A Time to Harvest

by Dayton Ward

  They were almost at the intersection. La Forge felt his heart pounding in his chest and blood rushing in his ears. He held his breath as he saw the first shadow begin to darken the floor, and was it his imagination or did he actually feel the deck plate vibrating beneath feet in reaction to the approaching footfalls? Gripping the phaser in his right hand, he realized he was holding the weapon so tightly that it was shaking. He grabbed the phaser’s squat barrel with his other hand and held it close to his chest, taking one last look to confirm that it had been set to stun before returning his attention to the corridor ahead of them. The footsteps were loud now, only one or two more seconds before they…

  Barmiol and another Dokaalan turned left into the intersection and nearly barreled into Taurik.

  “What…?”

  La Forge’s first instinct was to shoot the Dokaalan but his aim was blocked by Taurik, who wasted no time lunging at the pair with both hands extended. The Vulcan’s right hand closed around the neck and shoulder of the first Dokaalan and he promptly sagged to the deck.

  Barmiol was faster. Yelping in surprise, he ducked to his right, knocking the engineer’s hand aside as he moved away. His momentum carried him into the center of the intersection and clear of Taurik. La Forge raised the phaser and fired, wincing at the sound of the weapon in the narrow corridors even as its bright orange beam caught Barmiol square in the chest. The echo from the shot continued down the passageways even as the Dokaalan fell to the floor. Though it faded quickly, La Forge knew there was no way it had gone unheard.

  “Well, they know we’re here now,” he said as he regarded their unconscious opponents.

  Then he noticed it.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said as he knelt down to more closely inspect the fallen Dokaalan.

  “Commander?” Taurik prompted, keeping his attention focused on all four legs of corridor leading away from the intersection.

  La Forge pointed to Barmiol. “His body heat is much lower than his friend’s. Fifteen point three degrees lower, in fact.” He had no idea what Dokaalan body temperature was, of course, but he doubted such a discrepancy from person to person would be considered normal. “I wonder what Dr. Crusher would make of this.”

  “I would suggest tabling the question until we have found a way out of here, sir,” Taurik said, still watching for signs of anyone approaching. “Others will no doubt be on their way here within minutes.”

  The engineers took off at a run down the corridor. The lower gravity allowed them to lengthen their strides, but the engineers had to be conscious of not launching themselves into the ceiling panels as they ran. No longer concerned with stealth, La Forge ignored the clanking of his boots each time he landed on the metal plating. Only one thought tormented him now: How much farther did they have to go, and who would be waiting for them when they got there?

  Pointing ahead of him as they turned another corner in the passageway, Taurik said, “The landing bay should be through that hatch.”

  La Forge saw that this leg of corridor was short, only a few dozen meters, and ended at what he recognized as a reinforced pressure door. If Taurik was right, this was the hatch leading to the airlock separating the landing bay from the interior of the mining outpost.

  They were halfway to the door when it was opened from the inside, revealing a single Dokaalan. While La Forge was certain from the man’s heat signature that he was a fake, seeing him raise his weapon in their direction was equally convincing.

  “Look out!” the engineer shouted as he ducked to his left the instant before the Dokaalan fired. Green energy screamed past as La Forge slammed into the bulkhead, his shoulder tingling from the impact. He raised his phaser and returned fire, catching his opponent in the leg. The Dokaalan staggered for a moment from the attack but did not fall. La Forge fired again and it was a better shot, this time hitting the other man in the head.

  The Dokaalan fell to one knee, stunned by the attack but not incapacitated. La Forge thumbed the phaser’s power level up two settings before taking aim one more time and firing again. The strengthened beam struck the Dokaalan in the chest and La Forge’s finger remained on the weapon’s firing stud, maintaining the assault until the guard finally collapsed to the deck.

  Rushing forward to verify that the Dokaalan was unconscious, Taurik picked up the guard’s Klingon disruptor. La Forge moved to join him as the junior engineer aimed his captured weapon through the now open hatch.

  “It is clear,” the Vulcan said, stepping through the doorway and into the airlock. A similar check revealed that the landing bay also appeared to be deserted.

  “It won’t take them long to figure out where we’ve gone,” La Forge said as he closed the hatch leading back the way they had come. After ensuring that the door’s locking mechanism was engaged, he stepped back, leveled his phaser at the door, and fired, melting the lock.

  Observing the chief engineer’s work, Taurik said. “That will not contain them for very long, sir.”

  “It won’t have to,” La Forge replied. He pointed to one of the three skiffs parked in the small landing bay. “You think you can fly one of those things?”

  “I observed my pilot’s actions during our flight here from our crash site,” the Vulcan said. “I believe I absorbed enough information to at least launch one of the craft and get us away from here.”

  La Forge nodded. He was counting on his own observations of the pilot who had brought him here as well as his and Taurik’s own abilities to handle small spacecraft to get them out of here. Once they were back in the asteroid field, it was all they would have. “Get one started up and prepare to take off,” he said.

  As Taurik selected one of the skiffs and climbed into his cockpit, La Forge crossed the deck to what appeared to be a small control room. Its most prominent feature was a large console with a window that offered an unobstructed view of the landing bay.

  The console itself was a myriad of buttons, dials, gauges, and status lights. La Forge knew that the bay’s outer doors as well as the regulation of internal atmosphere had to be controlled from here, but there was no way he would be able to decipher the odd script that was the Dokaalan written language.

  His decision not to try was cemented by the abrupt sounding of a blaring alarm, the klaxon nearly deafening in the confines of the control room. Outside in the landing bay, warning lights began to flash down the length of the chamber, and a voice erupted from a hidden speaker.

  “Security to landing bay two. Emergency alert. Security to landing bay two.”

  Lunging from the control room, La Forge scrambled across the deck toward the trio of skiffs. “Time to go, Taurik!” he called out, shouting to be heard above the alarms.

  Rising up from the cockpit of one of the small craft, Taurik waved. “Commander! What about the outer hatch?”

  “Can we use the skiff’s drilling laser to cut through?” La Forge asked as he drew closer to the tiny craft.

  The Vulcan shook his head. “I do not believe we will have sufficient time for that, sir.”

  “Then we’ll have to speed things up,” La Forge replied as he ran forward, checking the power lever on his phaser. There was just enough of a charge left for what he had in mind, he decided.

  He did not relish the idea of causing such destruction to the facility and inconveniencing any Dokaalan living here who knew nothing about the deceitful activities taking place in their midst, but that could not be helped now. The chief engineer knew that if he and Taurik were to be captured again, the odds were good that their abductors would simply kill them to avoid further trouble.

  It made the choice easy.

  Setting the weapon to overload, La Forge heaved the phaser toward the landing bay’s outer hatch and ran for the skiff.

  “Watch out for debris!” he yelled as he clambered up the small ladder and into the ship’s cockpit, feeling its hull vibrating beneath his hands. Taurik had thankfully figured out how to power up the skiff’s engines already. Maybe they would get away
with this after all.

  La Forge was aware of the skiff’s cockpit hatch sealing shut before a muffled explosion reverberated through the ship’s thin hull. Then he felt the craft lurch as Taurik pushed one lever forward and yanked back on another, lifting the skiff from the deck of the landing bay and maneuvering it toward the chamber’s ceiling.

  It was a prudent maneuver. As La Forge fell into the skiff’s copilot seat he was able to observe the effects of the explosion he had caused. The landing bay’s outer hatch now sported a huge, ragged hole, with more pieces of it being ripped away as explosive decompression forced the chamber’s contents toward the hatch and out into space. Everything from toolboxes to storage crates to the remaining two skiffs became projectiles as the atmosphere was pulled from the room, and it was taking all of Taurik’s piloting skills to keep their own craft from being struck by any flying debris.

  The decompression lasted only a few seconds, after which the interior of the landing bay was plunged into vacuum. Now free to maneuver, Taurik pushed the lever in his right hand forward and La Forge felt the increase in the skiff’s engine power. The Vulcan touched another control and the craft jumped forward, clearing the bay a moment later and hurtling out into empty space.

  Nearly empty, at least. There was still an asteroid field to navigate, after all, and they had no idea which way to go.

  “Commander,” Taurik said as he adjusted the skiff’s course to avoid striking a tumbling rock no bigger than a photon-torpedo tube, “given some time, I may be able to figure out this vessel’s onboard navigational aids.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” La Forge replied, tightening his seat’s safety harness. “You just keep us from crashing into anything.” Beyond the tiny vessel’s cockpit, even the smallest visible asteroids seemed gigantic.

  At least the ride won’t be boring.

  “Any idea which of these controls works the communications system?” he asked.

  Taurik pointed to a small bank of switches set into the center of the console. “When we were brought to the colony, I observed my skiff’s pilot using that component to request clearance for docking.”

  Watching as the Vulcan demonstrated the proper use of the com system’s transmit and receive functions, La Forge reached for the toggle to activate the system and flipped it. He was rewarded with a momentary burst of static filling the cockpit.

  “La Forge to Enterprise,” the chief engineer said, releasing the transmit button to listen for a response. When none came, he repeated the sequence. “Enterprise, do you read me?” More static greeted him at first, but then the channel cleared.

  “Commander La Forge?” said a faint voice, barely audible through the interference. “This is Lieutenant Hras aboard the shuttlecraft Chawla. We’ve been looking for you, sir. You’re transmitting on a very low audio band. Is your shuttle damaged?”

  Stifling the urge to laugh at the very legitimate question, La Forge instead replied, “It’s a long story, Lieutenant.”

  And it’s about time our luck changed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  PICARD ALLOWED HIMSELF to feel relief at the news of La Forge and Taurik’s safe recovery only once the two engineers actually set foot on the Enterprise.

  While it was a sense of triumph that was much needed after the events of the past two days, it was to be short-lived, quashed within moments of his entering sickbay to greet the engineers.

  “Whoever they are, they’re not Dokaalan,” La Forge said as he sat on the edge of a diagnostic bed. Both La Forge and Taurik had been ordered to report to sickbay so that Dr. Crusher could give them a quick once-over. Picard was encouraged by the sight of both engineers, who appeared unharmed by their experience.

  Crusher agreed, decreeing that the worst either man had suffered from their short bout of captivity was mild dehydration and sleep deprivation. She had cleared them for duty on the condition that they got some rest once they were done here before dashing off to continue her research. Working with Dr. Tropp, she still had her hands full trying to find a way to counter the effects of the asteroid field’s radiation belt on Dokaalan physiology.

  “Shapeshifters?” Riker asked.

  Sitting on another of the beds, Taurik shook his head. “It is possible, sir, or perhaps they are merely humanoids employing a form of disguise.”

  “I discovered a distinct difference in body temperature while examining what I thought were two Dokaalan. Dr. Crusher thinks the variation is too drastic for normal physiological differences within a single species to account for it.”

  “And you think this means one of those individuals was somehow disguised,” Picard said, “but that they’re not Founders?”

  La Forge shook his head. “Taurik was able to incapacitate a couple of them bare-handed, and none of the people we encountered appeared to possess superior strength or speed we’ve seen in other Founders. Also, Barmiol didn’t strike me as having that attitude of superiority toward non-shapeshifters that the Founders are known for. Besides, from everything we know about them, would they actually need to terraform a planet like Ijuuka?”

  It was a logical assessment, Picard decided. If this unknown group of insurgents were not from the Dominion, having found another method of traveling to this part of the galaxy from their homeworld in the Gamma Quadrant, and if he proceeded from the assumption that they were not of another race of shapeshifters, then who were they?

  “It is possible they are a form of advance team,” Data said from where he sat in his engineer’s work sled, “working on behalf of another group that requires the planet.”

  Hopping down off the diagnostic bed, La Forge frowned at that notion. “That could be. The guy in charge, Barmiol, sounded like he was taking orders from somebody, but I still got the sense that he was invested in what they were doing. It was ‘we need this’ and ‘our plans,’ things like that. Whoever he is, I’m pretty sure he has a stake in what’s going on down there.”

  As he paced the length of sickbay, Picard felt his stomach tightening as he considered everything La Forge and Taurik had reported. An unknown alien race, apparently having succeeded in infiltrating the Dokaalan colonies, were now working covertly to undermine the terraforming efforts in order to hijack the project for their own ends? It would have been an outlandish notion a week ago, but if the events of the past few days had shown him anything, it was that nothing happening in this asteroid field could be considered too far-fetched.

  His attention wandered to the pair of security guards stationed just inside the entrance to sickbay. On his order, Lieutenant Vale had deployed teams of her people throughout the ship, safeguarding sensitive areas and ensuring that no one entered those sections without the proper authorization. All personnel had been restricted to duty stations and their quarters when off duty until further notice, and everyone had been ordered to move about in pairs. Anyone found alone was to be detained and questioned.

  Picard hated enacting extreme measures, but the circumstances, eerily familiar when compared to previous experience, had given him no choice. After all, memories of the Dominion War had not yet faded to the point where they could no longer impart the hard-won lessons that accompanied them.

  “Geordi,” he said, “did you get a sense of how many of these covert operatives there might be, or how far they may have worked themselves into the Dokaalan community?”

  “They didn’t give exact numbers or anything,” La Forge replied, “but Barmiol seemed pretty confident that they were able to do whatever they wanted. Whoever they are, they know they need the Dokaalan to do most of the heavy work for the terraforming to succeed. They’re being very patient and methodical about the changes they’re making, by introducing variances in the chemicals being blended together and then released into the atmosphere by the processing plants.”

  “You mean they’re not adding in anything of their own?” Riker asked. “Something they require but the Dokaalan don’t?”

  Shaking his head, La Forge replied, “Not acc
ording to what we found, and what Barmiol told us. It all points to simple rearrangement of the chemical balances to achieve an effect that’s different from what the Dokaalan are working toward. The changes are so subtle, and designed to have a cumulative effect over such a long period of time, that they’d be virtually undetectable to anything but the most intensive sensors scans, and only then if you knew what you were looking for.” The chief engineer sighed heavily. “They know it will take years, but according to Barmiol they’re prepared to wait it out. He even claimed to have a plan in the event the Dokaalan discovered what was happening.”

  “For them to do all of this,” Riker said, “to get themselves into positions to alter or even completely take over what the Dokaalan are doing, that means they’ve probably assumed the identities of actual people. They may have replaced individuals in key positions, maybe they’ve even killed those people.”

  “If what Geordi say is true,” Data added, “then it is also possible that these individuals possess the ability to pose as members of the Enterprise crew.”

  It was a chilling notion, Picard knew, made all the more frightening by the fact that it was not a new concept. Ever since first contact with the Dominion, the threat of Founders infiltrating Starfleet, manipulating decisions and war plans from within for their own ends, had been a constant one. Founders had replaced key personnel ranging from the Klingon Empire’s chief of staff to a high-ranking member of the Romulan Tal Shiar to the chief medical officer of Deep Space 9. The entire quadrant had been forced to face the idea that anyone, anywhere and at any time, might be a Changeling in disguise.

  “If it makes you feel better,” La Forge said, offering a tired, humorless grin, “everybody here seems to be themselves. I’m not picking up any odd variations in body temperature from any of you.” Moving to where his uniform tunic lay draped across a chair, the chief engineer began donning the garment. “As for these other people, if I heard Barmiol right, then they’ve been working behind the scenes for years.”