This Gray Spirit

by Heather Jarman

  “The computer is searching the Cheka’s trade records”—he paused, grinning—“hey, this is interesting. You think an up-to-date map of where the Cheka weapons are deployed in this sector would be helpful?”

  “The codes wouldn’t be as critical, then,” Julian said. “Simplify our lives considerably.”

  “Only data for this sector, I’m afraid,” Sam said. “We’d still need the femtobot defense, but it would buy us time to test and deploy it.”

  “Download it,” Vaughn ordered. “And any other strategic or military information that might help us navigate our way out of here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam continued hunting through the data.

  Vaughn rested a hand on the back of Sam’s chair and watched. He struggled to believe that such a politically powerful species could manage with such crudely constructed databases. But that’s what happens, I suppose, when you’re too lazy to innovate or organize for yourself.

  “Gordimer to Commander Vaughn. We have a situation.”

  “Go ahead, Ensign.”

  “Yrythny security caught Lieutenant Nog making an unauthorized attempt to leave the Avaril. He had classified Starfleet technology downloaded into his tricorder. Specs for Defiant’s cloaking device.”

  Stunned, everyone on the bridge turned to look at Vaughn. “Stay focused, people,” he said sternly. “Ensign Gordimer, keep Lieutenant Nog in protective custody until I get there, and secure the tricorder. Vaughn out.”

  “One minute,” Bashir announced.

  “Okay, sweetheart, talk to me,” Sam coaxed his console. “Wait…here we are. I’m gonna grab it all and we’ll sort through it later.”

  “Just do it,” Vaughn urged. “Doctor, go ahead and signal Prynn that we’re clear.” Before she left, Bashir had fitted her auditory canal with a tiny receiver that allowed her to hear signals, but not send them. Concerned about activating any sensors in the Cheka suite’s security net, Vaughn insisted on radio silence until the computer break-in succeeded or failed.

  “Done, sir,” Julian said. “No indication that she’s left Fazzle’s work area. Thirty seconds.”

  “Almost got it—” Sam said.

  Based on the percentage of information that Sam had captured, Vaughn could see that the data transfer would take more time than was safely left. Prynn needed to leave. Soon. Worry sent his heart racing. “Status of Ensign Tenmei, Doctor?”

  “Still no movement, sir. Fifteen seconds.”

  “Prepare for emergency beam-out,” Vaughn ordered.

  “I’d advise against that, sir. She’s in the heart of the Cheka suite. A sudden beam-out would—wait. She’s moving.”

  Vaughn sighed, watching the blinking dot on Bashir’s screen progress down the hall.

  “Ten seconds.”

  Come on Prynn, get out of there. Keep moving…

  “Five.”

  With only a few meters to go, the blinking dot paused.

  “Time’s up,” Bashir announced.

  Sam turned toward Vaughn, “I’ll have the end of this file shortly, but an internal computer sweep is underway. Depending on their sweep sequence, it might be two seconds or twenty minutes before they find us.”

  “I want her out of there, Julian,” Vaughn demanded.

  “I’ll grab her as soon as she makes it out of the main entrance.”

  “Cheka sensors nabbed us, sir,” Sam said. “But the data transfer is complete. I’m shutting down the link…now. Link severed.”

  The blinking dot on Bashir’s screen moved quickly, streaking down the hallway and out the front door.

  “Initiating transport,” Bashir said. Then he added with a smile, “She should be downstairs, Commander.”

  Vaughn exhaled with relief. Thankfully, L.J. isn’t around with his fifty reasons why having your daughter under your command is a bad idea.

  “I’ve isolated the codes, sir,” Bowers announced. “Transmitting to Chief Chao…”

  Moments later, the bridge doors opened, admitting Prynn. She marched onto the bridge, wearing her regulation tank top, but with her uniform jacket tied around her waist. Bashir’s eyes widened when he saw the scaly purple blotches covering most of her exposed skin.

  “Someone better produce some damn rash spray in the next twenty seconds or I’m resigning my commission!” she announced, jamming her fists into her waist.

  Bashir and Vaughn exchanged glances before bursting into relieved laughter.

  “What?” Prynn demanded.

  “Nothing, Ensign,” Vaughn said. And, throwing protocol out the airlock, he walked over to her and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good work. The doctor will take care of you while I take care of Lieutenant Nog. Sam, advise me when Chao is back aboard.”

  Shar exited Ezri’s office, only to discover Keren waiting in the outside corridor. Hundreds of Yrythny coming from the day shift or going to the night shift streamed past, making it easy for Shar to pretend he didn’t see her. Without any acknowledgment, he headed in the direction of the guest quarters, knowing she’d be chasing after him anyway.

  “Thirishar!”

  “If I talk to you, I have to report it to Lieutenant Dax, so don’t say anything you don’t want repeated,” he said as he walked rapidly away.

  “They’ve sent armed squads into the Old Quarter, Thirishar,” she said, her voice tinged in fear.

  “What?” He paused, waiting for her to catch up.

  “The Assembly. Looking for those responsible for the attacks. They’ve gone into the Old Quarter with weapons,” she said breathlessly.

  Keren was panicked, and Shar sympathized, but hadn’t her own kind landed themselves in this mess? “Can you blame them for wanting to prevent further attacks?”

  “I don’t know that the underground is responsible for them,” she confessed, averting her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Shar demanded.

  Grabbing Shar by the sleeve, she pulled him into a dark, deserted side corridor. She peered down the hallway in each direction, before leaning in close, speaking directly in Shar’s ear. “A schism has formed in the underground leadership. Some believe that the only way we’re ever going to help our people is by force. Waging a war of fear might pressure the government into conceding. The rest of us, me included, believe that we should take up arms only if negotiations don’t work.”

  “Keren, what do you want want from me?” he hissed. “It isn’t as if I have troops that can defend the Old Quarter. Even if I rounded up all my colleagues, it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to play a role in an internal standoff.”

  “I’m not asking you to, but your research has become more urgent. You have to press forward as quickly as possible.”

  “And I plan to go to work as soon as I can.”

  “That’s the problem. The data files, they’re hidden in my apartment. If I go back there, I won’t be able to leave again—perhaps indefinitely.”

  “Keren, you’re not listening!” Shar pleaded. “I’ve been ordered not to spend unauthorized time with you. If the lieutenant finds out that I’ve disobeyed her orders, I’ll spend the rest of this mission in the brig. You need to send them by messenger.”

  “You have to believe me. The casualties in the village will be miniscule compared to what will happen if the Old Quarter is provoked into riots.”

  More deaths. More delays. More shadowy choices. Damn it, I’ve been given a direct order and if Ezri checked up on me and found me missing…. Maybe he could talk to Lieutenant Dax and see if she had any ideas. But there was always the chance she’d refuse to involve Starfleet. Should that happen, Shar wouldn’t have a choice of whether to retrieve his data. He needed a little more time. “I can’t come immediately.”

  “In a little while, then. I’ll come to your quarters with clothing like I did the first time.” She clutched each of his arms in her hands.

  “Give me half an hour. I’ll meet you in the courtyard. But this has to be the end of it.” He had serious reservations about going
through with this, but in the end, his personal commitment to the pursuit of scientific truth won out. That…and his wish not to have Keren come to harm.

  Without a word, Keren turned on her heel and left, Shar watching as she walked away. This whole situation is about to ignite, he thought. Both sides are so busy taking revenge that the truth is slipping between the cracks. This has to end. Marching back to his quarters, he wondered whether he’d have time for his project before civil war erupted. I’m going to make this work, he vowed. And maybe there was a better way to help Keren…

  Upon entering his quarters, Shar went immediately to the computer terminal, calling up the Luthia root menu. The military here doesn’t do anything without making a big show of it…there has to be an announcement or a policy statement about the troops going into the Old Quarter. There. Shar tapped in the commands, captured the page and saved it to his personal files. Then, he browsed until he found a public mail outlet on Luthia’s main system and forwarded it to the terminal in Dax’s quarters:

  LUTHIA: Pending a conclusion to the criminal investigation into the attacks on the Coral Sea Bay aquaculture village, the Old Quarter will be under martial law. All residents will be required to submit to police searches, on demand and without resistance, or risk arrest. Force will be used as necessary. Any information leading to the arrest or capture of those responsible for the attacks will be rewarded.

  Hopefully Ezri would read between the lines and take action. Shar sent the message, clicked off his terminal and waited for Keren to arrive.

  “I apologize for any inconvenience caused by Lieutenant Nog’s action. Thank you for detaining him for us. I’ll have Ensign Gordimer escort him to our brig,” Vaughn said to Chieftain J’Maah and the other Yrythny staffers standing around, horrified by this latest development. The Yrythny had offered to meet Vaughn aboard Defiant, but not wanting to burden his hosts, he told them he would come to the Avaril to take Nog from their custody.

  Vaughn nodded his head at Gordimer, who stood beside Nog. Gordimer grasped Nog’s arm, but Nog jerked away, sending a sour expression in Vaughn’s direction. Gordimer gripped Nog’s arm harder this time, refusing to be dislodged by the Ferengi’s thrashing about.

  “Sir? The item Lieutenant Nog was carrying?” Gordimer said, tipping his head toward the chair where Nog’s tricorder sat.

  “I’ll take care of it. Make sure Lieutenant Nog is safely ensconced on the Defiant until his disciplinary hearing.”

  Nog glared at Vaughn as Gordimer nudged him forward. The whole pathetic display was embarrassing. Placing Nog under arrest was bad enough, but having it play out in public was humiliating, especially when it had been Nog’s Yrythny technologist friends who turned him in. When he’d arrived on the Avaril’ s bridge, he discovered the entire senior staff and Minister M’Yeoh were in attendance. The more the merrier, Vaughn thought.

  Shoving Nog into the inship transport car, Gordimer ordered the door closed and the car shot off, winding its way down the dozens of decks to the bay housing the Defiant. After the junior officers had left, J’Maah turned to Vaughn. “When you told me the Defiant was repaired and ready to return to Vanìmel, I’d so hoped we’d have enough time for proper good-byes. I’m sorry our last day together had to end on such a tragic note, Commander.”

  “As am I, Chieftain. But the sooner I can reunite my crew and resume our mission, the better for all of us,” Vaughn replied, “As you can see from Lieutenant Nog, the stress has taken a toll. I’ll now retrieve the rest of my crew from their accommodations, and we’ll prepare to depart.”

  J’Maah clasped Vaughn by the elbows. “Farewell, Commander.”

  “Farewell to you, Chieftain.” Holding the tricorder tightly in one hand, he started back toward the bay, relieved to have finished playing this act of the drama.

  Within minutes, he’d arrived back at his crew’s makeshift quarters. Off-duty personnel pounced on him the minute he walked in the door, asking questions, expressing worries and concerns about how to proceed. Vaughn held up his hands to quiet them.

  “One thing at a time. First, the Yrythny caught Lieutenant Nog attempting to abscond with the specs for Defiant’ s cloaking device.” Gasps went up; a hum of curious murmurs emitted from each segment of the group. Vaughn shushed them again. When they were quiet, he continued, “Apparently, he believed he could negotiate a deal with the shadow trader for the matter load behind my back. He has been relieved of duty and will remain in custody until we’ve returned to Vanìmel.”

  Brow furrowed with worry, Ensign Permenter called out, “Sir, who will be overseeing engineering?”

  “The Defiant hasn’t had a shakedown yet, there might be problems,” echoed Leishman, Nog’s designated shift chief.

  “Ensigns Senkowski and Leishman will co-manage the Defiant’ s engineering department until other arrangements are made,” Vaughn said. “The Defiant will leave for Vanìmel at 2130 hours. Please prep your gear and wait for any further instructions from Lieutenant Bowers. Once we’ve cleared Consortium space, a staff meeting in the mess hall is planned for 2200. Attendance is mandatory. Ensigns Leishman and Senkowski, you’re with me. That’ll be all.”

  Confusion and concern persisted among the crew; Vaughn wished he could alleviate their fears, but he knew they would have answers soon enough. Leishman and Senkowski followed him out. He would take them to the Defiant, pass over the material load, and put them to work on the final phase of the femtobot defense. Until a short while ago, Vaughn had worried that they’d end up launching without the defense system. But as he was leaving Defiant to deal with the Nog situation, Bowers had contacted him to confirm that Chao successfully procured the materials from the mining office, using the codes taken from the Cheka. Vaughn had finally relaxed. If Leishman and Senkowski asked where the load came from, Vaughn would tell them, honestly, that they discovered that a matter load belonging to them had been illegally transferred to another buyer. Nog’s assumption had been correct: Runir’s negotiations on the Exchange had been successful but their codes had been routed to the Cheka. Prynn’s covert operation was merely to reclaim what was rightfully Starfleet’s. No point in saying “stolen,” an inflammatory word indicating criminal behavior, when the phrase “returned to its rightful owner” better fit the situation.

  One concern still nagged at Vaughn. All their detective work had failed to yield the identity of who might be undercutting their efforts at the Consortium. If their luck held, the bait he’d left behind might yet be taken and Vaughn would have his first solid night’s sleep since encountering the Yrythny.

  Ezri almost missed the blinking light on her console.

  She had returned to her quarters, immediately undressed and showered, but still feeling wound up, decided to sit and read by the courtyard fountain, hoping the distraction would help her unwind. As she unlocked her courtyard door, the reflection of the blinking light on the glass caught her eyes. Maybe it’s a message from Vaughn. By her calculations, the Defiant should be starting home within the day. Opening the message file, she puzzled for a moment over the contents.

  The sender, anonymous—though Ezri suspected one close to the talks had been responsible—felt the matter urgent enough to request her attention tonight. Her first perusal of the contents didn’t yield the implied meaning immediately; before completing the second pass through, she’d roused Assembly Chair Rashoh from sleep, and demanded that he meet her in her office; or, she would be at his apartment within the hour. What the hell did these fools think they were doing reacting with military force? Any kind of consensus she’d built—or could build—would be shattered if the patrols went into the Old Quarter to implement a crackdown.

  The fools! Never pick a fight with a wounded animal. And like it or not, hundreds of Wanderer dead numbered among the day’s casualties. Who was responsible for those deaths didn’t matter one iota right now. My guess is the Wanderers believe the attack was a set up to give the military an excuse to search their properties and make arrests.
The Houseborn are poised to give the underground a pantheon of martyrs if they don’t keep their tempers in check. The more she considered what the night might bring, the more worried—and angry—she became.

  Flattened against the wall, Shar watched, waiting for the “all clear” signal from Keren. His hand rested on his phaser, but so far, he hadn’t drawn it once.

  Word of the imminent crackdown had spread quickly. All public places in the Old Quarter had been abandoned in favor of private dwellings. The desolate plazas hosted empty merchandise carts and litter, but not much else. Even the halls, normally jammed body to body with Yrythny, were bare as far as the eye could see. The swift evacuation made Shar and Keren’s task difficult. Lacking crowds to hide in, they crept along walls, using shadows for camouflage. They avoided main thoroughfares, choosing alleys and the back doors of businesses instead.

  Keren waved him across the alley. Avoiding patches of moonlight, Shar chose an irregular path, pausing behind a bin, dropping to his knees and crawling beneath a fence before dashing across a slip of open space. Upon reaching her, Shar followed Keren closely up a narrow set of stairs. At the top, where the stairs ended, she soundlessly pulled herself up and over a balcony railing. Shar joined her a minute later and they sat, catching their breath for a long moment.

  “We need to be careful entering my apartment. There’s a chance that enforcers have been sent ahead to take me into custody,” she whispered.

  “Why would they do that? What have you done?” At this point, Shar wasn’t even sure she’d tell him the full truth if he asked. There was so much subterfuge surrounding Keren’s life, Shar wondered how she kept track of what was real.

  “Because it’s an easy way for them to make a statement, and because I don’t keep my politics a secret. If they want to harass civilians, they’ll want me far away where no one can hear me.”

  “I’ll go in first,” Shar volunteered. He unholstered his phaser, double-checked that it was set to stun, and eased up to his knees. Looking out over the edge of the balcony, he saw that the alleyway behind remained empty. He climbed all the way to his feet and moved toward Keren’s quarters a step at a time. As he drew closer, he noticed her window was open, curtains fluttering. He twisted back to check with Keren, whispering, “Is it supposed to be open?”