by Dayton Ward
“No apologies are necessary, Mister Reyes,” T’Prynn said. “Your detention and subsequent confinement while awaiting court-martial made you unable to render any assistance, not that there was anything you could have done. Ultimately, the course of action taken by Doctor M’Benga was the only means of treating my condition.”
Clearing his throat as he made a surreptitious visual scan of the bar to ensure no one at least appeared to be paying him undue attention, Reyes said, “Well, I guess I meant before all of that happened. I understand you felt you had to keep your condition a secret, and I can’t imagine what it must have been like to carry the burden you endured all those years.”
“I understand and appreciate the emotional sentiment you are attempting to convey,” T’Prynn replied, “but rest assured that there is nothing for which you need to apologize. The mental trauma I suffered is no longer an issue, and I have been held to account for concealing my condition as well as the illegal actions I took while acting as your intelligence officer. Those events are in the past, and my only desire is to carry out my duties which now include completing a mission that could prove very dangerous. I would prefer to concentrate on that for the moment.”
Seeing her point and agreeing with it, Reyes started to reply, but checked himself when one of the bar’s exotic and rather scantily clad servers chose that moment to approach his table. Though she was Orion and quite beautiful, Reyes did not for one moment believe that she was a lowly employee—not when she eyed him with an openly solicitous expression, and certainly not when she bent forward and allowed him an unfettered view of her ample cleavage.
“Something to drink?” she asked, her tone soft and alluring.
Nodding, Reyes said, “I’ll have a brandy, whatever brand you recommend.” In actuality, he had no real desire for the drink, but had decided that acting as much like a regular bar patron as possible would only help to mask his deception.
The server smiled at that. “Are you sure? Some of the labels are rather expensive.”
“I’ve been lucky at the tables,” Reyes replied, forcing a grin. “So, I figure why not celebrate a little?”
His answer seemed to please the Orion even further, as she leaned closer and lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Well, if you’re looking to spoil yourself, I think I can help with that. Of course, I’m rather expensive, too.”
T’Prynn’s voice rang in his head. “The server is undoubtedly a spy working for Ganz.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Reyes said, smiling again for the Orion’s benefit. “Let’s just start with the drink, and see where things go from there.”
Affecting a mock pout, the Orion pursed her lips. “Well, if that’s the way you want to play it. I can be patient, but not for too long.” When she turned to leave, presumably to fetch his drink, she made a show of swinging her hips as she headed toward the bar, and punctuated the less than subtle invitation with a seductive glance over her shoulder.
“Though I cannot hear what anyone is saying to you,” T’Prynn said, “I can infer meanings based on your half of a given conversation. Beware that the myriad ways in which Ganz and Neera will seek to extract information from you know no bounds, Mister Reyes.”
Reyes grunted in agreement. “You have no idea.” During his stay aboard the Omari-Ekon, he had been confronted with all manner of attempts by various persons looking to befriend him or even to engage him in simple conversation. Someone might get chatty while sitting in an adjacent seat at one of the gaming tables, or while waiting at the bar for a drink or browsing in one of the shops on the merchant vessel’s small yet well-appointed esplanade. Then there were the women, of course, no doubt aimed at him by Neera, Ganz’s employer. Seeing through most of these attempts was easy enough, but there was the occasional sly effort that almost succeeded in catching him off guard. Though he kept almost everyone at the proverbial arm’s length just as a matter of general principle, Reyes had decided the best approach was simply to treat anyone he encountered aboard Ganz’s ship as a spy or other threat. In that regard, he had been most grateful when familiar faces like Tim Pennington and Zeke Fisher had found reasons to come aboard, just as he now appreciated the welcome voice of T’Prynn.
“Listen,” he said after a moment, “can we get on with this? I feel naked out here.” He began tapping selections on the gaming console, calling up an Orion variant of poker he had come to enjoy during his stay aboard ship. “I don’t know how long I can sit here before someone starts getting suspicious.”
“Understood,” T’Prynn replied. “Insert your credit chip into the console’s payment slot, and stand by.” Reyes occupied his time by playing a poker hand dealt to him by the gaming program’s computer-directed dealer, which he lost. As he watched his credit account reduced by the amount of his wager, he noted the screen’s graphics shift for the slightest of moments before returning to normal.
“Was that you?”
“Affirmative. I have forged a connection with the Omari- Ekon’s subnet. From here, I will be able to remotely monitor your actions and guide you accordingly.”
Frowning at the explanation, Reyes said, “I don’t understand. If you can see what I’m doing, why can’t you access the logs directly?”
“Such activity likely would trigger security alerts,” T’Prynn said. “So far, my actions have not been detected, but there may well be protective measures in place of which I am unaware.”
“Well, that’s encouraging,” Reyes said, looking once more about the bar. If T’Prynn was right and there were other, more covert monitoring schemes in place to detect any unauthorized access to the Omari-Ekon’s central computer system, he figured his life expectancy after being discovered would be measured in minutes. The only real question was whether Ganz would have his people exercise any modicum of discretion and have Reyes removed from public view before his execution, or simply shoot him on sight.
Suddenly, that drink he had ordered was sounding pretty good.
“I am ready to proceed,” T’Prynn said a moment later. “Press the controls that allow you to place a wager.”
Without answering, Reyes did as instructed and entered a bet for the next poker hand. In the screen’s lower left corner, a new window appeared. Unlike the rest of the screen, it contained only a prompt and a blinking cursor. He was able to hide that portion of the screen from casual view by resting his left arm on the table. “Okay, now what?”
“Using the manual interface,” T’Prynn replied, “enter the following command string.” She began reciting a sequence of seven alphanumeric characters, which Reyes typed using one finger on the gaming console’s touch-screen keyboard he had already configured for Federation Standard. T’Prynn followed with three more such codes, though at her direction Reyes paused between entering each one, in the hopes of maintaining the illusion that his interaction with the console was for nothing more than playing a game.
By the time the fourth string of characters was entered, Reyes could feel sweat beneath his arms and down his back, and his anxiety only worsened when he detected movement to his left and looked up to see the Orion server once more approaching his table. She was carrying a tray on which sat a glass of dark liquid, which she set down on the table before him. Doing his best to present a casual demeanor, Reyes smiled as he rested his left forearm across the table, concealing most of the gaming console’s screen.
“Will there be anything else?” she asked, leering at him.
Shrugging, Reyes replied, “I’m thinking about dinner. Check back with me in a few minutes, after I have another look at the menu.”
In response, the Orion bent closer to him and whispered in his ear, “The best selections aren’t on the menu, you know.”
Despite himself, Reyes could not help clearing his throat as he once more forced a smile. “Well, that’s certainly something to think about.”
When the server left to see to other customers, Reyes blinked and exhaled audibly. The effects of Orion women on male human
oids were legendary, but certainly not fictitious. It had been a concern of his since first stepping aboard Ganz’s vessel, knowing that the merchant prince would use every means at his disposal to trip him up and force him to reveal valuable information or otherwise compromise himself. The women were part of that equation, and while he figured a few of the solicitation attempts he had received were no more than those extended to other patrons of the Omari-Ekon’s various “services,” he was certain Ganz and Neera were behind most of the attention being paid to him. For all he knew, his server was at this moment reporting to a superior whatever she might have seen or overheard while at or near his table.
Moving his arm, he noted that a series of messages now appeared on the screen’s inset window. The text was some variant of written Orion—he could not identify the variant—and none of it made any sense to him. “Are you seeing this?”
“Yes,” T’Prynn replied. “It is a standard message for accessing the subnet. We have exited the gaming subsystem and are now in a direct path to the central computer, using a utility program normally used by software technicians for maintenance purposes. Such programs are not normally subjected to intense scrutiny, due to their very nature and the need to have full access to the computer’s operating system and application software.”
The last thing Reyes needed at the moment was a computer technology lecture. Sighing, he reached for his drink and was ready to down a large swallow when he stopped himself. Paranoia was starting to kick in, and he wondered if the glass in his hand might contain something other than brandy.
“Okay, I’m really wanting to get out of here now,” he said, placing the drink back on the table. Following T’Prynn’s instructions, Reyes entered another string of commands and watched as a block of indecipherable text began to scroll within the small window. Unlike the first set of data, he was not certain what he now saw was even rendered in Orion text. “What is that?”
“I do not know,” T’Prynn replied.
His feelings of anxiety beginning to escalate, Reyes tried to appear casual as he cast another furtive glance about the bar. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” he asked, catching himself as he realized he had vocalized the question at a volume slightly louder than the whisper he had been using. It was all but impossible to shake the nagging sensation that everyone in the room was watching him and knew exactly what he was doing. He forced himself to remain seated at his table when every instinct was screaming at him to run. For a moment, he imagined a hot ache between his shoulder blades, as though someone were aiming a disruptor at his back, and tried to convince himself that the heavy boots he heard thudding against the deck did not belong to one of Ganz’s goons, marching their way toward him.
Her voice retaining its usual calm, quiet, and controlled tone, T’Prynn said, “We have entered an area of the system which appears to be using some form of language override protocols for its user interfaces. Standard translation subroutines are being rendered ineffective, and the native language being employed is not one I recognize.”
“Can you run it through the universal translation program on the station’s computer?” Reyes asked.
“I can,” the Vulcan replied, “but not directly. I have copied some of the information to my workstation and I am having it analyzed. It looks to be an obscure Orion dialect which has fallen out of common use. According to the library computer, it was utilized between three and four hundred years ago, mostly by a sect of Orion migrants who founded a colony in the—”
Reyes grunted in growing irritation. “I don’t care, T’Prynn. What can you do about translating it so we can get on with this?” As an additional protective measure complementing the computer system’s existing security protocols, the language trick was elegant in its simplicity. Reyes did not figure on Ganz possessing the level of ingenuity needed to put such a scheme into play. Neera was likely the culprit.
“At this time? Nothing,” T’Prynn said. “It would take too long for me to translate the information we access in this manner so that I can guide you through each successive step of the operation. What is required is a real-time translation protocol which you can use directly.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Reyes hissed, his feelings of exposure mounting with each passing moment. “Are you saying all of this was a waste of time?”
T’Prynn replied, “Our efforts have yielded important information with regard to the Omari-Ekon’s computer security features. This will aid in refining our infiltration strategy and better enable us to conceal our presence in the system.”
“What the hell is this all about, T’Prynn?” he asked. “What’s so damned important that we have to jump through these hoops?”
“I cannot elaborate as to the nature of the data,” the Vulcan replied, “but I can tell you that it involves the Shedai, and locating a world which might possess technology capable of defeating them. We believe Ganz’s ship, or a ship in his employ, either traveled to this world or obtained artifacts from it.”
“The orb,” Reyes whispered.
T’Prynn said, “That is correct. So, you should now understand the delicate and pressing nature of our assignment.”
Following her instructions, Reyes backed out of the system subnet, terminating the interface and returning the gaming console to its normal state. For good measure, he placed a bet and forced himself to play two hands of poker without acknowledging T’Prynn’s queries, in full view of anyone who happened past his table. Satisfied that no one was going to walk up and jam the muzzle of a disruptor in his face, he closed out the gaming session and reached for the drink he had almost forgotten. He eyed the liquid and weighed his chances of surviving whatever toxic substance might have been added to the brandy.
Take your best shot, Ganz, he mused before tossing back his head and downing the drink in a single swallow. He relished the burn of the brandy as it made its way down his throat, grunting in momentary satisfaction as the liquid hit his stomach. If he was going to die, there certainly were worse ways to go.
“Mister Reyes,” T’Prynn called, for the eighth or ninth time.
“Listen,” he said as he placed the now empty glass on the table, “given the likelihood that I’ll be dead by this time tomorrow, why don’t you just call me Diego?”
There was a brief pause before the intelligence officer replied, “Diego, my scans indicate that our efforts escaped detection.”
“Lucky us,” Reyes said. “Now what?” He figured that whatever T’Prynn was planning as a countermeasure to the security they had detected in the system would require time to implement before they could attempt another covert access of the Omari-Ekon’s computer. This assumed, of course, that such a scheme could be devised at all.
It may have been his imagination, but Reyes swore he heard the indecision in the Vulcan’s voice when she offered her answer.
“Stand by. I will contact you shortly.”
14
Standing before the large viewscreen that dominated his office’s port-side bulkhead, Admiral Nogura studied the image of open space presented to him. Doing so had always served to relax him, as he was able to lose himself—if only for a moment—amid the immense, absolute wonder that was the universe. How many stars were visible just in his field of vision at this exact moment, and how many of them had already died out, millions of years before their light reached him? Beholding such a vista never failed to remind Nogura just how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of all that surrounded him, and yet it also never ceased to energize him as he considered its vast, untapped potential. In the centuries to come, the boundaries of knowledge would push outward to encompass those stars, and still others beyond them, and what would be found? The very question filled Nogura with yearning, and even a small bit of envy for those who would be making such journeys long after he was gone.
That said, I plan to be here for at least a while longer.
Turning to face his visitors, Nogura indicated the viewscreen with a gesture. “Do y
ou know what this place needs? A window. Viewscreens are nice, but I like looking out the real thing.”
Seated in the two chairs positioned before the admiral’s desk, Commander ch’Nayla said nothing, whereas Lieutenant T’Prynn regarded Nogura with a cocked eyebrow.
“A viewscreen affords you many options that a window cannot provide.”
Despite the serious nature of the meeting for which the trio had assembled, Nogura regarded the Vulcan with mild amusement. “It’s just not the same, T’Prynn.” While it was true that the screen could be configured to display an image at any angle as supplied by the station’s external sensor array, Nogura had grown accustomed to the large window at the rear of his offices on Earth. One of his habits—time and circumstances permitting, of course—had been to sit before that window, sipping from a cup of his favorite herbal tea, and look across San Francisco Bay and out toward the Pacific Ocean, watching as the sun, framed by the Golden Gate Bridge, slipped below the horizon. It was the perfect complement to the other half of his daily ritual, when he greeted sunrise from the porch of his mountaintop home in the Colorado Rockies and observed a small interval of tranquillity before transporting to Starfleet Headquarters to face whatever duties, tasks, and demands awaited him. Since arriving at Starbase 47, he had made do with the simulated dawn and dusk as presented within the terrestrial enclosure that occupied a significant portion of the station’s primary hull and offered Vanguard’s residents an illusion of being on a planet. It was a serviceable substitute, but it did not diminish his desire to return home one day.
One day, Nogura mused, but not today.
Making his way to the rear of his office, the admiral moved to the food slot set into the wall behind his desk. He retrieved one of the half-dozen data cards held in a small alcove next to the slot and inserted it into the reader below the device’s door before pressing three of the unit’s selection keys in a predetermined sequence. While he waited for the computer to process his order, he turned to ch’Nayla and T’Prynn. “I take it from your lack of a status report from Mister Reyes that you’ve encountered some difficulty accessing the Omari-Ekon’s navigation logs?”