by Dayton Ward
Kirk said, “Admiral Nogura would appreciate that.”
Once everyone had their orders, Kirk and his group availed themselves of the standard-issue olive-green jumpsuits provided by Stano. Kirk was happy for the switch, as the EV suits taken from the Dreamline’s supply locker lacked the comfort and better fit of their Starfleet counterparts. Designed for use in emergencies, the simpler models were intended as a last resort option in the event of a hull breach or crash landing from which the passengers and crew might be forced to abandon ship. Not a fan of any sort of extravehicular activity if it could be avoided, Kirk preferred the Starfleet versions with which he was far more familiar.
“Sorry for the jumpsuits,” said Khatami as she and Kirk traversed one of the corridors on deck nine on their way to the cargo hold on this level. “Best we could do on short notice. Making do with what we’ve got has become the name of the game around here.”
Kirk waved away the apology. “From what I can tell, you and your crew have done a fantastic job holding things together.”
“It all starts with my helm officer, Lieutenant McCormack,” Khatami replied. “I swear that woman could fly a cotton ball through an ion storm if she had to. If not for her skill, we would’ve been in a lot worse shape when we set down on this rock. I know saucer separation is supposed to be something all pilots learn and train for, but doing it for real with four hundred people counting on you not to screw it up is a different game altogether.”
“Sounds like Lieutenant McCormack and Mister Sulu should get together and compare notes,” said Kirk, taking a moment to brag on his own helm officer and how he had pulled the Enterprise out of danger more times than the captain could count.
“Since then,” said Khatami, “it’s all been about conservation while we hunker down, keep quiet, and wait for the cavalry to arrive.”
Kirk replied, “Sorry it took so long.” The lighting in the corridor was subdued, as he suspected was true for the rest of the ship as a power-saving measure. Though Khatami had not said so, it likely was the reason he had also followed her two decks down a service ladder from the airlock’s location rather than use a turbolift. As they walked, he brushed his hand across the empty spot over the left breast pocket, where a patch with the wearer’s name and rank would normally be placed. “Besides, it’s better if the crew only sees one person running around here with captain’s stripes. Not that anyone should be confused by who’s in charge, but this keeps it simple. It’s your ship, and we’re here to help.”
“But you’re in charge of our guests, right? I mean, all this top-secret, cloak-and-dagger sneaking about really isn’t my specialty.”
“Hard to believe, given how well you did with what Nogura threw at you in the Taurus Reach.”
“My ship and I were assigned to exploration duty in the Taurus Reach, Captain,” she said. Then, she cast a wry grin in his direction. “I can only assume you read all of the official reports, of course.”
“Of course.”
Thanks to his own experiences with Nogura and the region in question, Kirk was well aware of Khatami’s and the Endeavour’s role in a still-classified assignment involving Starfleet operations in the Taurus Reach. A wedge of unclaimed and largely unexplored space sandwiched between the borders of the Federation, Klingon Empire, and the Tholian Assembly, the region had become a flashpoint for all three parties following the discovery of artifacts and other remnants of an ancient, incredibly powerful, and supposedly extinct alien race known as the Shedai. When Starfleet realized both the potential and the danger to be found from studying the technology, it went to extensive lengths to safeguard it from exploitation by others, namely the Klingons. The Tholians just wanted everyone to leave well enough alone, which was understandable after the revelation that they shared a link to the Shedai.
To this end, Starfleet established a formal presence in the Taurus Reach, ostensibly as part of its ongoing exploration mandate but in actuality a cover for the more clandestine activities involving learning about the Shedai. Starbase 47, informally named “Vanguard Station,” was the waypoint connecting the area to Federation space and interests. The Endeavour, initially under the command of Captain Zhao Sheng and later Khatami after Zhao was killed, was one of three ships assigned to the station to assist in carrying out surveys of the Reach. Starfleet’s activities were more than enough to set off the Tholians, and their anger over Starfleet’s continued forays into the region and their discoveries about the Shedai eventually triggered a massive offensive against the station. Known among those who survived the fight—including Kirk, Khatami, and a number of their respective crews—as “the Battle of Vanguard,” the incident and indeed the entire Vanguard project had been classified by none other than Admiral Heihachiro Nogura. For at least the next century, only those individuals with the highest security clearances and the absolute need to know would have access to the details of the operation. As far as the rest of Starfleet was concerned, the project never happened.
The first rule of Vanguard, thought Kirk, recalling what Nogura had once said, is that you don’t talk about Vanguard.
“How are your guests holding up?” he asked. “None the worse for wear, I hope.”
Khatami blew out her breath, an obvious sign exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on her. “As well as might be expected, I suppose. Have you ever retrieved a deep-cover operative after something like what they’ve been through?”
“No. I know agents for these sorts of missions are screened and tested and trained to within an inch of their lives, but they can’t possibly prepare you for everything. There’s no way to anticipate all the variables that come with operating behind enemy lines without support.”
“It takes a special kind of person to even volunteer for something like that in the first place,” said Khatami. “And who knows how many candidates wash out of training for whatever reason.” She shook her head. “It’s not something I’d ever want to do.”
Kirk replied, “Agreed. I’ve had a small taste of undercover work. Can’t say I liked it all that much.”
“I heard about that.” Khatami chuckled. “They surgically altered you to look like a Romulan, so you could steal a cloaking device from a Romulan ship?”
“I thought the ears looked pretty good on me, but my first officer disagreed with me. The whole thing makes for a pretty long story.”
Khatami said, “Get us out of this, and you can tell it to me over dinner. I’m buying.”
“Deal.”
They rounded a final bend in the corridor and Kirk recognized the reinforced hatch of a cargo bay. A pair of security officers, a Vulcan male and a human female, stood guard outside the door.
“Just protocol,” said Khatami, indicating the guards with a wave. “According to my orders, our guests are to remain quarantined until they’re debriefed by Admiral Nogura. I’ve been honoring the spirit of that directive as best I can, but circumstances have forced me to get creative.” She explained how the agents had assisted her crew with repairs as well as deploying the sensor buoys before returning to their “special accommodations.”
Kirk said, “Nogura’s given me provisional authority to talk with them, just in case…” He let the sentence trail off as they arrived at the cargo hold’s entrance.
“In case something happens to them, or us,” said Khatami.
“Right.” Kirk frowned. He had no love for this aspect of covert Starfleet operations. “How’s that old saying go? Plan for the best, expect the worst?”
Khatami gestured to the guards, and the female ensign tapped an entry code into the door’s keypad. The heavy hatch slid aside to reveal a cargo bay virtually identical to those on the Enterprise. The main difference was the temporary housing facility installed here to care for the three Starfleet operatives. Living space, common area, and a field medical clinic were all located in the center of the hold, and inside the clinic space Kirk saw a young woman in a blue Starfleet uniform tending to something at a desk. She was peti
te in build, her brown hair was styled in a bob not too dissimilar to Khatami’s, and her uniform insignia indicated she was a nurse.
“Captain,” she said as she approached, then nodded to Kirk. “I’m Lieutenant Holly Amos, one of Doctor Leone’s assistants. Welcome to the Endeavour, sir.”
Kirk replied, “Thank you, Lieutenant. Anything new to report about our friends?”
“All of Doctor Leone’s tests show they’re all physically and psychologically sound, which is pretty impressive considering the strain they’ve been under for such an extended period. It’ll take a while for them to completely acclimate back to life away from Klingons, but so far the early signs are all very positive. The crew took a bit getting used to having them working with repair teams and other tasks, so we’ve opted to have them stay here when there’s nothing specifically requiring their assistance. Still, they didn’t waste any time before pitching in. I guess it was good therapy, in a way.” Gesturing around the cargo bay, she added, “I just wish we could’ve offered more than this. We’re not exactly the posh resort they likely wanted to visit for shore leave after a long, grueling mission.”
Nodding in understanding, Kirk said, “All in good time, Lieutenant.”
“Speaking of Doctor Leone and all of his tests,” said Khatami, “where is he? I figured he’d be down here.”
“He was until just a few minutes ago, Captain,” replied Amos. “He ran to the mess hall for coffee.” She nodded toward the food synthesizer set into the wall of the temporary facility’s common area. “Apparently, this one isn’t programmed properly. He said even the packets in the field rations tasted better. You know how he can get without his special blend.”
Offering a knowing smirk, Khatami said, “Indeed I do.”
As they spoke, the door to one of the facility’s sleeping areas opened and a woman stepped through. She wore a red jumpsuit like those used by the engineering staff but without the accompanying boots, opting instead for simple slippers to cover her feet. Even with the surgical alterations that made her appear Klingon instead of human, Kirk had no trouble recognizing Morgan Binnix, the leader of the three deep-cover agents, from the personnel file he had reviewed at the beginning of this mission.
“Commander Binnix,” he said in greeting. “I’m Captain James Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.”
She blinked a few times before a small smile crept onto her lips. “My apologies, Captain. I’m afraid I’m still getting used to being called by my real name.” She extended her hand and they exchanged pleasantries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Your reputation precedes you.”
“It’s not all true,” replied Kirk. Then, with a grin, he added, “Well, just the good parts.”
The doors to first one, then the other of the two remaining sleeping areas opened to reveal their occupants. As with their companion, Kirk recognized Phillip Watson and David Horst despite their disguises as Binnix made introductions. After granting Lieutenant Amos permission to return to her work, Khatami directed everyone else to the chairs and sofas in the common area set up for the agents.
For the next several moments, Kirk listened with rapt attention while Binnix and her colleagues recounted their past three years on the Klingon homeworld. While the operatives tried to keep things brief and to the point, they could not help adding detail to certain subjects, observations, or anecdotes. Content to let them lay out their informal report at their own pace, Kirk still found himself asking questions, especially when it came to topics of the military. The agents’ information about the new models of warship under construction at facilities throughout the Empire were of particular interest. So far as he could surmise, Binnix and her team had done remarkable work, collecting a veritable treasure trove of data that would provide months if not years of research fodder for Starfleet Command as well as associated intelligence agencies along with research and development groups. That they had accomplished so much over such a short period of time at great risk to themselves and seemed to have come through it all relatively unscathed emotionally or psychologically was amazing.
“And everything you’ve told me is documented, or supported by information you collected and brought with you?” Kirk asked, still processing what he had heard.
Watson replied, “All of that and a whole lot more. Every last bit of the data we pulled together from multiple sources over the course of three years is in that storage module.”
“About the only thing we didn’t do was put a big bow on it for Admiral Nogura,” said Horst.
Shifting her position on the sofa where she sat to Kirk’s left, Binnix asked, “Captain, do you know if the Klingons were able to track us this far?”
Kirk said, “We had no such indication, at least up until the point we left the Enterprise.” He used that opening to describe the details of the cover mission under which he, Sulu, and Uhura were working while carrying out the search for the Endeavour.
“You can be sure they’ll use every available resource to find us,” said Watson. “It’s bad enough we got away with operating undetected for so long. Once they realize just how much information we collected, they’ll be out of their minds to find us.”
Horst added, “On the other hand, they’ll also want to avoid attracting unwanted attention, and their worst fear is that we are traitors who’ve taken up working for the Federation or another enemy power. If they manage to piece together who we really are?” He shook his head. “I honestly have no idea what they’ll do.”
“They won’t make any direct accusations,” said Khatami. “All that does is give us the opening we need to reveal what we know about Klingon espionage efforts within Starfleet and the Federation.” She scowled. “This is the problem with spying. Each side knows the other sides do it, but nobody can admit it because we all have to pretend nobody knows what anyone’s talking about.”
Kirk realized he was already growing accustomed to listening to Binnix and her colleagues discuss such sensitive topics despite their appearance. He had almost forgotten they still looked like Klingons. Their disguises had served them well during their mission, just as Klingon agents had unfortunately thrived while conducting espionage after being surgically altered to appear human. How easy was it for the individual to conform to their new identity? How hard would it be for that person to shed their manufactured persona and resume a normal life? His own brief stint masquerading as a Romulan was more than enough such subterfuge for him. He could not begin to imagine the challenge these three agents had faced for so long.
The sound of the ship’s intercom filtered through the cargo bay, followed by a high-pitched, almost nasal voice. “Yataro to Captain Khatami.”
“My chief engineer,” said Khatami for Kirk’s benefit. Rising from the chair in which she had been sitting opposite him, she crossed to a nearby communications panel and thumbed its activation switch. “Khatami here.”
Yataro replied, “Captain, you asked me to review our sensor data pertaining to the disruption field we encountered during our skirmish with the Klingon ship. I apologize for not seeing to this task sooner.”
“You’ve had your hands full, Commander,” Khatami said. “I take it you’ve found something in the logs?”
“I will of course require time to conduct a more thorough review to corroborate my findings, but at the moment I am reasonably certain the technology employed against us is Klingon in origin.”
That was enough to get Kirk and the agents out of their seats, with Kirk leading the way across the cargo bay to join Khatami at the comm panel.
“Klingon technology?” he asked, glancing to Binnix and her companions.
Watson’s features were a mask of confusion. “We didn’t come across any information about anything like this.”
“If this is an Imperial Intelligence project,” said Binnix, “that group is so compartmentalized it’s ridiculous. Different groups can be running dozens of projects for which there’s no cross communication between departments.”
Ki
rk said, “It’s not as outrageous as it sounds. We’ve encountered similar technology before, but it was far less powerful than what you’ve described. This could be an updated version of that.” He frowned. “But this isn’t Klingon space. It’s not Federation space, either, but that doesn’t mean our diplomats won’t yell at their diplomats once this gets out.”
“What about the Orions you mentioned?” Watson asked. “Is it possible they’re involved somehow? Working with the Klingons?”
“It’s absolutely possible.” Kirk knew the Orions or even just individual Orion ships and captains were not above aligning themselves with anyone who promised a profitable venture. Starfleet Intelligence reports occasionally detailed instances of Orion merchants flouting their people’s supposed “neutrality” while engaging in all manner of questionable behavior.
“And if there were Klingons already here in the asteroid field,” said Khatami, “then they certainly contacted someone to report on the Endeavour and their own lost warship. They might even be sending additional ships to make sure there are no loose ends.”
“We need to contact the Enterprise,” said Kirk. He had to inform Admiral Nogura about this, but he also needed to warn Spock in the event the technology was used against his ship. “We can use the Dreamline to get away from this location before transmitting a message, but my people need to know about this.”
To the comm panel, Khatami said, “Yataro, download all the information you have on this technology so Captain Kirk can take it back to his ship. Get it here as quickly as you can.”
“Understood, Captain,” replied the engineer. “Yataro out.”
With the connection severed, Khatami turned to Kirk. “If the Klingons find us, they’ll finish what they started. We’re sitting ducks down here.” She gestured to Binnix and the others. “You need to take them and their data cache along with whatever we recorded in our sensor logs, get back to the Enterprise, and get them the hell out of here.”