Текст книги "What Judgments Come"
Автор книги: Dayton Ward
Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
Жанр:
Научная фантастика
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Her voice retaining its usual calm, quiet, and controlled tone, T’Prynn said, “We have entered an area of the system which appears to be using some form of language override protocols for its user interfaces. Standard translation subroutines are being rendered ineffective, and the native language being employed is not one I recognize.”
“Can you run it through the universal translation program on the station’s computer?” Reyes asked.
“I can,” the Vulcan replied, “but not directly. I have copied some of the information to my workstation and I am having it analyzed. It looks to be an obscure Orion dialect which has fallen out of common use. According to the library computer, it was utilized between three and four hundred years ago, mostly by a sect of Orion migrants who founded a colony in the—”
Reyes grunted in growing irritation. “I don’t care, T’Prynn. What can you do about translating it so we can get on with this?” As an additional protective measure complementing the computer system’s existing security protocols, the language trick was elegant in its simplicity. Reyes did not figure on Ganz possessing the level of ingenuity needed to put such a scheme into play. Neera was likely the culprit.
“At this time? Nothing,” T’Prynn said. “It would take too long for me to translate the information we access in this manner so that I can guide you through each successive step of the operation. What is required is a real-time translation protocol which you can use directly.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Reyes hissed, his feelings of exposure mounting with each passing moment. “Are you saying all of this was a waste of time?”
T’Prynn replied, “Our efforts have yielded important information with regard to the Omari-Ekon’s computer security features. This will aid in refining our infiltration strategy and better enable us to conceal our presence in the system.”
“What the hell is this all about, T’Prynn?” he asked. “What’s so damned important that we have to jump through these hoops?”
“I cannot elaborate as to the nature of the data,” the Vulcan replied, “but I can tell you that it involves the Shedai, and locating a world which might possess technology capable of defeating them. We believe Ganz’s ship, or a ship in his employ, either traveled to this world or obtained artifacts from it.”
“The orb,” Reyes whispered.
T’Prynn said, “That is correct. So, you should now understand the delicate and pressing nature of our assignment.”
Following her instructions, Reyes backed out of the system subnet, terminating the interface and returning the gaming console to its normal state. For good measure, he placed a bet and forced himself to play two hands of poker without acknowledging T’Prynn’s queries, in full view of anyone who happened past his table. Satisfied that no one was going to walk up and jam the muzzle of a disruptor in his face, he closed out the gaming session and reached for the drink he had almost forgotten. He eyed the liquid and weighed his chances of surviving whatever toxic substance might have been added to the brandy.
Take your best shot, Ganz, he mused before tossing back his head and downing the drink in a single swallow. He relished the burn of the brandy as it made its way down his throat, grunting in momentary satisfaction as the liquid hit his stomach. If he was going to die, there certainly were worse ways to go.
“Mister Reyes,” T’Prynn called, for the eighth or ninth time.
“Listen,” he said as he placed the now empty glass on the table, “given the likelihood that I’ll be dead by this time tomorrow, why don’t you just call me Diego?”
There was a brief pause before the intelligence officer replied, “Diego, my scans indicate that our efforts escaped detection.”
“Lucky us,” Reyes said. “Now what?” He figured that whatever T’Prynn was planning as a countermeasure to the security they had detected in the system would require time to implement before they could attempt another covert access of the Omari-Ekon’s computer. This assumed, of course, that such a scheme could be devised at all.
It may have been his imagination, but Reyes swore he heard the indecision in the Vulcan’s voice when she offered her answer.
“Stand by. I will contact you shortly.”
14
Standing before the large viewscreen that dominated his office’s port-side bulkhead, Admiral Nogura studied the image of open space presented to him. Doing so had always served to relax him, as he was able to lose himself—if only for a moment—amid the immense, absolute wonder that was the universe. How many stars were visible just in his field of vision at this exact moment, and how many of them had already died out, millions of years before their light reached him? Beholding such a vista never failed to remind Nogura just how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of all that surrounded him, and yet it also never ceased to energize him as he considered its vast, untapped potential. In the centuries to come, the boundaries of knowledge would push outward to encompass those stars, and still others beyond them, and what would be found? The very question filled Nogura with yearning, and even a small bit of envy for those who would be making such journeys long after he was gone.
That said, I plan to be here for at least a while longer.
Turning to face his visitors, Nogura indicated the viewscreen with a gesture. “Do you know what this place needs? A window. Viewscreens are nice, but I like looking out the real thing.”
Seated in the two chairs positioned before the admiral’s desk, Commander ch’Nayla said nothing, whereas Lieutenant T’Prynn regarded Nogura with a cocked eyebrow.
“A viewscreen affords you many options that a window cannot provide.”
Despite the serious nature of the meeting for which the trio had assembled, Nogura regarded the Vulcan with mild amusement. “It’s just not the same, T’Prynn.” While it was true that the screen could be configured to display an image at any angle as supplied by the station’s external sensor array, Nogura had grown accustomed to the large window at the rear of his offices on Earth. One of his habits—time and circumstances permitting, of course—had been to sit before that window, sipping from a cup of his favorite herbal tea, and look across San Francisco Bay and out toward the Pacific Ocean, watching as the sun, framed by the Golden Gate Bridge, slipped below the horizon. It was the perfect complement to the other half of his daily ritual, when he greeted sunrise from the porch of his mountaintop home in the Colorado Rockies and observed a small interval of tranquillity before transporting to Starfleet Headquarters to face whatever duties, tasks, and demands awaited him. Since arriving at Starbase 47, he had made do with the simulated dawn and dusk as presented within the terrestrial enclosure that occupied a significant portion of the station’s primary hull and offered Vanguard’s residents an illusion of being on a planet. It was a serviceable substitute, but it did not diminish his desire to return home one day.
One day, Nogura mused, but not today.
Making his way to the rear of his office, the admiral moved to the food slot set into the wall behind his desk. He retrieved one of the half-dozen data cards held in a small alcove next to the slot and inserted it into the reader below the device’s door before pressing three of the unit’s selection keys in a predetermined sequence. While he waited for the computer to process his order, he turned to ch’Nayla and T’Prynn. “I take it from your lack of a status report from Mister Reyes that you’ve encountered some difficulty accessing the Omari-Ekon’s navigation logs?”
“That’s correct, Admiral,” T’Prynn replied. Nogura retrieved and held his tea, waiting for it to cool a bit, as the Vulcan recounted the first attempt to infiltrate the Orion vessel’s computer system, along with the current obstacles preventing her and Diego Reyes from extracting the required data.
“Using an outmoded variation of one of the older Orion languages is a simple yet effective security measure. While our computer’s translation protocols are sufficient to render the proper conversions, doing so via a remote connection between the Omari-Ekon and the station would increase the likelihood of our infiltration being detected.”
Nodding in understanding, Nogura moved to the chair behind his desk and sat. “But you’re sure that neither your nor Mister Reyes’s activities were discovered?”
Commander ch’Nayla replied, “Not so far as we can tell, Admiral. A scan of the computer system while the link was established picked up no traces of monitoring. No alerts were issued, and civilian spotters aboard the Omari-Ekon report that Mister Reyes has not been approached or subjected to any unusual scrutiny.”
“Well,” Nogura said as he held his cup to his nose and savored the tea’s faint, soothing aroma, “no more than was already in place, at any rate.” He paused to sip from the tea before asking, “All right, so a direct connection from here is out of the question. What other options are available to us?”
T’Prynn looked to ch’Nayla as though seeking approval before answering, “The option with the least amount of variables from a security standpoint is to provide Mister Reyes with a translation device which can be interfaced with the Omari-Ekon’s central computer. Once engaged, he will have the freedom to navigate the system and retrieve the information we seek.”
Clearing his throat, Nogura said, “And do so without tripping any of those alerts and alarms you’ve so far managed to avoid. I’m going to hazard a guess that such an item can’t be obtained from the station quartermaster.”
“No, sir,” ch’Nayla replied. “We would have to program the device for this specific task, using the information we’ve gathered about the Omari-Ekon’s computer system.”
“Even with such preparation,” T’Prynn added, “there remains a risk of detection, as we might still trigger a security protocol of which we are not yet aware.”
Nogura could not help offering a small chuckle. “Those are the best kind, Lieutenant.” Not for the first time, the admiral was beginning to question the wisdom of undertaking this risky bit of espionage. While the importance of the data locked in the Orion vessel’s navigation system could not be ignored, was there no other way to obtain it without resorting to these sorts of clandestine schemes? Although he understood the necessity for conducting such operations, Nogura had always preferred a more direct approach to solving problems of this type. Given time, he was certain he could find something—some price—that Ganz or even his superior, Neera, would be willing to accept in exchange for the information he sought. The problem with such an aboveboard tactic was that it required Nogura to trust the Orions, which was something he had no intention of doing. “Okay, so you’re going to prepare something for Reyes to use. What then?”
“As before,” T’Prynn replied, “I will guide Mister Reyes through another infiltration of the system. With the translation device in place, doing so should facilitate our efforts and allow us to retrieve the data in short order.”
Already envisioning the worst-case scenario should Reyes be found out by any of Ganz’s men, Nogura sighed. “And you’re sure this is the best option available to us?”
T’Prynn nodded. “It is if we wish to obtain the navigational data quickly, sir.”
“And we do,” the admiral conceded. Locating the possible origin point for the Mirdonyae Artifact Ganz had surrendered to Nogura in exchange for Starfleet’s continued good favor was of paramount importance, if for no other reason than to ensure no one else—the Klingons, Tholians, Romulans, or even some other as yet unnamed power who might get curious—found it first. So far, the Shedai who had so rudely been awakened from their millennia-long sleep had seemed content to lay dormant in whatever celestial hideaway they had fashioned for themselves. They had inflicted colossal damage and destruction before their mysterious disappearance, along with the destruction of the entire Jinoteur system, which apparently was their home. Considering what they might do if roused once again was something that had cost Nogura more than one night’s sound sleep. If the displays of the ancient race’s power he had witnessed were any indication, such as when the Shedai entity had attacked the station, a concentrated assault—even by as few as two or three of the beings—likely would prove disastrous for the confronted party.
Shaking his head, Nogura said, “I have to wonder how much longer we can keep sticking fingers in this particular dam and hope it continues to hold.” Though Starfleet had done an admirable job containing the most sensitive aspects of the mysteries surrounding the Shedai and the Taurus Meta-Genome, some information had already become public. Even the explosive news features written by Tim Pennington for the Federation News Service—and whose authorization for release by Diego Reyes had ended the man’s Starfleet career—had been limited in the amount of damage they had caused. The journalist’s lack of direct knowledge about the meta-genome and the potential it carried had prevented any revelation of the Shedai’s true origins, or any detailed insight into the awesome power they commanded.
How much longer could Starfleet hope to keep this information hidden? The Klingons, though lacking in-depth knowledge as to the true nature of the meta-genome, still had acquired sufficient information about the Shedai and their technology that they too sought artifacts or weapons for their own use. According to the latest intelligence reports, the Romulans, while understandably interested in the concentrated Federation activities in this part of space, appeared to harbor no direct information about the Shedai. As for the Tholians, there was no way to know what knowledge they possessed, or wanted to possess. Whatever public face the reticent, xenophobic race deigned to present to its interstellar neighbors offered no clues to their real agenda. The discovery that the Tholians were genetically linked to the Shedai and that their ancestors once had been slaves to the immensely powerful civilization had served only to make them withdraw further. Their isolationism was only intensified by the nightmarish possibility of the Shedai returning and using their influence to once more subjugate the Tholians, along with anyone else who stood in their way. Despite any token diplomatic overtures the Assembly might put forth, Nogura held no illusions that the Tholians would soon forgive the Federation for the strife it had unwittingly provoked when it stumbled into this part of space and disturbed the sleeping giant that was the Shedai.
“I am aware of efforts which have been under way for some time to perhaps secure possible allies in the event it becomes necessary to defend against a Shedai offensive,” T’Prynn said. “Has there been any progress made in that regard?”
At first, Nogura said nothing. Following her court-martial, the Vulcan had been reduced two steps in rank and her security clearance had been downgraded so that she no longer had access to the volumes of sensitive intelligence information pertaining not only to Operation Vanguard but also to any number of classified subjects. Limiting her ability to obtain such information did nothing to erase the knowledge she already possessed, of course, nor could it prevent her from extrapolating any developments arising from the continued use and updating of that information as various operations continued.
One such effort involved those few persons in the Starfleet command hierarchy who possessed full knowledge of Operation Vanguard and the truth behind the Shedai and the Taurus Reach. At the behest of Diego Reyes while he was still in command of Starbase 47, those individuals had formed a small, top-secret task force with a single objective: sifting through and analyzing information from myriad sources in the hope of finding something that might prove useful in the event a battle with the Shedai seemed inevitable. Records from first-contact missions with advanced cultures, reports of any weapons or other artifacts found on planets that might once have been home to a civilization with a high level of technological advancement—all of it was being scrutinized. While starships on extended exploration missions had come across any number of societies that were on a par with or below that of the Federation, it was only on rare occasions that a civilization possessing superior technology was encountered. In several of those instances, the meetings had been less than peaceful, although those cases were exceptions.
Reaching for a data slate on his desk, Nogura held it up for T’Prynn and ch’Nayla’s benefit. “There hasn’t been the kind of progress we’d all like to hear about,” he said, “though every so often a promising lead presents itself. For example, I was just reading this report of the Enterprise’s mission to make contact with the Melkotian homeworld. Bit of a rocky start there, but Captain Kirk was able to open a dialogue with Melkot’s leadership.”
“Their level of technology is more advanced than ours in some areas,” ch’Nayla added, “and the captain’s report states that they’re also extremely powerful telepaths.”
Nogura nodded. “It’s very possible they might have a trick or two up their sleeve that could come in handy.”
Her right eyebrow cocking again, T’Prynn said, “I have read the report in question, Admiral, and according to the descriptions included in Captain Kirk’s brief, the Melkotians possess no extremities on their upper bodies.”
Vulcans, Nogura reminded himself. “T’Prynn …” he began.
“I apologize, Admiral,” the lieutenant said. “I was under the impression that this was the point in our conversation in which a humorous observation might be welcomed, as a means of defusing any stress or discomfort generated by discussions involving unpleasant topics.”
There was no stopping the chuckle that provoked, and Nogura leaned back in his chair, allowing himself to set aside, if only for a moment, the weight of responsibility and the current issues on his table. “Well played, Lieutenant.” After another moment, he returned his attention to the matters at hand. “All right, back to business. Reyes: your first shot at having him hack the Omari-Ekon’s computer was rather bold on your part. I’m amazed he wasn’t caught, trying that out in the open like he did, and it seems naпve to think you’d have that kind of luck again.”
“Agreed,” T’Prynn replied. “To that end, I have examined a technical schematic of the Omari-Ekon and have selected four possible locations for accessing the computer while still affording Mister Reyes some measure of privacy.”
Nogura was not sure he liked the implications of that. “To me, that sounds very much like something that could get Reyes killed if he’s discovered.”
“There’s certainly a risk,” ch’Nayla said, shifting in his seat, “but we believe that with the translator device to assist him, Reyes will have an easier time accessing and navigating the computer system, and the actual time spent performing the data retrieval task should be much less than had he proceeded according to the original plan.”
Seeing no other viable, timely alternative, Nogura nodded his approval of the plan. “Let’s hope so, and let’s hope he doesn’t get caught this time.” There had already been enough good fortune expended to this point with respect to Diego Reyes, as evidenced by the fact that he was still alive. Believing that condition to be anything but temporary was foolhardy, Nogura knew, just as he knew that, for the moment, there was precious little he could do to affect the situation.
Of course, if it all goes bad, he reminded himself, you’ll have plenty to do.
15
Reyes sensed he was not alone in his quarters the instant he stepped into the room.
Waiting until the door slid closed behind him and without looking, he pivoted to his left and ducked his head, driving forward with his left shoulder until he collided with the person lurking against the bulkhead just inside the door. His action caught his unknown visitor in the chest, and Reyes heard a grunt of surprise at the sudden action. No sooner did he connect with his shoulder than he lashed out with his arm, looking to land a strike with the edge of his hand against the intruder’s face. He was fast, but the other person was faster, and Reyes felt his arm’s motion arrested as a tight, unforgiving grip closed around his wrist. Trying to pull back, Reyes got his first good look at the intruder, who was dressed in beige coveralls and appeared to be slight of build, and he realized he was facing off against a human female.
What the hell? It was all he had time to think as he felt another pair of arms wrap around him and lift him off his feet in order to pull him away from his opponent. Whoever it was, he also was human, with muscled arms partially exposed thanks to beige sleeves rolled to a point just below the elbow. Reyes tried to squirm free or at least loosen the new attacker’s grip, but the effort was fruitless. He managed to kick his holder’s shin, eliciting another grunt of pain, though the grip on him did not weaken.
“Commodore Reyes!”
Hearing his name and former rank caught him off guard, and Reyes jerked his head around to regard the first intruder, who was stepping closer to him. She looked to be in her late twenties or perhaps early thirties, with short brown hair and dark brown eyes. The woman held up her hand, open and empty, while the other pressed against her chest where Reyes had struck her.
“Commodore Reyes,” she repeated. At the same time Reyes felt the arms around his chest release him, and he dropped several centimeters to the deck. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
“Who the hell are you?” Reyes growled, reaching up to rub his left shoulder where it still stung from his earlier actions. “Room service?”
Shaking her head, the woman replied, “No, sir. Lieutenant Mary Jane Hetzlein.” She gestured over Reyes’s shoulder. “My valet is Chief Petty Officer Joe Gianetti. We’re part of Starbase 47’s security detail. Lieutenant Jackson sent us.”
Reyes turned to regard the other man, whose hair was black and shorter than Hetzlein’s. The man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Sorry for the rough treatment, Commodore,” Gianetti said.
Waving away the apology, Reyes snapped, “I’m not a damned commodore anymore. Is Jackson out of his mind, sending you over here? Are you trying to ignite an interstellar incident with the Orions?” He wondered about Ganz’s first reaction should he or any of his people get wind of the presence of Starfleet personnel sneaking around his ship. Would he start the process of covering his tracks or hiding whatever needed to be hidden or destroyed, or would he jump straight to the part where Reyes and his two visitors ended up somewhere with the muzzles of disruptor pistols jammed in their mouths?
“I don’t know all the details,” Hetzlein said, reaching up to wipe her brow, “but Lieutenant Jackson told us he was operating with direct authority from Starfleet Command. Our orders are to extradite you back to the station, by any means necessary.”
Reyes frowned. “Well, then you have a problem, Lieutenant, because I’m not going anywhere.”
“Jackson warned us that’d be your answer, sir,” Hetzlein replied, “which is why he added that ‘by any means necessary’ bit at the end.”
Shaking his head, Reyes said, “You realize I’m here because the Orions granted me asylum, right? Theoretically, I could walk out of here any time I want; why do you think I haven’t done that before now?”
“I’m guessing it has something to do with not wanting to go back to a Starfleet brig,” Gianetti said.
“Bingo.” Reyes knew that the only thing his extraction, peaceful or otherwise, would accomplish would be to see him returned to a Starfleet brig. That likely was his ultimate destination, assuming Ganz or one of his goons did not kill him, but if there was a chance that he could help T’Prynn to obtain the data she needed from the Omari-Ekon’s navigational logs, then he had to risk staying here a bit longer.
Hetzlein asked, “Do you really think Ganz would just let you walk off this ship? Not so long as he thinks you’ve got some value.”
“You’re not here because you’re worried about me,” Reyes said. “Starfleet’s worried that I’ve turned traitor, and they want me out of here before I can do any more damage. Does Admiral Nogura know about this?”
“Admiral Nogura and the station’s senior staff have been insulated from this operation, sir,” Gianetti replied, “in order to shield him with plausible deniability should anything go wrong.”
Reyes opted not to mention the covert communications link he shared with T’Prynn, reasoning that if she was aware of the operation, she would have alerted him to be on the lookout for Hetzlein and Gianetti. It also was probable that neither of them had any knowledge of the mission she was overseeing, and likewise did not know of his subcutaneous transceiver. The device was his lifeline, he decided, not to be shared with anyone except as a last resort.
Which could be any minute now.
“From what I know of Nogura,” Reyes said, “when he finds out about this, you’re going to wish the Orions had captured you.” Regardless of whether the operation was successful, Reyes could see no means by which its execution and details might be kept secret. This extraction, successful or not, would become evident in short order, at which point the Orion government would without doubt dispatch the first in a series of harshly worded complaints to Starfleet Headquarters and the Federation Council. Given the already precarious state of relations between the two powers, there was no telling how the Orions might react to this incident, or what sort of recompense they could demand.
Looking to his would-be kidnappers, Reyes asked, “Okay, so you’re here to extradite me. Why are you talking to me, instead of stuffing me in a duffel bag and trying to carry me out of here?”
“We considered it,” Gianetti said.
Hetzlein cast a scowl in her companion’s direction before adding, “If we could’ve beamed you out of your quarters, we would’ve done that by now.”
“Which raises another question,” Reyes said. “How the hell did you even get aboard in the first place?”
She tapped the patch above her left pocket. “We just walked in the front door. So far as anyone else knows, we’re freight-haulers, from one of the civilian ships docked at the station, just looking to drink, lose some money, and have a good time.” Their coveralls were of a type Reyes recognized as being in common use aboard civilian merchant freighters. Above each of their left pockets was a patch denoting a shipping company that Reyes knew contracted with Starfleet as well as private sector construction and colonization organizations to transport matйriel to worlds throughout the Federation. Below the patch was a tape with the name Tai’ Shan inscribed upon it in black letters. Reyes thought he recognized the name from various colony status reports and docking clearance requests during his tenure as commander of Starbase 47.
Skeptical of this idea, he asked, “And you guys have the sort of credits that can get you aboard a gaming vessel like this?”
Gianetti said, “We do if we’ve been on a long-haul run to a remote colony and back for seven months.”
“Then you should probably go and enjoy yourselves,” Reyes said, “or, better yet, get the hell off this ship before Ganz or his people find out you’re here.”
“Mister Reyes,” Hetzlein replied, “our orders are to get you off this ship, one way or another. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to stun your ass and have Gianetti throw you over his shoulder, but to be honest …” She paused, and Reyes saw the struggle in her face. “To be honest, I have too much respect for you, sir. So, I guess I’m asking you not to make me do anything I don’t want to do.”
Reyes shrugged. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Not interested.”
Behind him, Gianetti said, “Sir, it’s because we respect you that we’re also disobeying orders and telling you now that our worst-case scenario is to kill you.”
Deciding that he would rather be conscious, and not dead, for the next few minutes, Reyes offered a reluctant nod. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely, have it your way, but good luck getting me out of here. The whole damned ship’s covered with transporter inhibitors.”
Hetzlein answered, “Well, it’s not as though we’re old pals or anything, but there’s nothing that says we couldn’t have struck up a conversation, say, in the bar, in about thirty or forty minutes, after Joe and I have had a chance to venture to the bar and have a drink or two and work at blending in with the crowd. We’ll have a few drinks, maybe play a few games, and then make our way off the gaming floor to the private suites. We’ve identified a maintenance compartment in that section of the ship where the shielding is weaker than the surrounding areas. A transporter beam can get through, but only there and only one person at a time. That’ll be you. You’ll be beamed to a secure area aboard the station. Meanwhile, Joe here and I will return to the bar, and eventually make a casual exit from the ship by walking right out the front door.”
“That plan sounds so stupid, it just might work,” Reyes observed.
Rather than take offense, Hetzlein smiled. “My father always liked the K.I.S.S. principle: Keep It Simple, Starfleet. It’s not the flashiest plan, but it doesn’t have a lot of moving parts. Fewer things to screw up.”
“Uh-huh,” Reyes replied, already considering different possibilities for gaining an advantage at some point before they could beam him off the ship. “And what happens if Ganz or one of his goons makes you, or us? What’s the plan then?”
Hetzlein and Gianetti exchanged glances before Gianetti lifted his left leg so that he could reach for the sole of the boots he wore. Unlike Starfleet-issue boots, their footwear lacked defined heels, and Gianetti simply flipped the entire sole of his boot down, revealing a hidden compartment within. Resting in the padded niche was what Reyes recognized as a compact phaser not unlike the standard-issue Starfleet type-1 model. Gianetti’s concealed phaser was a civilian counterpart to that weapon, no doubt a deliberate choice so as to further hinder his and Hetzlein’s identification as Starfleet personnel.
