by Dayton Ward
That caught Picard by surprise. “You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. Sonya said the whole situation seemed off to her, but she was operating under classified orders. Eyes only, the works.”
“If these men are part of a secret-operations team working under orders from someone at Starfleet Command,” Worf said, “then this may be the work of President Ishan, or someone working on his behalf.”
Given what already had transpired as a consequence of the president pro tem’s questionable actions and decisions, Picard had prepared himself to accept such revelations if and when they presented themselves. Despite that readiness, he still found himself at first rejecting the implications of his first officer’s statement.
“If that’s true,” he said, “then we must tread carefully. It’s likely that our attempts to identify those men already have triggered some kind of alert to someone working for Ishan. Inform Lieutenants Šmrhová and Elfiki to cease their efforts on that front. We’ll have to proceed on our own for the time being.”
Before he could continue his line of thought, his communicator badge chirped.
“Chen to Captain Picard.”
Tapping his comm badge, the captain replied, “Picard here. What is it, Lieutenant?”
“You asked to be informed if we came across anything interesting in the data we retrieved from the Andorian freighter or the scout ship’s memory banks. I think what we’ve got qualifies.”
Exchanging glances with Worf and La Forge, Picard said, “What’ve you found?”
“The crews on both ships tried to wipe their navigation logs, but we were able to salvage some information from the Cereshta’s computer. Comparing their course data to our star charts, it looks like they rendezvoused with another civilian transport before proceeding to the nebula. I’ve run a background check on that other vessel, and its flight logs place it near the Acheron system.”
“So,” Worf said, looking to La Forge, “Captain Gomez was right.”
“Looks that way.”
Chen said, “There’s more, sir. We also determined, based on the amount of coolant and other expendables carried in the freighter’s cargo bay, that the crew serviced two small transport craft. One of them was the one we captured, but the other one was already gone before we got here. According to flight data we managed to dig out of the Cereshta’s computer and reconstruct? It was headed for the Doltiri system.”
“Uh-oh,” La Forge said.
Picard forced himself not to dwell on what this news might mean for Crusher and her team. As much as that tore at him, there were other, more pressing matters still to address. “Indeed. Thank you, Lieutenant Chen. Continue your investigation, and immediately report anything else you might find.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the young officer. “Chen out.”
As the communication ended, Picard turned and proceeded back into the brig, crossing the room in measured strides until he stood before the holding cell containing their two guests. The bald man had made himself comfortable on one of the cots mounted to the cell’s rear bulkhead, while his companion had taken a seat on the floor with his back against one wall. Both men looked up at Picard’s approach, though of course neither of them said anything.
“We know from your navigation logs and other corroborating information that you’ve been in contact with at least one Starfleet vessel and that you have friends who likely are on their way to the planet Jevalan. Who are you working for, and what have you been ordered to do?”
The bald man lifted his head from the cot. “When’s lunch?”
Behind him, Picard heard Worf stifle a menacing growl. The prisoner heard it, too, and his expression betrayed the façade of indifference he was trying to affect.
“Perhaps I should allow Commander Worf to continue this line of questioning,” Picard said. “He’s really rather effective at obtaining the information I want.”
The other man looked up from where he remained sitting on the floor. “Nice try, Captain, but we know your record and reputation pretty well. You might break the rules on occasion, but you have lines you won’t cross.”
“Do I?” Picard asked, allowing himself a slight expression of surprise. “And which of your handlers told you that?” When neither man said anything, he stepped closer to the barrier, gripped by an abrupt new realization. “You knew when the freighter failed to destroy us that we’d catch you after you fled the nebula. Why run?” Rather than wait for an answer, he said, “You were acting as a diversion, trying to hold our attention. Why? To keep us from changing course and heading for Jevalan? What are your friends supposed to do there?”
Once more, he received silence.
Unwilling to tip his hand so far as any information he might possess regarding President Ishan, Picard felt his teeth gritting as he regarded the prisoners. “I don’t know who you are, but I do know that whoever you work for has gone to great lengths to make you appear invisible, no doubt as a consequence of the type of missions you’re given. It’s unlikely anyone will make a fuss if you were to disappear without a trace.”
“You’re bluffing, Captain,” the bald man said, but Picard saw in his eyes that he did not fully believe his own words. “You’re a Starfleet officer, bound to duty. You know how this works. We all answer to someone.”
For the first time since engaging the prisoners, Picard smiled. “Yes, that’s correct. We all answer to a higher authority, but I imagine that your superiors won’t worry too much if you were never to be heard from again, especially if it prevents me from going through you to get to them.” The smile faded. “And that is precisely what I will do if anything happens to my wife on that planet. If she’s harmed to even the slightest degree, I will make it my mission to expose you and anyone connected to you.”
“And while he does that,” Worf added, “it will be my honor to ensure that you are as uncomfortable as a human can be while still remaining conscious.” He leaned closer to the force field. “You will beg me for death.”
Their earlier bluster gone, both men eyed the Klingon before returning their attention to Picard. “You won’t order him to kill us.”
“There are times when even my ability to control members of my crew can falter,” replied the captain. “I haven’t decided yet if this should be one of those occasions.” He let his gaze linger on the prisoners for an additional moment before turning and exiting the brig. Worf and La Forge followed him into the corridor, and once the doors closed behind them, Picard heard his engineer release a loud sigh.
“Worf, have I told you lately how happy I am you’re on our side?”
The first officer grunted. “I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten.”
Despite his mounting concerns for Crusher’s well-being, as well as that of Lieutenants Konya and Cruzen, Picard allowed a small chuckle at the banter. Then, he tapped his comm badge. “Picard to bridge. Plot a course for Jevalan in the Doltiri system and engage at our best speed.”
A moment later, Lieutenant Chen replied, “Course plotted and laid in sir. We’re getting under way now. Estimated time of arrival at our current speed is fourteen hours, fifty-six minutes, but engineering is continuing to advise us about repairs in progress.”
Turning to La Forge, Picard said, “Geordi, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to conclude your repairs en route. I need everything you have to cut down that estimate, and whatever else you can find.”
“Understood, sir,” replied the chief engineer. “You’ll get it.”
“Make it so.”
His officers left to see to their respective duties, leaving Picard in the corridor, alone with but a single thought.
Whatever you’re doing, Beverly, be safe.
Twenty-six
Jevalan, Doltiri System
“I have to say, as labor camps go, this looks like it could’ve been one of the nicer ones.”
Positioned on a rise overlooking the remnants of what once had been the Olanda labor camp, Beverly Crusher turned to regard To
m Riker, who offered only a shrug as defense for his remarks. “I’m just saying, as someone who’s seen the inside of a Cardassian prison, that things here could’ve been worse.”
From where he stood next to Crusher, Ilona Daret said, “Rest assured, Mister Riker, that there were facilities here that would make you reevaluate your estimation of the lodgings we afforded to prisoners and laborers.” He turned to face them. “As a physician, I did more than tend to injuries suffered by workers in the mines. I saw and treated the results of some rather malicious acts inflicted upon our Bajoran charges. Though there were regulations and protocols for the handling of prisoners, those are only rarely enforced in a place such as this, far away from the prying, judgmental eyes of Central Command.” Pausing, he offered a tired sigh, and Crusher could sense his shame. “History itself will forever be the one true witness to all that transpired here.”
As with the other two labor camps, Olanda also featured a settlement that served as a transitory home and base of operations for the scientists and other personnel living here. The settlement was similar in size to the one supporting excavations at the Pencala site, without many of the creature comforts and larger facilities that had been established at the Tabata camp. From her vantage point, Crusher was able to see people moving about the camp itself as well as see the billeting area and its collection of makeshift tents and temporary shelters. There also was a landing area for cargo operations, though it lacked extensive service and repair capabilities. Several of the parking berths were unoccupied, but Tom had cautioned against using them.
The journey from the Tabata labor camp had proved a challenge, given Lieutenant Konya’s continued inability to make contact with the Dordogne. It was Tom Riker’s contention that the runabout was lost, either seized or destroyed by the same people who now hunted them. Using the camp’s small field transporters carried with it the risk of leaving behind entries in system logs that could be traced. The group therefore had been forced to acquire alternative means of travel, but stealing a ship only would attract attention they did not need. Even requisitioning such a craft carried a risk, but the group was running short on viable options. For the moment, at least, they stayed a step or two ahead of their pursuers, but how long would that last?
We just need a little bit longer.
“It’ll be dark soon,” Tom said, kneeling at the edge of the rise and peering through his field binoculars. “Looks like people are winding down for the day. We should be able to make our move soon.”
The plan so far had been for the group to bide its time and wait for nightfall before making any attempt to escort Daret to the excavation site. Both Daret and Tom decided it would be risky to let the Cardassian be seen by any of the other personnel working at the camp. Besides just wanting to avoid attention while they worked, there also was the distinct possibility that their pursuers might have colleagues or informants among the small cadre of people working at the site. Instead, Crusher had sent Konya and Cruzen ahead to scout the area and determine what level of security might surround the area of the dig where it was believed Raal Mosara had secreted his cache of information and other evidence. The security officers had been gone for more than an hour and had not yet checked in, and Crusher now was beginning to feel the first twinge of worry.
“What do we do with the shuttle?” she asked. Daret had requested the small transport craft from the dock master at the Tabata landing facility, which in turn had required filing a flight plan. After considering their options, Daret had submitted a falsified report detailing the shuttle’s travel to a remote outpost in the planet’s southern hemisphere. The disadvantage of that tactic was that they now could not avail themselves of the landing facility without arousing suspicion.
Tom replied, “I don’t think it matters. Our friends will figure out we gave the dock master back at Tabata a fake flight plan. Once they realize we gave them the slip, they’ll likely check the Pencala camp since that one’s closer to where we said we were going, but it won’t take them long to end up here.”
The settlement Daret had listed as his destination was a satellite camp, manned by fewer than two dozen Bajoran and Cardassian scientists. They were working on the excavation of what once had been a secluded mountain lodge used as a retreat by the camp’s Cardassian officers; a temporary diversion from the day-to-day demands of overseeing the trio of labor camps. It was far enough away that—assuming their pursuers fell for the feint and went looking, they would be well away from both the Pencala and Olanda labor camps before realizing they had been duped. At Tom’s insistence, Daret even had conversed with the dock master about attempting to conceal the nature of their journey, pretending to be concerned that no one should know where he was going.
“I know the dock master told you he wouldn’t pass along anything you gave him,” Crusher said, “but that doesn’t mean the people chasing us won’t just ignore the flight plan and anything he says and come straight here.”
“Definitely a possibility, but there’s nothing we can do about that.” Tom pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. “Just like the shuttle. We’re committed now. The best we can do is get down there, find whatever it is Mosara hid, and find a way off this rock as quickly as possible, and preferably without having to deal with our friends along the way.” He sighed. “Why do I think I’m not going to get my wish?”
Crusher felt a buzzing from inside her jacket and reached to retrieve the civilian communicator Tom had given her. “Blue One,” she said, refraining from using proper names as Konya had suggested.
“Blue Two here,” Konya replied. “We’ve found the target. No one’s working that area, at least not today. It’s been cordoned off and security’s monitoring it, but no more than anything else here. We shouldn’t have any problem getting what we need.”
Tom moved closer. “Can we get in there tonight?”
Konya replied, “Affirmative, Blue Four. We’re setting up a workaround for the security measures and should have that addressed by the time you get here.”
With Daret leading the way and Tom covering their rear, the trio maneuvered along a circuitous route that led them the long way around the site’s perimeter. Aided by darkness and the lack of a moon in the early evening sky, they were able to bypass most of the work sites established within the area of the old labor camp as well as the settlement where at least most of the excavation team was congregating now that their workday was ending. At one point, Crusher noted that the dim illumination cast off by work lights scattered around the site only partially obscured the stars that now were visible in the night sky.
It’s beautiful. Too bad we can’t enjoy it.
Staying away from the established walking paths reduced their chances of encountering anyone, but they still had to seek cover once to avoid being seen by a pair of workers exiting the dig site. A Bajoran and a Cardassian walked past them, taking a shortcut from the excavation at the camp’s south end. The beams from their flashlights were focused on the ground ahead of them, and so enamored were they with their own discussion, they were oblivious to the three strangers lurking in the tall grass mere meters from them as they passed. It took nearly forty minutes to make the transit to the site’s western edge, and as they approached the wall of the shallow crater that had been created in this part of the camp, Crusher recognized Konya emerging from a work tent and waving at them.
“Nice night for a walk,” he said, smiling as they approached, though something about his demeanor seemed off to Crusher. Had something happened?
“What’s the story?” Tom asked.
His eyes shifting to look past them as well as toward the rest of the compound around them, Konya replied, “The excavation site itself isn’t guarded, but areas that have been cordoned off for safety or other reasons are being monitored by passive sensors; motion and infrared detectors, that sort of thing.” He gestured past them to where the temporary settlement sat at the site’s eastern end. “All of the data’s being sent back to one of the tempor
ary huts up at the camp. We can bypass those without disabling them, which should let us get inside the area Doctor Daret indicated without too much trouble. Once you’re inside the tunnels and moving to the level where the temple’s located, you should be fine. Cruzen and I checked and, yeah, there are a lot of areas where tricorders don’t work worth a damn down there, at least not for more than a few meters. The temple is right smack in the middle of one of the heavier ore concentrations. Anybody looking for us from the surface would need either a tactical-grade sensor package or a starship helping them with the search.”
“Eluding our pursuers is just part of the problem,” Crusher said. “We still have to find whatever it is Mosara hid.” Daret already had told the rest of the group that the underground area where the Bajoran temple had been constructed was littered with tunnels and small ancillary chambers, a consequence of the ceaseless mining efforts that had consumed this and the other labor camps on Jevalan. That the temple had escaped the notice of the camp’s Cardassian overseers still was something Crusher found hard to believe, even with the assistance from tricorders or other scanning devices. “Are we even sure he put it in the temple itself or somewhere else down there?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Tom said. “Let’s get started. If we’re careful—and lucky—we should be able to work through the night without anyone knowing we’re down there.”
Konya cleared his throat, hunching his shoulders and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as though overcome by a sudden chill. “I’ve been thinking about that. It might be better to wait, at least until we’re sure we can bypass all of the camp’s security measures. I wouldn’t mind tapping into their feeds; they might be helpful keeping an eye out for our friends.”