“Let’s just say I’m very well connected. I know you were given command of the Lionheart by Admiral William Riker and that you made an unscheduled detour to the Jaros II stockade. Tell me, have you talked to Ezri Dax yet?”
Vale’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re so well connected,” she said to the air, “then you’d already know the answer.”
“What I know is that you would be en route to his location right now if you knew where Julian is being held. But that fact is a closely guarded secret at the highest levels of the Federation government. Decisions are being made, choices that will affect the entire quadrant, and Julian is caught in the middle of it.” There was a distant, metallic sigh. “And I carry some of the blame for putting him in harm’s way.”
Her mind was racing as she listened to the other woman speak. Vale laid out all the possibilities in her mind’s eye; was this a ruse of some sort, to get her to incriminate herself and throw doubt on Riker? Was the speaker some ally or enemy of Bashir’s trying to track him down for herself? Or even an agent of the Andorians, attempting to pay him back for risking his life to preserve theirs?
She went on. “I have used . . . certain contacts in order to gather information about where Julian was taken after the Andor incident. But my current circumstances mean that I can’t act on it. You can, Commander. You can liberate Julian Bashir before his disappearance becomes permanent.”
Vale’s seasoned ear for reading people picked out something in the other woman’s voice. More than just concern, more like genuine sorrow. The smallest flicker of it, but there nonetheless. A friend, then, she thought. Or something more. “Why should I believe you? For all I know, you could be sending me into the jaws of a trap. I have a hundred reasons why I should cut this short and ignore everything you’re saying to me. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.” Vale steepled her fingers, staring into the scrambled mass of the signal. “Tell me your name. Trust me, and maybe I’ll trust you.”
Again, a long moment of silence fell, but then the woman spoke. “All right, Commander. If that’s what it will take . . .” The disorder of the chaotic signal pattern changed, shifting and merging until it took on the dimensions of a human face. The image was grainy and laced with bursts of razor-edged static, but now it was clearly a human woman with a pleasant appearance set in a worried expression, her mid-length blond hair pooling on the gray shoulders of a Starfleet uniform. Vale saw a lieutenant commander’s pins on a mustard-colored operations undershirt. “My name is Sarina Douglas. I’m part of the security detail on space station DS9, but before that I was an operative with Starfleet Intelligence. Julian is very important to me, Commander. I’m risking a lot coming to you with this.”
She knew that look, the shimmer in Douglas’s eyes. They were lovers, this woman and Bashir. It was as clear to Vale as if she had said it aloud. And suddenly the plausibility of it snapped into place. A former intelligence agent, calling in her last favors to save the man she cared for, so desperate to rescue him that she would come to a complete stranger for help. “Why contact me directly?” she asked. “Why not go to Admiral Riker, or your own commanding officer?”
“Too many questions,” Douglas replied. “Too much risk. I’m already under scrutiny after Julian’s escape from Bajor.”
“You helped him get away.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’ve read your file, Commander,” said Douglas, deflecting the comment. “I know you believe in due process. I know you’ll do what’s right.” She turned, as if addressing something Vale couldn’t see. “I’m sending you a data burst containing the coordinates of a star system near the Betreka Nebula. There’s a concealed asteroid outpost there. Find it, and you’ll find Julian Bashir.”
“Where exactly did that information come from?” Vale demanded.
“Find him, Commander,” implored the woman, ignoring the question. “Please.”
There was a crackle of static, and then the briefing room was quiet.
* * *
Ranul Keru looked up as the door to transporter room three opened to admit Melora Pazlar, the Titan’s science officer. He heard the subtle hiss of her gravity suit as she walked, the mechanism allowing the Elaysian woman to function normally in what was to her a high-g environment.
She threw him a nod. “Lieutenant Commander. I didn’t know you were still on the ship. I thought you might have taken advantage of the liberty.”
Keru shook his head. “I considered it,” he admitted. “Didn’t seem right to leave.” Melora didn’t press the point, and he was glad of that; the fact was, Keru had nothing waiting for him back on Trillius Prime, and Titan was more a home for him now than the planet where he had grown up. But beyond that, he felt the unconscious need to stay at his post, to keep his ship and his crewmates safe while the turmoil of recent days ran its course. If he had been pressed to explain it, Titan’s security chief would not have been able to put the emotion into words; it was a compulsion to stand sentry in troubled times. Doing anything else would have felt like neglect.
“I’d like to say it was good to have a little downtime,” she said, “but it’s been hard getting any work done in astrometrics. Everyone is too busy talking about what’s going on.”
He nodded. Having no immediate mission to hand meant that Titan’s crew had the opportunity to dwell on issues that otherwise might have been of secondary concern. Although the ship’s crew complement had thinned since their arrival at Earth, those who remained on board were all occupied in one way or another by the ongoing political circus unfolding on the planet below. And not all of the crew were in accord over it. Keru grimaced as he recalled a moment a few days earlier when he arrived at the ship’s lounge to find Ensigns Venoss and Mecatus in the middle of a heated dispute over the finer points of Ishan Anjar’s pugnacious statements to the galactic press. Politics, he thought sourly. We’ve evolved to a point where gender, creed, race, and religion are all things that we can debate in a more or less reasonable manner, but politics will always be a source of argument.
A chime sounded from the transporter console, and Melora turned to Lieutenant Radowski who stood waiting before it. “Starfleet Command signals ready,” he reported.
“Proceed,” she replied.
“Energizing,” said Radowski, and his hands traced down the controls, bringing the system to life.
Keru watched two columns of blue-white light hum into being and define themselves into the forms of William Riker and a Caitian officer he hadn’t met before. As the glow faded, Riker’s face split in a wan smile that seemed partly out of regret and partly relief.
“Melora, Ranul . . .” said the admiral, giving each of them a nod of greeting. “Bowan. Nice to be back. Feels like I’ve been away for months.”
“It has been ten days, Admiral,” noted the Caitian.
Riker gestured at the felineoid. “This is Lieutenant Ssura, my aide. He already knows who you all are.”
Ssura’s head bobbed. “It is the greatest pleasure to meet members of the esteemed Titan crew, sirs and madam.”
“Hey, right back atcha,” said Radowski with a grin.
“Good to see you, sir,” said Keru. “The new rank suits you.”
Riker shrugged. “It’s a little heavy, though.” He nodded toward the door. “Shall we start the inspection?”
Melora led the way. “If you’ll follow me?” Keru fell in step with Riker and the Elaysian as they proceeded out into the corridor. She smiled. “This feels a little odd, sir. Taking you on a tour of your own ship.”
“A perk of the new job,” said Riker. “I get to poke around inside any vessel I like the look of.”
“Commander Troi isn’t joining us?” Keru noted.
Riker shook his head. “She’s visiting London with our daughter. Deanna’s going to show Natasha where her grandfather was born, fill in a little of the Troi family history.”
“Xin’s team has completed the engine upgrades,” Melora offered. “We can head down to the warp core . . .
”
“Why don’t we start with the lab decks first?” said Riker, making the question into an order.
Pazlar and Keru exchanged a glance. Both of them were aware that the admiral’s office had sent sealed orders to members of the engineering and sciences departments, tasking Lieutenant McCreedy and Ensign Modan to set up a laboratory for an undisclosed purpose. The group entered a turbolift, and an uncomfortable silence descended.
Riker gave them both a look and then addressed an order to the air. “Computer, halt transit.” The turbolift droned to a stop. “All right, let’s get this over with.” He nodded toward Ssura. “You can talk freely in front of the lieutenant here. And just because I’m an admiral now, that doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become a different person.”
Melora licked her lips before she replied. “Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir.”
“Sorry, sir,” offered Keru. “But you know how it is. Force of habit. History shows, anyone above the rank of captain sets foot on a starship, it’s usually a precursor for trouble.”
“Well, that may be true. But I’m still Will Riker and still your commanding officer. The promotion doesn’t come with a personality change.”
“I’m sure we’re all glad to know the power hasn’t gone to your head,” Melora said with a sly smirk. “Yet.”
“Admiral Riker exhibits a most even temperament.” Ssura was quite serious in his observation, missing the irony in the Elaysian’s tone. “Don’t be concerned.”
Keru wasn’t smiling, though. “Easier said than done, Lieutenant.” He turned to Riker. “This . . . inspection came out of nowhere. And I’m willing to bet you’ve got a very different reason for being here.”
The admiral gave a solemn nod. “Never could get anything past you, Ranul. That’s why you’re so good at your job.” He sighed. “I can promise you that I’d never do anything that would compromise Titan’s security without informing you first. Which is exactly why you’re coming with me now.”
Unbidden, a chill ran through Keru’s blood. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you have to tell us?”
“Computer, resume transit,” said Riker, leaving the question hanging.
* * *
The thin justification for his visit dispensed with, Riker led the way down to laboratory nine, one of the starship’s secondary science workspaces. A modular compartment like most of Titan’s labs, it was designed to be refitted and retooled on a mission-by-mission basis, dependent on whatever research was required at the time. The admiral’s orders to Lieutenant McCreedy had involved fitting out the space with analysis gear and stand-alone computer systems, and Karen had followed them to the letter. Riker entered the chamber to find Ensign Y’lira Modan, the ship’s Selenean cryptolinguist, in conversation with Ensign Torvig Bu-Kar-Nguv from the engineering team. Both of them came to attention, but Riker waved away the moment of formality.
“At ease.” He introduced Ssura once again, watching as Melora circled the room, taking in the equipment all around them.
“These are extreme frequency-monitoring devices,” she noted. “High-density memory cores on an isolated network, holographic interface generators, subspace sensor rigs . . . The same kind of setup I use for tracking deep sky spatial anomalies.”
Riker agreed. “But Torvig and Y’lira are not looking for distant pulsars or wormholes. I’m interested in a target much closer to home.” He paused for a moment. If he went on, he would be widening the circle of involvement further still, beyond him and Admiral Akaar, beyond Ssura and Deanna and Vale. With each person he brought into this small conspiracy, he was risking not only his future but also theirs; and while he never once doubted that his crew would support him and follow his lead, Riker felt the weight of responsibility that asking them would put upon him. “What we are about to talk about here is not for discussion with anyone else, am I clear?” His officers nodded in return, and Riker noted that Ranul Keru was the last to do so, the wary look on the Trill’s face deepening into a frown.
“This setup is all so you can listen in on someone,” said Keru, cutting to the heart of it.
“Two days ago the admiral suggested we begin monitoring a discreet subspace domain in the tertiary sigma band layers,” said Torvig, off a nod from Riker. “Such layers are not commonly employed for subspace radio transmissions, owing to the larger energy cost of pushing a signal through such a compressed para-dimensional zone.”
Modan took her cue and indicated a display screen, which showed a series of complicated moving waveforms. “This is essentially a hidden conduit for communications from Earth to the wider quadrant. Heavily encrypted and carefully concealed to appear as normal background cosmic radiation to anyone who might accidentally happen across it.”
“What’s the origin of this channel?” said Melora.
“I believe this comes from one of the highest offices in the Federation government,” said Riker.
“How high?” asked the Elaysian.
“The highest,” Riker repeated.
Keru shook his head. “Wait, no. Sir, are you saying you ordered surveillance to be carried out on the President of the United Federation of Planets? I don’t know where to begin with how many laws that breaks!”
Modan blinked her golden eyes. “I . . . suspected it might be this . . . but I thought there had to be an explanation.”
At her side, Torvig’s tail drooped. “Did we do something illegal?”
Riker held up his hands. “This is on me. You’re following my orders. The responsibility is mine.”
“Just as now the responsibility is mine to inform Starfleet,” snapped Keru. “Sir, you realize what this means? Just standing in this room with you could be enough to end all our careers!”
“The reason is justified,” Ssura spoke up. “Actions occur that must be addressed. Titan is the only vessel that can do so!”
“Ranul, if you want to go to Command, I won’t stop you.” Riker met his gaze. “But know that I’ve done none of this lightly. After all we’ve been through together, you owe me the chance to explain my reasons.”
The Trill nodded. “Aye, sir. You’re due that. If you were any other man, I would have arrested you already.”
“I appreciate your restraint.” He took a breath, and with steady, careful words, he brought them all into the circle.
Riker told Keru and the others about the conflicting orders, the secret commands, clandestine arrests, and mission directives, the growing weight of suspicion and distrust accreting in the Federation’s corridors of power. None of them spoke or questioned what he said, and by turns the mood in the lab grew heavy and solemn. When he was done, Riker allowed his officers to take the time to absorb what he had revealed.
Modan was the first to break the silence. “If this pattern of events is what it appears to be, then we stand witness to a grave breach of the public trust. An abuse of power by unknown actors within the government of our Federation.”
“The oath of service is quite clear on this,” Keru mused. “We serve the citizens of the United Federation of Planets against enemies both foreign and domestic.” He glanced at Riker. “I understand now, sir. But believe me, if what we’re doing here turns out to be anything other than what you’ve just brought to light, I will still throw you in the brig.”
Riker managed a smirk. “If I’m wrong, I’ll go quietly.”
Keru went on. “But let’s say you’re right. We’re on thin ice here. We can’t know how big a problem this is until we know who is behind it.”
Torvig’s metallic hands knit before him. “The Federation is a construct of laws and protections. That structure cannot be ignored, no matter what level one may exist at. If someone hides behind it in order to abuse it, we cannot allow that to go on.” He nodded toward Riker. “Sir, I will assist you in this, and I accept fully the consequences that may follow.”
Melora said nothing, only nodded her agreement.
“I appreciate your trust and your loyalty,” Riker to
ld them. “Now, Mister Torvig. Why don’t you tell me what it is you’ve found?”
The Choblik crossed to one of the freestanding consoles and tapped in a string of commands. “This morning, at approximately zero seven hundred hours shipboard time, the passive monitoring scans set up to observe the covert channel picked up a burst transmission. It appeared to originate from a source somewhere on Earth’s European continent.”
“I gave it an initial evaluation,” said Modan. “Very dense, sir. On the order of gigaquads of compressed data.”
“Let’s see it.”
The ensign tapped a control, and the screen before her filled with an impenetrable wall of text, a flood of symbols and digits that at first sight seemed overwhelmingly complex.
“The composition is familiar to me,” said Ssura. “But not comparable to typical subspace message packets.”
Melora came closer, nodding. “He’s right. It’s not a message stream; it’s far too intricate to be video or audio data, even under multiple layers of encryption.” Riker saw Pazlar’s eyes narrow as she turned her intellect to the challenge before her. “I know what this is,” she breathed. “It’s a holomatrix. Compacted and reconfigured for direct subspace transfer, but definitely an autonomous program.”
“A holographic recording?” asked Keru.
“Unlikely, sir,” Torvig replied. “Unless it contained a colossal level of detail. Lieutenant Commander Pazlar’s hypothesis fits the facts. This appears to be a fully operative holoprogram, designed to be interacted with by the recipient.”
“Could it be decompiled?” asked Modan. “It might be possible to learn what it contains without activating it.”
Ssura folded his thin arms across his chest. “Possible, but protracted. It would take weeks to correctly deconstruct something so intricate. Also there may be anti-tampering subroutines built into the program to prevent such acts.”
“There is another alternative,” said Riker, rubbing his chin as he considered. “We run it.”
“I like the thought of that very little.” Keru’s reply was dour. “We’ve got no idea what we have here.”
Star Trek: The Fall: The Poisoned Chalice Page 16
