by Dayton Ward
Removing the communicator from a pocket of the gray coveralls he wore, Ross tapped it and said, “Ross here. What is it, Ensign?”
“Our sensors have detected four ships in proximity to the moon orbiting Saltok V. They’re on an intercept course and they appear to be Cardassian, but there’s no way to be sure from this distance without increasing power to the sensors.”
The agitation in the young man’s voice was obvious, Aldo thought as he shot a troubled look at both Ross and Giancarlo. Much to Aldo’s relief, however, Ross shook his head at the ensign’s suggestion. “Negative, maintain passive scanning mode. How much time until they get here?”
“Less than three minutes, sir.”
Aldo did not bother listening to the rest of the exchange. He was up from his seat and heading for the Hope’s bridge even before Ross finished giving orders to prepare for possible boarding. Ross had explained to him how that would work, with his people sealing up the cargo module containing their sensor equipment and blending in with the rest of the crew. The Starfleet officers had exchanged their uniforms for the gray jumpsuits his own people wore aboard ship, and Ross and Donovan had taken the extra step of trimming their regulation sideburns in an attempt to look more like civilian freight haulers.
As he raced into the corridor with Giancarlo and Ross following close behind him, he cast an accusatory look at the Starfleet officer. “What’s happened?”
“Apparently somebody’s interested in the solar system we’re passing,” Ross replied.
“Did they detect your sensor scans?” Giancarlo asked.
Ross shook his head. “I don’t see how. If Donovan and Ghrovlatrei are right, those are short-range Cardassian patrol ships. They don’t have the kind of equipment to detect our gear operating in minimal power mode.”
Snorting in derision, Aldo saw no reason to continue the conversation. They would know soon enough just who and what it was that had taken such a sudden interest in his ship.
It took only moments to reach the bridge, and the first thing Aldo noticed was the harried expressions on the faces of his two crewmates there. The look on the face of his helmsman, Michael Dillone, spoke volumes.
“A squadron of fast-attack ships, Boss. Two-seaters, all engine. No way we’re going to outrun them.” Aldo noted how his friend had reverted into the clipped tones that belied his normally laid-back nature. The former Starfleet security officer had slipped back into combat mode, already steeling himself for the confrontation he felt certain was coming.
Leaning over the shoulder of the ship’s navigator, Gret, Aldo studied the status displays beneath the Bolian’s hands and updated himself on their current position. “We’re still three days away from where you wanted to take your sensor readings, Commander,” he said to Ross. “I’ve never heard of Cardassian ships in the Saltok system before.”
“That’s because they’re not supposed to be there,” Ross replied. “Have the Cardassians ever intercepted your ship and demanded an inspection when you weren’t traveling through their space?”
Aldo shook his head. “No, never.”
“Then it looks like things have changed in the Saltok system.” Looking over at Dillone, Ross asked, “Are their weapons systems charged?”
The question was answered as the ship lurched violently to starboard, pushing Ross into the bulkhead even as Aldo grabbed on to the back of Gret’s chair for support. In the corner of his eye Aldo saw Giancarlo and the others flailing about in desperate attempts to keep from being thrown about the bridge.
“I’m guessing they are,” Gret said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he held on to his console to retain his balance. To Aldo he said, “They’re moving to surround us.”
Another impact rocked the ship and Aldo felt the deck buck beneath his feet. He steadied himself against the navigation console as inertial dampers struggled to compensate for the disruption to the ship’s flight path. As well constructed as he knew the Hope to be, Aldo held no illusions that the freighter stood any chance of survival if the Cardassians continued their assault. Gripping the edge of the console, he braced himself and waited silently for the next strike.
Only when it did not come after nearly a minute did Aldo realize he was holding his breath. “Now what?”
A beeping sound erupted from the forward bridge console at which Giancarlo had seated himself. Swiveling around in his chair to check it out, he looked up in Aldo’s direction. “We’re being hailed.”
Aldo allowed himself to relax, but only slightly. If the Cardassians had not blown them to space dust already, then chances were good that they might not do so at all, provided any questions or concerns could be addressed to their satisfaction. Would he know whoever it was who was hailing them, either by face or reputation? How much of the rapport that he and his crew had formed with other Cardassian patrol ships over the past few years of running freight through this sector would he be able to draw on?
There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?
Pausing only long enough to cast another irritated look at Ross, Aldo nodded to his brother. “On screen.”
The image on the viewer shifted from the patrol ship that had taken up station off the Hope’s bow to that of a Cardassian military officer. His dark penetrating eyes seemed to bore straight through Aldo, adding to the alien’s already sinister expression. Still, Aldo was at least pleased to see that it was a face that he knew well.
“Gul Mogad,” he said to the commander of Cardassian ships in this sector, “why are you firing at us?” While Aldo would never consider himself and Mogad to be friends, they had formed a mutually respectful association in the years that Ulrika’s Hope had operated in this area. It was a relationship Aldo had used to every advantage in order to keep his deliveries on schedule and with the fewest possible disruptions.
None of that familiarity seemed to be present now, however, as the Cardassian responded with a formal nod and leaned so close to his own visual pickup that his face nearly filled the viewer.
“Bring your ship to a full stop, human,” Mogad said, “and prepare to be boarded. If you do not comply, I will destroy you here and now.”
Chapter
6
Watching Mogad stalk around the small open area in the forward section of the shuttlebay, Aldo realized that in all the years he had known him, this was the first time the Cardassian officer had actually set foot aboard the Hope. Even on those occasions when the freighter had passed through Cardassian space and Mogad’s had been the patrol vessel to intercept them and request an inspection of the freighter’s cargo holds, the gul himself had remained aboard his own ship.
That he was here now only served to underscore, at least to Aldo, just how seriously Mogad viewed the current situation.
With his arms clasped loosely behind his back as he paced back and forth, his eyes moved past the stacks of cargo containers that had been staged here. He appeared to be ignoring Aldo and the rest of the Hope’s crew, all of whom had been assembled here at the Cardassian’s orders and who were currently under guard by five of Mogad’s subordinates. Aldo noted once again the hard expression on the gul’s face, which had not changed since the moment the quartet of Cardassian fast-patrol ships entered the Hope’s cramped landing bay. They had been forced to dock, given their ships’ lack of transporters, and the hassle was compounded by the fact that the landing bay was already being used for extra cargo storage space. All four ships had been able to land, but it was a tight fit.
“We detected sensor scans emanating from your ship, Aldo,” Mogad said, the corners of his mouth turning upward slightly to create more of a sneer than a smile. “These sensor scans were more powerful than would be considered normal for a vessel of this type. Perhaps you might explain that anomaly for me.”
Aldo had prepared for the question with the help of both Ross and Colv, the Hope’s engineer. “We’ve had some upgrades to our sensor equipment, among other things.” He hoped that his answer sounded more natural and tru
thful to the Cardassian’s ears than his own.
“These were not the scans of a freighter’s navigational sensors,” Mogad countered, “nor were they simply searching for potential hazards. Our own sensor logs show that these were aimed specifically at the Saltok system. Why does that area interest you?”
Shrugging, Aldo replied with another coached answer from Ross. “My sensor officer detected what he thought were lifepods. When he realized that they were ships operating under their own power he informed the bridge to continue on our course.”
Mogad appeared to consider this for a moment, directing his gaze as he did so toward the other members of the crew. His eyes moved from face to face until they settled on Ross. Aldo saw the Cardassian’s brow furrow in suspicion as he regarded the Starfleet officer, who along with Ensign Donovan had blended in with the rest of the crew. “I don’t recognize you, human. What is your name?”
Clearing his throat as if nervous, Ross replied, “Uh, Barry, sir. I’m the assistant helmsman.”
“I just hired him on last month,” Giancarlo added from where he stood to Aldo’s right. “Dillone and Gret were begging me for extra help during the longer trips. You know how Bolians can get if you don’t give them what they want.” It was a hasty fabrication, one Giancarlo and Aldo had contrived, as well as a feeble attempt to play on the familiarity that the Corsis and Mogad shared, but it was better than letting Ross talk too much.
Mogad’s attention lingered on the commander a moment longer before he resumed his slow pacing. “There is much here that troubles me, Aldo, and my concern is compounded by the fact that we have known one another for a long time. I do not want to believe that you have engaged in any activities that might harm our relationship, but circumstances being what they are, I am not allowed the luxury of taking anything for granted.” Walking until he stood directly in front of Aldo, his smile widened as he added, “So I hope you will understand my insistence on an inspection of your vessel in order to assuage my doubts.”
The “request” was more polite formality than anything else, Aldo knew, just as he knew that members of the gul’s crew were already sweeping the Hope from bow to stern in search of anything that could implicate him or his crew. Ross had assured him that the sensor equipment would not be detected with the special masking field in place, but that did little to ease Aldo’s discomfort.
“What doubts?” Aldo asked. “Come on, Mogad, what is it you believe us to have done?”
Leveling a scathing glare at Aldo, the gul replied, “Quite simply, I believe that you were spying, human, and the only reason I have not ordered your ship destroyed already is because of the respect you have earned from me in the past. However, if I find that trust has been violated, you will wish I had simply blown you out of space.”
* * *
Lieutenant Hu’Ghrovlatrei had to fight the urge to fidget as the Cardassians walked through the hold, gradually making their way toward the grouping of Type XII cargo modules.
The unit holding the Starfleet team’s equipment had been sealed and the sensor masking field activated, and other cargo had been situated around it to give the appearance that no one could easily enter the larger model. With just their tricorders to aid them, there should be no way for the Cardassians to know that any of the containers were anything but what they appeared to be.
So why am I so nervous?
Of course she knew the reason, and it had everything to do with being alone in a cargo hold with two Cardassians, a result of Gul Mogad’s directing Aldo to supply a crew member who could guide the search party through the labyrinthine storage bays. It was just such an opportunity that Commander Ross had been hoping for, instructing Aldo in advance to offer Ghrovlatrei for the task if and when Mogad gave the order. The Starfleet officers had so far been accepted as members of the ship’s company, and her assignment to the detail had raised no suspicions as she led the way through the cargo areas, standing where she was told to stand or opening doors or moving the odd container when directed. Otherwise the Cardassians ignored her, intent as they were on their mission.
The scans she and Donovan had conducted, despite the low power setting and the noninvasive nature of their sensors, had obviously been detected by the Cardassians. Whatever equipment had accomplished the feat had to be more powerful than that installed aboard the patrol ships presently surrounding the Hope. That would imply some sort of sensor installation in this vicinity, she knew. Was it located on the moon? If so, that would certainly go a long ways toward explaining the Cardassians’ reaction.
It’s too bad we didn’t get a chance to take a closer look, she mused, trying unsuccessfully to avoid dwelling on the idea that not getting decent sensor readings was really the least of their problems now.
Given the current situation between the Cardassian Union and the Federation, Starfleet Intelligence was expending massive resources trying to keep track of ship and troop movements throughout Cardassian territory. Encounters between the two sides had been anything but peaceful. There were still other attacks on Starfleet ships that were yet to be explained. One such incident had occurred just recently in the Maxia Zeta system, with the crew of the U.S.S. Stargazer forced to evacuate their ship after its near destruction at the hands of an unidentified vessel. Though that confrontation had taken place several light years from here, it was close enough that Intelligence was not ruling out the possibility of Cardassian involvement.
Watching the Cardassians go about their inspection, Ghrovlatrei could see that the soldiers were getting bored, their behavior in sharp contrast to the manner in which they had begun the assignment. It was obvious in the casual way they examined the cargo modules they passed and in the almost dismissive manner in which they studied their tricorder readings. Still, she found herself holding her breath as one of the Cardassians waved his scanner in front of the module containing the sensor equipment.
From her vantage point, it was difficult to see the tricorder’s miniaturized display, but Ghrovlatrei could still make out the scan results, which depicted the false image of the container’s supposed contents. As far as she could tell, there was nothing in the readings that should raise suspicion.
“There’s nothing here,” the Cardassian said to his companion as he returned his tricorder to a clip on the belt of his uniform. “Whatever they are using, it must be installed someplace other than the cargo bays.”
The other Cardassian nodded as he took a final look at his own scanner, and Ghrovlatrei was about to allow herself a guarded sigh of relief when the soldier froze in place, a frown creasing his pale features. Facing the cargo module, the heavy brow ridges over his eyes furrowed as he studied his tricorder again.
“Wait,” he said after several seconds. “Something isn’t right.”
The other Cardassian moved closer. “What do you mean?”
Indicating the module with his tricorder, his comrade replied, “The readings show that this contains farming equipment, all packed neatly.” He pointed to another of the Type XIIs. “As opposed to the others, the contents of which have been thrown into disarray. That was almost certainly caused by our earlier attack. So why not this one?”
Ghrovlatrei watched as the Cardassian considered the situation before him, her hopes already sinking as she realized what a simple, idiotic mistake she and Donovan had made. Then the Cardassian turned to face her, his expression having grown cold.
“Open it.”
It required an almost physical effort for the Efrosian to maintain her composure as she nodded to the Cardassian and stepped to the module. How had she failed to consider that the contents of the other modules would have shifted, violently in some cases, under the brunt of the weapons fire the freighter had suffered and adjusted the masking field’s projection accordingly?
What was she supposed to do now? The entire mission was about to be exposed, and there was no telling what Gul Mogad might do once he found out about the Starfleet equipment. The safety of the ship’s entire crew was in
danger.
There really was only one course of action.
With her right hand blocked as she moved one of the smaller containers that she and Donovan had placed in front of the module’s door, Ghrovlatrei was able to reach into the cargo pocket on the right leg of her jumpsuit and retrieve the small Type I phaser she had secreted there.
Chapter
7
“Gul Mogad! We need—”
Donovan tensed at the words that erupted from Mogad’s communicator, turning as he did so to make eye contact with Ross. The commander exchanged a quick glance with him that spoke volumes: Don’t move.
Static had replaced the voice coming from Cardassian’s communicator and Mogad tapped the device furiously. “Traket, are you there? Traket?” Pivoting on his heel he whirled to face Aldo. “What have you done? What are you hiding here?” Forgetting the now useless communicator, he instead pointed to one of his subordinates. “Cover the entrance.” To the others he said, “If any of them moves, kill them all.”
Donovan could see nervousness working against Aldo, his body struggling to remain still as Mogad’s anger mounted. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. It was not a lie, at least not completely. Aldo could not know what was happening belowdecks. Donovan was not even sure himself. The only thing that made sense was that the Cardassians searching the cargo holds had discovered the hidden Starfleet equipment and that Lieutenant Ghrovlatrei had taken some kind of action. Had she also managed to find a way to jam the Cardassian’s communications?
Mogad’s frustration was evident as he failed to make contact with his two soldiers down in the cargo holds.
“Why, after all these years, you have seen fit to violate my trust?” he asked as he stepped closer to Aldo. “Do you realize that espionage against the Cardassian Union is an offense punishable by death? Is that what you wish for your crew?”
