by Dayton Ward
One thing La Forge had taken away from that experience was the unsettling fact that even he, with the enhanced vision provided by the VISOR he had been wearing at that time, had never suspected that the phony Commander MacDuff had been an alien employing a holographic shroud to disguise his appearance.
“The garment is not dissimilar to the isolation suits worn by Starfleet personnel conducting covert surveillance of prewarp cultures,” Data offered, “except that it employs holography and sensor-dampening fields to conceal its presence, rather than the cloaking technology used in our suits.”
“Now that you know what you’re looking for,” Picard said, “can you track his movements?”
Shaking his head, La Forge replied, “Not yet, sir. We’re still working to get internal sensors back online. He managed to plant several lockouts in the main computer system, and did a great job of hiding them.” They had not even been able to circumvent the lock the intruder had placed on the doors. Manual override had been useless, as well, forcing security personnel to cut through the doors with their phaser rifles.
“Computer,” Data said, “direct all combadge signals transmitting on security frequency alpha-one to this station.” Immediately, a schematic of the Enterprise appeared on one of the workstation monitors, two images showing both overhead and side views of the ship. La Forge saw dozens of yellow indicators begin to overlay the image; each point represented a member of Vale’s security team.
“Good thinking,” he offered, nodding in approval at his friend’s ingenuity. Even without sensors to help guide the security teams during their search of the ship, it was a simple matter for Data to keep track of every member of the security contingent based on their communicator signals.
“Ensign LaRock to Lieutenant Vale,” La Forge heard a voice call out over the intercom. “We’ve finished our sweep of deck eight. Moving up to deck seven.”
“Roger that, LaRock,” Vale replied. “Proceed with caution. Remember that our man has a weapon and isn’t afraid to use it.”
Despite the progress Data had made so far, they were still operating blind. “We have to get the sensors back online,” La Forge said, shaking his head in mounting frustration.
Much to his and Data’s surprise, they had learned that the intruder had not used encrypted access codes, a tactic Data could easily defeat, to protect the changes he had introduced to the ship’s computer. Instead, the Satarran spy had actually rewritten some of the operating system software, reconfiguring it for his needs and yet still maintaining interface compatibility with the rest of the system.
“The Satarrans are known to be gifted computer technicians,” Data added, his attention remaining focused on his console. “I am having to search for programs the intruder wrote and inserted into the active files. He was quite thorough in concealing his activities, as I can find no evidence of recent software updates or additions.”
“In other words, Captain,” La Forge said, “we don’t have any idea what he might have done. The sensor blocks and security overrides he enacted might just be the tip of the iceberg.”
On the screen, Picard said, “I won’t hinder your work any longer, Commander. Keep me informed of your progress. Picard out.”
As the monitor went blank, an alert tone sounded from the workstation and La Forge looked down to see Data’s fingers moving across the console once more. “What’s that?”
“I have made some progress with the internal sensors,” Data replied. “Their capabilities are still limited, but I am able to track individual biosignatures.”
“Great,” La Forge said. “That narrows it down to only a thousand possibilities.” Captain Picard had made matters somewhat easier by restricting personnel to their duty stations or their quarters for the duration of the heightened security measures that had been in effect for most of the day. Still, that left a lot of people, most of them part of the security detail, moving about the ship.
Standing up from where he had been leaning over the console, the engineer tried to stretch the kinks out of tired back muscles. Between his temporary incarceration at the hands of their mysterious guests, two separate bumpy shuttle rides through the Dokaalan asteroid field, and the fact that he had not yet had the chance to get any decent rest since returning to the Enterprise, his body was beginning to protest the extended abuse.
“Okay,” he said, trying to let his mind relax enough to embrace their current problem from a new angle. “Computer, show me any biosigns within fifty meters of any escape pod, the captain’s yacht, or either shuttlebay. Eliminate any biosign for crew members not confined to quarters or for anyone not moving toward any of those locations.”
Another set of points illuminated on the technical displays of the Enterprise, adding to those representing the security force. Adhering to Captain Picard’s standing order that no one travel alone, the indicators were arranged in small groups as they moved about the ship.
All of them, except one.
Walking with Lieutenant Vale and her companion and doing his best not to let on that the odor from their bodies was almost too much to bear, Kalsha decided that the time to make his escape was almost at hand.
It was a plan that was bold in its simplicity. Vale was leading them toward the aft shuttlebay, having elected to search this and other comparably sensitive areas of the ship herself. Kalsha reasoned that once there and with their attention focused on conducting their sweep, the security chief and the Vulcan, Ensign Sevek, would present him with a prime opportunity to immobilize them. That done, he would carry out his plan of acquiring an environmental suit and departing the ship, drifting across the relatively short distance separating the Enterprise from the Dokaalan’s central asteroid colony. By the time anyone realized he had left, it would be too late for them to chase after him.
He conceded that it was a risky course of action, but he also knew that his time to effect an escape was rapidly running out.
Then time expired altogether.
“La Forge to Lieutenant Vale,” came the voice of the chief engineer over the ship’s intercom. “We’re now able to track combadge signals for everyone on the ship. We’ve also found one of your people, unconscious and stuffed into a Jefferies tube on deck fourteen. It’s Ensign Liryn.”
The communicator badge, Kalsha realized. He had forgotten to take the Bajoran’s after subduing him, and the ship’s computer had used it to locate the unconscious officer he had replaced.
There was no time to mentally debate his decision not to kill the Bajoran before, to their credit, Vale and Sevek reacted.
Kalsha felt a hand on his shoulder, Sevek’s, and knew the Vulcan was attempting to immobilize him with the curious unarmed defensive tactic his race had long ago perfected. Pivoting away from Sevek caused his hand to slide away, and Kalsha used the opportunity to strike out at Vale just as the security chief was bringing her phaser rifle up and around. The kick spoiled her aim, Kalsha’s superior strength knocking the weapon out of her hand and forcing her back.
He sensed movement behind him and ducked to his left just as the phaser strike caught him in the back. The familiar jolt washed over him as the mimicking shroud dispersed the weapon’s energy across the surface of the garment. At such close range the attack was nearly overwhelming, even though the shroud could withstand such assaults for a short time. The effects on the wearer were somewhat more severe, and Kalsha knew he had to end this quickly if he hoped to escape.
Still on his feet and holding his phaser rifle, he swung the weapon around and fired indiscriminately in what he believed was the Vulcan’s direction. The beam went wide as Sevek ducked to his right even as Kalsha brought the weapon around to shoot at Vale, but the security chief was not where she had been mere heartbeats before.
He smelled her before he saw her, her human stench assailing his nostrils. Then she was right in front of him, stepping so close that her left arm was able to sweep the barrel of his weapon up and away from her just as her other hand, the one holding her hand
phaser, struck him in the face.
He was totally unprepared for the suddenness or the ferocity of the attack. The butt of the weapon collided with his nose and Kalsha’s vision exploded from the force of the impact. His left hand lashed out, a protective strike that hit nothing as another phaser burst punched him in the chest.
Then he was hit again as Sevek fired a second time, orange energy washing over everything for an instant before fading to black.
Chapter Nineteen
EVEN BEFORE THE DOORS to the Enterprise’s security detention area opened and allowed him to enter, Riker made sure his expression was schooled so as not to betray any of the anger or frustration he was feeling. He knew that the emotions might very well serve him during the forthcoming interrogation, but only if he controlled them and not vice versa. It would not do to present anything other than a calm, controlled demeanor to the Satarran when he finally met the captured spy face-to-face.
When the doors opened, however, he saw from the look on Deanna Troi’s face that his presentation still needed work.
“Will?” she said, her eyes conveying her obvious concern. “Are you sure you’d rather not wait to do this until later? Your emotional state may not be conducive to the interview.”
Noting her use of the less confrontational term to describe what was about to occur here, Riker shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing what he’s been up to without questioning him. We can’t afford to put it off.”
“I can sense your resentment toward him,” Troi warned. “If he detects it as well, he may find a way to turn that against you.”
“Of course I’m resentful,” Riker countered. “He’s killed at least one member of the crew, perhaps two. What else has he done, or what was he planning to do, before we caught him?”
Hearing the edge in his voice, he drew a breath. Troi was right, of course. In order to extract any useful information from the Satarran, he would have to form some bond of trust with the prisoner, something he would not be able to do if he allowed his emotions to control his actions and words during the interrogation. Hopefully, that in turn would provide a means of assessing the spy’s character and determining the truth of any answers he offered.
“I’ll be fine,” he said after a moment, offering a small smile. “Besides, you’ll be there to make sure I stay on track, right?”
The counselor seemed to relax, obviously picking up on his attempts to calm himself. “Count on it,” she replied, hands on hips and her own smile laced with an air of caution that made her seem like a mother warning a recalcitrant child to behave in front of guests. The humorous image evoked by her words actually succeeded in allowing him to relax, if only to a small degree, which naturally was Troi’s goal all along.
You really do know me too well.
Riker motioned to one of the two ensigns seated at the detention area’s control console. “Let’s go see our guest,” he said.
“Commander Riker,” said the ensign, an Indian man who the first officer remembered was named Mansingh. The younger man rose from his chair as Riker turned to face him. “Sir, Lieutenant Vale has requested to be present during questioning. She apologizes for any delay, but she’s on her way here now.”
Shaking his head, the first officer replied, “Tell her to take her time. I don’t want any more people in there right now.” To Troi he said, “It’ll make him nervous enough with two of us. Any more, and he might clam up for good.”
Troi seemed to consider the notion briefly before nodding in agreement. “Her emotions will also be running high from the loss of her lieutenant. I don’t want to have to ride herd on both of you.” Turning to Mansingh, she added, “Ensign, please tell Lieutenant Vale I’ll want to speak with her when we’re finished with the prisoner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the ensign acknowledged as he returned to his duties at the console.
Led by the other security officer, Ensign Sevek, Riker and Troi walked to the brig’s only occupied detention cell, the one farthest from the door. As they drew closer Riker felt an almost electrical tingle playing on his exposed skin, the effect of the active containment field that formed the cell’s front wall, the sensation serving to remind him that it had been a very long time since he had ventured down to this part of the ship.
Then they were at the cell, and Riker got his first look at their most unwelcome guest.
The Satarran was a lean, muscular humanoid, dressed in a brown Starfleet-issue one-piece coverall that was standard issue for brig detainees. The drab color of the garment contrasted sharply with his pinkish skin. His face was long and narrow, with long, dark hair swept back from his face and tied at the base of his neck.
His eyes were narrow, bright yellow orbs that peered out from beneath a pronounced brow, and they locked with Riker’s own from the instant the first officer had moved into his view. Other than that, he remained motionless, lying down on the cot that was affixed to the cell’s rear wall.
“Open it,” Riker said, and Ensign Sevek, with one hand on the phaser still in its holster at his waist, used his free hand to key a command sequence to the control pad mounted just to the side of the cell’s entrance. Energy crackled as the forcefield deactivated, creating a hole where the cell’s front barrier had been just long enough for Riker and Troi to step inside the small compartment. To Riker’s surprise, the Satarran said nothing, not even when the forcefield was reestablished.
The cards are dealt, Riker mused as he felt the field’s tingling sensation tickling the back of his neck. Let the games begin. After studying the prisoner for several seconds and deciding silence had hung in the air long enough, he broached the first nonconfrontational subject that came into his mind.
“Are you well?” he asked. “I know that you were injured during your capture.”
“I am,” the captive said in a voice that Riker found to be neutral in tone, even friendly. Reaching up to touch his narrow nose, the Satarran added, “Your security chief proved to be a most formidable opponent. Please pass on my compliments. As for the rest, your medical officer healed my injuries, and everyone I have come into contact with has treated me most fairly. Thank you.”
“My name is Commander Riker, second-in-command of the Enterprise,” he said, “and this is Commander Troi, our ship’s counselor.”
“I am well aware of your identities,” the Satarran replied, his eyes never leaving Riker’s. He moved to a sitting position on the cot, and the first officer felt his muscles tense in anticipation of the prisoner launching some sort of attack on him or Troi. Instead, the Satarran merely placed his hands on his knees, his expression remaining passive. “We have spoken at length already,” he added, “if you’ll remember.”
Riker did indeed remember, but saw no reason to concede that fact just yet. “I have some questions for you.”
“I should think so,” the Satarran said, and Riker noted how the prisoner seemed to be absently stroking his left forearm as he spoke. “Though it would appear that you and your people are well suited to solving any mysteries I represent. I doubt anything I say would be of any use to you.”
Shrugging, Riker kept his own expression pleasant. “Let’s start with something simple, like your name.”
The Satarran smiled. “Simple indeed. Very well. My name is Kalsha.”
“And how long have you been aboard the Enterprise, Kalsha?”
Apparently mulling over the question, the prisoner paused before responding. “Eight of your weeks.”
Riker looked to Troi for clarification, and saw the counselor’s brow crease as if she were confused or perhaps even struggling to comprehend a difficult concept. What was wrong?
After a moment, she said, “He’s lying.” Was it his imagination, or had he heard a hint of uncertainty in her voice? It was almost imperceptible, but he was sure it was there nonetheless.
Regarding the counselor, Kalsha’s eyes narrowed and his expression turned to one of appreciation. “I was told a Betazoid was among your crew,” he said, and
Riker caught him rubbing his forearm again. “Obviously you are that individual, and you are correct. I am lying.”
Riker felt his ire rising as the Satarran’s wan smile returned. The last thing he wanted was for the interview to deteriorate so quickly. Kalsha was baiting him, obviously. The trick now was for Riker to remember not to fall for it.
“Of course you lied,” he said. “You’re a professional spy, and that’s what spies do. I expected no less from you.”
“If that’s true, then what is the purpose of this interrogation?” Kalsha asked. “Did you truly expect that I would simply crumble under the pressure of you staring at me?”
“No, I didn’t,” Riker replied. “But, as a professional, I expected some courtesy, at least.”
Kalsha’s eyes widened, as did his smile. “Courtesy?” He paused, seeming to weigh the word. “Courtesy, stemming from respect. You have shown me respect, Commander, whereas I have not returned it, though I must admit that I do in fact respect you.”
“Really,” Riker said, making no effort to hide his skepticism.
Nodding, the Satarran continued, “With that in mind, I have a proposition. No doubt you already have some idea of which questions you might pose that I have no intention of answering. However, I am not interested in weaving a network of lies as we talk. Therefore, I will answer your questions truthfully so long as they remain, as you suggest, courteous of our situations. Is that acceptable?”