by David Mack
They filed into a turbolift. Kitsom and Cole each tapped Sakonna’s back to confirm they were inside. She instructed the computer without missing a beat, “Observation lab.”
A low hum filled the circular lift pod. It hurtled with hardly any sensation of acceleration or deceleration, and in a matter of seconds it arrived at its destination. The doors parted, and Sakonna stepped into a security checkpoint area. The walls, floors, and ceiling all were solid plates of metal, fused at their corners. Opposite the turbolift was a locked blast door. The antechamber had no visible sensors or countermeasures, but Cole knew better than to think it was just an empty space. It was a kill box. One that Cole and his team had no choice but to enter. Whether any of them ever left it alive was now up to Sakonna.
Kitsom pressed the manual control to hold the lift pod’s doors open while the Vulcan crossed the room, emulating every nuance of Saavik’s gait. No doubt, hidden biometric scanners were verifying her retinal patterns, body mass distribution, and genetic profile. All that remained to be verified were Saavik’s voiceprint and her command authorization code. The former, Sakonna had. The latter, unfortunately, had defied discovery by her and Cole.
Consequently, they had decided that a workaround was in order.
Sakonna flexed her hand back from her wrist, triggering the drop of a small spherical device that had been hidden up her sleeve. She caught it and closed her hand around it. Her thumb pressed a pad on its surface. Then she dropped the sphere ahead of her.
It rolled across the floor and struck the far door.
Cole shut his eyes a fraction of a second before the flash. The light faded, leaving perfect darkness. “Sakonna, light the flare.”
A rustling of fabric told him Sakonna was retrieving the emergency flare she had hidden inside her disguise. Next came a sharp crack as she activated it with a quick bend that broke its interior seals and mixed its binary chemicals into a fluorescent compound.
Pale chartreuse light filled the anteroom and spilled onto Kitsom and Cole. Their stealth suits had stopped working, leaving them visible. Kitsom asked Cole, “Did it work?”
“Let’s go find out.”
He and Kitsom edged out of the lift pod into the checkpoint. No alarms sounded. No antipersonnel systems activated. For once, a piece of technology from the organization’s research-and-development group had functioned exactly as had been promised. The sphere was based upon the Breen’s energy-dampening technology. Stripped of the need to penetrate the high-energy barrier of a starship’s shields, the device could cripple most unshielded systems that relied on artificial power. The drawback, of course, was that it had rendered their stealth suits useless, along with their phasers.
Fortunately, chemical reactions were unaffected by the Breen energy dampener weapon. A binary explosive compound, concealed as flat strips inside Sakonna’s disguise, was going to open the last set of doors barring Cole from the prize for which the organization had sent him across the dimensional barrier. He nodded at the Vulcan. “Set it up.”
Sakonna extricated the strips of explosive from her costume. Kitsom helped her attach them to the door, and then he armed a primitive molecular fuse. He attached it to the demolition strips. He motioned Cole and Sakonna back toward the lift pod. “Fire in the hole!”
The trio scrambled back inside the pod and pushed themselves to the sides, away from the stuck-open doorway. Several seconds later an ear-splitting blast shook the room. Smoke and dust billowed into the lift pod.
Cole swatted it away as he peeked out. The doors had buckled into the next chamber, folded aside like the petals of a flower in bloom. “It’s open. Let’s move.”
They crossed the anteroom and entered the small octagonal chamber beyond the demolished doors. There were no details, only shadows, until Sakonna edged forward and pushed past Cole with the flare held in front of her.
The room was empty.
Kitsom stumbled past Cole and pivoted full circle in the middle of the room. “What the hell? Where is it?”
Cole looked at Sakonna. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
Her voice had reverted to normal, now that the energy dampener had disabled her voiceprint synthesizer. “I’m sure this is the chamber we saw on the floor plans.”
Before Cole could speculate further as to what had gone awry, he heard the voice of the real Saavik from overhead. “This is the right chamber, Mister Cole. It’s exactly the one we’d intended you to find. I’m quite pleased you did not disappoint us.”
Kitsom, Sakonna, and Cole looked up as a viridescent glow brightened above them. The octagonal chamber had a balcony level, like an operating theater. The emerald hue of chemical lights, coupled with their odd upward angle, turned sinister all the faces that looked down upon them. More than a dozen sharpshooters of various species were crouched along the perimeter, aiming rifles at Cole and his partners. He knew at a glance they were projectile weapons that would be unaffected by the energy dampener.
Gathered above the blasted-in doors was a group that consisted of Saavik, Sarina Douglas, Julian Bashir, and Webb—who had been restrained with his hands behind his back and was escorted by a fearsome-looking pair of masculine Andorian guards. Saavik said to her doppelgänger, “You can remove your disguise now, Miss Sakonna.”
Sakonna tore the prosthetic mask from her head and threw it aside.
Flushed with anger and embarrassment, Cole cursed himself in silence. He had blundered into a trap. “This isn’t the real observation lab, is it?”
“It’s not even the real Omega Prime,” Saavik said.
The jig was up, and Cole was in no mood for games. “I guess you’ll want to know how we know about your quantum window technology.”
Saavik remained cool and detached. “We already know. Your organization—which I believe some refer to as Section Thirty-one—intercepted one of our field agents who was on a reconnaissance mission to your universe. You tortured him until he revealed our existence and told you about our ability to spy on other universes.”
“Actually, he told us you used it to steal technology from other universes. Like your precious jaunt drives, for instance. We just thought it was time you shared the wealth.”
“Then you thought wrong.” She addressed her troops: “Arrest them.”
A dozen more guards entered the room from behind Cole and his team. In less than a minute, he and Kitsom were stripped of their stealth suits. Sakonna’s costume was torn away, and all three of them were left in their undergarments and bare feet. The Memory Omega personnel finished their work by using high-tech tools to extract the transceivers from behind Cole’s ears, and they confiscated every last bit of technology from Kitsom and Sakonna.
The security officer in charge looked up at Saavik. “They’re ready.”
“Take them away.”
Another officer seized Cole by his arm, but he resisted being hauled off long enough to aim a murderous stare at Sarina Douglas. “You’re traitors, you and your boyfriend. Don’t think you’ll get away with this. I promise, the organization will find out what you did here.”
She returned his hatred with equal venom. “Probably. But not from you.”
He glared at Bashir. “You picked the wrong side, Doctor. You’re just too blind to see it.”
The physician regarded Cole with cold contempt. “Goodbye, Cole.”
Several pairs of strong hands overpowered Cole and his colleagues and hauled them away. He had no idea what fate Memory Omega had prepared for them, but if any of the reports he had read about the secret army created by the late Emperor Spock had been true, he was certain no one from his own universe would see him, Sakonna, Webb, or Kitsom ever again.
Twenty-nine
“Something’s happening.” Those two words over the comm from Crin made Thot Trom sprint from his quarters to the command deck of the Tajny. Trapped in the turbolift, he felt like a bomb on the verge of detonation. When the doors opened, he exploded through them, firing off an order to his fi
rst officer as he moved toward the center seat. “Crin, report!”
“The standoff is over.” He tapped his console and magnified the image on the forward viewscreen. Jem’Hadar vessels were breaking formation, coming about, and navigating into the open blue maw of the Bajoran wormhole. “The Dominion fleet is heading back to the Gamma Quadrant, and the Commonwealth ships are jumping away.”
It seemed too good to be true. Trom met the news with suspicion. “Jumping to where?”
“Unknown. But at least they’re gone. Apart from the two in orbit, there are five jaunt ships left, and they’re all powering up their wormhole drives.”
Trom saw a moment of opportunity taking shape. “Karn, how long until the Dominion reinforcements are clear of the wormhole?”
The tactical officer checked his console. “At their current rate of progress, nine minutes. That includes the original Dominion fleet as well. They’re all powering up for departure.”
“Nine minutes. Very well. That’s when we’ll strike.” Trom opened a channel to the engineering deck. “Command to engineering. Solt, have you made any headway on your calculations for breaching the dimensional barrier with one of the jaunt drives?”
“Some. I’m having trouble locking down a few of the variables.”
“What about the dimensional shifters? Are they ready?”
“Working prototypes are operational on platforms one through four,” Solt said. “We’ll have the rest ready in about twenty minutes.”
“You’ve got eight. Put everyone you can on getting those folded-space transporters operational, because we need to attack the moment our path to the wormhole is open. Command out.” He closed the intraship channel and resumed his conversation with Crin. “Pull everything out of the armory. Weapons, demolitions, shroud suits, all of it. I want all our people armed and ready to join the assault on the jaunt ship, including us and the rest of the command crew.”
Crin hesitated before he replied. “All of us, sir? Who’ll be left to crew the Tajny?”
“We’re committing all our resources, Crin. This ship has served us well, but we’ll need to sacrifice it if we’re to have a chance at victory.” He directed the first officer’s attention toward the viewscreen. “All the intel we acquired was from the ShiKahr, so that’s the ship we’re going to take. But I can’t let the Enterprise interfere the way it did last time. Once we’ve beamed aboard the ShiKahr, the Tajny’s role will be to cripple the Enterprise at all costs.”
“What about the Dominion command ship?”
Trom smiled behind his helmet. “It’s not their fight. They won’t interfere.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’m sure enough. Start distributing the armory surplus. And tell the engineers to take all the tools they can carry. We might need them once we’re on the ShiKahr.”
Crin nodded. Then he asked Trom, “What of the jaunt ship’s crew? It took several minutes to subdue them last time—even before the Enterprise’s crew interfered.”
“No prisoners.” It was a ruthless policy, but Trom knew he had no choice. “Before we go aboard the ShiKahr, make sure that our people know we’ll be shooting to kill.”
Thirty
Each time Bashir thought he had known what was happening in this off-kilter twin reality of the one he knew, something had shattered his expectations. In the span of a single day he had been captured, liberated, accused, granted asylum, surrendered, put on trial, acquitted, and then invited to bear witness to the entrapment of those who had brought him here. Now, as a pair of human security officers escorted him and Sarina to a guest suite on the Enterprise, he almost dreaded to learn what awaited him on the other side of the door.
The portal slid open, and he and Sarina stepped through the doorway. Seated on a sofa in the suite’s main room was Saavik, who stood to greet her two guests. “Welcome.” With a slow sweep of her arm, she motioned them toward the sofa opposite hers. “Please. Sit down.”
“Thank you.” Bashir and Sarina crossed the room and settled onto the sofa.
As they relaxed, Saavik sat down across from them. “Can I offer you anything?”
Sarina made no effort to conceal her defensiveness. “How about the truth?”
“About what?” The Vulcan almost let slip a faint smirk. “The truth is like the multiverse. It contains endless possibilities, many of which depend entirely upon one’s point of view.”
“Let’s start with why Julian and I are still here, and the rest of our team isn’t.” It was a very direct inquiry—perhaps more confrontational than what Bashir would have chosen, but he suspected Sarina’s methods might prove better suited than his to getting results in this instance.
Saavik steepled her fingers. She kept her eyes locked on Sarina’s, as if the two women were engaged in a silent battle of wills. “I think we all know that you and Doctor Bashir were part of their team in name only. They never told you their true objective, did they?”
This time, Bashir answered for both of them. “Not as such, no.”
“Why do you think that was?”
He shrugged. “Their organization has a habit of compartmentalizing information.”
“Yes, it does.” Saavik shifted the tilt of her head from one side to the other as she studied him. “I find it curious that you would call it their organization. Not the organization. Not ours. But theirs.” Her eyes narrowed. “You still see yourself as separate from Section Thirty-one.”
She had phrased it as a declaration, but her inflection had made it sound like a question. Bashir nodded. “I always have.” As Sarina held his hand, he added, “We both do.”
“Then it should come as no surprise that they’ve seen you both the same way.”
Bashir felt his body recoil from Saavik’s revelation. “Excuse me?”
“They know all about you. That you’re both really working for Starfleet Intelligence, trying to infiltrate them as a prelude to sabotaging them from within.”
There was no point dissembling. It was obvious that Saavik knew too much to be deceived by any lie he might try to spin. Bashir exhaled the breath he belatedly realized he had been holding. “How did you know?”
“Quantum windows—the same technology Cole and his friends came here to steal.” She crossed her legs. “We began using it to collect intel from your universe after three of our agents vanished there on recon missions. In time, we learned that the group you call Section Thirty-one was responsible—and that its agents had become aware of us and our extradimensional surveillance capability. It was only a matter of time before they tried to steal it.”
The more Bashir heard, the more he felt like a pawn in a game whose players he could barely perceive, much less understand. “If they didn’t need me or Sarina to help them take the quantum window technology, why did they bring us here?”
“I think they hoped your presence would serve as a distraction, for us as well as for the Commonwealth and its military. Thirty-one has a number of agents operating in this universe, and one of them must have learned of our summit with the Dominion. When Thirty-one’s leaders cross-referenced that fact against your service record, they would have been reminded of your slaying of Odo on Terok Nor—and immediately seen an opportunity to put you in jeopardy.”
“While concocting a political and legal crisis that would command your full attention.”
“Precisely.” She lifted one eyebrow. “Had we not already been aware of their intentions, it might have been a very successful ruse. However, I think they also underestimated the ethics of the Dominion in this universe. They went to so much effort to ensure your presence would be detected that I believe they were certain you would be executed for Odo’s death.”
Bashir nodded. “Yes, I’d have to call that an ironic development.” A troubling notion occurred to him. He looked up at Saavik. “What happened to Cole and the others?”
“They’ve been dealt with.”
Sarina echoed Bashir’s tone of alarm. “How, exactly?”
Saavik seemed reluctant to answer. Then she relented. “They were exiled.”
Still not satisfied, Bashir asked, “To where?”
“Technically? To Bajor.” Saavik seemed prepared to let her answer stand until Bashir and Sarina’s reproachful glares compelled her to add a few details. “We used the subspace transporter to shift them across the dimensional barrier to a quantum reality whose frequency is known to only a few of our scientists. Cole and his accomplices will live out the rest of their lives in a universe that has everything it needs to sustain life but contains no other sapient beings—only plants, animals, and microorganisms.” She sighed. “Technically, it is neither corporal nor capital punishment. But no one in our universe or yours will ever see them again.”
What could Bashir say in reply? Thanking her seemed gauche, but condemning her felt ungrateful. From one perspective, she had done him and Sarina a favor; from another, she had put them in a difficult situation if and when they returned home: how would they explain the loss of Cole and the others to Sarina’s handler? Ultimately, all he could say was, “I see.”
Before anyone could render the moment more awkward than it had already become, they were interrupted by the whoop of the ship’s alert sirens. A woman’s rich and husky voice announced over the ship’s internal comms, “Yellow Alert. Senior staff, report to the bridge.”
Saavik stood. “Do the two of you still wish to help us neutralize the Breen threat?”
Bashir and Sarina exchanged excited glances. He looked up at Saavik. “Definitely.”
“Then come with me.”
* * *
Sometimes being first was a privilege; sometimes it was nothing less than a leap of faith. For Rem, being the leader of the first Spetzkar team to pass through the folded-space transporter for the strike mission against the ShiKahr was the latter.
