table.”

  Veril ceased the playback, ejected the data card, and plucked it from the wall. She turned to face Desai and Jackson. “Unless you have witnesses or physical evidence linking my client to the crime, I insist you release him immediately. If you wish to charge him despite the absence of evidence against him, I am prepared to post bail and file an appeal to the Starfleet Judge Advocate General on Earth.”

  Jackson was about to challenge the Orion woman to do her worst when Desai said simply, “Release him.”

  The security chief turned and said, “What?”

  Desai looked at the Orion. “Ms. Veril, you and your client are free to leave. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Veril nodded, and Kane flashed his irksome smile. Then he got up and followed his attorney out the door. As the door closed, Jackson pounded the side of his fist on the table. “I can’t believe we’re just letting him go!”

  “We have no case,” Desai said. “No evidence, no witnesses, nothing. And you saw that recording. His alibi is airtight.”

  “And what if he has the artifact?”

  Desai crossed her arms. “I’ll order the customs group to tear apart his ship and search it bow to stern. But if it comes up clean, we’ll have to let him leave.”

  Jackson was sick with rage as he picked up the data slate from the table. “Eight perfect crimes, eight perfect alibis.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And now we’re number nine.”

  Desai sat at the briefing room table with Cooper, ch’Nayla, and Jackson, and avoided Admiral Nogura’s steely gaze as he leaned on his fists and harangued them.

  “Lieutenant Jackson,” Nogura said in a voice that made Desai think of broken glass, “the Vault is supposed to be the most secure facility on the station, is it not?”

  Sounding humbled, Jackson replied, “Yes, sir.”

  “And yet an intruder walked in, defeated all our security protocols, stole the most dangerous alien artifact we’ve ever seen, and then vanished inside our own station?”

  “I wouldn’t say he vanished, sir,” Jackson said. “He escaped pursuit.”

  Nogura nodded. “How?”

  Commander Cooper spoke up. “Sir? Lieutenant Jackson and I have been analyzing the heist, and we’ve developed a hypothesis for how the suspect Joshua Kane could’ve pulled it off. We think he might have used a body double or a holographic stand-in to create his alibi in the café. Then, he could have shipped himself from the café’s back room to the cargo deck inside a standard supply crate using the station’s automated matériel-transfer network. Once there—”

  “Commander,” Nogura interrupted, “before you waste twenty minutes of our time on this, do you have any proof?”

  Jackson and Cooper volleyed abashed glances. The XO replied, “No, sir.”

  “Then put it in your report. I’ll read it the next time I can’t sleep.” The admiral turned to glare at the Starfleet Intelligence liaison. “Commander ch’Nayla. Any progress locating the artifact?”

  “No, sir,” the Andorian said. “All outgoing vessels have been thoroughly inspected, and we are continuing to carry out hard-target searches of all compartments on the station.”

  “Have we dredged the waste processors?”

  “Yes, Admiral,” ch’Nayla said. “We found no sign of the artifact or any evidence linked to the crime. However …�
� He nodded to the executive officer. “I have reviewed Commander Cooper and Lieutenant Jackson’s report speculating on the crime’s particulars, and I was forced to draw one inescapable conclusion. Whoever planned this burglary had detailed knowledge of this station and its various systems, especially its most obscure vulnerabilities.”

  Nogura said, “You’re suggesting it might have been an inside job.”

  Ch’Nayla replied, “I think it’s very likely, sir.”

  “Draw up a list of all personnel who would have had the requisite knowledge to facilitate the crime, and send it to Lieutenant Jackson and Captain Desai.” To Jackson he added, “Once you have the list, investigate all communications by those individuals since the acquisition of the Mirdonyae Artifact. I want to know where they’ve been and who they’ve talked to.” He looked at Desai. “You’ll have to investigate Jackson, since I’m sure his name will be on ch’Nayla’s list. … No offense, Lieutenant.”

  Jackson replied, “None taken, sir.”

  Though she had been summoned to brief Nogura on the state of her failed criminal prosecution of Joshua Kane, Desai now realized she had another, more pressing duty: to prevent an unnecessary witch hunt against her fellow officers. Remembering what T’Prynn had told her the previous night, she now regretted omitting some of the details of the conversation from her report to security about the call. “Admiral,” she said, “I don’t think we need to investigate the station’s senior officer corps. I might know of a more likely source for the intruder’s information about the station.”

  She felt as if she had shrank slightly in her seat as the full weight of the admiral’s stare fell upon her. “Explain,” he said.

  “Early this morning, I filed a report with security about an unauthorized communication I’d received last night from the fugitive T’Prynn. I notified security of her warning about the Klingons having hired a known thief. However, I failed to mention what I had dismissed as an outrageous claim.”