“Someone who knows how to put up a fight when she’s not tied up, as I have noticed,” he replied. “But you’re not important. Even I am not important. The only thing of importance is the Harmony of the Spheres. And I’m prepared to do anything to restore it.”
The man grabbed Lenissa’s left antenna, squeezing it hard. She drew a sharp breath and doubled over. She felt dizzy, and she almost vomited. Tears of fury and desperation welled in her eyes. The Renao turned to his companion with the black box.
“Start the recording!” he demanded.
34
NOVEMBER 15, 2385
U.S.S. Prometheus
Richard Adams clenched his fists. He felt himself trembling with fury. The captain didn’t like to lose control, but he couldn’t help himself in this situation.
“We repeat again, to make sure you understand perfectly well,” said a masked man in the recording that the Prometheus and the Bortas had received a few minutes ago from an untraceable source. “If you don’t remove your ships from orbit by the eighth hour Auroun local time, and if you don’t leave the Lembatta Cluster within two days, these hostages will suffer and die. We are prepared to sacrifice everything and anything for the Harmony of the Spheres—including the lives of your officers.”
The man grabbed Lieutenant Commander zh’Thiin from behind by the collar of her dirty and partially ripped uniform. Just like the others, the young Andorian woman kneeled in front of four heavily armed extremists. Unlike Kirk and the two Klingons she didn’t have a hood covering her face. It was obvious that she had been beaten. Blood had dried on her lip, and her left cheek looked dark blue and swollen. One antenna had been badly mangled.
The recording zoomed onto Lenissa’s face. The man’s face also came into view when he bent down to her. Only two glowing red eyes and a small strip of red skin were visible.
“Look closely. Look at her face. You will not recognize it when we’re done with her. Unless you give up. If not, you will be responsible for everything that will follow. The Purifying Flame will and must bring new order to the galaxy. Nothing will stop us. Nothing.”
The image froze. Zh’Thiin’s eyes were full of pain, fury and shame; those of the man were full of fanaticism, which sent a shiver down Adams’s spine.
“Switch it off,” he said.
Lieutenant John Paxon obeyed. The face of zh’Thiin’s deputy chief of security, who had been born and raised on Starbase 7 in the Andorian sector, showed barely suppressed rage.
Without a word, Adams sat in his command chair in the center of the bridge. Beta shift had started an hour ago. He had been in his ready room, writing a report for Admiral Akaar when they had received the recording a few minutes ago.
Lieutenant Commander Senok, the Vulcan commander of the Beta shift, stood beside the chair. His hands were clasped behind his back, his face stony. Senok had called the captain to the bridge immediately.
Taking a deep breath, Adams rose, straightening his uniform tunic. “Ensign Harris,” he turned to the communications officer on duty. “Summon the entire executive staff to the conference room. Additionally, call Counselor Courmont and Ambassador Spock. And inform the Klingons.”
“Yes, Captain,” Harris said. Her fingers danced across the console.
“Mr. Paxon.” Adams nodded invitingly at the security officer. “You’re with me.”
“Aye, sir.”
Both left the bridge and followed the corridor to the conference room. Adams had an idea. “Computer, is Lieutenant ak Namur back on board yet?”
“Negative.”
Adams had half expected that. If Jassat had returned from his mission on Onferin, he would have reported to him immediately. The captain touched the combadge on his chest.
“Adams to bridge.”
“Bridge here, sir,” Senok replied.
“Put me in touch with Lieutenant ak Namur.”
“Right away, Captain.”
The turbolift reached its destination, and they stepped out into the corridor.
The young Renao’s voice sounded over Adams’s combadge, dotted with static from atmospheric interference. “Lieutenant ak Namur here, Captain.”
“Lieutenant, report. Have you found a trace to our kidnappers?”
Ak Namur hesitated briefly. “I’m… I’m sorry, sir, but no. I really don’t know what’s going on here. The mood here in Konuhbi is very different from Auroun. It’s a mixture of paranoia and religious radicalism. I don’t have any explanation for that. I’m finding it very difficult to talk to the locals. Some don’t seem to be able to help me; others give me the feeling they don’t want to help. Although I’m not wearing a Starfleet uniform, the fact that I’m interested in outworlders seems to make me suspicious.”
“Understood.” Adams had been afraid of that when he had sent Jassat on his mission. But he had to grasp that last straw if there was even the slightest glimmer of hope that this might help him to save his people’s lives. “Keep trying, Lieutenant. The situation has deteriorated.”
“I’m doing my best, sir.” Ak Namur’s voice was firm, but there was an underlying hint of desperation. The young Renao really wanted to help; to prove that his people were good, and that the extremists were deluded exceptions to that rule. Failing to do so must have been causing him terrible discomfort, but Adams wasn’t able to take away these inner demons. Not now.
“I know you are. Adams out.” The captain closed the link. The door opened and Spock walked in.
“Captain. I am glad we both arrived at the same time. I have news from Romulus.”
“Good news, I hope,” Adams replied glumly.
“Perhaps,” Spock said. “The mystery surrounding the Scorpion ship used for the attack on Starbase 91 seems to have been solved. My contact on Romulus told me about an illegal black-market network. It would seem they are smuggling Romulan military technology as well as dangerous substances from the Achernar system out of their empire. Evidently, the Renao purchased several Scorpion attack fighters that had been previously decommissioned. I would surmise that they have dismantled them in order to re-create them. He has also discovered indications that the Renao acquired trilithium and protomatter.”
“How much?”
“The materials they probably still have at their disposal should be sufficient to carry out another twelve attacks of the same magnitude as before. However, they might also have access to other sources.”
Adams shook his head, pursing his lips. “That’s not good.”
“Indeed,” Spock agreed.
“And where’s the good news?”
“I have contacted the Romulan government and have advised them—including Praetor Kamemor herself—of the illegal activities. I expect that the operations on Achernar will cease before long, and that the instigators will be rendered harmless by the Tal Shiar or the Romulan military. That will only marginally diminish the imminent danger originating from the fanatics—it will, however, limit their resources in future.”
The captain glanced at Spock gratefully. “That’s better than nothing—and at least a small beacon of hope in these dark times.”
The ambassador bowed his head. “May I ask why you called this meeting?”
“You’ll find out in a minute,” Adams replied.
Again the door opened and Roaas and Mendon came in. Carson, Courmont, Barai, and the deputy chief engineer Tabor Resk—a Bajoran—followed shortly after them.
“What’s wrong, Captain?” Courmont asked when all of them had gathered around the table. “Do we have news from the kidnap victims?”
“Yes, and it’s not good.” Impatiently, Adams looked toward the door. He tapped his combadge. “Adams to bridge.”
“Bridge here.”
“Where are the Klingons?”
“Captain Kromm said he will be with you soon.”
Frowning, Adams listened. He wondered what kept Kromm, but decided that that was the least of his problems. “All right, thank you.” The captain glanced at his staff.
“I guess we’ll begin.”
Everyone sat down, and Adams played the recording that he had just watched on the bridge. Roaas’s ears twitched, and Mendon blinked hectically. The others watched with grim and horrified expressions.
“All right,” Adams said to no one in particular once the recording had finished. “We need to get our people out of there. As soon as possible. Suggestions?”
“I’ve been trying to lock onto Lieutenant Commander Kirk and Lieutenant Commander zh’Thiin with the Prometheus’s biosensors ever since their disappearance,” Mendon said. “Lieutenant Commander zh’Thiin should be especially easy to spot because the bioreadings of Andorians and Renao are vastly different. Unfortunately, the planet’s dense atmosphere and the radiation from the system’s primary star are interfering with sensors.”
“We’re working on fine-tuning the sensors,” added Tabor, “sacrificing range for precision by filtering out currently unwanted data. Unfortunately, this means our search will take more time because we can only lock on a limited surface area.”
“We should focus on the region of Konuhbi,” Adams said. “We don’t have any evidence that the kidnappers took the hostages out of town.”
“We also don’t have any evidence that they didn’t,” Roaas pointed out.
“True, but it’s the right place to start. The attack was fast and purposeful. That indicates that the Purifying Flame have an operational base within that city or its immediate surroundings. You don’t give up a good operational base, least of all when you know that your opponent doesn’t have any local knowledge, and that their technology is jammed by environmental circumstances.”
“Captain, maybe we could increase the sensors’ resolution if we separate the Prometheus and work with triangulation,” Paxon suggested. “It might have the same effect as a linked sensor grid during a fleet operation.”
“Not a bad idea,” Adams said.
“Captain, how much of a risk are you prepared to take?” Carson asked.
“What do you mean, Carson?”
“The Prometheus is inherently capable of flying in an atmosphere, and of landing,” his second officer replied. “Even when she’s separated, it’s possible to enter into an atmosphere, although that would require an enormous amount of energy for the primary hull. Hypothetically speaking… if we were to put Lieutenant Paxon’s plan of triangulation into action, we could enter deep into Onferin’s atmosphere to reduce the interfering effect from Aoul. At the same time, we would fly below the strongly reflecting gas levels in the upper atmosphere and avoid them.”
Adams mulled over what he had just heard. “Commander, what do you think?” he asked Roaas.
The Caitian nodded. “We should be able to pull that off. If you want…”
He was interrupted by Captain Kromm who stormed into the conference room, escorted by security chief Rooth, another Klingon officer Adams didn’t recognize, and Alexander Rozhenko who appeared to be somewhat out of sorts.
“Captain, I’ve a lead,” the Klingon announced without greeting. Pride stood in his eyes—and overt arrogance. “I know where the captives are.”
Spock raised an eyebrow.
Adams looked at him skeptically. He didn’t dare hope that Kromm spoke the truth. “Where did you get that information?”
“My people investigated, just like yours,” Kromm replied.
Adams didn’t like the tone of voice Kromm used, but he decided that this problem could wait. “Where are they?”
Kromm bared his teeth. “I thought you’d never ask…”
35
NOVEMBER 15, 2385
Konuhbi, Onferin
The entrance to the tunnel system where the extremists were hiding was located in a canyon that a river had washed into the gray-brown rocks of a mountain range. The place twelve kellicams south of Konuhbi was an excellent hideout. Scattered ore and mineral deposits in the stone disrupted transporter and sensor locks from orbit. The canyon was very narrow, so landing an aircraft required a masterly performance from any pilot.
The only option to approach the hideout was using a ground vehicle, which gave the defenders ample time to prepare for any arrivals. But the Renao fanatics had not reckoned with the Klingon Defense Force and Starfleet.
“Report!” Kromm ordered. He was in command of a task force of ten people, preparing for their attack. Behind them was the Prometheus shuttle that they had landed on the sloped summit. Kromm would have preferred to fly down to Onferin in one of his own heavily armed shuttles, but even he couldn’t deny that Starfleet had more sophisticated transporter technology, and that was part of their attack plan. On this world full of jamming sources, reliable technology was worth more to him than his Klingon pride. Besides, there was no honor to be gained by transporting their troops from one place to another. The imminent fight would bring him the honor he so desperately sought.
“I can see two guards down there. There’s also a concealed camera above the entrance,” the deputy security chief from the Prometheus reported. Paxon lay prone at the edge of the chasm, peering through his phaser rifle’s electronic sight.
“Moore, switch on the directional interfering field,” Commander Roaas said to a woman with cropped blonde hair. He was the second-in-command to Kromm.
“Aye, sir.” She pressed a button on her mobile device, pointing its parabolic antenna toward the canyon. “Visual and radio transmissions interrupted.”
The Caitian turned to Paxon. “Mr. Paxon, take out the guards.”
“Understood, Commander.” The security man took aim and shot twice in short succession. Golden light flashes flared into the canyon. “Targets down,” he reported.
Kromm stepped to the edge. He looked down into the ravine and saw two people lying next to the tunnel’s entrance between the rocks. “Are they dead?”
“No, sir,” answered Paxon. “Commander Roaas ordered to set all weapons to stun.”
The Klingon snorted. “Bah.” He glanced at the Prometheus’s first officer derisively. “Don’t expect such mercy from us Klingons.”
“Everyone fights in their own way, Captain.” The Caitian’s reply was grim but calm.
“As long as we can free the hostages, I don’t care.” Kromm turned to his people.
“Back to the shuttle. We’re beaming down.”
* * *
They materialized in shimmering columns of light at the bottom of the canyon. The guards still lay motionless where they had fallen. In front of them stood the entrance—a dark hole that looked like the black maw of a monster in the twilight between the towering mountainsides. Nothing moved, which indicated that they hadn’t been spotted yet.
“Ready weapons,” Kromm said.
Lieutenant Klarn and the three bekks escorting them raised their disruptors. Klarn as communications officer had no place on this mission, but he had insisted on participating in the rescue operation. Since they owed the trace that had led them here to his initiative, Kromm had agreed. He liked Klarn’s way of thinking. Unlike L’emka, he didn’t shy away from doing what had to be done to bring honor to the Empire in general and the Bortas in particular. Maybe I should promote him to a post with more responsibilities, Kromm pondered. Such as security chief, for example. Rooth isn’t getting any younger. But that was for after the battle.
Beside him, Commander Roaas, Paxon, and the three from the Prometheus—Moore, another human called Cenia, and a Tellarite by the name of Gral—took their positions. They activated their belts, bringing up the personal deflector shields, and pointed their phaser rifles at the entrance.
Nodding, Roaas looked at Kromm. “Let’s go in, Captain.”
The Klingon growled affirmatively and took point. Starfleet captains might send their underlings into battle; Kromm preferred fighting battles himself.
With their weapons at the ready they advanced into the tunnel. When it grew darker, they switched the small spotlights on their rifles on. Rough-hewn stone with veins of glittering mineral deposits surrounded them
.
Paxon pulled his tricorder out. “Tekasite, sir,” he said. “We probably shouldn’t fire with maximum power, else these tunnels might blow up around us.”
With an irritable grunt the captain motioned toward his men to adjust their weapons accordingly. It was sufficient to kill their opponents; they didn’t need to vaporize them. In the next moment, he frowned. The tunnel turned out to be a blind alley.
“What’s this?” Confused, he hit the stone wall with his fist.
Roaas shouldered his rifle. “Lieutenant, give me your tricorder.”
Paxton obeyed and the first officer made a few adjustments, before sweeping the area with the device. His whiskers twitched and he smiled. “Thought so.”
“What?” Kromm demanded.
“A holographic wall, here on the left.” Roaas pointed at the rock.
Kromm tried hitting that point with his gun stock. There was a small discharge, a crackling noise, and the wall flickered. “Where did these fanatics get holowalls from?”
“From the same source as their protomatter and Scorpions,” the Caitian replied. “The galactic black market. For people detesting transgression of spheres so much, the Renao do an awful lot of interstellar trading.”
“They are mad,” Kromm said. “Don’t waste logic on them.” He motioned toward his men. “Switch off the energy barrier.”
Klarn and the other three men took aim.
“Wait, sir,” Moore asked. “Let me do that. I should be able to short circuit the energy field without them noticing.”
Kromm grunted. “Very well, but hurry.” He was keen to fight.
The blond took the tricorder from Roaas and inspected the wall. Finally, she kneeled down, pulling out her phaser. She directed the beam at the wall and cut through it with surgical precision. The generator behind the wall packed up with a muffled bang, and the fake wall disintegrated. A long tunnel, lit by reddish miner’s lamps came into view. In the distance they heard faint voices.
Star Trek Prometheus -Fire with Fire Page 28
