Agents of Influence

by Dayton Ward

  Seated at the helm station, Lieutenant Naomi Rahda replied, “Seventy thousand kilometers and closing, Admiral.” The Indian woman tapped out a sequence on her console. “The debris field is a little denser here, Mister Spock.”

  “Slow to one-quarter impulse power,” the first officer replied. “Increase image to magnification factor six.”

  At the navigator’s station next to Rahda, Lieutenant Ryan Leslie made the necessary adjustments and the image on the main viewscreen jumped to bring the asteroid into sharp relief. Studying the asteroid, Spock noted its topographical details as well as the obvious signs of habitation. Even from this distance, the magnified image as generated by the sensor telemetry provided a host of details. A half-dozen dull-gray modules of varying size sat atop a larger platform affixed to the asteroid’s surface. Conduits, scaffolding, and support frames surrounded everything, and on the construct’s lowest level light escaped from a massive opening. The entire facility was coated in brownish dust indicating it had been subjected to the asteroid field’s unwelcoming environs for some time.

  “Sensor interference is clearing, Mister Spock.” Chekov had returned his attention to the science station’s hooded viewer. “It appears the largest portion of the outpost is partially buried within the asteroid’s bedrock. I’m picking up eighty-seven individual life signs.” A moment later he added, “Also picking up the energy signatures from two scout-class vessels departing the outpost.”

  Spock said, “Red alert. All hands to battle stations. Lieutenant Palmer, hail those vessels.” He ordered the audible alarm muted even before it could begin wailing across the bridge, by which time everyone had reported ready status from their various stations.

  “No response to our hails, Mister Spock,” Palmer reported from the communications console.

  Chekov added, “Their shields are up and weapons active. They’re on an intercept course.”

  Making his way around the bridge railing, Nogura moved down just behind Spock’s left shoulder. “Someone’s not happy to see us.”

  “Maintain heading,” Spock said. “Full power to forward deflectors. Mister Leslie, target firing solutions on both vessels. Lieutenant Palmer, open a channel.” Once the communications officer indicated she had established a connection, he offered in a louder voice, “Klingon vessels. This is Commander Spock of the Federation Starship Enterprise. I remind you that this is free space. We have no desire for hostilities, but we will be forced to respond to your provocative actions if you do not alter your course. Please respond.”

  Palmer reported, “Nothing, sir.”

  At the helm, Lieutenant Rahda was staring into her station’s tactical scanner. “They’re breaking off from each other, sir. Definitely maneuvering to catch us in a crossfire.”

  “On-screen,” Spock ordered.

  The image on the viewscreen shifted to depict a pair of small, agile vessels banking in opposite directions. Glancing at the astrogator between Rahda and Leslie, Spock noted the positions of both enemy ships as they maneuvered to put the Enterprise between them.

  “Target whichever vessel comes in range first,” Spock said. “Fire to disable if at all possible, but the safety of the Enterprise comes first, Mister Leslie.”

  Rahda said, “The ship to our starboard is coming around and trying to lock disruptors.”

  Without waiting for further orders, the helm officer guided the ship in that direction, bringing the scout ship into view just as Leslie punched his console’s firing controls. Twin beams of energy streaked across space and impacted against the Klingon vessel’s shields. Leslie followed with a second salvo as the other ship fired its own weapons. The disruptor strike missed, passing down and out of the viewscreen’s frame, but Leslie had better luck. His second round of fire also hit the ship’s shields before the vessel moved out of view.

  “Photon torpedoes, Mister Leslie,” Spock said. He wanted to end this engagement before it dragged on too long or spun too far away from his ability to control.

  As Rahda’s piloting brought the Enterprise face-to-face with the second Klingon ship, Leslie acquired the new target and fired. Two photon torpedoes, pulsing red with barely restrained energy, arced across space and slammed into the other vessel’s shields. The navigator followed with additional phaser strikes timed to hit just as the torpedoes detonated, and Spock watched the energy beams drill into the other ship’s hull.

  “Direct hit, Mister Spock,” Chekov reported. “Their shields are overloaded and I’m scanning a breach in their secondary hull near the engine compartment.”

  Her attention once more on her tactical scanner, Rahda said, “The other ship is coming around, sir. Angling for another shot.”

  “Do not give it to them, Lieutenant.” To Spock, the other vessel’s commander was acting in a most illogical fashion. Surely they knew at this point they were hopelessly outmatched? Even working with another ship, they still lacked the firepower to withstand any prolonged engagement against the Enterprise. The entire exercise was a waste of time, resources, and possibly life if things deteriorated that far.

  Nevertheless, the Klingons pressed the attack, using one of the nearby smaller asteroids for cover long enough to maneuver for another run. By that time Rahda had guided the Enterprise into position to defend. Seconds later the scout vessel appeared on the viewscreen, working its way out from behind the asteroid.

  “Fire,” Spock said.

  As before, Leslie unleashed a coordinated strike using both photon torpedoes and phasers. Two torpedoes collided with the Klingon vessel’s shields, which held until a third torpedo hit at the same point of impact.

  “Their shields are down!” Chekov called out.

  Leslie was already following with phasers. The two beams of blue-white energy pierced the scout ship’s hull just forward of its impulse engine ports, and the orange glow from their power plants dimmed but did not die out.

  “Scans show their impulse power is down sixty-three percent.” Chekov looked up from the sensor viewer. “They’re changing course and maneuvering away, sir.”

  With nothing left to stand in their way, it took only moments for the Enterprise to navigate the asteroid field back to the large body of rock that was home to the outpost. Once again the facility occupied the center of the bridge’s viewscreen. At which point Spock turned to Nogura.

  “Admiral, I believe whatever happens next falls under your purview.”

  Pursing his lips, Nogura drew a deep breath and let it out in slow, deliberate fashion. “We can’t let them leave here with their technology intact.”

  Scott rose from his chair. “With Lieutenant Palmer’s help, I may be able to access their computer and download the relevant information.”

  “That would require considerable time,” Spock replied. “And there is still the captain and the Endeavour to consider.” While they had been making their way here, Captain Kirk and his team along with the crew of the Endeavour were preparing to deal with their own attack. How were they faring? With communications disrupted, there was no way to know.

  Nogura looked to Scott. “Commander, with the specimen of technology you recovered, do you think you could extrapolate its control processes, and give us some insight into how the Klingons might plan to deploy it?”

  “I believe so, Admiral.” The chief engineer nodded toward the viewscreen. “It’d be nice to have the whole package, but I’ll take what I can get, sir.”

  For Spock, this was sufficient.

  “Mister Chekov, scan that facility for all uninhabited areas and identify its primary power and life-support systems. Feed that information to Mister Leslie.” After asking Lieutenant Palmer to establish a hailing frequency, Spock rose from the captain’s chair. “Klingon outpost. This is Commander Spock of the Starship Enterprise. Your presence in this area of space for the conduct of weapons research is a violation of treaties between our respective governments, and your actions against this vessel and the U.S.S. Endeavour could be considered acts of aggression.
We have scanned your facility and know you are largely defenseless. We also are aware that a transport capable of carrying your entire complement is present in your landing bay. You have five minutes to evacuate your base, at which time it will be destroyed.”

  To Spock’s surprise, the hail was answered.

  It was not a Klingon warrior who appeared on the viewscreen. Spock determined she was not a soldier owing to her distinct lack of military uniform. Instead she wore a dark, drab utility coverall, and her black hair was pulled back from her face to reveal her dark-olive complexion.

  “I am Doctor Le’tal.” There was a slight faltering in her voice, but she managed to affect an otherwise composed bearing. “This is a research facility. You are correct that we do not possess defenses aside from our military garrison, which you have already encountered. I am told both of those vessels are incapacitated.”

  Spock said, “Upon your evacuation, you will be permitted to transfer the crews of both vessels to your ship.”

  “And if we refuse to evacuate?”

  “Your facility represents a threat to Federation security,” Nogura said. “We will destroy it whether you evacuate or not. The choice is yours.”

  It was not a threat Spock wanted to make, and while he would not admit as much—at least not here on the bridge—he was grateful to the admiral for recognizing the ethical dilemma such an ultimatum forced on him.

  Le’tal looked to something beyond the viewscreen’s frame before turning to face Spock once more. “We will evacuate, Commander Spock.”

  “Our sensors are monitoring your communications and main computer,” Spock said. “We will know if you attempt any sort of data transfer or emergency sanitation procedure. Take nothing with you and leave. Your five minutes begins now.”

  Defeated, Le’tal nodded. “Very well, Enterprise. Your mercy in this regard is… appreciated.” Her imaged faded, replaced by that of the outpost perched on its asteroid.

  “I doubt that,” Nogura said. “Klingons don’t tend to look kindly upon those who surrender or otherwise capitulate to an enemy.”

  While Spock agreed with the admiral’s observations, his focus was already moving to other concerns. His gaze drifted to the chronometer set into the console just above the astrogator before him. Rahda had set it for a five-minute countdown, and it was already dropping toward four minutes and thirty seconds.

  Spock knew he would spend every single one of those seconds wondering about Captain Kirk and the Endeavour.

  * * *

  All that remained for Le’tal was to accept defeat.

  She had chosen a seat next to a window in the transport’s passenger cabin. Unable to look any of her colleagues in the eye, she instead focused her attention on the oval-shaped portal as the craft lifted away from the landing bay. As the transport banked toward the bay’s entrance, she caught sight of the now deserted deck. D’khad, conniving petaQ that he was, had departed aboard his own ship within moments of the Enterprise’s ultimatum to evacuate the outpost. He had not even offered to carry anyone else with him. Thankfully, the transport already assigned to the facility was more than capable of carrying the entire staff.

  “We will rendezvous with Lieutenant Mak’dav,” said the transport’s pilot over the communications system. The Enterprise commander had graciously allowed for the retrieval of crews from both of the damaged scout ships, after which Le’tal and her people were to continue with their exit of the asteroid field.

  But first, she was to watch the obliteration of her work.

  Not just yours You are not the only one being wronged here today.

  It had taken the efforts of a great many people over a long period of time to do what she and her team had accomplished here. To act as though she was the only one affected was not just wrong on a factual level, but also unacceptable given her role as the project’s director. Le’tal had never been one to deny due credit to deserving individuals, and had always made a point of recognizing noteworthy achievements in front of the entire staff. It was a simple yet effective means of building and maintaining morale, a time-honored tradition observed by all successful leaders. Even Karamaq understood and agreed with her on this, regardless of their lack of shared experiences or how else he might feel about her personally.

  And just where is Karamaq?

  The thought occurred out of nowhere. In the rush to evacuate the outpost she had somehow neglected to even consider the commander or the two ships he had taken out on patrol. Had they found the Endeavour? Le’tal hoped that was not the case. The political situation between the Empire and the Federation was precarious enough without Karamaq escalating the issue with something like this. Indeed, she wondered how much good faith she and her people might have engendered if they had instead acted to assist the Starfleet crew during their time of need. She found it discomforting to realize that she had not even considered this possibility before now. Had her interactions with Karamaq—and D’khad, for that matter—and the stress caused by those encounters blinded her to such an obvious solution?

  It was, Le’tal decided, a weak excuse.

  A shadow passed over the bulkhead before her and she turned to see No’Khal settling into an adjacent seat. He said nothing, but instead regarded her with that composed, almost paternal expression in which she often sought comfort. This time, however, it served only to heighten her shame.

  “And so ends a promising career,” she said, pushing herself back into her seat. Even from this angle she was still able to see the outpost as it receded in the distance, now looking so much more like a fragile shell perched atop the asteroid than she had ever seen it. “All of our work, about to be annihilated as though it never existed.”

  No’Khal eyed her with his usual unwavering patience. “You know that is not entirely true. The original research and design plans are still safe, archived at an Imperial Intelligence records facility. Someone will one day be able to access that information and perhaps begin our work anew.”

  “Someone,” Le’tal said. “But not me.”

  Despite being forced to leave behind almost all of her personal possessions, Le’tal still had been able to grab the backup data storage cache of her personal computer files. All of her reports, logs, journals, and other documents important to the research and experiments conducted at the outpost were safe in a pocket of the small bag containing those few precious items she was able to pack before No’Khal all but dragged her from her quarters to the landing bay.

  “There’s something you have not yet needed to learn about our chosen line of work, my friend,” he said. “Scientists within the Empire are a commodity. Skilled scientists, even more so. Our glorious leaders are not in the habit of wasting valuable resources. That mentality comes from running a civilization that is always dealing with ongoing problems of resource availability. The Empire finds itself surrounded on almost all sides by adversaries. Our ability to expand and locate resource-rich worlds is limited. This presents a challenge to our leadership, who have learned to be prudent when it comes to conserving valuable assets of every flavor. That includes bright young scientists who hold in their minds ideas and solutions for dealing with our enemies as well as securing our borders.”

  Le’tal shifted in her seat. “Does that include bright young scientists who fail to accomplish their goals?”

  “What failure?” No’Khal gestured toward the porthole. “You succeeded in your mission. You proved a workable concept. Demonstrated it in theory and practice. The physical manifestation of the work we did here may be lost, but the essence of its value remains. There will be another day for you. Trust me.”

  Le’tal regarded her dear friend, realizing his words and manner were having their intended effect. “You speak as though setbacks of this type are not unknown to you.”

  “The stories I could tell you.” No’Khal paused, his expression shifting ever so slightly, as though he was recalling a pleasant memory. “Stories I should not tell you, but perhaps I will anyway. What bett
er way to pass the time?”

  Before she could answer, flickering light filtered through the porthole and Le’tal turned in her seat to see the first moments of the outpost’s destruction. The transport’s pilots had angled the craft so the scene was visible to anyone caring to look through their ports on the ship’s starboard side. She could not look away as the Enterprise, now hovering over the facility, rained several volleys of orange bursts of energy at different points all across the outpost.

  “Torpedoes,” No’Khal said. He had moved so that he could observe the action through another nearby port. “Most effective.”

  Le’tal said nothing, her attention riveted on the outpost’s quite thorough eradication. The Enterprise dispatched another salvo of torpedoes, which turned out to be all that was needed. Whatever remained of the base disappeared in a rapid succession of blasts, which were snuffed out by the vacuum of space, leaving behind only debris scattered to drift in the asteroid field along with a new crater where the outpost once sat.

  “So much for that.” Settling back into her seat, she returned her attention to No’Khal.

  “Not so much an ending as you might think.” No’Khal smiled. “Perhaps instead a new beginning.”

  One can hope, Le’tal decided. One can only hope.

  Thirty-six

  Karamaq was certain he felt his blood coursing through his veins, warming in anticipation.

  It had been too long since he last faced an enemy in battle. Not since the previous war with the Federation had he even set foot on a true warship. His career in the time following that ignominious chapter in Klingon history saw to it he was assigned a succession of posts and assignments he often felt were beneath him. Was it punishment for some perceived lapse of honor or duty? The ship on which Karamaq served during the war, the I.K.S. Tong Vey, was one of the first vessels to fall to Starfleet adversaries during a battle near the Ophiucus system. While protecting a supply caravan, the Tong Vey and other vessels were targeted by the sudden arrival of a single, powerful Starfleet vessel. Though other warships were destroyed, his survived to fight another day. That day never came. The Tong Vey’s repairs took longer than anticipated, by which time the war was over as suddenly and inexplicably as it had begun.