Agents of Influence

by Dayton Ward

  “I am inclined to agree with Mister Scott,” said Spock. “I have no knowledge of a recurring natural phenomenon consistent with Captain Khatami’s descriptions of the interference. However, without more information, it remains a hypothesis.”

  “Hopefully, the buoy will have that information,” said Kirk, eyeing his chief engineer. “Scotty, in addition to making sure the Enterprise is ready in the event we run into any Klingons out there, you and Mister Spock will work together to gain an understanding of the disruption effect, and come up with a countermeasure. I don’t want what happened to the Endeavour to happen to us.”

  Scott nodded. “Aye, sir. If the two of us can’t figure it out, then it canna be done.”

  “Investigating the Endeavour’s disappearance will provide cover for the Enterprise while it’s operating in the asteroid field,” said Nogura. “It has the virtue of being at least partially true. I expect the Klingons will be searching for clues to what happened to their cruiser, as well, so you’ll need to be ready for the possibility of your own unpleasant encounter. However, the primary mission here is retrieving the agents and the information they’ve acquired.”

  “And the Endeavour’s crew, of course,” added McCoy.

  Frowning at the doctor’s barely masked challenge, Nogura replied, “Of course, but make no mistake: The agents are the priority here. All other concerns are secondary, if it comes down to having to make that kind of decision.”

  “I won’t leave anyone behind,” said Kirk. The very idea of sacrificing any of the Endeavour’s crew for the sake of this mission was appalling. So long as any option remained that did not call for such drastic action, he would refuse to even entertain the notion.

  “I’m not asking you to do any such thing, Captain.” The admiral turned in his seat so that he faced Kirk. “But don’t believe for a second I’m not capable of issuing that order.” Then, his features softened. “Let’s just hope I don’t have to.”

  Kirk relaxed. “Agreed, sir.”

  The ship’s intercom whistled for attention, followed by the sound of Lieutenant Uhura’s voice filtering through the briefing room speakers.

  “Bridge to Captain Kirk. We’re being hailed by a civilian transport. Sensors detected its departure from Starbase 24 ten minutes ago, and its pilot is now requesting permission to land the craft on the shuttlecraft hangar deck.”

  Scott was the first to voice concern. “A civilian ship?”

  Offering a knowing smile as he exchanged glances with Nogura, Kirk replied, “Relax, Scotty. It’s a little present from the admiral.”

  * * *

  Unlike the clean, polished shuttlecraft and other smaller Starfleet space vehicles to which Kirk was accustomed, the transport now taking up space on the Enterprise’s hangar deck was as ungainly a contraption as he had ever seen.

  “It’s not going to explode or anything, is it?” asked Scott.

  McCoy snorted, “Should I check to see if the pilot survived the flight?”

  “I can say with complete confidence that I have never encountered a vessel as unique as this one,” said Spock.

  Though Kirk said nothing, he could not take issue with his officers’ comments. To him, the transport appeared as nothing more than an assemblage of random parts and other bits of scrap taken or perhaps even stolen from other, worthier vessels. Twice the length and half again as wide as a standard Starfleet shuttlecraft, the ship’s hull was comprised of hull plates of varying colors, which looked to have been welded together perhaps only moments before its arrival aboard the Enterprise.

  “Don’t let her outward appearance fool you, gentlemen,” said Nogura as he led the way across the hangar deck to the waiting transport. “Underneath this admittedly unremarkable exterior is a top-notch propulsion and life-support system along with an enhanced sensor suite. The only thing we didn’t do was add more powerful weapons. This is still supposed to be a civilian ship, after all.”

  Kirk added, “The cover story is that it’s a courier vessel ferrying passengers who want to avoid detection by the regular Starfleet patrols and other law enforcement entities. According to our intelligence briefings about the region, most civilian ships tend to mind their own business. That said, there’s an obvious risk to running into a Klingon ship or even a pirate or raider ship. We’ll have to be careful.”

  “We?” McCoy scowled. “Please tell me you’re not flying into the middle of an asteroid field in…” He paused, glancing toward the transport. “In that.”

  “Don’t worry, Bones,” replied Kirk. “I’m not dragging you along, this time.”

  The doctor grunted. “My lucky day, I guess. Does it have a name?”

  “Its previous designation is classified, Doctor,” Nogura replied. “For now, we’re calling it the Dreamline.”

  “Seems like Nightmare would be more appropriate.”

  Ignoring McCoy’s comments, Kirk gestured to the transport. “Sulu will be the pilot, and Lieutenant Uhura and I will be his passengers. We’ll depart the Enterprise well before we reach the asteroid field, after which the transport will follow a prearranged course designed to mimic a typical trajectory for a civilian ship transiting the area. Mister Spock will be in command while I’m gone; between us, we can search the asteroid field a bit faster than either of us on our own. Whoever finds the Endeavour first contacts the other ship, and we set to work retrieving the crew before we all get the hell out of there.”

  As though anticipating Scott’s next question, Nogura turned to the engineer. “Commander, I promise you I’ll take no offense if you wish to go over every centimeter of that ship before you’re comfortable allowing Captain Kirk and his team to board it.”

  “Aye, sir. That I do,” replied Scott, his expression one of relief. “I appreciate that.”

  Nogura then shifted his attention to Kirk and Spock. “And if it’s not too much of a burden, I’ll be accompanying you on this mission.” Despite the casual way in which the statement was delivered, Kirk harbored no misconceptions that the admiral was making a simple request to tag along.

  “Admiral,” he said. “Are you sure that’s wise? Given the security protocols Starfleet has in place regarding your movements, this seems like an unnecessary risk.” Kirk gestured to Spock. “We’ll obviously keep you informed every step of the way.”

  “Of course you will,” replied Nogura. “It’ll be hard not to, as I’ll likely be standing on your bridge throughout all of this.” When Kirk opened his mouth to rebut, the older man held up a hand. “I’m simply overseeing the search and retrieval operation. You—and Mister Spock when you’re off the ship—will retain command of the Enterprise. This isn’t a reflection on you, Captain, or your crew, or my trust in your ability to carry out this assignment. Indeed, I think yours is the ideal ship and crew for such a difficult undertaking, and if I didn’t believe you were up to the task, then I’d be standing on the hangar deck of some other ship and you’d be none the wiser to the current situation. My desire to come along is much simpler than that.”

  He paused, casting his eyes toward the deck, and Kirk noted the uncertainty that for the first time darkened the admiral’s features. No, he decided. There was something more here. An almost paternal concern? Possible, if not likely. Was there some guilt there, as well?

  “I recruited the agents,” said Nogura after a few seconds spent composing himself. “All three of them, along with several others dispatched to various assignments over the years. A few of those operatives never came back. They either were killed in action or else took… whatever measures were required to ensure the security of their mission. Binnix and her team represent the most ambitious long-term covert operation I’ve overseen since this program began. There’s a lot at stake here, not just to Starfleet and the Federation but also them personally. I just want to be there to see this thing through to the end.” He fixed his gaze on Kirk. “That’s not asking too much, is it?”

  Kirk shook his head. “Not at all, sir. You’re obviously we
lcome to accompany us.”

  “Excellent.” Nogura offered a small smile. “And thank you. I know this is a dangerous mission, gentlemen, but I have full faith in your ability to accomplish it.”

  We’ll have to Otherwise, we’re liable to start a war with the Klingons.

  Eight

  If she did not know better, Atish Khatami could almost believe the reduced lighting in this section of corridor was due to it being “ship’s night” rather than a simple power-saving measure. Indeed, there were no outward signs from the crew members she passed that anything was amiss. No overcrowded hallways as she always imagined a situation like this might generate, no teeming masses hoping for some scrap of food or water before supplies were exhausted. As things currently stood, the Endeavour’s situation was far better than it had any right to be.

  Let’s not tempt fate, shall we?

  As she rounded a bend in the corridor, Khatami saw Doctor Anthony Leone standing along with a pair of security officers in front of the entrance to one of the cargo bays located on this level. The guards, Ensigns Kerry Zane and Sotol. Zane, a muscled, imposing human with receding blond hair and a thick mustache, would be the first to admit his companion, a slender female Vulcan with short-cropped black hair, was by far the stronger and more formidable of the two. Sotol was the first to notice Khatami’s approach and she offered a formal nod in greeting.

  “Captain.”

  Acknowledging the security officers, Khatami turned her attention to Leone. The ship’s chief medical officer appeared even more tired and disinterested than was his normal habit. Lanky and with dark hair thinning on top, Leone always seemed particularly ill at ease wearing the uniform of a Starfleet officer, and tended to eschew such formalities whenever possible. This was one of those occasions, as he wore the short-sleeved blue smock favored by members of the ship’s medical staff. Khatami would not have been surprised to find him partnering the casual shirt with pajama bottoms and slippers, if in fact he even bothered opting for any kind of shoes. He almost always appeared as though he had not slept in years, with large bags forever hanging beneath his brown eyes.

  “Captain.” Leone nodded. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  His comment as well as the security entourage served to remind her this was her first visit to this part of the ship since bringing aboard the Endeavour’s distinguished guests. The hours that had passed since then had occupied her full attention, guiding what remained of the crippled ship to its current resting place, then conferring with department heads to gather a complete status report on the condition of all onboard systems as well as every single member of the crew. Khatami was still astounded and grateful that no one had died either during the fight with the Klingons or during the emergency hull separation and subsequent hunt for a hiding place. Only a handful of treatable injuries were sustained by members of the crew.

  Small favors. I’ll take them wherever I can find them.

  “Tony,” she said by way of greeting. “Everything all right?”

  The doctor frowned. “So far as I know. You’ll be happy to hear I’ve discharged the last of the injured from sickbay and sent them to their quarters for bed rest. I recommended twenty-four hours, but I understand if that needs to be cut short given the circumstances.”

  “I trust your judgment. Right now, rest is probably the best thing for as many of us as possible. It’ll conserve resources, if nothing else.”

  While the Endeavour’s impulse engines could operate at full capabilities and generate power to support the primary hull and everyone in it for weeks, Khatami had opted for a conservation protocol just to be on the safe side. She gave silent thanks that the saucer section was already capable of sustaining the entire crew. The main requirements while the ship operated on impulse power were life-support and food, which meant reducing or even eliminating power to all but essential systems. Priority usage was reserved for the engineering and medical staffs, but even the latter’s needs were minimal thanks to the small number of casualties suffered during the encounter with the Klingon warship. Lieutenant Commander Yataro and his team were operating out of the auxiliary engineering room located near the impulse deck at the rear of the ship, immersed in assessing damage not just from the fight but also their escape from the Endeavour’s secondary hull before it exploded and the subsequent maneuvering and landing within the Ivratis asteroid field.

  Finding a hiding place for what remained of the ship proved a tall order, with Lieutenant Marielise McCormack using every scrap of helm expertise at her command to guide the saucer section to a soft landing deep in the corner of a canyon on one of the larger asteroids. She had even found an area with a depression spacious enough to provide something of a cradle for the saucer, preventing significant damage to the underside of its outer hull. The result was that the primary section now rested with nearly its entire ventral hull below the canyon floor’s surface. Having found a home, as makeshift as it might be, Khatami was counting on the same background interference that had so disrupted the ship’s sensors and communications to now serve as a shield against anyone discovering their location. Of course, this would also complicate matters when Admiral Nogura sent someone to find them, but that was a problem that could be solved in due course. For that, she was leaning on Commander Yataro and Lieutenant Hector Estrada to come through with, respectively, their own engineering and communications miracles to see the crew through their current troubles.

  Trust your people, Atish. They’ll find a way.

  “How are our guests?” she asked.

  Leone replied, “It took me a bit to remove all the transponders they’re fitted with so I could conduct proper physicals, but all three of them are healthy.” He frowned. “They still look like Klingons, of course, but there’s not much I can do about that. I mean, I could, but the time it’d take to carry out surgeries on all three of them and the power requirements for sickbay during all of that and post-operative care?” He shook his head. “They can wait until we’re back home.”

  “You sound awfully confident we’ll be getting back home.” Khatami punctuated her comment with a wry smile. “Who are you and what’ve you done with the real Anthony Leone?”

  The doctor grimaced. “A moment of optimistic weakness. I’ll be back to my doom-and-gloomy self after I’ve had dinner.” He gestured toward the door. “Anyway, since this is your first time meeting them, I wanted you to be ready.”

  “I’ve seen Klingons before, Tony. Even ones who didn’t want to kill me.”

  “And thank you for making my point.” Leone gestured to the cargo bay entrance. “They’re not Klingons. They never were. They’re humans, surgically altered and highly trained to pass themselves off as Klingons. At great personal risk to themselves, I might add. They’ve just left an environment where even the simplest slipup could have been fatal, so they trained to talk, write, and even think like a Klingon. Even if I was able to undo what was done to their bodies, that kind of intense training and immersive, dangerous assignment they just completed won’t simply go away.”

  Khatami frowned, realizing she had fallen into some kind of subconscious trap about Morgan Binnix and her fellow agents. How had she let that happen? She had yet to even meet the operatives, and yet she had allowed herself to somehow view them as something other than what they were. What of other members of her crew who had actually interacted with Binnix and the others? Had they made the same mistake?

  “You’re saying it’s going to take time for them to adjust, and they’ll need plenty of help and support to do that.”

  “Exactly.” Leone rubbed his jaw. “If everything had gone to plan, they’d be on their way to a Starfleet medical facility set up to take care of everything. Now they’re stuck here with an entire starship crew that doesn’t even know why they were diverted to an asteroid field in the first place, let alone why we ended up fighting Klingons and crashing our ship into a ditch.”

  “You’re right. How the hell did I not see that sooner?” This was som
ething Khatami would need to address quickly, particularly given the current situation. Her crew deserved to know the full truth about the predicament in which they now found themselves. Further, it was unreasonable to keep the agents confined to the quarantine facility now that the retrieval operation had become so complicated. There was no way to know how long they would have to wait for rescue, and Binnix and her companions might well be able to contribute in some fashion toward keeping the ship and crew safe until help arrived.

  Sighing, Leone reached out and patted her arm. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Captain. You’ve kind of had your hands full these last couple of hours.”

  “That’s no excuse,” countered Khatami.

  The doctor eyed her with skepticism. “Show me the chapter in the manual that covers this situation and all the variables tossed your way, and I’ll back off. Until then? As your friend and chief medical officer, I’m prescribing you one piece of slack. Use as directed.”

  Until this point, Ensign Zane had said nothing, but Khatami caught the small smile teasing the corners of his mouth before he brought his features back under control. It was enough to make the captain realize she had perhaps been a bit unforgiving of herself these past hours.

  “Very well, Doctor. Consider your prescription filled.” She gestured to the cargo bay entrance. “Care to introduce me to our guests?”

  Sotol entered a code on a keypad set into the bulkhead next to the entry, and the heavy, reinforced double hatch parted to reveal the makeshift quarantine facility assembled by Leone and a team of engineers and members of his medical staff. The cargo bay had been outfitted with a trio of field shelters of the sort used by colonists or survey parties tasked with spending extended periods on a planet’s surface. A common area linked the three shelters and included a pair of sofas along with two recliners and a small table with its own tri-sided viewer. Another area to the side harbored a dining table. Beyond that was a small field medical setup where Leone and his team conducted their evaluations of the three agents.