NOVEMBER 14, 2385
Konuhbi, Onferin
“Adams expects the impossible from us,” Jenna Kirk said as they left the shipyard behind. “We’re supposed to find a needle in a haystack—and preferably within twenty-four hours.”
While Lenissa zh’Thiin agreed with the human chief engineer, she did not say so out loud, as she would never be so disrespectful as to criticize the captain out loud. Jenna Kirk had known Adams for ten years, so perhaps she might be able to afford a somewhat informal approach, but Lenissa preferred to err on the side of respecting the chain of command.
Besides Lenissa and Kirk, their team consisted of two Klingons: an engineer named Mokbar, who had scarily sharpened teeth, and a mountain of a security officer called Grakk. While Mokbar showed genuine interest in working with both Starfleet officers on their task, Grakk merely marched behind them in silence with a grumpy face. Lenissa assumed that he didn’t like being ordered around by two women who together hardly weighed as much as he did alone.
Looking back at the shipyard, Jenna Kirk sighed before turning her attention to their small vessel where their pilot, Keeper ak Bahail—a member of Auroun’s security forces—waited. “What’s next?”
“Hang on.” Lenissa pulled her padd out, bringing up a table with target objects that had been assigned to their group. “A chemical plant in the south of Konuhbi.”
“Great. As if we haven’t seen enough of those this afternoon already.”
Since lunchtime they had been on their way to check plants and factories in the industrial city of Konuhbi. Captain Adams and Ambassadors Spock and Rozhenko had wrested permission from the council of spheres to check on shipyards and factories that were theoretically able to build attack fighters of the Scorpion-class or to handle dangerous substances such as protomatter. The analysts of the Prometheus and the Bortas had identified quite a few targets after a few orbits of the planet. Since then, ten away teams with four members each had been deployed to investigate them.
Lenissa, Kirk, Mokbar, and Grakk had been assigned to the city of Konuhbi, two hours’ flight north of the capital city Auroun. As this was the most important industrial city of the planet, where the bigger of the two shipyards on Onferin was located, the Prometheus’s chief engineer had taken over this mission personally. Lenissa couldn’t help but feeling that Jenna Kirk regretted this decision already.
Following the list that Commander Roaas had provided, they had investigated four different chemical plants thus far. They swept the grounds of each location with their tricorders, which had been modified by Commander Mendon to be particularly sensitive to the substances for which they were searching. They also couldn’t rule out the possibility that prohibited experiments were being carried out in shielded rooms. Even the combined personnel from the Prometheus and the Bortas was insufficient to turn over every stone on a planet such as Onferin.
We’ll need to be extremely lucky to find anything, Lenissa thought. That’s if there is even anything to find on Onferin, and the culprits aren’t in one of the other six inhabited or seventeen uninhabited systems in the cluster.
“You know, at least the shipyard was kind of interesting,” Kirk continued irritably. “Fair enough, the people there looked at us as if we were lepers, and I don’t think I’ve encountered that much silence since the day I told my first boyfriend that I’m…” She hesitated and glanced at her Klingon companions. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter. But I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t been curious about the Renao’s technological achievements. And now? Yet another chemical plant.” She snorted unenthusiastically.
A siren wailed behind them, indicating a shift change. Lenissa saw small figures that had just been bustling about in the nearest of the three enormous dry docks, putting down their tools to hand over to their relief so they could continue to work on the crescent-shaped patrol ship being built there.
For a brief moment, she wished her shift would also end. Ever since they had reached the Lembatta Cluster, free time had been a rare commodity. She longed for some passionate moments with Geron to relieve some of the pressure that had been building up inside her, since she was surrounded by ill-tempered Klingons, inscrutable Renao, and an army of silent dead souls. Mission before pleasure, she thought.
“Come on, Commander,” said the young Andorian woman. “The sooner we work through that list, the sooner we can return to the ship.”
“You’re right there,” Jenna said.
They climbed aboard the Kranaal, a flying vessel that Kirk had called an “oversized dragonfly,” whatever that meant.
Their pilot started the takeoff sequence. “Where to?” he asked. He seemed just as discontented as Grakk about receiving orders from women.
Lenissa told him their destination.
She thought briefly that Klingons and Renao should really get along just fine. Both societies were ruled by morose men who had little use for women. Some of that attitude is still prominent in Jassat as well, she mused. He’s not a man for festivities either. But at least he respects the fact that women hold command posts within Starfleet. In that respect, he had certainly benefited from his time at the Academy.
Ak Bahail swerved the Kranaal to the left, flying them across the industrial estate. In approximately one kilometer’s distance, the egg-shaped arcology of Konuhbi towered. The thousands of Renao working in the surrounding plants and at the shipyard lived there. The arcology was neither as glamorous nor as large as the Auroun complex. There were hardly any gardens, and the outside galleries looked untended. Apparently, even the Renao had class distinctions that were reflected in their living conditions.
“Do you know what’s strange, Lenissa?” Jenna Kirk unexpectedly blurted out into the almost silent cabin, where only the Kranaal’s flapping rotor wings and the occasional beeping of cockpit instruments were audible.
Lenissa turned away from the window and looked over to the other woman. “What?”
“They were building another ship in the back of the shipyard. This square thing that looked like the old Antares-class freighters.”
“Yes, so?”
“I took a few scans with my tricorders. Professional curiosity, you know. And I realized that the drive seems to be completely different from the one they’re using in these patrol ships we saw.”
Lenissa felt her antennae bending forward curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s a matter-antimatter reactor like the one we know from our ships, only much more primitive. Yet they seem to lack the technology to produce a warp bubble.” Kirk frowned.
“That ship was still under construction,” Lenissa said. “Isn’t it possible that the warp nacelles—or wherever the Renao put their warp field generator coils—hadn’t been implemented yet?”
“I don’t think so. I couldn’t see any nozzles for warp nacelles, and the hull had been completely sealed already. They would have needed to beam the coils aboard to be able to implement them. But the Renao don’t have transporter technology.”
“Maybe it’s a transport designed to stay within the system so it doesn’t need a warp drive?”
“Yes, maybe…” The chief engineer looked to be deep in thought. “Or maybe these guys have developed a very unusual drive technology in recent years.”
Shortly after their discussion they landed outside a plant’s exterior wall. Next to the front gate the company name CEMOUDAN was written in large letters. The wall had been built from dark brown stones, and was covered in graffiti. Apparently, even on Onferin, young people liked to go on a rampage with spray paint. One or two of the efforts even displayed a modicum of artistic talent. Most, however, were simply scribbled letterings or simple symbols.
Mokbar was staring at the graffiti as they exited the Kranaal. He pointed at one scrawling. “Commander Kirk, look.”
On the corner of the wall near the opening to a small alley was a demand written in Federation Standard: “Down with all sphere defilers! Long live the Harmony of the Spheres!
” A red flame had been painted next to it.
Lenissa lifted her tricorder and recorded it.
“The flame,” she addressed their pilot, “what does it stand for? The Purifying Flame, perhaps?”
Ak Bahail raised both hands as a gesture of ignorance. “I have no idea.”
Lenissa’s antennae stretched into his direction. “Do you really have no idea, or are you just not telling us?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The glow in his yellow eyes intensified.
“That you haven’t been particularly helpful, although this is meant to be a joint operation among the Federation, the Klingon Empire, and the government of the Home Spheres. I get it, you don’t want us on your world, but we won’t go away, unless we find out who’s responsible for the attacks against us. So you can either continue to sit around pouting—in which case we’ll stay even longer—or you can lift your red ass from that pilot seat, and help us so we can go home as soon as possible. Because, trust me, we’re not enjoying this, either.”
Ak Bahail glared at her for a few seconds. Finally, he snorted. “All right. Yes, the symbol seems to represent the Purifying Flame. They have been turning up for a few weeks now. That’s all I know, really. I mean, I’ve heard rumors about them—that they believe the lore of harmony to be universal, applying to space as a whole. It’s their duty to reestablish order in the galaxy, to save it from disruption by sphere defilers—like you all. I’ve heard that the movement started in the depths of the cluster.” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms before his chest. “There.”
“Why didn’t you tell us any of this earlier?” Kirk demanded to know.
“Because you’re looking for facts,” their guide answered reluctantly. “Everything I told you is rumor. We haven’t found any trace of them. The people spraying these symbols and distributing flyers are just children and deluded followers and worried citizens. They’re afraid of a galaxy where everyone is allowed to travel anywhere they wish. That would destroy our culture completely.”
Lenissa raised her head. “You truly have no idea about the Federation. We don’t destroy cultures. We enjoy them, preserve them, and facilitate exchange so we can all learn from each other. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations is the basis of Vulcan philosophy, and Vulcans were among the founders of our league of worlds.”
The Renao sized her up. “Yes, I can tell how much you preserved your cultural heritage, Commander. What nation do you belong to?”
“I’m Andorian.”
“And do you wear Andorian jewelry? Is your uniform Andorian? The cut? The fabric? Your weapon maybe?” He had raised his voice considerably, and Grakk stepped closer, growling and ready to keep ak Bahail back if the conversation escalated.
But Lenissa stopped him with a wave of her hand. She was security chief, after all, and very much capable of defending herself.
“I’m wearing a Starfleet uniform,” she replied calmly, “just like everyone else in the fleet. During service we’re all equal. That doesn’t mean that we have forgotten our identities.”
“If you say so… I say, you have fallen victim to your expansion madness.”
Jenna Kirk put a hand on Lenissa’s shoulder. “Come on, Lenissa. This is the wrong time for philosophical arguments. We’ve got a job to do.”
Nodding slowly, Lenissa turned toward her. “Yes, you’re right. Some people are simply beyond help.”
Snorting quietly, their pilot grabbed his communication device.
Lenissa, Kirk, Mokbar, and Grakk went to the plant’s entrance where a guard waited for them. Like pretty much every Renao, he wasn’t happy to see the alien investigators. But their permits had been issued and signed by the sphere council, which opened every door for them on Onferin except military facilities.
During their wait for the manager who would guide them through the plant, they pulled out their tricorders, taking initial readings.
Lenissa had barely activated hers when it gave off an alarm. Surprised, her antennae straightened. “I’m detecting large quantities of tekasite.” She turned around to face Kirk and the Klingon.
“Interesting,” the chief engineer said. “I can’t detect any trilithium or protomatter.”
A wiry Renao arrived, wearing dark coveralls with bright yellow warning stripes on the sleeves and pant legs. He carried a protective helmet tucked under his arm. He was followed by a man with a box full of additional protective helmets. So far, business as usual, thought Lenissa.
“Welcome,” the man said. “I’m Foreman ak Partami. And you are the investigators?”
“That’s right.” Jenna Kirk introduced everyone.
“I’m not particularly happy about you snooping around during working hours but nobody asks my opinion, anyway. So, put your helmets on and let’s get this over with.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Before we start, Foreman,” Mokbar said, “we have detected large quantities of tekasite in your plant. Why is that?”
“We process it.” Ak Partami laughed. “Cemoudan manufactures industrial explosives for mining operations; didn’t your investigations reveal that? I thought that’s the reason why you’re here.”
Kirk and Lenissa exchanged knowing glances.
“Obviously, our people neglected to mention that,” the chief engineer said.
“It’s all completely legal. We have a license, and we work under strict security regulations. You can see for yourself. But please don’t touch anything. You never know, it might be highly explosive.” He laughed again.
“Where do you get the tekasite from?” Lenissa asked as she carefully placed the helmet on her head, as it hadn’t been custom-made for Andorians. It squashed her antennae uncomfortably.
“From various sources,” ak Partami said. “Lhoeel, Xhehenem… Tekasite is a fairly common commodity within the Lembatta Cluster. You can find ore veins in numerous rock formations.” He grimaced. “Funny enough—we mine tekasite in order to manufacture explosives, which in turn we use to mine more tekasite. Oh well, at least it’s not reactive in bound form. It needs to be pure if you want it to blow up when you hit it. Did I mention that you shouldn’t touch anything around here?”
Without waiting for an answer he turned and walked off.
Great, Lenissa thought. At least one of the three substances required for their bombs is readily available for these radicals whenever they take a walk in the mountains. She had no idea what it took to purify tekasite, but she was hoping it was highly complicated. Otherwise, her search for the needle in the haystack had just taken a turn for the worse.
* * *
On certain days, Gilad ak Bahail hated his job. In general, he loved being a member of the Spherekeepers of Auroun. He had chosen this profession because he wanted to protect the weak and keep order. Since he was a child, he had always had a strong sense of order and of the value of harmony. For that reason, he’d always been against the opening of Renao borders to other spacefaring species, and to facilitating an exchange with Federation or the Klingon Empire or anyone else. They were the worst kind of sphere defilers, acting without restraint or good judgment. It didn’t matter if their motives to cross sphere after sphere was scientific curiosity or conquest—the end result was the same kick to the face of harmony.
And now, he had to fly these people all over Konuhbi so they could breathe down innocent people’s necks to come to a questionable decision as to whether ak Bahail’s fellow countrymen were all fanatics or not.
He condemned murder—of course he did. That came with the job as keeper. The attacks on Federation and Klingon facilities were the worst kind of atrocities. But a small part of ak Bahail couldn’t help but admire the mad, bold men and women who were behind the attacks. Their fight for the order of the universe had reached a level that he hadn’t dared to dream of. They were ready to give their lives for the great cause.
And what did he do? Help outworlders to catch them.
There were days when he
really hated his job.
His communicator device whistled quietly. A line of text appeared in the display. “Are you still there?”
Squinting, Bahail straightened himself. “Yes,” he typed. “Was lost in thought.”
“Dreamer,” the answer came promptly.
He could have called his elder brother and talked to him directly. But they were both at work—Namoud worked a late shift in the hydroponic gardens of Auroun, while he was playing nanny to Federation and Klingons—so they preferred to communicate silently via text messages. He couldn’t get the thought about the extremists out of his head.
“Hey, Namoud,” he typed, “have you come across the Purifying Flame yet?”
“These religious warriors?”
“Yes.”
“Not personally, no. But I’ve seen a lot of flyers recently lying around the streets. Why?”
Ak Bahail glanced out of the Kranaal’s cockpit window toward the plant grounds. “I’m piloting four of these outworlders around while their ships are in orbit. And they are hunting people from the Purifying Flame. ”
“And?”
“I’m asking myself whether I’m doing the right thing.”
“You’re a keeper. Isn’t it your duty to hunt extremists?”
“If they hurt the Home Spheres, yes. But these people are fighting for the harmony.”
“With questionable methods.”
“You have to make sacrifices for the greater cause.”
“We can’t fight against the entire universe. That’s madness. These Klingons will bring us down.”
“But they’re doing wrong. They’re destroying the order.”
“You and I see it that way. But billions of outworlders see it differently. What are we supposed to do? They outnumber us, and they’re stronger than us.”
“It’s frustrating.”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think these people will get any results on Onferin. The Purifying Flame supposedly comes from the colonies. All that’s running around here are flyer distributors and Leppa-soapbox-preachers.”
“If you say so.”
“Brother, I have to go. The agricultor is coming.”
Star Trek Prometheus -Fire with Fire Page 23
