A Time to Harvest

by Dayton Ward

  “Ensign Maxson?” she called out, but received no response. When she repeated his name but encountered the same result, she felt her pulse begin to race. Had he somehow hurt himself moving the heavier equipment? Taking off across the cargo bay, she shouted, “Maxson, are you all right?”

  A sharp gagging sound caught her attention, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Maneuvering around a row of storage containers to where she thought the sounds were originating, she lurched to a halt, frozen in place and mouth opening in horrified shock at the sight before her.

  Maxson was being held nearly a meter off the deck, one-handed, by the dead Dokaalan female, who had risen from the diagnostic bed and who was now choking the life out of him.

  Her voice catching in her throat, Lomax stared at the unreal scene before her as Maxson tried to fight off the attack, swinging and clawing with both hands in a futile effort to loosen the Dokaalan’s overwhelming grip. A moment later, the ensign’s already fading movements stopped altogether. The Dokaalan woman held his motionless body in that same manner for several more seconds, as if waiting to be sure he was dead, before dropping Maxson unceremoniously to the deck.

  Unable and unwilling to speak, Lomax instead stepped slowly back the way she had come, waiting until she was out of sight before turning to run. When she did, she nearly ran into…

  …into herself.

  It was as though she were staring into a mirror. The being before her was an exact duplicate of her, right down to the insignia on her collar and the combadge on her left breast.

  Not a mirror.

  The thought came unbidden, only a single heartbeat before panic set in, and Susan Lomax found her voice. Her scream echoed off the walls of the cargo bay as she turned to run in another direction. Where the hell was the door? If she could just make it into the corridor, there would be someone to help.

  Call for help, idiot!

  Cursing herself, Lomax reached for her combadge but her hand never made it. Instead it was abruptly grabbed and halted by a larger, meatier hand. Jerking her head to the right, she looked up into the handsome, smiling face of Jarek Maxson.

  Lomax tried to scream again, but this time it was cut off as the ensign’s other hand closed around her throat.

  Mhuic flexed the fingers of his hand and pressed a thumb into his palm, working to relieve the small cramp he had earned while strangling the human woman who now lay in a lifeless heap at his feet. He had anticipated a struggle, but the slight woman had been so shocked that she had been unable to put up any resistance.

  He had been studying her from the moment he had been brought aboard the Starfleet vessel, concealed among the injured Dokaalan rescued from the destroyed mining outpost. During his observations, he had determined that her position among the crew was that of a nondescript, menial subordinate, not part of the vessel’s leadership caste. Her role was common and yet trusted enough that she could move about the ship freely, but her duties required that she not be anywhere or answerable to anyone of importance for long periods of time. She was a perfect choice for impersonation.

  Until the human male had arrived, of course.

  Mhuic’s head turned at the approach of the other operative who had ended up here as one of the Dokaalan patients but whose form now appeared as that of the human woman. He nodded in greeting.

  “It is Alida,” his counterpart offered, smiling as she moved to lift the lifeless body of the woman. “Help me,” she said, and together they easily moved the dead human to an area of the cargo bay secluded by a grouping of large cargo containers.

  “I did not know you were still here,” Mhuic said as he knelt beside the human’s body and removed the communicator badge from her uniform tunic.

  “I took the chance that the Starfleet people would not notice one more dead Dokaalan,” Alida replied. “It was my original intention to take the form of one of their doctors, but that seemed too great a risk.”

  Mhuic nodded in agreement. “I had planned to assume this human’s form but then the human male arrived and opportunity presented itself.”

  “Fair enough,” Alida said, her voice sounding digitized and warbled as her shroud’s sonic emitters adjusted the acoustical qualities of her own voice to match the timbre of the human woman’s. After a moment she nodded in satisfaction that her transformation was fully in place.

  “Do not forget this,” Mhuic said as he offered the confiscated combadge.

  “Of course,” Alida replied, accepting the device and placing it on her own chest. Mhuic watched as her shroud rippled momentarily as it adapted its appearance to the new addition, which he knew carried components imbued with important identification information. To the naked eye, Alida appeared to be Crewman Lomax, but with the communicator and its direct ties to the ship’s computer, her impersonation was complete.

  “We need to dispose of this,” she said after a moment, nodding toward the body before them, “and the other one.”

  Mhuic replied, “They can be concealed here for a time.” Indicating the storage containers that held the portable diagnostic beds, he added, “Unless another medical emergency is declared, this area should remain unused for several hours at least.”

  He gave brief thought to obtaining a weapon and simply disintegrating the bodies, but just as quickly dismissed the notion. Such an action would be immediately detected by the ship’s internal sensors. It was unfortunate, but unavoidable. He did not particularly like killing any subject he was forced to mimic during an assignment, but when required to do so, he much preferred that no evidence of his actions remained to betray him at some later, inconvenient time.

  “See to it, then,” Alida said, “while I access the computer and determine where our proper duty stations are. The sooner we return to our subjects’ regular routines, the better.”

  Mhuic regarded his fellow operative, making an effort to keep his expression neutral. He knew Alida was his superior, if only by virtue of having completed a few more assignments, but he found himself slightly annoyed at how easily she had assumed the leadership role between them. It was not normal for operatives to work in teams, and it had been a long time since he had taken on any assignment where he had not worked alone. This would definitely take some getting used to, he decided.

  “What do we do then?” he asked as he lifted the lifeless woman’s body and slung it over his shoulder.

  Alida cast a knowing look back at him. “Then, we wait.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “SOMEONE IS COMING.”

  Dozing fitfully in his cot, La Forge opened his eyes at the sound of Taurik’s voice. According to the Vulcan, it had been nearly two hours since their conversation with Barmiol. What did they want now?

  “How many this time?” the engineer asked as he rose to a sitting position.

  Listening to sounds La Forge could not yet hear, Taurik replied, “Only one, though he may not even be coming here.”

  “But if he is, this might be our chance,” La Forge said, the first kernels of a plan already forming in his mind. “If we can get the drop on him, can you get us back to the landing bay?”

  Upon arriving at this mining colony, the pair of skiffs they had traveled in had made use of a single large compartment constructed on the massive asteroid’s surface that already housed two other skiffs. The two engineers had then been marched through the colony’s passageways for several minutes before ending up here, and La Forge was sure he would not be able to remember the proper route back to what might be their sole chance at escape.

  “I believe so, Commander,” Taurik replied. “As for disabling the guard, I do have a suggestion. One of us could feign illness or injury when the guard enters the room. Perhaps the simulated crisis will distract him long enough for the other to overpower him.”

  La Forge almost groaned audibly at the idea. “Taurik, that’s got to be the oldest trick in the book.”

  Rising to a sitting position on his cot, the Vulcan said, “If you are saying that i
t is a time-tested tactic, Commander, I would have to agree. In fact, while studying the mission logs of Captain James Kirk at Starfleet Academy, I found that he employed the strategy a number of times. While it was not always successful, he did use it to great effect on…”

  “We don’t have time to discuss this,” La Forge snapped, cutting off his companion. He could now clearly hear the guard’s footsteps as he drew closer to their cell. “Besides, I can’t believe these guys would fall for something like that.”

  “Perhaps,” the Vulcan countered. “Then again, if they are aware of the tactic, then they may well expect us to anticipate that and discard it as a potential course of action. In that case, they would be unprepared for us to actually employ…”

  “Taurik!” La Forge hissed as he heard the lock on the door being disengaged. In a quiet voice he added, “Just follow my lead, okay?”

  There was no time for the junior engineer to answer before the door opened to reveal a Dokaalan security officer carrying a tray. At least, the figure appeared to be Dokaalan. La Forge was still trying to picture what the guard might look like in his real form, if he was in fact employing some kind of disguise or shapechanging ability.

  Both La Forge and Taurik remained seated on their cots and the guard stayed in the doorway as he knelt down to place the tray on the deck. “There is water here,” he said, pointing to a large bottle. Rising to his feet, his hand came to rest on the butt of the weapon in his holster as he indicated the plate of what La Forge took to be food, oddly shaped and in a variety of colors. “We have determined that these fruits can be eaten by both of your species with no ill effects.”

  “Sounds delicious,” La Forge said, making no effort to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Forcing himself not to make eye contact with Taurik, lest he alert the guard to what was coming, the chief engineer moved to stand up. “What do you call…?”

  The question turned into a grunt of surprise as he stepped forward and felt his leg held back, throwing him off balance. Reduced gravity prevented him from flopping face-first to the floor, but La Forge still felt himself beginning a slow fall toward the deck plating.

  My damn pants leg. The material of his jumpsuit had snagged on the bed frame. Again.

  His unfortunate tumble did have the effect of startling the guard, however. The Dokaalan stepped to his left to avoid becoming entangled as La Forge fell, causing him to move closer to Taurik. He quickly realized his mistake, but not before the Vulcan lunged from his cot.

  The guard was smart, and fast, anticipating the assault even as Taurik closed the distance between them. He leapt forward, the one-sixth gravity of the asteroid slowing him somewhat as he pushed forward and into the attack and swung a meaty fist at the engineer’s head.

  Taurik parried the blow with his left hand, using his body weight to force the guard backward and off balance. The Dokaalan lashed out with his other fist and Taurik ducked to avoid being hit, his right arm sweeping up to force the guard’s arm away from his body. Now with an opening, Taurik moved his left hand to his opponent’s neck and squeezed. The guard released a quiet moan as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and Taurik caught him as he collapsed.

  “Are you all right, Commander?” he asked as he lowered the now unconscious guard to the floor.

  With a grunt of frustration, La Forge yanked his leg free of the bedframe joint that had snagged him. “I banged my knee, but I’ll be fine.”

  Reaching for the guard’s holster, Taurik removed the Bajoran phaser it held. He said nothing for a moment, and La Forge realized that he was listening for signs that their struggle had been overheard by someone else. Finally the Vulcan nodded, apparently satisfied that their movements had gone unnoticed.

  “I must compliment you on a most effective ruse, sir,” he said as he checked the phaser’s power level. “The guard was taken in completely.”

  “Uh, yeah,” La Forge said. So was I. Standing up, he rubbed the sore spot on his right knee where he had landed roughly. Even in low gravity, that hurts, he decided. “Those were some nice moves, Taurik. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

  “It is called suus mahna,” the junior officer replied, “a fighting art used by my people for thousands of years. It was developed in our ancient past as a technique for close-quarters combat, but over the generations it has evolved into a purely defensive fighting style.”

  Moving to where the Dokaalan lay unmoving on the floor, La Forge said, “Seems to work pretty good.” He checked the guard’s pockets for anything that might prove useful.

  Taurik nodded, keeping his attention on the doorway and watching out for signs of anyone approaching. “When practiced with meditation, it is a most effective means of focusing the energy of the mind and body.”

  “Maybe you can teach me sometime,” La Forge said, rising to his feet. Other than his weapon, the Dokaalan was carrying nothing of significance. Frowning at a sudden thought, he pointed to the guard’s chest. “Hey, if this guy was a shapeshifter, wouldn’t he have reverted to his normal form once he fell unconscious?”

  “It would be consistent with most of the beings we have encountered with such abilities,” Taurik replied. “It seems reasonable to assume that he is employing artificial means to generate his appearance.”

  “Another thing,” La Forge said as he moved to his cot and grabbed its thin blanket. “He said the fruit was chosen because we could eat it. That means that whoever these people are, they know at least something about humans and Vulcans.”

  Watching as the chief engineer began to tear his blanket into strips, Taurik picked up his own blanket and began to do the same. “An astute observation, Commander. We may be dealing with a race familiar to the Federation. An enemy power, perhaps?”

  La Forge shook his head. “We don’t have time to figure it out now. We need to get out of here and find a way back to the ship, then we can worry about who our friends are.”

  After using the strips from their blankets to bind and gag the guard as best they could, the engineers took one more opportunity to ensure that no one else was heading in their direction before stepping out into the passageway. Taurik closed the cell’s door and locked it, preserving the image of normality should anyone happen past.

  The engineer noted that the lighting level in the passageway was lower than when they had arrived. “You think they reduce power during whatever passes for their nighttime cycle?” he asked, keeping his voice low as they moved down the corridor in the direction Taurik indicated would lead them to the landing bay they had used upon their arrival.

  “A distinct possibility,” the Vulcan replied, “perhaps as a conservation measure. If that is the case, then there may be fewer people moving about the colony’s nonessential areas.”

  “Somehow I don’t think we’ve got that kind of luck,” La Forge countered. “It won’t be long before Barmiol or one of his buddies misses that guard.”

  They stopped at each intersection, Taurik using his superior hearing and La Forge employing the various abilities of his ocular implants to check for the approach of potential enemies. Not knowing how many people were involved in this scheme to undermine the efforts of the Dokaalan, the engineers could not afford to trust anyone, even if La Forge could determine that they were not employing some kind of disguise.

  “How far are we?” La Forge asked as they turned yet another corner in the passageway. Had they taken this many changes in direction the first time they had been marched through these corridors?

  “Two more intersections and we should be at the hatch leading to the landing bay,” Taurik replied. As he carried their only weapon, he was in front, examining signage and other items fastened to the bulkheads as he retraced their steps.

  La Forge had briefly considered trying to find some way to send a message back to the Enterprise but opted against that action. There would be plenty of time for that once they had gotten away from the outpost. In fact, it would be a necessity, for a number of reasons. Besides simply
alerting Captain Picard to what was happening here, he and Taurik would almost certainly need help just to get back to the ship. Without their shuttlecraft and its sensors and navigational logs, they had no way to make their way back through the asteroid field to the Enterprise. He did not know what, if anything, aboard the Dokaalan skiffs aided pilots to successfully traverse the field to their intended destinations, but he doubted it was a method he would have time to learn.

  They were coming up on another four-way intersection when Taurik stopped. The action was so abrupt that La Forge nearly ran into him, only just remembering not to say anything loud. Words were not necessary, anyway, as the Vulcan raised his empty hand in a cautionary gesture. He had heard something, or someone, around the corner to the right, which was the direction he had wanted to go. It took only another moment before the chief engineer heard the sounds of footsteps and voices echoing in the corridor and moving toward them.

  “No place to hide,” La Forge whispered, looking around. The turn in the corridor behind them was too far away to reach before whoever was coming saw them. The images of what might occur in the next few seconds were already playing out in his mind. They had a one-in-three chance that whoever was coming up the passageway would turn left at the corner and run into them. If they kept going straight or turned right at the intersection, then their backs would be to the engineers. With luck, they would be too busy talking with one another to notice that they were not alone in the passageway at this apparently late hour.

  Taurik said nothing as he handed La Forge his confiscated Bajoran phaser before pressing himself against the near wall. La Forge followed suit as the footsteps grew louder, and now he was able to make out two distinct voices talking back and forth at one another. He could not understand all of the words, but from their general tone and the occasional laugh, it seemed as though the conversation was a genial one.

  Good, he thought. They’re not on alert, or looking for us. Yet.