The Brave And The Bold Book Two Part 8

"That's all right," Torres said, setting down her mug and walking over to the Vulcan. "What is it, Tuvok?"

Cursing, Mastroeni set down her own mug and also walked over to the Vulcan, who was holding a padd. Obviously, her attempt to recruit Torres had failed. Still, she didn't trust the Vulcan-and she wasn't at all happy that he was gallivanting around the Liberator unescorted. She made a mental note to talk to Hudson about that later.

"I have been perusing the data on the Malkus Artifacts from the Rector Inst.i.tute-where the first two artifacts are being studied," he added at Torres's quizzical look, "as well as sensor data from the Odyssey, Rio Grande, Enterprise, and Constellation."

Frowning, Mastroeni asked, "You got all that from the Hood?"

"Before I departed, yes, I made copies of all that data."

"You expect me to believe that Starfleet ships carry around sensor data from hundred-year-old missions?"

"Of course," Tuvok said as if such a colossal waste of computer storage were the most natural thing in the galaxy.

Torres nodded. "He's right, actually. You never know when you may need a piece of information from an old mission. And Starfleet computers have a lot of storage s.p.a.ce."

Mastroeni still thought it a waste, but at this point she was staring a gift horse in the mouth. This information might help them deal with this crazed Andorian and his weapon. "What've you found?"

"The sensor data that the ships have been able to acc.u.mulate-combined with the usual advances in sensor technology-means that we might be able to get a transporter lock on the artifact when we find it."

Tuvok handed Torres the padd. She studied the data on the screen, but shook her head. Mastroeni looked over her shoulder and saw that the screen had several different sensor readings on different sections of the viewing area, including recent readings from the Liberator' s own scans.

"These readings are too scattershot. Maybe-maybe-if you got the thing onto a transporter pad, then the two consoles working together could get a lock, or if you put some kind of homing device on the thing, but that's the only way to do it."

"My combadge could easily serve such a function," Tuvok said.

Mastroeni snorted. That combadge was currently in Hudson's possession, surrendered to him when Tuvok changed clothes. She had been suspicious that he had left the device on-it was the easiest way for Starfleet to track him down-but simply said, "What does this mean in plain words?"

"I had hoped that we would be able to get a transporter lock on the artifact when we arrived at the Slaybis system and simply confiscate it that way. Unfortunately, as we have seen, this will not be possible."

A thought occurred to Mastroeni. "Wait a minute, why don't we just lock in on those distinct emissions of yours? Isn't that how we know it's there in the first place?"

"Unfortunately, those emissions cannot be traced to the precise location of the artifact. A transporter lock requires a precise coordinate fix, and thus far the energy signature given off by the artifacts has not been able to provide that."

Torres looked up suddenly. "We might be able to do something sneakier than a combadge. Tharia's not stupid. I doubt we'd be able to sneak a combadge or a pattern enhancer or anything like that onto it. But I might be able to put together a mini-transponder." She turned to Mastroeni. "Mind if I paw through your parts? I know I've got some of what I'd need in my footlocker, but I'll need some molybdenum, some bits of ODN cable, and a solenoid transtator."

Tuvok's eyebrow came dangerously close to flying off his forehead. "I fail to see how a solenoid transtator would be of any use."

Grinning widely, Torres said, "Watch and learn, Tuvok."

I have simply got to get this woman to join our cell, Mastroeni thought as she led the pair of them to the parts locker. Anybody who can make a Vulcan-especially that particular Vulcan-look that nonplussed is someone I want to keep around.

Chapter Seven.

AS SOON AS THE LIBERATOR' S long-range sensors started picking up readings from Slaybis IV, Cal Hudson knew they were too late.

For starters, sensors were picking up the distinctive emissions of the Malkus Artifact on the planet itself, with no immediate sign of the Geronimo' s shuttlecraft in orbit.

Then Mastroeni gave her report on what sensors were picking up on the planet: "Temperatures in the equatorial regions are below freezing, with snow and ice storms. Temperatures in the polar regions are close to fifty degrees above freezing, with severe flooding. I'm picking up hurricanes on the coasts and tornadoes inland." She looked over at Hudson with as grave a look as he'd ever seen on her face. "It's Nramia all over again."

Hudson shook his head. "Prepare to come out of warp and plot a standard orbit."

"Sure, I-" Then something caught her eye. "Uh, better make that an orbit of the third moon. I'm picking up a Starfleet ship, heading for Slaybis at warp eight." Again she turned to Hudson, but this time the grave look was replaced by fury. "It's the Hood! That G.o.dd.a.m.n Vulcan betrayed us!"

"We'll deal with that in a minute," Hudson said, more concerned with their immediate safety than the long-term-or even short-term-consequences of the Hood' s presence in a demilitarized area. "Get us to the moon without their seeing us."

"I know what to do," she said through clenched teeth. It was risky, but they could wait until the last possible second to come out of warp and slide right into orbit of the moon-currently on the far side of the planet. It involved dumping a lot of velocity in a short amount of time, and was difficult for any ship to pull off-a ship with a sufficiently small ma.s.s to be able to dump velocity that fast sometimes wasn't structurally sound enough to survive the maneuver, and a larger ship simply couldn't decelerate that quickly. Usually s.p.a.ce was large enough for a huge margin of error when it came to dropping speed, but a standard orbit decreased that margin considerably.

"Decelerating-now!" Mastroeni said as she performed the maneuver. Alarms went off all around Hudson. Most were warnings of problems that could be tabled, or fixed quickly-except for the one that indicated the failure of the structural-integrity field.

"Engineering," he yelled, tapping the intercom, "McAdams, we-"

Then the alarm stopped. SIF then read at one hundred percent. The lights did dim, however.

"McAdams, what just happened?"

"This is Torres. I was able to divert power from life-support to the SIF."

Hudson blinked. "Are you out of your mind? Life-support-"

"-is nonessential in the short term. Just the air we've got will last us a day or two, and we can live with low lights for a while. We'll be able to get the SIF running on its own long before there's any kind of problem."

"Uh, fine," Hudson said, nonplussed. He wanted to rebuke Torres, but he found he had nothing to say that was in any way recriminatory. "Carry on." He turned to Mastroeni. "Any way we can steal her from Chakotay?"

Mastroeni almost smiled. "Working on it."

It figures. Hudson shook his head and put his mind back to immediate business. "Did you read any Carda.s.sian ships?"

"No. And I'm still not."

"What about the Hood?"

"Not reading them either, but that's because we've got a moon and a planet between us-and it also means they can't see us, either. Hopefully they didn't pick us up. If they stay on course, they'll be in orbit in five minutes."

Hudson checked his status board and saw that repairs were already under way on the lesser systems that had given out. He nodded, appreciative of his team. Then the comm systems indicated some traffic on the Starfleet channel. "The Hood' s sending a message."

He put it on the speaker. "Slaybis IV Control, this is the Starship Hood. Respond, please." A pause. "This is the U.S.S. Hood. We have been given special dispensation by Starfleet and the Carda.s.sian Central Command to enter the Demilitarized Zone unescorted in order to comply with General Order 16. Please respond."

"Hudson to Tuvok."

"Go ahead," came the Vulcan's calm voice a moment later.

"Mr. Tuvok, the Hood has entered orbit around Slaybis IV. They claim to have gotten special dispensation to come here in order to confiscate the artifact. I'm wondering if they're here for another reason."

"You suspect me of leading them here."

"The thought had crossed our minds," Mastroeni said sharply.

"A reasonable supposition, but erroneous. I have no reason to lead the Hood here. It was inevitable that they would eventually detect the Malkus Artifact even after I wiped the sensor logs as long as it stayed in use within the Demilitarized Zone. It is good that we destroyed the Manhattan. As it is, Captain DeSoto will no doubt use this excursion as an excuse to try to take me back."

Hudson muted the intercom and shot Mastroeni a look.

She shrugged. "He's saying all the right things, but I don't like it."

"They say Vulcans don't lie," Hudson said with a wry smile.

Mastroeni snorted. "Yeah, but it's mostly Vulcans who say that."

"Good point." He de-muted the intercom. "All right, Tuvok, we'll-"

"Cal, I'm picking up readings from the surface," Mastroeni said suddenly. "The capital city is coming into range. According to our records, there should be a very large building that houses the government in the center of the city." She looked up. "According to the sensors, there's a pile of rubble in the center of the city."

"This is Tharia ch'Ren," said a voice over the comm channel, in response to the Hood' s hail, "representing the new face of the Maquis."

Hudson and Mastroeni exchanged a glance. "I don't like the sound of that," Hudson muttered.

Yet another new voice came on. "Mr. ch'Ren, this is Captain DeSoto. What has happened to the government of Slaybis IV? We haven't been able to raise them."

"That is because they're all dead, Captain. As is the traitor, Elois Phifer. As are several dozen other people. And they're only the first."

"You said you're the 'new face' of the Maquis. What does that-"

"What it means, Captain, is quite simply that we have been gentle-quiet. Until now. You have called us 'terrorists,'but you have not seen true terror before. The citizens of Nramia know the meaning of terror now, and those who dwell on Slaybis IV will do likewise-followed by the farmers on Slaybis II, and everyone else in the Demilitarized Zone."

"Mr. ch'Ren, do you intend to-"

"We intend to exterminate all life in this sector, Captain. And if you stand in our way, we will exterminate you as well."

"Well, I don't like the sound of that," Dina Voyskunsky muttered from behind DeSoto. She stood between Dayrit and Kojima. The captain silently agreed with her a.s.sessment from his vantage point in the command chair.

The image of an Andorian was on the main viewer. Tharia ch'Ren's feathery white hair extended to the small of his back, and his antennae stood straight up out of his head. His watery yellow eyes seemed almost empty, which made his words all the more disturbing to DeSoto.

Ch'Ren had kept his end of the transmission tight on his face. Based on the sensor readings of the Malkus Artifact and the triangulation of the communication, he was in the capital city, and based on the fact that he wasn't being rained on, he was indoors-according to Kojima, the capital city had gotten its entire average annual allotment of rainfall in the past two hours-but beyond that, there were no clues as to his precise location.

Dayrit whispered, "Captain, I have something."

"Hold on a moment, please, Mr. ch'Ren, while I consult with my senior staff."

The Andorian simply inclined his head.

DeSoto stood up and made a throat-cutting gesture. Once the transmission was muted, he said, "Report."

"I'm picking up the wreckage of a shuttlecraft in the capital city. It doesn't match the registry of any of the ships in the Slaybis port-but it does match the configuration of a Maquis shuttle that attacked a Carda.s.sian freighter a couple of days ago and made off with a weapons shipment. Central Command claimed the grenades were for a supply depot in the Chin'toka system, but SI was pretty sure they were earmarked for Dorvan V. It also matches the type of shuttlecraft that would be used on the vessel that attacked Nramia."

Voyskunsky let out an annoyed breath. "Dorvan's one of the Carda.s.sian worlds in the DMZ. Captain, if Manolet's right-"

"And he usually is," DeSoto added with an appreciative smile at his tactical officer. Dayrit inclined his head in response.

"-then ch'Ren may have crashed his ride here. We're not reading any other ships in the area-maybe we can use it as a bargaining chip."

"Let's hope so." He sat back down in his chair-it gave him more of a sense of security. Besides, standing was a sign of respect, and DeSoto wasn't feeling especially respectful for the person responsible for the carnage on Nramia, or the similar carnage the Hood' s sensors were picking up now.

"I'd like to avoid extermination if at all possible, Mr. ch'Ren," DeSoto said slowly when ch'Ren's face reappeared on the viewer. "Perhaps we can discuss a solution that is mutually beneficial to us both."

"I see no reason to negotiate with you."

"Right now, I've got four phaser banks and a dozen photon torpedoes trained on your location. I also have a means of getting you off-planet-we know your shuttle crash-landed. Besides, I've read up on your new toy. It has limitations. My guess is that you can't do any further damage to the planet for a while. Until it recharges, you're vulnerable. I don't want to use force, but I will if I have to."

"Do you expect me to believe that Starfleet would commit murder?"

"Do you expect me to believe that I won't respond to your threats? You've already expressed a willingness to attack my ship-I've now expressed my willingness to respond in kind. Still, given a choice I'd rather talk this out like two intelligent beings." He leaned back. "Of course, within a couple of days, the Vetar will be here, and I can a.s.sure you that Gul Evek will stop at nothing to destroy you after what you did to Nramia."

"Your attempts to frighten me are pointless, Captain," ch'Ren said in a hiss. "I have no fear of Gul Evek, nor of any other Carda.s.sian. Do not mistake a minor vulnerability for weakness." A pause. "However, I am willing to meet with you to discuss terms. I will transmit coordinates to you."

DeSoto looked up at Kojima, who nodded.

"The room where we will meet will be encased in a forcefield that will prevent any communication signalsfrom penetrating. You will not be able to summon reinforcements, nor transport out of the room. You will come alone, Captain. If you send surrogates or bring others, I will destroy your ship. And if you doubt my ability to do so, I challenge you to find the Maquis vessel christened the Geronimo -or, rather, its twisted hulk."

With that, ch'Ren cut the signal.

Voyskunsky came around to the middle of the bridge to face DeSoto. "You're not beaming down alone."

"You heard him, Dina-if I don't, he attacks. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he wasn't. If he's willing to talk, maybe he isn't as far over the edge as he looks."

She frowned. "You shouldn't put yourself-"

"-in danger, I know. You're not the first first officer to give me this song and dance," DeSoto said, remembering an incident almost a decade earlier on this very same bridge with Lieutenant Commander William T. Riker. "But right now, I don't have a choice."

Voyskunsky's wide lips pursed. "All right, but if you turn up dead, I'm putting you on report, sir."

DeSoto grinned. "Noted."

"Do you really think this is the 'new face' of the Maquis?"

Shaking his head, DeSoto said, "Doubtful. Especially if he's telling the truth about the Geronimo. My guess is he's gone rogue, and is using the Maquis name to make a bigger stink."

"Sir?" Dayrit said. "I've got something."

Both DeSoto and Voyskunsky walked around to the tactical console. With a pudgy finger, Dayrit pointed at a sensor reading. "I'm reading the forcefield that ch'Ren's using. It is proof against communications-but not against transporters. The problem is, getting a lock would be difficult. But a standard-issue transponder should be able to penetrate with no problem. If we program it to send a constant lowlevel signal, I doubt that ch'Ren will pick it up-it should read as background comm traffic, especially with the additional EM activity from all the thunderstorms he's been cooking up down there."

DeSoto put a hand on the security chief's shoulder. "Good work, Manolet. Have one ready for me in Transporter Room 3."

"Yes, sir," Dayrit said with a rare smile.