by Dayton Ward
“I’ll be damned,” Beverly said. “That’s where he is?”
“I don’t know, Doctor,” La Forge replied. “There was nothing else in the message, and I checked for other encrypted data, but that’s all there is. I’m sorry.”
Picard said, “No apologies necessary, Mister La Forge. Excellent work.” He waited for Beverly to terminate the communication before clasping his hands atop the conference table. “Jevalan.”
“Looks that way. You should probably let Will know about this.”
“Agreed.” Picard needed to communicate this information to Will Riker, somehow, if for no other reason than his friend could attempt to verify that no one else at Starfleet Command or within Ishan’s administration possessed this information. Once notified, the admiral also could act to protect Beverly’s movements as she allegedly set out from the Enterprise for Deep Space 9. “Hopefully, Riker will be able to craft a scheme that will allow us to get you on your way without attracting too much attention. However, considering the short leash he’s on, this sort of skulking about will carry significant risk.”
Crusher sighed. “Doesn’t everything, these days?”
Four
“That’s the last one,” La Forge said, watching as Lieutenant Rennan Konya—or, more accurately, the dark hair on top of the security officer’s head, which was all that was visible at the moment—used a handheld anti-gravity lifter to maneuver a rectangular container through the aft cargo hatch of the runabout Dordogne. Consulting the inventory checklist on the padd he held, La Forge tapped the device’s display screen, highlighting the container’s serial number on his list and marking it as having been loaded aboard the ship. “With everything you’ve crammed in there, you’re almost ready to run off and build your own starbase somewhere.”
“I vote for Syrinx III,” said Lieutenant Kirsten Cruzen as she stepped down from the cargo hatch and onto the deck of the Enterprise’s main shuttlebay. She reached up to cover her mouth, only just able to stifle a yawn. “By the way, I have to say that everyone who says gamma shift is the best shift is a stone-cold liar.”
La Forge smiled at that. “Even Commander Taurik?”
“Okay, he gets a pass,” Cruzen countered, “along with any vampires I may have missed.” Leaning against the side of the runabout, she rapped its hull with her knuckles. “I guess I can sleep on the flight. It’s something like a million hours from here to Deep Space Nine, right?”
Emerging from the cargo hatch with the anti-grav lifter, Konya replied, “Now’s probably a bad time to tell you that you’ve got first shift when we leave tomorrow.”
“Cruel is what you are, Mister Deputy Chief of Security, sir.” Another yawn escaped her lips as she ran a hand through her shoulder-length brunette hair.
La Forge listened to the banter as he made a final review of the checklist of items that had been requisitioned from ship’s stores, along with the equipment requested by Doctor Crusher. So far as he could tell, everything now was aboard the Dordogne. The only thing left to do was put Crusher, Konya, and Cruzen aboard the runabout and send them on their way.
“I apologize for the crazy schedule,” La Forge said, “but the maintenance crews only just finished prepping the ship a few hours ago. Something about a problem in one of the plasma injectors.” In actuality, there was nothing at all wrong with any part of the Dordogne’s propulsion system—or any other onboard components, for that matter—but the fabricated explanation fed into the larger cover story Worf had instructed him to use as justification for the admittedly unusual timing of the runabout’s preparations to leave the Enterprise. He did not enjoy lying or withholding information from his crewmates, even when security and other considerations demanded such subterfuge. La Forge took solace in the fact that the ruse would be short-lived, with Konya and Cruzen being given a full briefing by Doctor Crusher once the Dordogne was on its way.
“What I don’t understand,” Cruzen said, “is why DS Nine needs all this stuff, anyway. Aren’t they supposed to be a state-of-the-art space station now?”
“We’ve been requested to drop off those supplies at the archeological settlement on Jevalan, in the Doltiri system,” La Forge replied. “They’ve been having some problems with all of the civilians making port there on supply runs and whatever else gets shipped to and from that planet, and the security contingent there wants to beef things up a bit.” It was a weak cover story, he knew, but it was the one Worf and Crusher had given him to use when dealing with conversations like this. “I know it’s a bit of a detour, but we’re the closest ship to them.” Smiling, he added, “Think of it as an extended holiday.”
Cruzen’s eyes narrowed. “Any chance we can add a side trip to Syrinx III?”
“You’ve really got a thing for that planet, don’t you?” Konya asked, grinning like a wolf allowed free reign in a sheep’s pen.
Without missing a beat Cruzen replied, “Indeed I do. I took leave from the Academy there, and I’ve tried to get back at least once a year ever since.”
“Anything you’d care to share with the group?” Konya asked, his smile widening.
“Maybe,” Cruzen replied, bobbing her eyebrows. “If you take first shift on the flight out tomorrow.”
Konya chuckled. “Done. I was always more of a Risa fan, myself.” His expression grew somber. He exchanged knowing glances first with her and then La Forge. “You know, before.”
“Yeah,” La Forge said, offering a knowing nod. Risa was but one planet that had suffered near total devastation at the hands of the Borg during the Collective’s final invasion of the Federation four years earlier. Though many of the resort world’s indigenous and tourist populations had evacuated ahead of the attack, the Borg had been quite thorough in rendering the planet itself all but uninhabitable. Like so many others who had suffered similar fates, the surviving Risians had been relocated to other worlds throughout the Federation, and La Forge had heard more than one rumor regarding the possibility of the original planet’s core population eventually being moved to a new star system and a world to call its own.
“Commander La Forge?”
Looking up from his padd, the chief engineer saw Konya regarding him from where he leaned against the Dordogne, his arms folded and his expression one La Forge had come to know all too well. Something was bothering the security officer, and he had decided that now was the time to give voice to whatever concerns might be plaguing him.
“What is it, Rennan?”
Nodding his head to indicate the runabout behind him, Konya said, “Sir, you know I don’t mean any disrespect, but I have to ask: What’s all this about? The Doltiri system isn’t anywhere along the course to Deep Space Nine.” He glanced to Cruzen. “With or without sneaking off to Syrinx. Besides, some of the stuff we just loaded aboard isn’t the sort of equipment an archeological dig site needs, even if they’ve been having trouble with the local drunks or whoever else is supposedly stirring up trouble there. Then there’s this whole business of loading out the runabout in the middle of the night, as though we’re trying to avoid attracting attention.” He paused, regarding La Forge for an extra moment, then said, “I couldn’t help noticing that you put a security lockout on all the entrances to the shuttlebay, sir, so I guess what I’m asking is: What’s the real story?”
“Commander La Forge was not authorized to give you the true details of your mission,” said a deep, rumbling voice, and all three officers turned to see Commander Worf standing near the Dordogne’s bow, his hands clasped behind his back and the metal weave of the ceremonial baldric he wore slung across his chest reflecting the overhead illumination. The Klingon had appeared as if from nowhere, and La Forge was tempted to ask if the Enterprise’s first officer had employed the transporter in order to make his stealthy entrance into the shuttlebay. Seeing him, Konya and Cruzen both pushed themselves from their reclining positions against the runabout.
“Good evening, Commander,” Konya said.
Stepping toward the trio,
Worf’s eyes narrowed. “I believe that you mean ‘Good morning,’ Lieutenant. It is, after all, zero three thirty hours.”
“Is that what time it is?” La Forge asked. “I hadn’t noticed. Time flies when you’re having . . . well . . . whatever this is.”
One corner of Worf’s mouth turned upward, just the slightest bit, but that was his only emotional reaction to the engineer’s words. Instead, he turned to Konya and Cruzen. “I apologize for not briefing you earlier on the details of your mission. It’s a security matter requiring the utmost discretion, and Doctor Crusher is going to give you a complete briefing after you’ve departed.”
Konya replied, “Understood, sir.”
“However,” the Klingon said, “I am not accustomed to sending my officers into a tactical situation without the proper information. I’m not able to tell you everything, because in all honesty even Captain Picard and I do not know all of the details. For that, you will have to rely on Doctor Crusher, and even she has not yet received all of the necessary information. I tell you this to impress upon you just how sensitive this mission will be. You are not to discuss this with anyone, including each other, until you have left the Enterprise. Is that understood?”
“Absolutely,” Konya replied. “Whatever it is, you can count on us, sir.”
Looking to La Forge, Cruzen asked, “So, I guess this means we’re not going to Deep Space Nine?”
“No, but you are going to Jevalan, in the Doltiri system.” Using his padd, the chief engineer gestured over Konya’s shoulder toward the Dordogne. Some of the equipment and supplies are for the settlement there. That’s part of your cover story. The rest of it—particularly the weapons—are for you.”
“Okay,” Konya said, nodding as he cast his gaze toward the shuttlebay deck. “This just got a lot more interesting.”
Worf continued, “What I know is that Doctor Crusher is traveling to Jevalan to make contact with an associate: a Cardassian physician she has known since the Federation-Cardassian War. She trusts this individual, who in turn is holding some kind of sensitive data and other materials, about which I currently know nothing.”
“But Doctor Crusher knows?” Cruzen asked.
La Forge noted the fleeting look of concern that appeared on his friend’s face before the Klingon shook his head.
“I do not yet believe she has specific details regarding the nature of the materials her friend will give her. According to Captain Picard, this Cardassian is attempting to protect her—and by extension, you—by safeguarding the information until you meet him on Jevalan.
“Regardless of the details Doctor Crusher will be sharing with you,” Worf said, “your mission will remain the same: support and protect her. It’s because so much else remains unknown that Captain Picard and I specifically chose you. In addition to your obvious skills and experience, you’ve both conducted covert assignments, both individually and as part of a team. You’ll be on your own, but you both know how to adapt to rapidly changing situations and to work on your own without support. Most importantly, Doctor Crusher knows and trusts you both, as does the captain. As do I.”
“We won’t let you down, Commander,” Konya said.
Cruzen added, “Or Doctor Crusher or the captain, for that matter.”
Nodding in approval, Worf replied, “I know you won’t. I would accompany you myself, but the success of this mission requires stealth, not just in your own actions but also those of us who will be covering for your activities. It is the captain’s and Doctor Crusher’s hope that your departure from the Enterprise, and your apparent travel to Deep Space Nine, will provide sufficient misdirection to allow you to get to Jevalan and carry out the doctor’s mission.”
“I can’t say this is the weirdest assignment I’ve ever been given,” Konya remarked, “but I think it might make my top ten.”
“Tell us where it ranks when you get back,” La Forge replied.
“Will you be buying the drinks for that, Commander?” Cruzen asked, smiling.
The engineer chuckled. “Tell you what: The two of you get yourselves and Doctor Crusher back here in one piece, and I’ll fly the runabout to Syrinx III myself.”
“Deal.”
La Forge and the two security officers shared a brief laugh over the quick, easy exchange, during which Worf remained silent. Once the moment passed, the first officer put his hands behind his back again.
“Captain Picard has one item he asked me to pass on to you. In his words, it goes without saying, but he wanted to say them, anyway.” For the first time, he allowed himself a small smile. “You are ordered to return safely to the Enterprise.”
The unexpected change in his demeanor was enough to evoke another laugh from Cruzen, who held her hand to her mouth in a futile attempt to contain it. Konya only shook his head.
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the deputy security chief.
“I think you’re getting soft in your old age, Worf,” La Forge said. Though Worf said nothing, the engineer was certain he saw a mischievous twinkle in his friend’s eyes. Then it was gone, and the first officer’s composed demeanor returned.
“I will be here to see you off,” he said. “Good luck.” Nodding his farewell to the trio, Worf turned and walked across the shuttlebay.
Konya said, “You just know he wants to go with us. He hates being left behind for something like this.”
“You can say that again,” La Forge said, offering his padd to Konya. “He put together the list of equipment you’re taking with you. Check it if you want, but I think he pretty much covered the bases.”
Taking the padd, Konya examined the inventory list La Forge had been referencing during the loading of the runabout, and the chief engineer saw his eyes widen. “Portable scanner array. Motion sensors.” He looked up from the list. “He’s not kidding around, is he?”
“Nope,” La Forge said.
“Whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing,” Cruzen replied, “it must really be something that will upset somebody important for the captain and Worf to go to this much trouble.” She looked to La Forge. “Sir? Do you have any idea what this could be about?”
Sighing, La Forge said, “I wish I knew. It’s all been one big mystery for me, too, at least to this point.” The time he had spent decrypting the mysterious message left for Doctor Crusher by her friend Ilona Daret had piqued his curiosity, but even the Enterprise’s chief medical officer seemed at a loss to explain her colleague’s odd behavior, let alone his request to have her join him on Jevalan.
Whatever the reasons for Doctor Crusher’s mission to that distant world, the captain and Worf were pulling out all the stops to conceal for as long as possible her movements from unwanted attention. La Forge suspected it had at least something to do with Ishan Anjar and those closest to him, given the president pro tem’s unusual interest in the Enterprise and Picard in particular. This made sense, given the captain’s own alarming briefing of La Forge and the rest of the ship’s senior officers regarding the ominous possibility that Ishan somehow may have been involved in President Nanietta Bacco’s assassination. This bombshell revelation had been shared only with Picard’s own inner circle, along with the news that agents working on behalf of the interim president might well be monitoring the Enterprise’s communications or perhaps even have spies aboard the ship. La Forge doubted the latter possibility, but prudence demanded extreme caution, especially now.
Just what we need; another presidential scandal.
It had not even been a decade since the Enterprise’s mission to Tezwa, a remote, independent world near the Klingon Border, and the revelation that President Bacco’s predecessor, Min Zife, had given nadion-pulse cannons to the Tezwan government in direct violation of the Khitomer Accords. The illegal action, put into motion by Zife’s chief of staff, Koll Azernal, and taken during the run-up to the Dominion War, had been intended as a fallback strategy in the event the Dominion succeeded in overpowering Starfleet forces in that region. The plan was never needed, b
ut the weapons remained on Tezwa following the end of the war. It was a decision that eventually would take the Federation to within a hair’s breadth of war with the Klingon Empire and see to Zife tendering his resignation as Federation president before all but disappearing into voluntary exile.
At least all of that was due to unforeseen circumstances, La Forge mused. Zife wasn’t sniffing around for a war, but can the same be said for President Ishan?
Satisfied that their work here was done, La Forge keyed a command to his padd to lock out access to the Dordogne for everyone except himself, Doctor Crusher, Konya, and Cruzen. “Okay, you two are all set. Departure time’s at zero nine hundred, so I’d suggest grabbing a few hours’ sleep.” He nodded toward the runabout. “You’re going to be stuck inside that thing for a few days, and the bunks aren’t the most comfortable.”
“Anything better than a hole in the ground during a rain storm and I’m happy,” Konya said, stepping away from the runabout and gesturing for Cruzen to follow. “Be sure to pack your swimsuit, just in case we make it to Syrinx III.”
“Who needs a swimsuit?”
Opting not to partake in that conversation, La Forge watched the security officers make their way from the shuttlebay before turning his attention to his padd. A quick review told him that the security lockouts on the bay’s access points had been removed. He was heading to one of the exits when the reinforced hatch slide aside, revealing Tamala Harstad.
“Well, there you are,” Harstad said, by way of greeting. Like him, she was dressed in a standard Starfleet duty uniform, though she also sported a blue smock of the type worn by members of the medical staff. The smock was rumpled and her dark hair, cut in a short style that left her neck exposed, seemed mussed, as though she had been running her fingers through it.