“I’ll tell you,” Gabriel Collins said from the bottom of the ramp. “This was the temple for the real power in the battle between the Gretharans and the Letheans. It’s branching out from a generator somewhere near this complex. What you’re looking at are field conduits. At least, that’s what they seem to be. I haven’t been able to find the field generator anywhere. With no equipment, there’s no way to track the things once they enter the walls.”
Sonya slowly rose to her feet. “And you were hoping we’d help you with that part?”
Gabriel nodded. “What good is taking a theoretical weapon to the Federation Council? It won’t extend our grants or find us other funding, will it? How are we supposed to keep these projects going without results?”
“You knew the Krialta was here before we even came?” Inana sounded just as surprised as Sonya felt. “Gabriel, what the hell were you thinking?”
Collins took a step toward his wife. “I was trying to secure our future. All of us. You, me, Paul, everyone. If we could come here and bring back the Krialta, the galaxy would be ours.”
“And if you couldn’t sell it to the Federation,” Carol said, “let me guess. The Ferengi next? You’re not a weapons trader, Gabriel. I’ve known you too long to believe that. You’re exploiting history for your own gain. What happened to that idealist who wanted to protect the past?”
Gabriel turned a glare toward Carol. “It had to cave in to the realist. Come on, Carol, you’ve been out there. We don’t mean anything anymore unless we can turn a profit. This find, this will put us back on the map.”
“We never left the map, Gabriel,” Carol said. “We just helped expand it a little.” Even she hated how trite she sounded, but it was the first thing that had come to mind. “Come on. You’ve got the best engineers in the fleet here. Just help us shut this thing off, and then we can figure out how it works. We can take it back to Starfleet for you.”
Collins’s lips pursed. “Sure, and you’ll take the credit.”
“For crying out loud, Gabe. How long have we known each other? You know I wouldn’t do anything of the sort. Inana wouldn’t, either. Don’t tell me you don’t even trust your wife?”
Gabriel walked over to where his wife stood, still staring agape at him. “Oh, I trust you, my love,” he said. “As much as I can trust anyone. I was going to tell you everything once we’d figured out how it worked and how to get it out of here.”
“But you couldn’t figure out how to get the thing out. And then your equipment started going down,” Gomez said. “So you had Data call for Starfleet.”
Collins merely smiled.
Carol, however, took a step toward Inana. “He didn’t know about the message you sent to me?”
“What message?” Inana innocently replied.
“You didn’t need this tablet translated at all, did you?” Faulwell said. “You knew what it said all along.”
“I had an idea,” Collins said. “However, confirmation is always better. Thank you for that, by the way.”
“Where’s the third sphere?” Gomez asked. “I’ve got people injured, some severely. If any of them die, it’s on your head, Professor.”
Gabriel Collins smirked. “Well, risk is part of your business. Isn’t that what your much-vaunted James T. Kirk used to say?”
“He’s not my much-vaunted anything,” Gomez replied. “He was a good captain. He did some admirable things during his time, but he was a man just like you. He made mistakes.”
“Just like me?” Collins smugly asked. “Commander, if I did anything wrong by coming and finding this weapon, I would be honored to have you elaborate on the error of my ways.”
Abramowitz simply stared. There was no way to win this one. He had the Krialta in his possession. They all knew what it did, and how dangerous it could be in the hands of any government. “You don’t see the damage this one device can do, do you? Whose hands would you put it in? Look at what it’s doing to your team, your wife, yourself! Let it die here, a relic of a time long gone.”
Collins laughed. “And let it fall into Romulan hands? Are you mad? Look at what it’s doing to the humans. In the hands of Starfleet Medical, imagine what they could do with it.”
“And imagine a Gabriel Collins School of Xenoarchaeology at Cambridge?” Carol said, sounding more irritated with the professor than she’d ever sounded with Vance. “Gabe. Come on. You’re better than this. This isn’t you.”
Inana simply shook her head. Disappointment was etched on her delicate features. “You’re not the man I married, Gabriel.”
That was the straw that broke the archaeologist’s back. Collins rushed to his wife, taking both hands in his. “Nana, sweetheart. You know what this would mean to us.”
“No,” a very bedraggled voice said from the floor. “But I do know what this would mean to this planet.” With Sonya’s help, Paul Cunningham slowly pulled himself to his feet. “You’ve unleashed hell on this planet, Gabe. Are you really delusional enough to think you can control the genie once it’s out of the bottle?”
“That’s not my job,” Collins replied.
“But it is your job to take the money for whatever you find and run? How very Ferengi of you,” Inana said, the word wrapped in tremendous distaste.
“No,” Paul said, his voice sounding a lot steadier. “You’re supposed to study the history of this place. Make sure history never forgets the Gretharans. You yourself said you wanted to bring the Gretharans back to the universe. You wanted to know what their life was like, what war with the Letheans had really done to them.”
“You lied,” Sonya said, far more matter-of-factly than Carol had thought her capable.
“I may have stretched the truth a bit to make sure we got the university funding we needed.”
Sonya raised a dark eyebrow. “And committed fraud.”
Inana stepped in front of her husband, turning to face Sonya and the lot. “He wouldn’t have been the first scientist to do it, and he won’t be the last.”
“That doesn’t—” Carol began.
“Yes, it does,” Inana flatly stated. “Have you been with Starfleet so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like on this side of the coin? Defending dig sites to a university that doesn’t give a damn about the history of ours or any other worlds? Fighting tooth and claw for every bit of funding? Carol, you used to be one of the best at it.”
Carol opened her mouth to speak, but closed it once again.
“Come on,” Sonya said. “We can save the accusations and recriminations for when we’re out of here, this thing’s shut off, and everyone’s safe. Let’s get moving.”
CHAPTER
8
Corsi, Vale, and Konya worked their way back to Aegris’s establishment. The odiferous fumes were still signaling to anyone with a nasal passage that the place was open for business. Instead of walking inside immediately, however, Corsi stopped them near the door. “Konya,” she said. “Can you pick up anything?”
The Betazoid stared at the door of the establishment, an expression on his face that looked to Corsi to be somewhere between intense concentration, and needing to hit the head.
“Rennan,” Vale said. “Don’t push yourself. Let it come to you.”
Corsi wanted to ask where Vale had picked up that particular bit of information, then remembered that the counselor on the Enterprise was half-Betazoid. “Don’t try too hard, Konya. Just listen.”
Silence sat among the three of them for a long while, until finally, Konya’s head turned toward the right. It was as if he’d just picked up something. His eyes opened, and he looked Corsi directly in the eye. “Follow me. There’s someone this way.”
Corsi helped Vale back to her feet, and the trio went off through the trees behind Aegris’s establishment. She was trying to make sure Vale kept as silent as possible, but with the contraptions attached that were helping her move, that wasn’t the easiest job in the world. Crap. Vale’s making enough noise to alert a battalion. They took it slow,
watching as many steps as she could, until finally Corsi was beginning to get impatient. “How far?” Corsi asked.
The Betazoid immediately hushed her, pointing ahead of them in the forest. Corsi barely caught a glimpse of a campfire. “Christine,” Corsi whispered. “Can you stand here?”
To her credit, Vale seemed to understand why Corsi was asking. Nodding, she took off her uniform jacket and then pulled the two long knives that hadn’t had to be removed from her belt for the leg supports. Hiding her crutches behind a large tree, she leaned back against that tree and smiled. “Bring them my way, I’ll be happy to take care of whoever’s left.”
Somehow, Corsi had a feeling that if any of them did happen to cross Vale’s path, they’d underestimate her into their own graves. The kid was good that way. And she’d also had the sense to get out of her uniform jacket. The less these gentlemen knew of Starfleet, the better off they all were. Corsi also shrugged out of her jacket, placing it alongside Vale’s. “Good call, Christine,” she said. “Beat me to it.”
Vale just smiled as Corsi went ahead.
Catching up to Konya, Corsi surveyed the situation before them. A small group of four people were sitting around a campfire. One, a heavyset man with a graying beard almost as wide as his paunch, seemed to be the ringleader, as the other three were sitting scattered around the fire with their attentions obviously focused on him. Corsi could smell how long it had been since they’d bathed from where she stood.
“What can you pick up?” Corsi whispered. “Besides the stench?”
Konya shook his head. “Not much. They’re trying to figure out if there’s anything left at the dig site that might make them some money.”
“Damn. Don’t tell me they’ve sold the sphere?”
Konya closed his eyes, and there was a long pause before he whispered, “The skinny guy on the left sold it on the black market for transport out of here, but got screwed.”
Corsi pulled one of the machetes, laying it on the ground before where she now knelt. “Oh, he’ll get transport out of here, all right. What’s his name?”
“Daviara,” Konya said, after another round of his concentration-or-bathroom expression.
He’ll get the hang of it soon enough.
Corsi winced as another vision entered her mind. Her grandfather, telling her stories over the campfire many years ago, when Domenica had been nothing more than a five-year-old with dreams of following in her father’s footsteps. No, not now. No.
She struggled against the vision, willing it to stop. She’d been seeing visions of her grandfather since shortly after they’d landed. For the first few hours, it had been easy to will them into that corner of her mind where all of the bad memories went to die. This one, however, wasn’t going to acquiesce easily. Corsi scooted back, until she was out of the line of sight of their prey. The last thing she needed was what had happened to Captain Picard.
But the pain. It felt like hot pokers being driven into her skull. I can control this. I won’t be taken out by a damned headache. Corsi fought with her breathing, forcing it back into a regular pattern. Putting her palm on the ground, she realized that the dirt under her hand was cool and moist, just what the headache ordered. Corsi took a handful of the mud and wiped it across her forehead.
“I just picked up pain. Are you okay?” Konya quietly asked. “Don’t tell me it’s getting you too.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Corsi said, after a deep, calming breath. “Mind over matter,” she whispered. “Mind over matter. I can control this.”
“No, you can’t,” Konya said. Reaching forward, he placed a hand on Corsi’s shoulder. “Not without help. Take my hand. I’ve got an idea.”
Skeptical, she took the Betazoid’s hand anyway. Anything was better than the pain.
Before either of them realized it, the group they were hunting began audibly complaining of headaches. “Aye, Fates be damned,” one said. “My head feels like it’s been beaten with a bucket.”
The white-hot pain began to ebb from Corsi’s skull, until finally, it was blessedly gone.
Within a few seconds, Konya let go of her hand. “You feeling better?”
Corsi nodded. “How the hell—?”
“Just adapting one of my old tricks, Commander.”
Corsi stared at Konya, realizing that she now had one of the best secret weapons in Starfleet. Telepathically redirected pain as an attack weapon. Damn. That’s an idea Starfleet needs to start employing. Of course, Betazoid security officers in Starfleet were fewer and farther between than she’d have liked, but this was definitely something that she would take to the brass when they got back to the da Vinci.
If they ever got back to the da Vinci.
“Don’t think like that, boss,” Konya said. “We’ll be fine. You’re right. Let me be the ace in the hole here.”
Corsi made a mental note to commend Konya on his tactical thinking when they got home.
“Thanks, boss,” Konya said. Shrugging out of his own uniform jacket, he added, “So, what’s our plan of attack here?”
“You said Daviara was the one who knew where the sphere was?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s him we go after. Come on. Let’s get what we came for.”
Rising to her feet, Corsi stalked into the clearing. “Gentlemen, it’s so good that we all could meet like this.”
Four hands reached for four weapons, only to be held at bay by four machetes. “Boys, boys, boys,” Corsi said as matter-of-factly as she could. “We can do this nicely, or we could spill your blood in creative ways you can’t possibly imagine. It’s up to you.”
The heavyset man lowered his hand, leaving only two men for Konya to actively cover. “What do you want?”
Corsi took a step toward Daviara. “I’ve been told that someone around here has something I’m looking for.”
Daviara may have been a scruffy human, but she could still see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Who are you?” he asked.
“The name’s Corsi,” she said. “You might have heard of my father, Aldo? He’s done a bit of business in this area and wants to expand his operation.”
“Don’t tell me your uncle was that idiot Giancarlo Corsi,” the heavyset man said.
Corsi turned on him, the point of her machete coming to rest against the man’s chest. “Surely you’re not stupid enough to call the uncle of someone holding a weapon on you an idiot.” It didn’t matter that he really had been, but she had principle to stand on, and she was going to tramp it into the moist ground at her feet.
“I am,” he said, “and I did. What are you going to do about it, little girl?”
Corsi moved the point of the machete in a little dance across the man’s ample chest, until she reached the left side of his rough-hewn leather suspenders. If these are as sharp as I think they are, and if those are as worn as they look… She barely nicked the man’s skin as she cut through the hide holding one side of his pants up in one stroke. “I can do a lot,” she calmly stated. She once again danced the machete toward the other suspender strap. “If I need to, I can do a whole lot. Care to find out?”
The man moved to draw his weapon. He had just gotten it out of the holster when Corsi quickly flipped the machete, and brought the spine of the blade cracking across his knuckles. The gun fell to the ground with a thunk of metal on moist dirt. “You don’t strike me as the suicidal type.” She glanced to Konya for a name, which then appeared in her mind. Yeah, this is going to take getting used to. Flipping the blade back to its original position, she scooted the sharp edge closer to his neck. “You definitely don’t strike me as the suicidal type, Yevarin. Now, let’s play nice and I won’t have to use this.”
Yevarin simply glared.
The two that Konya was covering, however, weren’t quite so smart. Not only did they end up with their weapons knocked out of their hands, but they were unhurt in the process. They quietly acquiesced, sitting back down until Corsi and Konya’s little op was over. Conve
niently, Corsi noticed, they were sitting with their backs to where Vale stood in wait. Good. Try to escape you two. Just try it.
Daviara, to his credit, began hemming and hawing at the sight. He’s stalling for time. Why?
“Rennan?” Corsi began, hoping he would pick up on the stalling himself. To his credit, he already had.
He knows where it is, boss. He’s just stalling so his two friends…
Before Konya could even finish the thought, Corsi heard the crack of a machete against the skulls of Daviara’s “friends.” She hadn’t even seen them get up.
“Well, there goes that idea,” she said. “Now, Daviara, Yevarin, shall we talk business?”
CHAPTER
9
“He sold it to someone named Lupon,” Konya said once they’d gotten back to Vale’s hidey-hole, only minutes after Corsi’s interrogation of Daviara had garnered no results. “He thinks Lupon is strong enough to kick both of our asses.”
Vale got a hearty laugh out of that. “Yeah, right. Lupon couldn’t find his nose if it weren’t attached to his face.”
“You know him?” Corsi asked.
Vale nodded, leaning forward on her crutches. “He fancies himself an antiquities dealer. His base of operations is just on the other side of the Rakaran River. That’s about three kilometers from here.”
Corsi stared at her old friend, concern covering her voice. “Can you make that kind of hike?”
Christine seemed to take a mental inventory. “I think so. I’m not going to be running down any third-rate criminals, am I?”
Konya laughed. “From the sound of it, you did okay back there.”
Vale smiled. “Yeah, and it was nice to crack some heads instead of rocks for a change. Still…” She gave the contraption that was keeping her upright a blatant you’re kidding me, right? look.
Star Trek™: Corps of Engineers: Remembrance of Things Past Book Two Page 5