by Dayton Ward
“What about him?” Picard asked, pointing to the Dokaalan on the screen.
The counselor shook her head. “I sense genuine fear, Captain. He’s terrified.”
It was obvious to Picard that the Satarrans had given up any remaining efforts to carry out their plan in stealth. If they were taking such rash action now, what else were they willing to do? How far would they push the situation?
“I’ve had enough of this,” Picard said. “Number One, you and Lieutenant Vale prepare security teams to deploy to the colony via shuttlecraft, and a plan to secure the facility as quickly as possible.”
“Aye, sir,” Riker said as he moved to the tactical station to work with Vale.
Stepping forward until he stood between the two forward bridge stations, he locked eyes with the Dokaalan on the screen. “We’re going to help you.”
On the screen, the Dokaalan jolted at the sound of something, or someone, pounding on the door to his office. “Captain,” he said as turned back to the viewer. “They’re coming for me!”
That was all he managed to say before the door burst open and Security Minister Nidan, or someone who looked like him, entered the room. He held a weapon that Picard did not recognize, aiming it at the frantic Dokaalan and firing without hesitation. A harsh red bolt of energy struck the other minister and he was thrown from his chair and out of view, falling heavily to the floor.
“Oh my god,” Troi breathed.
Having seemingly already forgotten what he had just done, Nidan moved farther into the office until his form nearly filled the viewscreen. He sported an irritated expression, which he levied at Picard.
“I am sorry you had to witness that, Captain,” the security minister said. “Rest assured that Minister Onaec is only stunned. Our work here is far from complete, and he has a role to play.”
“We know all about what you’ve done to these people,” Picard said, allowing the first hint of anger to creep into his voice. “You’ve used these people and you’ve manipulated us into helping you hurt them. That ends now.”
“I am afraid not.”
The voice was not Nidan’s, but that of someone else who had entered the room behind him. The security minister stepped aside and Picard watched as Hjatyn entered the office. Unlike the other occasions he had seen the first minister, Hjatyn no longer walked like the aged man he supposedly was. Instead his gait was strong and confident, practically a march as he moved toward the viewer. Even his face appeared younger, dominated as it was by a knowing, arrogant smile.
“Of course,” Picard whispered.
“I don’t understand, sir,” Troi said from behind him. “Even with the difficulties I seem to be having reading Satarrans, I never sensed deception or anything suspicious in our previous meetings with him.”
“Where is the real Hjatyn?” Picard asked.
“I regret to say that he is dead,” replied the Satarran in disguise. “It was unavoidable, given our current situation. Perhaps you remember our war with the Lysians, Captain? Do you know that we lost that war?”
Picard nodded, his throat still somewhat restricted as he reacted to the almost casual dismissal of the genuine Hjatyn’s death. “I was informed of that, yes.”
As neither the Lysians nor the Satarrans were Federation members, reports of the conflict between the two races had been sketchy, with Starfleet only paying any real attention to the situation after the Satarran attempt to hijack the Enterprise-D. Following that incident, Picard had periodically checked with Starfleet Intelligence to receive updates on the war, including the confirmation nearly nine years ago that the fighting had finally ended between the two peoples. The Lysians had emerged the victors, but the homeworlds of both races had borne the brunt of the prolonged conflict and survivors from each planet were faced with rebuilding their societies.
“In the wake of our defeat,” the Satarran said, “we soon learned that the environmental damage done to our world during the war was irreversible, a consequence of the weapons used against us by the Lysians. Our foremost scientists have projected that within my children’s lifetime, the planet will be unable to sustain life.” He held out his arms, as if to indicate his surroundings. “The planet these people have chosen to reform is the closest match to a world with my people’s environmental requirements that we have been able to find. It has taken us quite a long time to reach this point, but thanks to your unwitting help, this planet will be able to support Satarran life. My children will be able to live in a world untouched by the scars of war.”
“But no less stained by blood,” Picard countered. “You’ve treated these people little better than slaves, leeching off their hopes and dreams while you destroy everything they’ve worked toward for generations.”
“The Federation pledged assistance to your people and the Lysians when your war ended,” Troi said, rising from her chair. “The Lysians accepted it, but your people didn’t even acknowledge the offer. Why?”
His expression turning to one of disgust, the Satarran broke eye contact with the captain, his gaze turning as if to look at something in the distance. “The Lysians are a people without pride and without principle. It was their malicious, cowardly attacks on our shipping industry that started the war in the first place. Even after formal hostilities had been declared, they made no distinction between military and civilian targets. They are animals.” Turning his attention back to Picard, he added, “You should have helped us destroy them when my brother gave you the chance.”
“Your brother?” the captain repeated, his blood growing cold at the revelation and the potential it represented.
As if understanding Picard’s reaction, the Satarran offered a dismissive wave. “Do not worry, Captain. He was a soldier who performed his duty, and was defeated by a better opponent. I am not here to extract some manner of vengeance today. There are far greater concerns, after all.”
Picard detected motion from the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Riker standing at the tactical station next to Lieutenant Vale. Out of view of the screen’s visual feed, Riker gave the captain a thumbs-up signal, which Picard took to mean that the security teams he had ordered to be prepared for transfer to the Dokaalan colony were now ready.
Good, he thought. It’s time to put an end to this.
“I’m afraid I can’t stand by and allow this to continue,” he said. “The Dokaalan have a right to better their lives, as well, perhaps more so than you. They are not yours to control, and I won’t stand by and allow you to torture them any longer.”
On the screen, the fake Hjatyn’s false Dokaalan smile faded. “Captain, I grant you that your technology surpasses anything we have at our disposal, but we have been here for quite some time, and have prepared for all manner of contingencies. Any attempt to interfere with us will bring harsh consequences.”
Ignoring the threat, Picard replied, “Surrender now, and I’ll see to it that this matter is taken to the Federation Council. Your world can be helped, or your people evacuated to another planet, but this action against the Dokaalan cannot proceed. One way or another, it ends today.” He looked to Riker. “Number One?”
Moving from the tactical station down into the command well to stand next to Picard, the first officer said, “Security personnel are armed and ready to transfer to the colony, sir. Lieutenant Vale has a plan that will let us secure the command center inside of two minutes from the time they dock.”
“I urge you to reconsider that plan, Captain,” the Satarran said. “We have already taken the remainder of the leadership council hostage. Even though the terraforming effort on Ijuuka is well on its way to meeting our needs, we still require the assistance of the Dokaalan people. In some cases, it also requires us to take other steps to ensure their compliance.” He held up a small, rectangular device perhaps half the size of a standard Starfleet tricorder and arrayed with several buttons.
“What is that?” Picard asked.
A look of resignation seemed to grace the Satarran’s f
orged Dokaalan features. “It is a means of demonstrating that I am sincere in what I say, Captain.”
With that, he pressed one of the small unit’s buttons.
“Captain!” Vale called out from tactical. “Sensors are picking up an explosion from the colony.”
“What are you doing?” Picard yelled toward the viewer.
His face unreadable now, the Satarran replied, “I have destroyed the facility that oversees the habitat’s magnetic interlock system.”
“He’s not lying, Captain,” Vale said. “Sensors show the primary intermagnetic system for the entire colony is offline. Emergency backups are in place and holding.”
In his mind, Picard saw the potential for disaster that had been put into motion. The individual asteroids that brought together to form the central colony relied on the intermagnetic locking system to maintain the habitat’s structural integrity.
“I can destroy the backup systems, as well, Captain,” the Satarran said. “Additionally, we have placed explosives throughout the colony in such a way that, if detonated, will collapse the entire habitat.” A small, humorless smile returned to his face as he added, “I had not considered it until now, but I suppose there would be a sort of poetry to the act if it were forced to occur. The Dokaalan and the world they created for themselves would perish much like their ancestors did, would they not?”
“You’d be destroying yourselves, as well,” Picard offered, knowing even as he spoke the words that pursuing such an angle was useless.
“A risk we have been prepared to take since the beginning,” the Satarran replied. “Despite what happens to us, the planet will still be there for our people.” He stepped closer until his face filled the viewscreen. “You will take your ship away from here, Captain, now. If you attempt an assault or otherwise interfere with us, both the colony and your ship will be destroyed.”
“My ship?” Picard said. “What have you done?”
“Nothing, yet.” The Satarran shrugged. “Perhaps nothing at all, if you obey my commands. Otherwise, your destruction is certain.” He held up the device in his hand for emphasis. “Decide, now.”
“You think he’s bluffing?” Riker asked, the worry evident on his own face.
“I don’t,” Troi said. “There may still be spies aboard the ship, and we still don’t know everything Kalsha has done.”
Picard weighed the options. If he defied the Satarran, the colony was almost certainly doomed. No doubt the Dokaalan now trapped on the habitat were panicking as initial reports of the explosion began to disseminate. Even if they were not willing to destroy the colony itself, it was obvious that the Satarran leader held little regard for the Dokaalan themselves.
There has to be something I can do, he berated himself, knowing even as the thought asserted itself that he had been outplayed by these renegades, again.
“Helm, set a course,” he finally said, nodding his head in defeat. “Take us away from here.”
Chapter Twenty-one
SEATED AT THE ENGINEERING STATION situated at the rear of the Enterprise’s command center, Mhuic continued his pretense of being engrossed in the array of monitors and computer interface consoles before him. In truth, he could care less about any of the information streaming across the various displays, as they had long since told him everything he needed to know about the operation and capabilities of the massive vessel. In his guise as engineer Lieutenant Pauls, were he asked to carry out a task by any of the officers here, he would be able to do so with as much alacrity as the person he had replaced.
In the meantime, Mhuic watched, and listened.
Were he not currently involved in carrying out his covert assignment, he would find amusement at the seemingly dejected individuals who surrounded him. The mood in the command center was one of defeat and of anger at being bested. The only thing that prevented him from allowing a smile to crease the features of the man he was impersonating was that, apparently, stress made humans smell worse than they did already.
“Captain,” he heard the security officer, Lieutenant Vale, call out from her station over his left shoulder, “sensors detect the approach of two Dokaalan skiffs. They’re taking up positions aft of us.” After a moment, she added, “I’m not picking up any appreciable weapons.”
“Escorts?” said Commander Riker, the imposing human first officer. “Making sure we behave on the way out?”
“It would seem so, Number One,” said the captain, Picard. “Monitor any communications, Lieutenant. If they communicate with the colony or anyone else, I want to know about it. Helm, maintain course, space-normal speed.”
Mhuic heard the annoyance in the man’s voice as he uttered the words. It was obvious that Picard was most dissatisfied with the current situation, which made Mhuic wonder why he had acquiesced to Lorakin’s demands so easily. He found it hard to believe that the captain had acted with such apparent cowardice merely out of concern for the Dokaalan.
Of course, Lorakin did hold the upper hand, so long as he controlled the fate of the magnetic coupling network that held the Dokaalan habitat’s conglomeration of asteroids together. Destroy the interlock system and the colony itself would quickly follow suit. It was a plan elegant in its simplicity, and one that Picard was powerless to act against.
The reports I have read about this human’s tactical prowess would seem to have been exaggerated, Mhuic mused.
“Lieutenant Pauls,” he heard Picard say, and the disguised Satarran promptly turned his chair until he faced the captain.
“Yes, sir?” he asked, affecting the tone of the nervous junior officer he was supposed to be.
Still standing in front of the chair he normally occupied while in the command center, Picard asked, “Why were our sensors unable to detect the presence of explosives on the colony?”
Mhuic paused for a moment, as if he needed an extra moment to compose the answer he had actually prepared several moments ago. “Commander La Forge and Commander Data have reported some reconfiguration of the software overseeing the scanning systems, sir. It’s possible our sensors were programmed so that they would not register them.”
The beauty of the answer was that it was in fact the truth. Mhuic had discovered evidence of some covert reprogramming to the sensor control systems by another Satarran operative. He had suspected it to be Kalsha’s handiwork even before hearing of his friend’s capture only hours ago. Ironically, Kalsha had been taken into custody and his true identity revealed at almost the same time that Mhuic himself had emerged from hiding and seized Lieutenant Pauls.
After he had assumed the form of the other low-ranking officer, Ensign Maxson, it had not taken him long to discover that in order to more effectively gain access to the computer and other sensitive systems, he would have to adopt the guise of someone assigned to one of the ship’s technical departments. It had required careful planning and patience to select a candidate and then wait for the individual to be isolated long enough to carry out the replacement.
His opportunity came when Lieutenant Pauls was dispatched to conduct a maintenance task inside one of the ship’s numerous maintenance conduits. Forced to kill the human, Mhuic had secreted his body behind one of the conduit’s access panels. Still, disposing of the human had given the agent the opportunity he needed to better position himself to take action against the Enterprise, should the need arise.
From the looks of things, however, such action would be unnecessary. With the ship making its way out of the asteroid field, its captain and crew retreating like cowed animals, it appeared that all of his efforts, to say nothing of Kalsha’s, had been for naught.
Or, had they?
“There has to be a way to beat these people,” he heard Riker say, noting the frustration in the large man’s voice.
At the tactical station, Lieutenant Vale replied, “What about taking out the explosives themselves with targeted phaser strikes? If we can work out the problems with the sensors, we should be able to find and neutralize them all.”
“That’ll take time,” Riker countered. “Time that Hjatyn, or whoever he is, certainly won’t give us.”
The first officer was right, Mhuic knew. Lorakin would not hesitate to destroy the colony the instant he realized the Enterprise was coming back. As soon as one of the skiff pilots saw the vessel change course, they would call back to him, giving him plenty of time to carry out his threat long before the ship could get close enough to execute such an audacious plan.
“Data to Captain Picard,” a new voice said over the ship’s intercom. Mhuic recognized it, and the speaker’s name, as belonging to the ship’s android crew member. “Sir, I believe I have some information that might prove useful.”
His interest piqued, the Satarran operative turned in his seat, though he nearly jerked himself to a halt as he realized he had broken protocol by taking his attention from his station. To his relief, he noted that nearly everyone else in the command center had done so, as well.
“Go ahead, Mr. Data,” Picard said.
“I have examined the sensor recordings from your last conversation with the Satarrans,” the android replied, “and I discovered a low-frequency transmission just before the destruction of the primary intermagnetic system. It is logical to assume that the Satarran impersonating First Minister Hjatyn triggered the explosion himself, rather than communicating instructions to subordinates to carry out the action.”
Of course Lorakin would perform the act himself, Mhuic thought. The commander was notorious for his inability to delegate authority, to say nothing of possessing a near-obsessive flair for the dramatic. In this case, the tactic had worked. With the press of a single button, Lorakin had moved the entire Dokaalan colony and its fifty thousand inhabitants to within a single step of total destruction. He was simply incapable of deferring that kind of responsibility to anyone else.
“Data,” Picard said, “can such a signal be disabled or jammed?”