Agents of Influence

by Dayton Ward

  “How can we help?” Kirk asked.

  Klisiewicz said, “I appreciate that offer, sir, but I don’t even know what’s wrong yet.”

  Reaching for the console’s intercom control, Khatami slapped it to open an internal frequency. “Khatami to Yataro. Please tell me you’re seeing this impulse power issue and you already have a solution.”

  The Endeavour’s chief engineer replied, “We are attempting to diagnose the impulse fluctuations, but this may take some time.”

  As if to emphasize his statement, lighting in the control center faded completely, replaced within seconds by dimmer, more limited emergency lighting. Kirk noted that more than half of the room’s consoles had also deactivated.

  “I have switched us to emergency battery power,” said Yataro over the open connection. “This requires disabling all but the most critical systems. I am afraid that also means intraship communications, Captain.”

  Stano said, “No problem. I’ll get runners started distributing communicators.” She moved back to the small desk and grabbed a data slate before motioning to where Lieutenant Hector Estrada stood near what until moments ago had been his substitute communications station. “Come on, Hector. You need a job for the time being anyway.”

  “Aye, Commander,” replied the communications officer. “Just a little more of that adventure and excitement they promised me at the Academy.”

  Once they were through the control center’s open door and gone, Khatami said to Klisiewicz, “Stay here, Lieutenant. You’re in charge of whatever Yataro left us.” She turned and headed for the door, motioning for Kirk and Uhura to follow her. It was a short jog to the impulse deck’s engineering space, which was far less roomy than the main engineering space to be found in a Constitution-class starship’s secondary hull. Only upon entering the room did Kirk realize he no longer heard the Endeavour’s impulse engines. Yataro had wasted no time taking the system offline.

  That can’t be good, Kirk decided.

  The room was utilitarian by design, intended for work by engineers and technicians with a need to crawl in, over, under, or around access conduits, ladders, and catwalks surrounding the starship’s massive impulse engines. Already a cramped compartment, it appeared stuffed close to overflowing with personnel and equipment. Whether it was relocated from the Endeavour’s primary engineering decks before the warp drive section was jettisoned or had been scrounged from elsewhere in the saucer section and repurposed for use by Yataro and his team, Kirk did not know. Portable computer interfaces sat atop tool boxes or equipment crates, connected by optical cabling to power relays or open access panels wherever Yataro or one of his people could find or create an interface. They were working without benefit of the starship’s primary and secondary oversight systems and were making do however they could and with whatever was available. Kirk decided Scotty himself would be proud of the Endeavour crew’s ingenuity.

  “Mister Yataro,” Khatami said as she entered the compartment. “Talk to me.”

  A pair of legs was all that was visible of the engineer. The rest of him was inside an open access panel set into a large, squat gray cylinder lying on its side and extending into the bulkhead behind it. The Endeavour’s port impulse engine manifold was currently the focus of attention for a half dozen of the ship’s engineering staff, each hovering at another open port or panel while wielding tools or scanning equipment. Extracting himself from the panel in which he worked, Yataro pulled himself to his full height. His lavender skin and red jumpsuit were covered in dirt and grime, and there was a hole in the garment just below his left knee. There were other minor tears and rends in the fabric, each bearing mute testimony to the effort Yataro had been expending for a sustained period.

  The slender Lirin raised his right hand, which held a large rectangular component with connections on each end as well as two of its four sides.

  “This power coupling is burned out,” he said. “Along with three others. All are beyond repair and will have to be replaced.”

  Standing next to Kirk, Uhura asked, “Four? Out of eight? Was there some kind of power surge?” When Kirk cast a quizzical look in her direction, she said, “Cross-training, sir. Mister Scott has been helping me broaden my horizons.”

  Yataro replied, “We are carrying out diagnostics on the entire power-relay system, but we have so far detected no indications of a power surge.”

  “One failed coupling by itself, I could buy,” Kirk said. “Under the current conditions, I’m surprised more circuits and relays haven’t blown or burned out, but four?”

  “In an emergency, the system could’ve continued to operate with up to three couplings out of commission,” Khatami said. “Just our luck it’d be four.” She turned to Yataro. “We have replacements, right?”

  Nodding, the engineer replied, “We have a full set of replacement couplings, Captain: eight for each engine. However, I am hesitant to install any of them until we find the root cause of the issue. We need to determine whether our power systems are faulty or are plagued by an even greater problem.”

  “And how long will that take?” Khatami asked.

  Yataro paused as though to consider his answer before replying, “At least two hours to make even a preliminary diagnostic on the entire system. A more thorough check will of course take longer.”

  “Start with the preliminary look. We’ll go from there based on what you find.”

  Before Khatami could say anything else, the group was joined by another of the engineers. Kirk could not help giving the young man a quick visual inspection, noting the dirt on his jumpsuit, hands, and face. His hair was disheveled but the lack of dark circles under his eyes indicated he was having a better time dealing with fatigue than many of his shipmates.

  “Yes, Lieutenant?” Khatami asked, but before he could answer she gestured to him for Kirk and Uhura’s benefit. “This is Lieutenant Ivan Tomkins. It was his idea to deploy the sensor buoys to boost our communications and sensor abilities. If not for him, we might never have known you were coming until you knocked on the hull.”

  Tomkins, appearing uncomfortable with the praise, cleared his throat. “I apologize for interrupting, Captain, but I couldn’t help overhearing Commander Yataro’s report.” To Yataro, he said, “I’m sorry, Commander, but I have an updated estimate based on the initial checks you asked me to carry out. It could be closer to four hours before we complete a check of the entire system.”

  “Four hours,” Yataro said. His oversized blue eyes widening, he shook his head. “How could I have been so inaccurate with my first estimate?”

  Tomkins replied, “I don’t think you were, sir, just like I don’t think you missed anything.” Looking to Kirk and the others, he added, “We’re not finding anything that could account for whatever took out the couplings. No overloaded circuits, no defective cabling or junctions, nothing. It’s as though they just decided to self-destruct on their own, and we know that’s impossible.”

  “Quite right,” Yataro said. “This is most concerning.”

  Kirk recalled what he knew of the power systems governing starship impulse engines. It had been a long time since he studied the finer points with any detail, but he still prided himself on knowing how and why things worked aboard a ship, in particular the one to which he was assigned as captain. While he could never hope to match Montgomery Scott’s technical proficiency, he was no slouch, either.

  “Those couplings are designed to compensate for power surges,” he said, recalling whatever journal or blueprint from which he had memorized that information. “In fact, they’re supposed to disperse those very surges and protect against overloads to other, more sensitive systems. If anything, they should be among the last components to fail in the face of such a surge.”

  Yataro replied, “You are correct, Captain. Indeed, when you put it in such stark terms, I am forced to consider a rather unpleasant explanation for our current predicament.”

  “Sabotage,” Uhura said. When Kirk again glanced i
n her direction, she shrugged. “Somebody had to say it.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Khatami closed her eyes before reaching up to rub the bridge of her nose. “Of course you’re not. This day is just getting better and better.”

  “We have to consider every possibility, no matter how much we might not like it.” Kirk suddenly felt exposed, standing here in the confined engineering space. “The question is who would have the sort of expertise to inflict that sort of damage without making it look immediately obvious.”

  Tomkins said, “You mean besides our entire engineering staff?” He looked to Yataro. “Any one of us has that skill set, sir.”

  “But perhaps not opportunity,” Yataro replied. Before saying anything else, the Lirin glanced around the room and Kirk instantly knew what the engineer had to be thinking. If indeed a saboteur lurked among them, they might very well be present at this very moment, within earshot and able to hear everything being said.

  As though picking up on Yataro’s unspoken cue, Khatami said in a low voice, “Look, it’s not like the entire crew has access to this part of the ship. With a little time, we should be able to narrow down a list of suspects.” She sighed. “The agents. They’ve helped us with various repair efforts since we set down here.”

  Kirk had already been thinking in that direction. “We can’t rule it out.”

  “One of them could be a double agent?” Uhura asked. “Or all of them, for that matter.”

  “It is worth considering they also assisted in our deployment of the sensor buoys,” Yataro said. “One of them developed a malfunction not long after they were placed.” The chief engineer then provided for Kirk and Uhura’s benefit a brief rundown of that incident and his and Tomkins’s effort to maneuver a replacement buoy into position.

  “So, left unchecked, that buoy could’ve alerted someone to the Endeavour’s presence here,” Kirk said. “By itself, it doesn’t sound like much, but now?”

  Khatami said, “If it is one of the agents, and they are attempting to attract attention, then the supposed malfunction makes sense.” She looked to Yataro. “They won’t be helping you anymore, Commander. I don’t want to confine them because that’ll just arouse their suspicions. I’d prefer to try luring them out and see what else they’re up to.”

  “That could be dangerous, Captain,” Kirk replied. Under normal conditions, the threat of a spy or saboteur aboard a starship was a matter of grave importance. The Endeavour’s current predicament only made things worse.

  Nodding, Khatami blew out her breath. “Agreed. The problem is we don’t really have the time to be wasting on this, and there are a lot of ways to screw up and alert the saboteur we’re onto them.” She shook her head. “We’ll have to take it slow until we can figure it all out, but first things first. Mister Yataro, how long will our reserve battery power last?”

  Without hesitation, the engineer replied, “At our present rate of usage, approximately thirty-six hours. We can extend that, of course, but only marginally, as we are already operating on a restricted power protocol.” He gestured to the room’s far side. “The starboard impulse engine remains operational. I only took it offline in order to complete our diagnostics, but there is nothing else preventing us from returning it to service.”

  Tomkins added, “We should still restrict power usage to just the critical systems, but at least we’ll have some breathing room.”

  “Do it,” Khatami said, “and proceed with your repair of the port engine.” She frowned. “I want you to take care of it all personally, Mister Yataro. Keep your eye on whoever you get to help you with it.”

  “You are concerned about another member of the crew?” asked the engineer.

  “At the moment, I’m concerned about everyone,” Khatami replied, “but I can’t go around not trusting anyone for however long we end up stuck down here. You’re my chief, Mister Yataro, so I’m counting on you to get it done.”

  Yataro nodded. “You may rely on me, Captain.”

  “Good, because if you end up being the saboteur, I’m going to drop-kick you through the nearest airlock.”

  Though he appeared ready to counter that declaration, the Lirin instead shifted on his feet before exchanging glances with Tomkins. “Let us take the steps necessary to avoid that.”

  After the two engineers moved farther into the compartment to resume their work, Khatami grunted something Kirk could not understand before slumping against a nearby bulkhead. She was not in distress, he knew. Instead, she simply looked tired.

  “I need a long, hot bath and about a month’s sleep,” she said. “Preferably somewhere with a beach.”

  Uhura replied, “I like the sound of that.”

  “Same here,” said Kirk. “In the meantime, if you think it will help things move faster, where can we pitch in?”

  It was then that Commander Stano entered the room. Her face was flushed and she was slightly out of breath. Kirk suspected it was the result of her using ladders and Jefferies tubes to move about the ship, but she looked as though she had been scrambling through them as fast as possible to get herself here.

  “You all right?” Khatami asked, studying her first officer. “Why didn’t you use your communicator?”

  Waving away the question, Stano said, “I dropped the damned thing down a maintenance shaft. Remind me to carry a spare, I’m a klutz.” She paused to catch her breath before continuing, “We’ve got a new problem. Klisiewicz found something on sensors. A ship’s just entered the buoys’ extended scanning range, and its propulsion signature pings it as being Orion.”

  Khatami regarded Kirk. “Friends of yours?”

  “Could be. I had a feeling they didn’t buy our cover story, and that was before we led them on a chase through the asteroid field.” Kirk grimaced, realizing his likely triggering of the Orion captain’s suspicions had caused her to start snooping around.

  With Khatami in the lead, the group made its way back to the temporary control room to find Lieutenants Klisiewicz and Estrada standing at their respective workstations. Noticing their arrival, the science officer turned from his console.

  “According to our recognition database, it’s officially listed as an Orion merchant ship,” he said, anticipating Khatami’s request for a status report.

  Uhura said, “That’s their euphemism for a pirate vessel.” Frowning, she looked to Kirk. “I guess we should be thankful they’re not Klingons. Small favors, or whatever you want to call it, but remember, Orions usually aren’t interested in destroying a ship. They’d rather disable and plunder it.”

  Kirk replied, “Unless they’re working with the Klingons. Then all bets are off.”

  “What are they doing, Lieutenant?” Khatami asked Klisiewicz.

  Consulting his instruments, the younger man said, “Judging by their speed and course, I’d say they’re looking for something.”

  “Any guesses on what that might be?” Estrada asked. He tapped his own console. “I can’t pick up any sign of incoming or outgoing communication. They’re pretty much running quiet.”

  Klisiewicz, back to examining his sensor readings, looked up from the console. Dread clouded his features.

  “They’re changing course and heading directly toward us.”

  Twenty-three

  “I hate these things.”

  Kirk sighed as he fastened the closures on the Starfleet-issue environmental suit he now wore. Molded from a synthetic polymer designed to form around its occupant’s body, the silver suits were but the latest iteration of a technology introduced three centuries earlier. The first garments designed to shield humans from the harsh environment of space were oversized and cumbersome, with the wearer required to carry bulky equipment on their back just to provide limited life-support. As humanity ventured outward from its homeworld to the other planets of Earth’s solar system, the technology to carry those early explorers and protect them upon arrival continued to advance. Suits of this type became more robust and efficient at protecting the fra
gile bodies they encased, becoming lighter and more comfortable to the point such garments were little more than another variation of uniform to be worn.

  Kirk still hated them.

  “For whatever it’s worth, I never liked them, either,” said Morgan Binnix from where she stood near an adjacent equipment locker in one of the Endeavour’s extravehicular activity preparation rooms, closing the front of her own suit. “I flunked basic EVA training the first time.” She shook her head. “Damned embarrassing, let me tell you.”

  Standing to Kirk’s other side, Sulu was also donning a suit. “I prefer these to the civilian ones we had earlier.” He was attaching the garment’s life-support system and verifying its connections. “At least with these, I know where everything’s supposed to go.”

  “Always a silver lining with you, isn’t there?” Kirk punctuated the comment with a knowing smile. “That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you, Mister Sulu.”

  Sulu offered his own grin. “Now if I could only convince Doctor McCoy.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”

  Given what they were about to do, Kirk knew the momentary humor was a good way to alleviate tension. Anything that took someone outside the relative safety of a spacecraft was to be taken seriously. While each of them might be experienced with this type of activity, there was always a danger and therefore justifiable anxiety if not outright fear, none of which was helped by knowing this was shaping up to be anything but a normal excursion outside the ship.

  “Captain Kirk.”

  Turning from his locker, Kirk saw Binnix staring at him. With the exception of the helmet she held in her hands, she had completed the process of donning her EV suit. She regarded him with an uncertain expression.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Thank you for this. I can appreciate the position you’re in, and it’d be easy to just toss us into a brig until it’s all over. If I were in your shoes, I might already have done just that.”