Star Trek® Cast no Shadow

by James Swallow

  “No,” Kaj retorted. “Give me covering fire.” She tossed her stolen pistol to Valeris.

  “Major, wait—”

  The Klingon ignored the lieutenant’s words and leapt high, mantling the cargo pods, breaking into a run. Vaughn swore and started firing wildly in the direction of Rein and his guards, blasting shots into the air to keep their heads down.

  Valeris did the same as Kaj sprinted out after Gattin. The Kriosian woman had a long lead on the Klingon, and she made it to the drop ramp beneath the Chon’m while the major was still precious meters away. With a savage yell, Kaj returned Gattin’s dagger to her, throwing it hard.

  The stubby blade struck Gattin in the thigh, and she shrieked in pain; but the ramp was already lifting clear of the floor as thrusters along the underside of the scoutship rattled and ignited.

  The ramp slammed shut, and with a surge of engine noise the Chon’m rose unsteadily into the air, wavering as whoever was at the helm got the feel of the flight controls. The bird-of-prey revolved in place, the massive wings swinging out as the ship’s bow turned toward the glowing maw of the landing bay. The Klingon screamed in frustration as her ship showed its stern.

  Across the chamber, Rein broke from his concealment and ran toward the corridor, his men falling back with him, laying down blasts of energy. Vaughn ducked back behind the sizzling, half-melted shapes of the cargo pods, glaring at the diminishing charge on his weapon.

  Valeris kept her attention on Rein. He paused at an alcove and ducked inside; she remembered from her observations of the asteroid base’s systems that similar control points were located throughout the facility. From any one of them, a person with the correct authority codes could access the primary control matrix.

  And suddenly she knew what was going to happen next. Valeris shot to her feet, turning toward the mouth of the landing bay. The Chon’m was gliding toward it, the impulse grid glowing yellow; nothing could stop it now. Ahead, the white glow of the containment field grid flickered and began to fade.

  “He’s going to seal off the bay and vent the atmosphere,” she snapped, then shouted to Kaj, “Major! The barrier!”

  If the Klingon understood what Valeris meant, she did not have time to respond. Rein and his soldiers vanished behind saw-toothed steel hatches rising from the deck, just as an icy hurricane picked up across the chamber. The force field winked out as the Chon’m passed through it and into open space.

  Pitiless vacuum embraced the pocket of atmosphere inside the asteroid, clawing at everything that wasn’t secured to the deck. Empty containers, debris, scraps of metal, and loose tools were picked up, caught, and thrown out into the darkness.

  Valeris felt the air being sucked from her lungs, a frigid polar wind lashing at her bare skin. Vaughn stumbled across the floor and grabbed at something near his feet; she saw a shaft of light flicker into being through a hatch in the deck. “A maintenance pit!” he bellowed, his words almost lost in the roaring chaos of the decompression. “Quickly!”

  She tried to run to him, but her boots were slipping as patches of frost formed from vapor in the fading air. Vaughn slipped through the hatch and vanished. Valeris forced herself back up, clinging to the gridded deck plates, just as one of the cargo pods came loose from its tethers and clattered past her, tumbling end over end. The edge of the metal container clipped her arm and she spun, losing her grip.

  The inexorable draw of the blackness took hold and Valeris slipped away, as if she were sliding down a slope into the abyss. She allowed herself to feel the emotion of regret.

  But then a strong arm was pulling her back, gathering her up. With a monumental effort Kaj gathered the other woman to her and dragged them both toward the hatch, hand over hand. Vaughn, his face pale, pulled them into the maintenance pit and, with a shuddering gasp of relief, slammed his fist against the switch to seal the hatch behind them.

  For a while the three of them lay in the cramped, uncomfortable space amid a mess of spilled tools and support gear, the air in the compartment thin and cold. Their breath emerged in puffs of white and none of them could stop shivering. Outside, the clank and rattle of unsecured items tumbling out into space faded to nothing, until the only sound was the creak of the hatch settling against the shift in external pressure.

  Finally, Vaughn found his voice. He pointed to an oval panel on the far side of the long, narrow section. “Th-that’s an accessway, I think. We can use it to get back into the main part of the base, to someplace with air.”

  Kaj didn’t respond to him. Instead, she turned to study the Vulcan. The Klingon’s face was discolored: the cold and the burn from the disruptor hit had damaged the artificial pigments in her flesh, and the violet hue she had worn was fading away, turning back to her natural dusky shade. “I am rarely surprised,” she said, her tone hoarse with the chill. “But you continue to defy my attempts to categorize you, convict.”

  Valeris held her arms about herself, conserving her body heat. “You saved my life.”

  “For a second time,” the lieutenant added.

  Kaj shrugged, moving to examine the panel Vaughn had indicated. “What of it?”

  “Why?” said Valeris. “Before, on the bridge of the Chon’m . . . you needed me alive. But not so now. You placed yourself at considerable risk.”

  “Perhaps I want to kill you myself.”

  Valeris went on. “It would have been far easier to leave me to perish, but you chose otherwise. Given your attitude toward me, I have no idea what would motivate you.”

  Kaj rounded on her, eyes flaring. “Yes. That much is certain. You think you know me, but you know nothing.” She took a warning step toward Valeris. “You judge me and every other Klingon by the actions of a craven few, by the very worst of our kind.” Kaj pointed, taking in Valeris and Vaughn with the gesture. “I judge you, your Starfleet, and your Federation by honorable men like Darius Miller, the best of your kind.” She turned away. “I saved your life because it was the right thing to do.”

  Valeris paused, mulling over the major’s words. “You . . . have my gratitude.”

  Kaj pulled off the access panel and handed it to Vaughn; then, with a single, swift motion, she struck out and punched Valeris hard across the face. The blow sent the Vulcan reeling, opening a cut on her cheek.

  “Whoa, stop!” Vaughn scrambled for his pistol, but Kaj was already moving away, her moment of anger spent.

  “I’ve made my point,” said the Klingon.

  “Stifle those damn sirens,” Rein ordered, moving quickly down the turns of the tunnel. “Someone get up to the operations center and put the barrier field back up: there are no remote terminals down here . . .”

  The man at his side nodded. “On the way. It’ll take a few moments.” He hesitated. “Did . . . did Gattin make it out? Are they away?”

  Rein stopped and gave the others a hard look. “She knows what the mission is, don’t worry. We won’t hear from her again until it is done.” The Kriosian felt conflicted. On one hand, he had wanted to be on board the Chon’m himself, to be there when the deed was done and see it with his own eyes; but the needs of the moment had taken priority. That Vulcan witch had been playing them for fools all along, waiting for the chance to inveigle herself into the Thorn, to attack them from within. He should have let Gattin execute the lot of them at the first opportunity.

  Rein nodded to himself. He had done the right thing. Every second the bird-of-prey sat on the deck was a moment more that Valeris and her fellow spies could use to thwart the Thorn’s most deadly attack. Sending the ship was the right choice, and he had used the opportunity to deal with two problems at once.

  But still . . . he had to be sure. “Come,” he said, moving off again. “The infirmary is this way.”

  “But no one is hurt.”

  The Thorn leader shook his head. “The internal sensors in this place have never worked correctly. We’ll need tricorders to scan for life-signs.” He reached the door to the medical bay and strode inside.
<
br />   Drell was waiting for them with a plasma pistol in his hand. “Akadar’s blood! What did you do, lad?”

  “I told you not to call me that,” said Rein. He ignored the question and went to a rack where a cluster of old Federation surplus tricorders were recharging. “Here,” he told the men. “Take these. Spread out and scan for anything that doesn’t read as Kriosian. If you find something, shoot first.”

  “Rein!” Drell was at his heels. “Let me guess? The Vulcan spun a lie to you?”

  He rounded on the acerbic medic. “Be silent, old man. Don’t pretend she didn’t turn your head as well.”

  “You’re holding on too tightly!” Drell insisted. “I know it’s you who was taking stimulants from the medical supplies! When was the last time you slept? Your judgment is impaired, and now look at what has happened!”

  “Shut up!” Rein exploded with sudden fury, his cheeks reddening. He glared at the other men. “I gave you a command; now go and execute it!”

  Reluctantly, they left to do as they had been told, and Drell backed away, aware that he had crossed a line with his outburst. “Rein . . . I am just concerned about you. After Colen got sick, and the stress of—”

  “I told you to shut up!” he roared. The horrible truth of it was, Drell was right: he had helped himself to medications, to carry on when his body craved rest. It was important. He had to do it, to keep the Thorn ready. Things were at a critical juncture. No one else could be trusted to keep everything moving forward. The task was his, and his alone.

  Drell reached out a hand, for a moment the healer’s usual caustic manner abating and genuine disquiet taking its place. “We need you, lad. There are so few of us now. We need our leader to be strong.”

  “I am strong,” he retorted, shaking off the other man’s hand.

  Out in the corridor, the sound of something heavy colliding with stone echoed down toward them. Drell opened his mouth to speak, but Rein silenced him with a look. He strained to listen, and caught the noise of cautious footsteps on metal and the squeaking of deck plates; then there was the skirl of a phaser shot.

  Drell scrambled to grab his plasma gun. “They followed you down here?”

  “Who is out there?” Rein demanded, pressing himself into the edge of the doorframe. “Answer me!”

  “Rein—” The voice was that of one of his men, but before it could form a reply, it became a howl of pain that ended abruptly.

  “She can’t have survived that!” he snarled. “No. No! It’s not possible! I blew them into space!” Rein yanked his spare pistol from the holster on his hip. “Face me!” he shouted, bellowing into the stony corridor. “Come and end this, if you dare.”

  “As you wish,” came the reply.

  From somewhere down the tunnel came a low, mechanical whine that rose in pitch with every passing second; then an object clattered into the light, bouncing off the walls. The sound grew louder as the object landed just across the threshold to the medical bay. Rein chanced a look and saw a phaser pistol lying on the floor, indicator lights flashing wildly as it built toward a forced overload.

  Shocked into action, he threw his shoulder against the sliding hatch and tried to force it closed, but he was too slow.

  The weapon self-destructed and threw a stunning crash of energy down the tunnel. The blast ripped into the half-closed hatch and blew it off its hinges. Rein went with it and slammed back into the infirmary proper, colliding with one of the bio-beds.

  Hot dust burned off the stone walls choked the air, and Rein struggled to get to his feet, his ears ringing. Drell recovered quicker, letting off pulses of fire from his plasma gun into the ragged gap where the entrance had been. Shapes moved in the haze, and the healer attacked the nearest enemy with a guttural growl. He saw her face.

  Drell tried to bring his weapon to bear on the Vulcan, but Valeris knocked his gun arm away and jammed her fingers into the nerve bunch at the base of his neck. Drell stiffened, his eyes misting, and sank to the floor.

  Rein got free and staggered across the infirmary toward the stasis module where his brother’s corpse still lay. He turned to see Vaughn rushing at him, the Klingon woman Kaj at his back.

  “No!” he yelled, grabbing a tray of medical instruments and throwing them at the human. Rein’s hand clasped a rod-like device and he drew it up, thumbing the activation switch.

  “It’s over, Rein!” said Kaj, aiming a weapon at him. “Surrender!”

  The protoplaser’s tip glowed blue, ready to cut through flesh with even the slightest pressure. Rein backed into Colen’s pod and raised the rod, holding it at his own neck. “Stay away!” he shouted as loudly as he could. “I will never submit to you, tyrant sow!”

  Vaughn hesitated, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. “Kaj is right. You’re done here.” The young human’s face was covered in tiny scratches and dirty with smoke, but his eyes were hard like tempered steel. “Drop the protoplaser. You can still come out of this alive.”

  Rein laughed, and he heard the edge of hysteria in his own voice. “After all that has happened, you think I will capitulate now? On the eve of our triumph? Billions of tyrant lives are about to be snuffed out! You think a threat to me will stop any of that? I will kill myself first!”

  “What do you mean, ‘billions of lives’?” Kaj demanded, but Vaughn raised his hand, holding her back.

  Rein felt the heat from the tip of the beam-cutter against his throat. “Stay away!” he shouted. “I’ll do it!”

  “So do it, then.” Vaughn took a step closer.

  “Lieutenant!” Valeris called. “We do not know the location of the third target. If Rein dies—”

  But Vaughn paid no heed to the Vulcan. “Do it!” he barked. “Cut your own throat. This is your big chance to be a martyr, Rein. To show us all how powerful the will of the Thorn really is. So go on.”

  “I . . . I will . . . ” The searing heat from the beam was crisping his flesh, and the pain was intense.

  “You won’t.” Vaughn shook his head. “Because you’re a coward. You’re content to send your kinsmen off to die, people you call friends and brothers . . .” The human nodded toward the medical pods and the body bags. “You tell them it will be great and glorious, but you’re just blinding them with lies. You spend the lives of others to fuel your own hate.”

  At his side, Colen’s ruined features stared up at Rein from inside the pod. He refused to accept the human’s words. He strained, trying to move the device, trying to slash it across his neck, but his muscles were frozen, his fear overwhelming him. Colen’s final moments spiraled through his thoughts, the sight of the pain on his brother’s face as death claimed him stark and terrifying. “I was willing to die!” Rein screamed, tears streaming from his face.

  “Once, maybe,” said Vaughn, “but not anymore.” The Starfleet officer shot forward and struck him, knocking the protoplaser from his trembling hand.

  “Sit down.” Vaughn shoved Rein into a chair and used lengths of sealant tape to secure him in place. As Valeris watched, Kaj gathered up the plasma gun dropped by the old medic and moved back to the doorway. Drell lay unconscious in an untidy heap.

  “Whoever is left of Rein’s men will be on their way,” said the major. “Now that we have him, we need to break him.”

  “I . . . will give you nothing . . .” said the Kriosian, sobbing. “I will not break . . .”

  When Kaj looked back, her expression was menacing. “Everyone says that,” she told him. “But everyone does, eventually.”

  “What are you suggesting?” said Valeris. “Forcible interrogation?”

  Kaj gave a noncommittal shrug. “This infirmary has equipment that can be repurposed for that task.”

  “We are not going to torture this man,” insisted the lieutenant, his lip curling in disgust. “That’s not how we work.”

  “We?” echoed Kaj, turning to face him. “Remember where you are, Lieutenant Vaughn. That man is a terrorist, wanted by the Klingon Empire for multiple crimes.
And this is Klingon space, where Klingon law applies. He has no rights.” Her eyes narrowed. “You heard what Rein said. They must be targeting a major population center, one of the core worlds or the main colony stations. Families, Vaughn, not soldiers. We have no time for your Federation’s bleeding-heart morality.” Kaj aimed her pistol. “The torture of one terrorist petaQ in exchange for the safety of countless Klingon innocents is not a question at all. Now, step aside.”

  But Vaughn did not move. “You said yourself we’re on the clock here. How long is it going to take to break him, Major? Hours? Days? Even then, can you be sure that he will be telling the truth?”

  “And what would you propose?” she retorted hotly. “The same thing you offered to the convict? The promise of eradication of all past crimes, freedom, and a new identity? An honorless bribe?”

  Valeris studied Rein’s pallid features. “You must give us the location,” she told him. “You have no choice.”

  The Kriosian looked up at her. “I do not remember,” he replied, with all the defiance he could muster.

  A lie? The words resonated in her thoughts. A choice. Valeris heard her own voice echoing back from the past, from a similar moment seven years earlier on the bridge of the Enterprise. The recollection brought a shock of understanding to her, a surge of feeling so powerful that for a moment she struggled to assimilate it.

  On that day, her mentor Spock had faced what she did now. A crisis rushing headlong toward death and destruction. A decision that pulled at reason and logic.

  A chance to set right a past mistake.

  She looked down at her hands, scratched and blemished from the chaotic escape from the landing bay, and Valeris knew what was being laid out before her.

  “There’s always a choice,” she said softly.

  She leaned closer and raised her hands to Rein’s face, her fingers finding the points where the neural nerve clusters were closest to the surface of his skin.

  “Don’t . . .” Rein gasped out the word.

  Valeris stared into the Kriosian’s eyes. “My mind,” she whispered, “to your mind.”