by Dave Stern
Hoshi stopped dead in her tracks.
“What the—what’s going on? What happened? Are you all right?”
She spoke to Theera. The Andorian looked at her, and confusion entered her eyes.
“Hoshi…?”
Jaedez stepped into the room.
“If you’re referring to the Andorian’s condition, she refused orders to accompany my men. The use of force was required, and I might add that she proved an able fighter in that respect.”
He motioned to the soldiers, who dragged Theera to the chair at the far end of the room and began buckling her into it.
Hoshi couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“General,” she began angrily, “you can’t…”
One of the warriors stepped directly between her and Jaedez.
“We’ll want to begin on the lowest setting, I think,” the general said. “It is my understanding that we’re dealing with total memory loss here.” Jaedez turned to Hoshi then. “Is that correct, Ensign Sato? Based on what the Andorian told you?”
Hoshi, who had been about to protest what was going on, froze.
Therea looked up then, and her eyes met Hoshi’s.
“I was trying,” Hoshi began, “to get them to leave you alone. I didn’t know that anything like this would—”
Theera turned away from her—not before, however, Hoshi saw the hurt and confusion in her gaze.
“Ensign Sato?” the general prompted. “The memory loss is total?”
Hoshi sighed.
“Yes.”
“Very well,” Jaedez said. “We can begin with a series of questions unrelated to the specific data we’re concerned with. Hopefully facilitate recall without necessity for the higher settings. Teraven…?”
“Yes, sir.” The Pfau sat down behind the device. He pressed the yellow button, and some of the lights on the sifter flickered to life.
“It will take a few minutes to reach operational status,” he said, and flicked a second set of switches. All at once, a high-pitched whining sound filled the room. It hurt her ears.
She wasn’t surprised by that. The sifter was a Klingon device. It was probably meant to hurt. Once it reached operational status, it would probably hurt a lot more.
“There has to be another way,” she said out loud.
No one paid any attention.
A light clicked on above them. Hoshi looked up and saw, mounted to the ceiling, a black metal wedge, with a single bright spot affixed to its center. The wedge was pointed down at an angle, directly toward the chair.
“Operational status in ninety seconds,” Teraven said.
Theera looked up.
“I really do not remember anything,” she said.
The whining grew in intensity.
She began pulling on her restraints.
“Relax,” Teraven said. “Those are necessary for your safety—to prevent you from hurting yourself. The device can cause muscle spasms.”
“General,” Hoshi said. “You have to stop this.”
Jaedez spoke without turning.
“I appreciate your concern, Ensign, but the Andorian is the only person to have seen these aliens. To have been aboard their ships. Locked up inside her head is information that may be critical to the success of this war, or if you prefer, perhaps even allow us to make peace.”
“There has to be another way to get at that information,” she said again.
“You have a suggestion?”
“Not right now, but I know that if we…”
“I’m sorry. Teraven?”
“Sir?”
“Are we ready?”
“Operational in ten seconds, General.”
“Good. Let’s do this quickly, please.”
Nothing she could say was going to make any difference, Hoshi saw.
The time for talk was past.
She made a show of sighing, and turned her back on the general, as if she’d given up on changing his mind.
The two guards had taken up flanking positions just behind Jaedez. They stood at attention, each holding what looked like a laser rifle in front of them. They had sidearms too—particle weapons of some kind, no doubt.
There had been a training scenario, back at the Institute, much like this one. Two armed guards, a surprise maneuver—she had done pretty well at it, Hoshi recalled. Of course the guards at the Institute had been human—a good twenty centimeters shorter than the Conani, considerably lighter, but still—
The strategy was sound. All she had to do was execute it correctly.
As Hoshi passed the guards, her right hand shot out, reaching for the holstered weapon of the warrior on that side. She felt the grip and started to yank, at the same instant bringing her left leg around to deliver an incapacitating strike to the soldier’s knee.
The Conani soldier, however, was not only bigger than the guards she’d worked against, but faster. He moved quicker than she would have believed possible for someone his size.
He dropped his rifle to the deck, freeing both hands. As she tried to pull the weapon from the holster, he grabbed her wrist with one hand, and held fast.
As her leg came around, he grabbed that with the other.
At the same instant, she heard the other guard move behind her, and felt something press into the small of her back.
“Don’t move,” the soldier behind her said.
Hoshi cursed, and tried to maintain her balance, to keep from falling to the deck.
When she looked up, Jaedez stood in front of her.
“Ensign Sato. That was foolish.”
She didn’t bother responding.
“In times of war,” Jaedez continued, “traitors are shot.”
“I’m not a traitor,” she snapped.
“Drawing a weapon—or rather, attempting to draw a weapon—on the fleet’s commander is the act of a traitor.”
“I wasn’t going to shoot you. I was going to destroy the machine.”
“To save your friend.” Jaedez shook his head. “An admirable sentiment. Misplaced, however. And a distraction I cannot tolerate at this point. However,” he nodded to the guard, who released her, “it is my belief you are a creature of impulse, rather than a traitor. Is this the case?”
Her wrist ached where the guard had held her. She rubbed it, and said nothing
The general held out his hand, and the guard who’d so easily overpowered Hoshi handed over his weapon.
In one continuous motion, Jaedez stepped forward and pressed the barrel up against her forehead.
“Answer the question, please. Are you a traitor? Yes, or no?”
She looked into his eyes, and saw nothing there.
No hint of emotion one way or another. Would he shoot her? No way to tell.
Hoshi took a deep breath.
“No. I’m not a traitor.”
“Which I also take to mean you will allow Teraven to proceed with his work?”
She nodded.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“And I have your word on that?”
She glanced over his shoulder, and tried to catch Theera’s eye.
The Andorian stared ahead blankly, without reacting.
“Yes,” she said to the general. “You have my word.”
Jaedez nodded, and stepped back. “Good.” He handed the guard his weapon, and turned back to Teraven.
“Proceed.”
The first five minutes were hell.
And after that, it got worse.
The Pfau began by asking questions regarding Theera’s childhood, her earliest memories, what she recalled of her parents, her schooling. The whine of the device hurt Hoshi’s ears; the light shining down from the portion of the sifter that hung from the ceiling obviously hurt Theera. She shifted position in her seat to try and move away from it, to no avail. The strain in her voice was evident as she responded to each question. She was, obviously, in pain.
She did not remember a thing.
; “It doesn’t seem to be working,” Hoshi said.
“It is still on the lowest setting. We rarely achieve results from the device at this level.” Teraven and the general exchanged a look, and the Pfau twisted one of the knobs on the control surface. The whining noise increased.
Hoshi’s own ears began to ring.
Teraven moved on with his questions, covered the Andorian’s service record, her personal life, her time aboard Lokune. He was a skillful interrogator; he coaxed, he reminded, he supplied data pertinent to each question in the hope of prompting some small reminiscence…
All in vain.
“The Universal Translator Project,” the Pfau continued. “According to the Kanthropian database, you used intercepted transmissions from the Vulcan Intelligence Directorate in conjunction with data already in hand to fully revise your species’ translation matrix. Do you recall those transmissions?”
“No.” The Andorian gritted her teeth, and shook her head. “I don’t.”
Teraven looked over at Jaedez again, who nodded subtly.
The Pfau turned another knob, and Theera let out a small gasp of pain.
Hoshi opened her mouth to protest, became aware of Jaedez standing next to her, looking—and yet not looking—in her direction…
And bit back what she was going to say.
“The device facilitates recall,” Teraven said. “Let the memories come to you. Do not try and filter anything you sense in your mind.”
“There’s nothing,” Theera said. “I don’t—”
“Same question,” Teraven said, cutting her off. “The intercepted Vulcan transmissions. They were sent over a period of four months. They contained information regarding several alien species that at the time were unfamiliar to your race.”
“No.” The Andorian shook her head, and gasped again. “I don’t remember.”
“Take your time.” Teraven paused. “You worked from the Andorian Security Division. You had an office. A very large office. Do you recall?”
Theera gritted her teeth, and made a noise in her throat.
“Stop,” she said. “Please stop.”
“Try and remember,” Teraven urged. “The transmissions…”
“The Vulcans,” she said, almost shouting. “Vulcan transmissions.”
“Yes,” the Pfau said. “The Vulcans. That’s good, Theera. Do you recall those transmissions? What other races were mentioned within them?”
“I don’t know,” Theera said, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to talk and twist away from the pain at the same time. “Maybe.”
“Which species?”
“Humans.
Jaedez and Teraven exchanged a quick glance.
“Humans,” Teraven said. “Very good. Which others?”
Theera continued to grit her teeth. “I don’t…the H’ratoi, I think. Yes, that’s it. The H’ratoi.”
Teraven frowned, and once more looked to the general, who shook his head.
It was obvious even to Hoshi that Theera was lying.
Jaedez cleared his throat.
“The next level, please.”
Teraven nodded. The light above the chair intensified, and almost instantly, Theera went rigid in her chair. She began gasping for breath.
Hoshi clenched her fists at her sides, and cursed silently.
“The Lokune,” Teraven said. “What do you recall about being on the Lokune?”
Theera shook her head.
“What do the Antianna look like?”
Nothing.
“What did they say to you?”
No response.
“What did they do?”
Theera screamed.
More questions. No answers. Only the sound of pain.
Hoshi shut her eyes, and tried not to listen.
“Stop this,” Hoshi said, when she could take no more. She turned to Jaedez. “It’s torture. You know this is torture.”
“The device works,” the general said. “I have seen it work. Teraven…?”
“Only the highest setting remains, sir.”
“Then continue, please.”
“General…”
Jaedez spun on her.
“Ensign Hoshi. Another word, and you will leave. This room for certain, possibly the ship itself, and I will not be providing a shuttle. Do you understand?”
Hoshi lowered her gaze.
“I understand.”
“Teraven. Continue.”
The Pfau leaned over the device, and reached once more for the control knob.
Hoshi saw Theera’s hands tighten on the arms of the chair. The light above her grew brighter. Again, Theera flinched, and turned away.
The device itself began to make a noise, a sound almost like a moan. Hoshi turned and saw the table it was on begin to physically shake.
Theera was shaking too. Her hands still held to the chair tightly, but her arms were shaking so hard they seemed about to fly off her body.
She made a guttural noise in her throat. Her eyes opened wide, and then rolled back in her head so that only the whites were showing.
She slumped backwards in the chair, and lay still.
“Theera!” Hoshi shouted, and started toward her.
“Ensign!” Teraven warned, and Hoshi stopped in her tracks just shy of the beam of light, shining down from above.
And Theera, all at once, started to speak.
“Spectral matrix recognition scan initiated,” Theera said. “Four seventy-three nanometers. Negative. Four seventy-three point five nanometers. Negative. Four seventy-four nanometers. Negative. Four…”
Spectral matrix recognition scan? Hoshi thought, frowning. What the…?
She became aware that behind her, Jaedez and Teraven were talking. She turned to face them.
“What’s happening?” Hoshi asked.
Teraven frowned. “She’s in some sort of trance state.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“I’m not sure. If I had to guess…I would say the device has fulfilled its function—triggered a memory, within her subconcious.”
“A memory of what?”
Teraven shook his head.
Theera continued to repeat the same phrase, over and over again, varying the number slightly each time. Four seventy-four point five nanometers. Four hundred seventy-five nanometers. A very small number, indeed. Hoshi wondered what it represented.
“General,” Teraven said. “Other memories may be accessible to us now as well. We should continue the questioning.”
“Excellent suggestion,” Jaedez said. “Please proceed.”
“Wait a minute,” Hoshi said. “Don’t you think we should figure out what’s wrong with her first?”
“There does not appear to be anything ‘wrong’ at all,” Teraven shot back. “In fact, she seems in no discomfort whatsoever.”
Hoshi looked at Theera, and frowned.
The Pfau might be right, at that. Leaving aside the blank, almost trancelike expression on her face, Theera looked almost relaxed. It was as if, Hoshi thought, she’d gone someplace else entirely, gone away and left her body behind.
“Okay,” Hoshi said. “But let me question her.”
Jaedez frowned. “Ensign…”
“Sir. Please.”
Jaedez looked to Teraven, who shrugged. “I see no harm.”
The general nodded. “As you wish, then.”
Hoshi took a step closer and knelt down next to Theera, careful to stay back from the beam—the light shining down from above.
“Theera?”
There was no response.
“Theera, it’s Hoshi. Can you hear me?”
She had to shout to be heard over the noise coming from the sifter.
The Andorian continued speaking, as if Hoshi hadn’t said a thing.
“Theera. What do those numbers mean? What are you trying to say?”
No change.
“Does it have something to do with the Antianna?”
Theera stopped talking
, all at once, and drew in a breath.
“Ahhh,” she said. “Antianna.”
Hoshi glanced back at Jaedez, who motioned for her to continue.
“Yes, Antianna. Do you recall anything about the attack?” she asked slowly. “What happened to you aboard Lokune?”
The Andorian blinked.
“Lokune,” she said. “Spectral matrix recognition scan initiated. Four seventy-three nanometers. Negative. Four seventy-four nanometers—”
“Theera,” Hoshi snapped. “Forget that. What do you recall about the Antianna? What did they say to you?”
“Antianna,” she said again, and this time, rather than fear in her voice, Hoshi heard something very puzzling indeed. A—for lack of a better word—yearning.
“Antianna,” Theera said once more, and straightened in her chair, and snapped the restraints.
Hoshi gasped in surprise, and stumbled backwards.
“That is not possible,” Jaedez said. “Those restraints are a duranium alloy.”
Theera held up her arms to the ceiling.
“Antianna!” she said again, practically screaming the word, like a plea to the heavens.
Her eyes rolled back in her head.
Her body went rigid, and she slumped to the floor.
Twenty-Four
Rodriguez took over helm at some point during the night, Travis couldn’t be sure exactly when, sometime after he got them through the Maldeev Cloud without a scratch. He stumbled back to his bunk and passed out, woke up to the sound of Lieutenant O’Neill’s voice coming over the com (“Shift change, you’re on in half an hour” and maybe it was his imagination, but he detected a certain glee in her voice when she heard the grogginess in his, satisfaction at having woken him up), grabbed a shower, and headed down to the mess for coffee and a quick bite. The place was jammed. He scanned the room for a seat, and saw Malcolm at a table in the corner, a stack of flimsies spread out before them. The lieutenant waved him over.
“Get some sleep?”
“A couple hours. You?”
Reed shook his head. “Not yet. Soon.”
He flipped through the papers in front of him, and handed Travis a sheet.
“ ‘In re: the matter of the Earth ship S.S. Horizon v. the freighter Roia Four…’ ” The ensign looked up. “That was fast.”
“Poz and Verkin,” Reed said with a smile, and took a bite off his plate. “I don’t think it hurts that we have friends in high places now. The new governor’s quite thankful to us for pointing out the intruders on their doorstep. From what I understand, she helped speed things along.”
