Agents of Influence

by Dayton Ward

  The knife sank to its hilt in the Klingon’s throat, and Kesh even saw the point of the blade emerge from the back of the elder councilor’s neck. Maroq’s eyes bulged in surprise and he reached with both hands for the knife’s handle as blood poured from the wound and down across his chest. Distressed gurgling sounds escaped his mouth and throat, and he sagged to his knees, falling forward and slumping in an unmoving heap onto the chamber floor.

  Silence gripped the remaining council members, and Kesh waited for someone—anyone—to step toward Maroq’s body. Instead, everyone watched the pool of blood expanding from beneath the fallen Klingon as it discolored the stone on which he lay. After several moments, it became obvious no one would be taking the lead in any sort of traditional death ritual. None of the council members, Kesh included, felt compelled to take charge of Maroq’s spirit or turn to the sky and announce the imminent arrival of another warrior at the gates of Sto-Vo-Kor. Maroq had proven himself unworthy of such an honor, and therefore would have to navigate the afterlife on his own. Even Novek made no such attempt, instead bending over the fallen Klingon long enough to remove his d’k tagh. A single tug was enough to extract the knife with a slick sucking sound, after which Novek wiped the blood from its blade across Maroq’s tunic and returned the weapon to its place beneath his own sash.

  “He was a fool,” said Novek. “Let his idiocy bring no further shame to the Empire.”

  Though he agreed with his friend’s sentiment, Kesh could not bring himself to celebrate Maroq’s demise. For all his faults, he had been a loyal member of the council, offering unwavering support both for his chancellorship and an agenda designed to advance the prosperity of the Klingon people. None of that excused his personal lapses and neither did it mitigate whatever damage his inattention may have allowed to occur, but it was not as though Maroq had been a proponent of evil or corruption. There were more than enough Klingons who personified such failings, whereas his ultimately fatal flaw was one of simple incompetence.

  Di’natri notified a pair of guards stationed outside the chamber to remove Maroq’s body for disposal while the rest of the council members began murmuring amongst themselves. Only Novek moved toward Kesh, always alert for any sign his friend might require advice or guidance. Before he could voice any question, Kesh’s attention was caught by the appearance of one of his aides entering the room. The young Klingon was carrying a data tablet and crossed the chamber in long, urgent strides. His expression was one of worry.

  “My apologies for the interruption, Chancellor, but this message was just transmitted from orbital traffic control. They insisted you be made aware of it immediately.”

  Taking the proffered tablet, Kesh scanned the contents of the message meant for his direct attention. While he had been imagining all manner of scenarios involving the three spies, he had dared to hope the truth of their activities might be limited to something easily countered, either through trade, coercion, or the simple application of military force.

  Instead, the situation was much, much worse.

  “Kesh,” said Novek, his tone laced with concern. “What is it?”

  “What we most feared.” Passing the data tablet to his friend, Kesh drew a long, deep breath as he clenched his fists hard enough to feel his fingers beginning to cramp. “The spies have fled, apparently bound for Federation space.”

  Scowling as he read the report, Novek said, “They commandeered a transport. Long-range sensors from observation outposts along the Neutral Zone detected its passage and crossing into unaligned space.”

  “Those same sensors registered the presence of a Starfleet cruiser in that area before contact was lost. One of our own vessels was also reported in the vicinity, and its captain is now overdue for reporting to his superiors.” Kesh struggled to maintain control of his emotions, but the task became more difficult the more he pondered this new development. “If they were traitors working on behalf of Starfleet, then it is possible our warship was lost to some confrontation. The damage they have inflicted upon us may well be incalculable.”

  Novek said, “According to the observation outposts in closest proximity to that area, no sign of the transport or the Starfleet vessel has been detected since that initial sighting.” He frowned. “The asteroid field in that area has a disruptive effect on sensors. Might they be using that as camouflage?”

  “The thought occurred to me as well,” replied Kesh. “Perhaps it sustained damage in an altercation with our warship. If that is the case, then Starfleet will want to send another ship to investigate.”

  Moving closer, Di’natri said, “Then should we not do the same? There may still be time to prevent the worst aspects of the spies’ activities from being used against us.”

  Kesh nodded. “We must be cautious to avoid attracting undue attention from our Federation adversaries.” He would need to speak with his director of intelligence. Perhaps an undercover operative working within Starfleet might be able to offer helpful insight into this new information. Unfortunately, due to the nature of such clandestine agents working so far behind enemy lines, any response to his queries might take more time than he had at his disposal. This was a situation that called for immediate—if calculated—action.

  Doing nothing might well put the very future of the Klingon Empire at stake.

  Eleven

  “Sensors detecting an object at the edge of the asteroid field. It should be within visual range within one minute, twenty-seven seconds.”

  Nodding at Spock’s report from the science station before asking Lieutenant Uhura to call Admiral Nogura to the bridge, Kirk pushed himself from his chair and stepped around Chekov’s navigator station. He leaned against the console, centering himself between the ensign and Lieutenant Sulu before crossing his arms. On the bridge’s main viewscreen, more asteroids than he could easily count dominated the image. Some were almost too tiny to see, while others rivaled small moons. Many tumbled while others just drifted, and though Kirk knew the entire field, like everything else in space, was moving, that motion was all but undetectable to the naked eye.

  “I haven’t been out here since before I was posted to the Enterprise,” said Sulu from the helm station. “I’d forgotten how big this field was.”

  Chekov said, “The nearest star system is days away even at low warp speed. Is this all that remains of a rogue planet?”

  “No one knows,” replied Sulu. “Starfleet did its initial mapping of this region more than a century ago, using automated survey probes. Scans of various asteroids weren’t able to tie it to the mineral composition of any planet in the three closest star systems. A rogue planet is just as good a theory as any, but it would have to have been an awfully big planet.”

  The Ivratis asteroid field had been a component of star charts at least as far back as Starfleet records were kept, either through its own information-collecting efforts or as part of data exchanges between Federation member worlds or with other friendly interstellar neighbors and even the occasional enemy. Kirk himself had never visited this region, and his knowledge came only from studying navigational charts and a recent review of the information contained in the Enterprise’s library computer. Most of the data contained in that file was a combination of official reports as created following studies of automated probes and those starships that had surveyed the field in the decades since its initial discovery. The background radiation permeating the area was its most prominent characteristic, and anecdotes from the logs of ships assigned to border patrol duty often contained reports about the disruption encountered by sensors and other delicate systems. Other reports detailed encounters with civilian ships, be they legitimate merchant vessels or those piloted by less savory individuals. Even those pilots tended to avoid the region whenever possible, but Kirk was not so naive to believe they were being entirely truthful.

  “Captain,” said Chekov. “We have a visual on the buoy.”

  Glancing over his shoulder at the young navigator, Kirk replied, “Let’s see i
t.”

  The viewscreen’s image changed to offer a closer look at the Ivratis field, only now another object was centered on the large display. Kirk instantly recognized the familiar shape of a starship’s disaster buoy. It was a compact cylinder with a duranium hull, the same plating used to construct vessels like the Enterprise, which protected the unit’s sensitive interior components. While it was small and almost inconsequential compared to the asteroids around it, he knew that the device was nearly two meters in diameter and half again as tall. A navigational deflector dish was just visible, partially recessed within its top hull area, which allowed the buoy to detect and avoid hazards in space while traveling at impulse power. It possessed no warp drive, with the bulk of its internal space devoted to its onboard computer and accompanying data storage, communications, a single impulse engine, and a deflector-shield generator. The unit also housed a battery backup power system, which could be replenished by deployable solar energy collectors. Though not visible in its current configuration, the buoy also contained a trio of short landing legs in the event its course allowed it to make a powered descent to the surface of a planet or other spatial body. Otherwise, its primary mission once launched from its parent vessel was to transmit distress messages and await recovery while protecting the recorded information entrusted to it. Automatically updated as part of a ship’s regular, autonomous computer activity, the buoy was designed to be launched with little or no warning or preparation time, acting as a fail-safe repository for a ship’s main computer in the event of catastrophe. In most circumstances, finding such a device adrift in space meant the ship to which it belonged had suffered a rather unpleasant fate.

  Let’s hope that’s not the case here.

  “Mister Spock?” he prompted.

  Without looking up from the information being relayed to him via the hooded viewer at the science console, the Enterprise’s first officer replied, “Scans show no signs of damage. The buoy appears to be in perfect operating order.”

  As soon as they dropped to impulse power and entered communication range, Uhura dispatched a simple encoded test message. Doing so while the ship was still at warp carried the risk of its signal or the buoy’s response being detected by unwelcome eavesdroppers.

  Hearing the turbolift doors opening behind him, Kirk turned to see Admiral Nogura stepping onto the bridge. Before the captain could call attention to his officers, the elder man held up a hand.

  “As you were, ladies and gentlemen.” Appearing satisfied that operations would not grind to a halt for the observance of protocol, Nogura made his way around the railing near Sulu’s station and descended to the command well to join Kirk. His gaze shifted to the buoy on the main viewscreen.

  “It seems to be none the worse for wear.”

  Kirk nodded. “We were just confirming that, sir.” Looking to Uhura, he asked, “Lieutenant?”

  The communications officer turned in her seat. “The message was received and processed, sir. I’ve just received its response with a summary of its operational status. There have been no other attempts at communication, or access to it. So far as I can tell, it’s been undisturbed since its launch from the Endeavour.”

  “So far, so good,” said Nogura. “Has it remained in this general vicinity since it was deployed?”

  “After getting enough distance from the asteroid field to transmit its initial message to Starfleet Command, it executed a programmed instruction to return to within one hundred kilometers of the field’s outer boundary. With occasional minor adjustments, it’s been stationkeeping right here, relative to the asteroids. Its location is fairly well shielded from long-range sensors. Someone would have to be looking for it, but its programming also includes instructions to take evasive action and use the asteroids for cover if its own sensors detect the presence of scans from anything other than a Starfleet vessel.” Uhura gestured toward the screen. “The Endeavour’s crew was pretty ingenious, adding that little touch.”

  Nogura smiled. “It’s not Captain Khatami’s first rodeo.”

  “Spock,” said Kirk as he turned to regard his science officer. “Have you found anything that makes you think the buoy is unsafe to bring aboard?”

  The Vulcan shook his head. “No, sir. All of my scans indicate the buoy is functioning within expected parameters, and contains no dangerous or illicit materials.”

  Satisfied with Spock’s assessment, Kirk moved to his command chair and pressed the intercom control set into its right armrest. “Bridge to cargo bay one. Scotty, are you ready down there?”

  Montgomery Scott replied, “Aye, sir. Just say the word, and we can bring that beastie aboard. I’m transmitting a signal for it to deploy its landing struts in preparation for the transfer.”

  “Beam it over, Mister Scott.” Closing the connection, Kirk stepped away from his chair and onto the bridge’s upper deck to join Spock at the science station. “Let’s have a look, Spock.”

  Without replying, the first officer keyed a control on his console and one of the larger monitors above his station shifted from its display of a star map to an image of the Enterprise’s main cargo bay. In the chamber’s far corner was an oversized transporter pad. Though capable of accommodating living beings, this platform’s main purpose was transferring to and from the ship bulk cargo that was too large for delivery by shuttlecraft or one of the regular transporter rooms. Once aboard, cargo could be maneuvered from the pad to a designated storage area within the bay by crew members using antigravity assistance units. In the event the cargo was too sensitive for transporters, it could still be brought aboard through the massive airlock hatch at the room’s far end.

  Positioned to the left of the pad was a transporter console, behind which stood Scott and a female crew member dressed in a standard engineering jumpsuit. The Enterprise’s chief engineer was manipulating the console’s array of controls and within seconds a beam of golden energy appeared on the pad. It quickly coalesced into the now familiar cylindrical shape of the disaster buoy. In accordance with instructions received from Scott, the buoy’s trio of landing struts had been extended from its base, allowing it to settle onto the pad as it materialized. Despite knowing better, Kirk could not help glancing over his shoulder to the main viewscreen to see that the buoy had in fact disappeared from where it drifted in space mere moments earlier. He caught Nogura doing the same thing, and both men exchanged knowing smiles.

  “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” said the admiral.

  “Deal.”

  That matter apparently settled, Nogura returned his attention to the smaller screen. “All right, at least now we can access that thing’s innards without having to worry about somebody intercepting its signals.”

  Spock tapped several controls on the science station’s console before turning to regard the admiral and Kirk. “I have initiated a complete transfer of the buoy’s memory banks. The data is being stored in a quarantined section of our library computer, so that the admiral may review it for classified information or other sensitive material.”

  “Thank you, Mister Spock,” replied Nogura. “I suspect anything the agents brought with them from Qo’noS won’t be in those memory banks. They wouldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands or, worse, the Klingons discovering Starfleet’s involvement in espionage.” He paused, studying the buoy on the screen for a few additional seconds before clearing his throat.

  “Computer, this is Admiral Heihachiro Nogura. Starfleet Command voice authorization one eight zero two eight six, enable.”

  “Working,” replied the feminine voice of the Enterprise’s main computer. “Recognize Admiral Heihachiro Nogura. Standing by for command-level query.”

  “Transmit the following code to the Endeavour’s distress buoy in cargo bay one.” Nogura then proceeded to recite a seemingly random string of letters and numbers in rapid-fire fashion, faster than Kirk could follow. The admiral then punctuated the entire thing with, “Command authorization Nogura, zero five three three eight. Ex
ecute.”

  The response was immediate, in the form of several of the science station’s computer-activity monitors flaring to life. Flashes and streaks of multicolored light danced on the compact screens, indicating the Enterprise’s computers were processing Nogura’s directives and dealing with whatever transfer of information it had triggered.

  Spock, his attention fixed on the computer’s activity, said, “The buoy has transmitted a new encrypted message directly to my station.”

  He entered more commands to the console, and its other overhead monitor activated to reveal an image of Captain Atish Khatami. Kirk noted the strain in her face as she earnestly looked into what he guessed was the visual pickup of the desktop computer terminal in her quarters. The room’s lighting was subdued, likely a concession to conserving whatever remained of the Endeavour’s power reserves. When she spoke, the fatigue was evident in her voice.

  “Admiral Nogura,” she said, then paused as though pondering something amusing. “I mean, I guess I’m talking to Admiral Nogura. This file is supposed to be locked with a decryption cipher under your voice-print access. I suppose this is a test of Starfleet’s programming and communications expertise, so if you’re watching this and you’re not Admiral Nogura, I applaud your ingenuity.” Whatever humor she may have found in the momentary diversion vanished, and her expression turned serious. “Hopefully, you’re watching this because you found the encoded message we hid in the buoy’s original transmission to Starfleet, and you know my crew and I are alive, along with our cargo.” Her emphasis on the last word was enough to make Nogura utter a low grunt of approval.

  “We separated the Endeavour’s saucer section from the rest of the ship and were able to move far enough away from the secondary hull before the warp engines went. According to my science officer, the resulting explosion combined with the asteroid field’s background radiation provided sufficient cover for us to maneuver deeper into the field. The Klingon vessel we encountered was destroyed during our skirmish, but not through our direct action. Whatever disruptive effect impacted us hit them as well, and combined with the damage we inflicted during the fight to render them helpless. All of this is in the official log stored in the buoy’s memory banks. Not that any of this matters. You can be sure the Klingons will send someone to investigate. Here’s hoping you find us first.”