STAR TREK: TNG - Stargazer: Three Read online

  Wutor looked at her, unimpressed by the scowl on her face. “We need a great many things.”

  And if he were still in command of the Ssakojhin, he would have gotten them. That was the way of things in the High Order. Then again, if he were still on the Ssakojhin he wouldn’t have needed new plasma conduits.

  Tsioveth spat. “Then I will not be responsible for the crew in the weapons enclosure. If they are [46] steam-cooked like desert tortoises in the Prime One’s cooking hole, so be it.”

  For the hundredth time since he took command of the Ekhonarid, Wutor grabbed the mechanic by the arm and drew her close to him—close enough to smell her most recent meal.

  “You will be responsible,” he snarled. “Now get back to the weapons deck and do everything in your power to keep those conduits from leaking.”

  It was a little game they played, he and Tsioveth. She refused to be held accountable for the ship’s deficiencies, and he denied her the right to do so. Unfortunate, to be sure, but that was how it was in the Middle Order.

  With a curl of her lip, the mechanic pulled her arm from Wutor’s grasp. Then she slunk off the bridge into one of the descent compartments.

  The commander glanced at his pilot, Jeglen, who had witnessed the exchange with Tsioveth. Apparently, Jeglen knew better than to comment on it. That was good.

  After all, Wutor didn’t want to have to get rid of him and look for another pilot. Experienced ones like Jeglen were too hard to come by, especially when the Ekhonarid was all that could be offered them.

  Then again, there was such a thing as too much experience. No one was a better example of that than Potrepo, the Ekhonarid’s aged weaponer. Even at an advanced age, he was still eager to fight—but to his superior’s chagrin, his accuracy didn’t always match his enthusiasm.

  Turning to the concave screen that filled the forward part of the bridge, Wutor regarded the stars rushing by [47] on either side of them. At this pace, they would reach their destination in less than a day.

  That is, he added mentally, if Tsioveth can convince the plasma conduits to stay together.

  Vigo was the first to arrive at the elongated, dimly lit testing chamber where Ejanix was scheduled to demonstrate his new phaser emitter.

  Even Ejanix hadn’t gotten there yet. However, the weapons officer didn’t mind. It gave him an opportunity to inspect the square, half-meter-thick piece of hull-quality tritanium that had been suspended at one end of the chamber.

  At the other end stood a transparent enclosure with an aperture in its front wall about the size of Vigo’s thumbnail. It was through that aperture that Ejanix would unleash the phaser emitter’s powerful energy beam.

  Overnight, Vigo had given much thought to his mentor’s behavior. With the specter of armed conflict arising in the quadrant, Ejanix had no doubt been under a lot of pressure to complete his work—and that could have taken a greater toll on him than anyone anticipated.

  Normally, an engineer would look forward to an opportunity to show off the fruits of his labor to a group of individuals capable of appreciating them. Ejanix’s comments the night before notwithstanding, maybe he would benefit from a few compliments on the Type Nine.

  Vigo sincerely hoped so. It made him uncomfortable to see his mentor in so black a mood.

  “Hey, Vigo,” said a voice.

  [48] The weapons officer turned and saw Sebring enter the room, Riyyen and Runj right behind him. All three of them joined Vigo at the hanging section of tritanium.

  “Time for the dog and pony show,” Sebring remarked.

  “Actually,” said Riyyen, “I have seen the Type Nine in action. It is quite impressive.”

  Vigo didn’t doubt it. And yet, Ejanix had claimed he wasn’t ready to demonstrate the Type Nine. Was that an accurate assessment, the weapons officer wondered, or merely a measure of his friend’s irritability?

  Before he could ponder the question more fully, Ejanix entered the room pushing a large antigrav cart. On it was a meter-long, black plastic container shaped like a Terran beehive, its two halves held together with tritanium bands.

  As Vigo and the others watched, Ejanix guided the cart into the transparent enclosure. Then he locked it into place, shut off its antigrav function, and hooked it up to an EPS grid in the wall beside it.

  His demeanor didn’t seem to have changed appreciably from the night before. He didn’t look at any of the weapons officers, even when he finally addressed them.

  “I’d advise you to take your seats,” he announced. “Accidents have been known to happen, and the Type Nine is aimed directly at that tritanium section.”

  Neither Vigo nor his colleagues had to be told twice. Depositing themselves in a row of chairs set up along one wall, they waited while Ejanix opened the magnetic locks on the black plastic container. A moment later, its two halves fell away, revealing the Type Nine.

  It was more streamlined than Vigo had imagined, with rounded edges, a longer barrel, and a significantly [49] more compact body than the Type Eight, though it retained the basic Y shape of its predecessor. But none of them had made the trip to Wayland Prime to discuss esthetics.

  “The Type Nine,” said Ejanix, “is a significant improvement over the Type Eight, which—as you know—has been the standard in starship design for the last dozen years. The Type Nine can produce more firepower, sustain that firepower for a longer period of time, and yet draw less plasma energy than any phaser emitter before it.”

  Without any further introduction, Ejanix signaled to Riyyen to dim the lights. Then, with a press of a stud on the side of the device, he activated it.

  Instantly, a seething red beam no more than a couple of centimeters thick shot through the hole in the transparent cube and speared the tritanium section, creating a small cloud of vapor at the point of contact.

  “At this wattage and beam width,” said Ejanix, “a Type Eight would take nearly forty seconds to punch through an unshielded section of that thickness.”

  He had barely gotten the last word out when he reached down and deactivated the emitter, causing the beam to vanish. The weapons officers looked at one another, wondering why the demonstration had ended so abruptly.

  Ejanix emerged from the transparent cubicle and walked over to the tritanium section. Then, as Riyyen brought the lights up, he guided it along a narrow ceiling rail to the part of the room where Vigo and his colleagues were sitting.

  [50] Vigo could see the hole the beam had dug into the section. It was blackened and bubbled around the edges.

  “As you will see,” said Ejanix, drawing a calibrated metal rod from his pocket, “the Type Nine doesn’t require forty seconds to pierce a half-meter of tritanium.”

  Inserting the rod into the hole, he showed them all how deep it went. Then he extracted it and held it in front of Runj.

  The Vobilite noted the measurement on the rod. Turning to Vigo and Sebring, he said, “Eighty-five centimeters.” He glanced at Ejanix. “In what? Fifteen seconds?”

  Ejanix nodded. “Approximately.”

  Sebring looked more than a little impressed. “What’s its maximum effective tactical range?”

  “Two hundred and seventy thousand kilometers,” said Ejanix. “But I’m working on extending that.”

  The Type Nine was quite an accomplishment, Vigo reflected. But there was no hint of pride in Ejanix’s voice as he described the device, no passion, no evidence that he felt even the slightest sense of achievement.

  Clearly, his resentment had superseded any other emotion. The old Ejanix would never have let that happen, but this was clearly not the old Ejanix.

  “And how did you make this happen?” Sebring wondered. “Did you change the timing on the switching gates? Maybe reconfigure the emitter crystal?”

  “Yes and yes,” Ejanix told him. “And a good deal more. I’ll make the data available to you as soon as I’ve completed my work. Any other questions?”

  How could there be? Ejanix had made it plain that he wasn’t releasi
ng any detailed information.

  [51] “In that case,” he said, returning to the transparent enclosure, “I thank you for coming.”

  Then he packed up the Type Nine and reactivated the cart’s antigrav capability. In a matter of seconds, he was guiding the device out of the cubicle.

  Sebring sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “I came all this way for that?”

  Runj scowled around his tusks. “I would have gotten more out of a subspace memo.”

  If Ejanix heard their complaints, he didn’t respond to them. He just pushed the cart out of the room and was gone.

  Vigo turned to Riyyen. The Dedderac looked embarrassed by his colleague’s curtness. But if Ejanix wanted to act that way, there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Well,” said Sebring, “that was pretty much a waste of time. Anybody for a game of chess?”

  Under different circumstances, Vigo might have suggested sharash’di as an alternative. However, his board was back on the Stargazer, and—truth be told—he didn’t much feel like playing at the moment.

  In a very real sense, he had lost his best friend.

  Chapter Four

  Captain’s Log, Supplemental. We have established a position within two thousand kilometers of the anomaly and initiated sensor sweeps. It is my hope that we will have the opportunity to complete our mission and depart the Mara Zenaya system without incident.

  His log entry complete, Picard got up from his desk, crossed his ready room, and walked out onto the Stargazer’s bridge. He had left Ben Zoma ensconced in the center seat, but the first officer was now peering over Gerda’s shoulder at the monitors on her navigation console.

  “How are we doing?” the captain asked them.

  Ben Zoma looked up at him. “This thing is a lot more powerful than it looks.”

  [53] Picard glanced at the forward viewscreen, where the anomaly—an elongated phenomenon of modest dimensions—pulsed with a gaudy violet light. “How much more powerful?”

  Ben Zoma told him.

  “Powerful indeed,” the captain noted respectfully. “Is the Stargazer in any danger?”

  The first officer shook his head. “I don’t think so. At this distance, the shields should hold up just fine.”

  Picard nodded. And there wasn’t any sign of the Balduk, or he would have been alerted. So far, so good.

  Just as he thought that, he heard himself addressed over the intercom system. “Transporter Room One to Captain Picard.”

  Picard looked up at the intercom grid hidden in the ceiling. “Yes, Mr. Refsland, go ahead.”

  “Sir,” said the operator, “a crewman just arrived on my transporter pad.”

  The captain glanced at Ben Zoma, who shrugged his shoulders. Obviously he didn’t know any more about it than Picard did.

  “I didn’t order any transports,” the captain noted.

  “I didn’t think so either, sir,” said Refsland. “But here she is nonetheless.”

  An even more disturbing question came to mind. “Exactly where did she beam here from, Mr. Refsland? There aren’t any vessels registering on our sensors.”

  He turned to his navigator just to make sure. Gerda consulted her monitors, then confirmed Picard’s statement with a shrug of her own.

  “That’s not clear, sir,” Refsland replied. “My [54] instruments tell me she came from the direction of the anomaly. But that doesn’t seem possible.”

  Stranger and stranger, the captain thought. All kinds of possibilities whirled in his brain.

  “Are you certain this is a member of the crew?” he asked the transporter operator.

  “I am indeed, sir.”

  “And who is it?”

  A pause. “I’m not certain,” said Refsland.

  Picard could feel the muscles spasming in his jaw. “You’re not certain?” he echoed.

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  “But you said you’re certain she’s a member of the crew.”

  “She is, sir.”

  “Then you know her.”

  By that point, there was a pained note in Refsland’s voice. “I do, sir.”

  “But you’re not certain who it is? I hope this isn’t a joke, Mr. Refsland, because I’m not in the mood.”

  “It’s not a joke, sir. If I can explain ...”

  “I wish you would,” said Picard.

  “I recognize her,” said the transporter operator. “I just don’t know which Lieutenant Asmund it is.”

  As if on cue, both Idun and Gerda turned to look at the captain. Now he was certain that it was a joke.

  “Mr. Refsland,” he said slowly, “both Lieutenant Asmunds are here with me on the bridge.”

  There was another pause. Picard wasn’t surprised. Whatever bizarre and uncharacteristic jest Refsland had had in mind, he had just stymied it.

  [55] Or so the captain thought until his transporter operator spoke up again.

  “I don’t see how that’s possible,” said Refsland. “One of them is standing right here in front of me.”

  Picard leaned back in his chair. This had now gone beyond the parameters of a joke. Clearly, the man was trying to get his goat, for no reason the captain could discern.

  But he still had to investigate Refsland’s report. It was his duty as commanding officer of the Stargazer, regardless of how much he doubted his source’s veracity.

  “Security,” he said.

  “Joseph here,” came the response.

  “Go to Transporter Room One,” Picard told him, “and tell me whom you see there.”

  It took a few minutes for the security chief to make his way to his appointed destination. In the meantime, the captain drummed his fingers on his armrest.

  Finally, Joseph said, “I’m here, sir.”

  “Mr. Refsland is present?” Picard asked.

  “He is, sir.”

  “Is there anyone else in the room with him?”

  “There is,” Joseph confirmed.

  “Who is it?”

  A pause. “I’m not exactly sure, sir.”

  The captain couldn’t believe it. “You’re not sure?”

  “No, sir. It’s either Idun or Gerda. But they look so much alike, I can’t say which one it is.”

  Idun and Gerda exchanged looks of surprise and mistrust. Picard didn’t blame them.

  “Lieutenant,” he said, “please escort that individual to the brig.”

  [56] “Sir?” said Joseph.

  “You heard me,” the captain insisted. “To the brig.”

  “Aye, sir,” the security chief responded. But it was clear he didn’t think much of the idea.

  Picard turned to Ben Zoma, who looked every bit as confused as the captain did. “Number One,” said Picard, “you’ve got the bridge. I’m going to see what this is all about.”

  “I can’t wait to hear the explanation,” said Ben Zoma.

  Neither can I, thought the captain, as he made his way aft to the turbolift.

  Wutor Qiyuntor was less than a light-year from the Erechek Riheyn system and the Balduk orbital stronghold circling its fourth planet when he received a message from one of the overseers of the Middle Order.

  “Abort your current mission,” said the overseer, a female who was surprisingly handsome for her advanced age and station, “and head for the following coordinates.”

  Wutor eyed the data as it came through in a band at the bottom of the bridge’s concave screen. It described a point in the recently annexed area beyond the binary star Jopter Kej.

  “You will find a hole in space there,” the overseer continued, “and an energetic hole at that. As you know, such things often attract the attention of our enemies. But the phenomenon is in Balduk territory.”

  “And Balduk territory must remain inviolate,” Wutor said, making the ritual reply.

  Even though the overseer couldn’t hear it, his bridge crew could. Commanders had been relieved of their [57] ships for less serious infractions than failing to comply with th
e ritual. On the Ssakojhin, he wouldn’t have worried about it. But here on the Ekhonarid, he didn’t know if he could trust his officers to keep their tongues still.

  “Guard the phenomenon until a High Order squadron can arrive,” said the overseer. “At that point, you will go to Erechek Riheyn and carry out your duties there.”

  Wutor cursed silently. The overseer’s words cut, and cut deeply. Had a High Order squadron been as close to the phenomenon as Wutor’s was, she would never have thought to contact him. After all, he had already demonstrated his inadequacy in battle.

  “That is all,” said the overseer. “Guard and defend.”

  “Guard and defend,” the commander said in return. Then he glanced at his protocol officer. “Send a message back to the Overseer confirming that we received her orders.”

  “As you wish,” growled the officer, a stocky male with a scar down the side of his face.

  Next, Wutor turned to Jeglen. “You have the coordinates,” he said. “Set a course and follow it.”

  “Done,” said the pilot, and got to work.

  Wutor turned to his screen, where he could see the stars wheeling from left to right. They didn’t stop until Jopter Kej was in the center of the screen.

  Somewhere in the depths of Balduk space, a squadron of High Order ships was bearing down on the same star. When they arrived, Wutor would have no choice but to return to his less-than-glorious Middle Order duties.

  [58] But until they got there, the Ekhonarid would be all that stood between Balduk territory and the rest of the universe. And Wutor prayed to the gods of blood and fire that the rest of the universe showed up with their weapons blazing.

  Refsland and Joseph were right, Picard thought, as he peered through an electromagnetic barrier in the brig. The woman who had materialized in the transporter room looked exactly like Gerda and Idun.

  En route there, the captain had checked with Refsland to make sure their visitor hadn’t brought any serious diseases on board. Refsland, in turn, had inspected the logs of the transporter’s biofilter, which was designed to detect and eliminate dozens of harmful organisms.