Star Trek: Deep Space Nine®: These Haunted Seas, page 96
Vaughn knew from time with J’Maah that the subspace channel hosting the transmission wasn’t a usual Yrythny frequency. So we are dealing with a conspirator. J’Maah will be a sitting duck.
“What are we supposed to do with him?” a metallic Cheka voice reverberated through the bridge.
“Once he’s built the cloak, you can do with him as you please. It’s of no consequence to us.”
“Can we identify the vocal patterns?” Vaughn asked. If he could figure out who the traitor was, he might be able to send a covert communiqué to J’Maah before the deal went down.
Rahim apologized. “No, sir. I’ve already had to modify the audio to work with our decryption algorithms.”
A small price to pay for confirmation, he thought.
The channel clicked off, but Vaughn had gained a clear visual of how the pieces would move across the chessboard. He touched his combadge. “Vaughn to Permenter.”
“Go ahead.”
“Have you ever heard of a noisemaker, Ensign? The tactical variety?”
He could hear her hesitation.
“I’ll be right down. I have another project for you. Vaughn out. Sam, you have the bridge.”
Bowers looked up from his console. “Noisemaker, sir?”
Vaughn paused at the door. “If this plays out the way I think it will, the Avaril will be completely vulnerable when the Yrythny conspirators initiate the trade with the Cheka. We have to make it as hard as possible for them to attack the Avaril—or at least improve the odds. I’ve had quite enough of playing by their rules.” Vaughn knew he spoke for every member of the crew. Time to blow the lid off this con game.
Sidestepping a group of servants carrying large bins overloaded with fish, Shar ducked beneath an awning and waited for them to pass. He fingered the padd in his pocket, longing for a minute to sit down and review his research data. He’d downloaded the rudiments of his study to carry with him, anticipating that the evening’s official schedule would allow him plenty of work time. Besides Ezri, most of the major government players were slated to speak; if they resembled most officials, they would have lengthy, repetitive and self-aggrandizing rhetoric to propagate. Considering he more or less knew what would be said, he felt no guilt about using the time more effectively.
As he approached the end of the walkway, Shar realized he was lost. He had taken a left turn at the Fountain Triad, passed by the servants’ quarters and circled back along the north boardwalk to the plaza. Keren had instructed him to meet her near the entrance to the Colonnade, the facility hosting the evening festivities. Instead, Shar arrived at the end of his walk facing a black sea wall marking the narrow alleyway running behind the residents’ wing. From what he’d seen of House Perian, little if any logic had gone into the design. The original House had been built three thousand years ago—the plaza had been at the center. Three millennia had allowed time for the natives to add on the accoutrements of modern life from a marina to a shuttleport to aquaculture outbuildings. Over the course of the afternoon, Shar had seen most of Perian but had yet to retrace his steps. He turned around, looked up to see if Keren might be descending one of the outer staircases or if he could recognize any landmarks. A cluster of Yrythny emerged from the alleyway; Shar approached them. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for the Colonnade.”
The tallest in the group, an Yrythny who reminded Shar of Jeshoh, laughed heartily. “You’re all turned about, stranger. We’re headed there ourselves. You’re welcome to walk with us.”
“Thank you,” Shar said, hoping this group was headed directly for the Colonnade and not eventually to the Colonnade by way of the café, the apartments or the docks. He followed alongside, seeking to regain his bearings. After walking a short distance, Shar recognized a familiar landmark and relaxed. “I’m Thirishar, by the way,” he introduced himself. “But most call me Shar.”
“I’m Nensoh, these are my friends Dernah and Spetsoh. I assumed from the look of you that you’re part of the alien delegation from Luthia. Your hair is astonishing.”
Shar had discovered his hair inordinately fascinated the Yrythny. “Do you live here?” Shar racked his brain for other questions one asked when making polite conversation. He doubted the finer points of chromosomal architecture would interest this trio.
“Only during the summer. To help with the farming. During the winter, I serve on a starship,” Nensoh explained. “I’m home because my consort and I will go into the water. Here we are.”
The group emerged onto the open square, crowded with Yrythny waiting for admission to the Colonnade. Shar split off from his Yrythny escorts, knowing if he followed them into the throng, he’d never find Keren. “Thank you, Nensoh!” Shar yelled over the cacophonous crowd. He waved farewell.
Puckering his face strangely, Nensoh raised his hand, mimicking the unfamiliar gesture.
And then Shar saw it. The starburst mark.
“Wait!” he called, running after Nensoh.
Nensoh paused when he saw Shar coming toward them. “Shar?”
“The mark on your hand. I’ve seen it before.”
Nensoh shrugged. “It’s not unusual. It appears on the palm of a fertile Yrythny as they enter their reproductive period. My guess is, were you to check the palms of all of these Yrythny, most would bear the mark.”
Shar nodded absently, his mind racing through questions. The night in Keren’s apartment haunted him. In subsequent discussions with Keren, he’d asked about the mark, but she shrugged off his concerns, believing Shar had scared off the invader and thus any potential threat. At least the mark’s commonness made it less likely that Keren was protecting a specific individual. Still…
“Thirishar! Over here!”
Seeking Keren’s faint voice, he narrowed her location to the fringes of the plaza. He squinted, discerning that she had climbed up onto a bench, enabling him to see her over the tall Yrythny. Fixing his bearings on her location, he wormed his way in and out of the tight, packed-in crowds, relieved to emerge from the claustrophobic gathering. Before he could greet her, she jumped down and said, “We can’t stay. There’s an emergency.”
“What is it?” He followed her away from the plaza, jogging toward the seaside path.
“Jeshoh contacted me. The Perian authorities believe the mating grounds are being raided. They’ll be launching the patrols as soon as they can, but all the visitors have blocked the harbor with their watercraft.”
Damn. Without hesitation, Shar tapped his combadge. “Ch’Thane to Dax. We have an emergency.”
With the first moon hidden behind clouds and the second still rising over the mountains, there was little natural illumination as the Sagan, once again carrying Shar, Dax, Keren and Jeshoh, came within visual range of their targets.
“Increase resolution,” Ezri ordered.
Shar tapped in a few commands, sharpening the visual sensors’ acuity by compensating for the diminished light.
Within the small screen on Shar’s console, three hovercraft skimmed in and out of the reed patches of the mating grounds while another paused in the very thick of the sea grasses. Shar zoomed in on a cloaked figure leaning over the railing, plunging a long pole, with a net attached at the end, into the water. Beside him, another cloaked figure thrust the nose of a long tube into the reeds, pumping a handle mounted on the end.
“Clever,” Jeshoh muttered. “I’ll wager they’re spraying the reeds with tetracoxiclan to melt the adhesive seal between the reeds and the egg sacs.”
“Second one follows behind with the net and scoops them out of the water,” Keren said, finishing his thought. “But who among us would steal fertilized eggs?” She frowned, disgusted.
“Computer, identify life-forms in Vanìmel sector zero-four-seven,” Ezri said.
“Eighteen Yrythny life-forms in grid zero-four-seven.”
Imagining the anguish his own people endured while trying to procreate successfully, Shar was struck by how having an abundance of offspring shifted one’s paradigm. Wondering about the reasons behind such a choice, he asked, “Why would Yrythny want to strip eggs from the mating ground?”
“Why would Yrythny blow up an aquaculture village?” Keren countered. “It’s a mind game. With House Perian hosting the Compromise announcement, the eyes of Luthia and Vanìmel are focused on this hemisphere tonight. Stage it well and they’ll have the attention of every Yrythny.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Dax said firmly. She turned to Shar. “Options, Ensign?”
He’d been mulling over how to immobilize the raiders since they’d arrived. “It seems simple enough. The Perian authorities will be arriving here within the hour. In the meantime, we immobilize the hovercraft, secure the eggs in our custody and hold the criminals for the proper authorities.”
Ezri nodded her approval. “Disable their engines with phasers. Make it impossible for them to move anywhere. They’re far enough from shore that they can’t swim to land. We’ll beam-out the eggs. Proceed, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir,” Shar said. “Targeting phasers.”
The cloaked figures on the first hovercraft scrambled for cover from the phaser fire, waving their arms to clear away the smoke churning out of the rear of the craft. Sensors indicated phasers had destroyed the engine and caused a minor water leak. But the authorities would arrive before the hovercraft sank.
Shar repeated the process, disabling both remaining hovercraft within minutes of each other. The fourth one, trying to avoid its companions’ fate, led them on a brief chase; the hovercraft was no match for a Starfleet shuttle.
Circling the area in the Sagan, Shar double-checked sensors to make certain that no other raider craft had entered the area. Save the official vessel coming from Perian, the seas were clear.
“What about the eggs?” Jeshoh asked finally.
“We’ll beam them out now,” Ezri said.
Shar’s scans revealed that only one vessel had successfully stripped eggs out of the mating grounds. Ezri beamed out the small storage crates and went with Keren to the rear of the shuttle to secure and properly store their cargo. Allowing viable eggs to be damaged now would be unconscionable.
Programming an elliptical trajectory around the mating grounds, Shar switched the navigating systems to auto and focused on keeping track of the criminals trapped on the hovercraft. Making a meaningful contribution to the final leg of their away mission satisfied him deeply. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to Lieutenant Dax, but he did feel like his research efforts had been for naught. While rescuing fertilized Yrythny eggs from unscrupulous raiders didn’t equate with making a scientific discovery that might have changed the planet’s destiny, he would savor his small victory.
From around a peninsula jutting into the bay, a Perian hovership churned into the mating ground. Shar dispatched a directional flare, pointing the authorities to where the disabled hovercraft bobbed in the water.
“Shuttlecraft Sagan to the Perian authorities. There are four unauthorized hovercraft in the area. Transmitting locations of craft to you now. We have secured the harvested eggs and will be returning them to House Perian.”
“Acknowledged, Sagan. We have received your transmission. See you back home.”
Shar tapped Perian’s coordinates into the navigation panel when Jeshoh touched his arm. “What can I do—” his voice trailed off at the sight of an Yrythny sidearm trained on his head. Jeshoh held the weapon flush against his chest, obscuring it from Dax and Keren’s view. From the rear of the shuttle, Shar heard the women rearranging equipment to accommodate the eggs. They talked quietly between themselves.
“These crates belong to an acquaintance of mine,” Jeshoh whispered. “We’re going to deliver them. I’ll provide you with coordinates. Once we clear Vanìmel’s gravity well, you will set course as I direct and go to warp. We’re running late, so please don’t pull any tricks to provoke me into shooting you or Lieutenant Dax.”
Locking out his adrenaline surge, Shar nodded. Where does Jeshoh fit into the puzzle? I’ve never sensed hostility from him. He’s Houseborn, what could he possibly want? Unless… He wanted one answer before surrendering to Jeshoh’s control. “Show me your hand.”
Jeshoh smiled, raised his left arm to the square, palm forward.
The blue starburst.
“It was you in Keren’s apartment that night,” Shar whispered. “That’s why she wasn’t concerned afterward. Why would you be there…unless…” Wide-eyed, Shar stared at Jeshoh, his antennae tense with understanding.
“I went there to protect her, as I always have,” he said wistfully. “We’ve chosen each other as consorts. Didn’t she tell you that we were raised together? She swam ashore at House Perian.”
“I assumed you met at the Assembly.” Shar recalled the many hours he’d worked side by side with Keren and Jeshoh over the past week, their easy familiarity, their gentle ribbing. All of it fit together now.
“We can work together and no one looks askance if we’re alone. But even that has become risky.” Jeshoh sighed. “Our last hope was your people.”
“My work’s not done yet,” Shar tried persuading him. “We still might have a chance. I can go back to Perian, work through the night—”
“We’re out of chances. Time to leave,” he said, resolutely.
Ezri called from the back, “Why are we gaining altitude? The ceremony starts in twenty minutes and I’m not sure how long these eggs can remain viable out of the water.”
Uncertain as to what action Jeshoh would take, Shar said nothing as he entered the coordinates the Vice Chair whispered to him.
“Is there a problem, Ensign?” Ezri said at last.
Jeshoh and Shar exchanged looks. Shar kept silent.
The locks on the crate lids clicked from the rear of the shuttle. Shar heard Keren’s light footsteps as she walked back to her seat. Ezri followed after. He sensed Keren pause and he willed her to take her seat. But she waited and Shar felt her studying him from behind.
“That worried, Ensign?” she said, her gruff voice laden with emotion.
Involuntarily, Shar raised a hand to his crown, realizing his antennae had become taut. She approached, her footfalls slow.
“Shar, what’s going on?”
Shar sensed Ezri’s irritation; heard her press past Keren, felt her step between him and Jeshoh. Her hands dropped to her sides. The lieutenant took a deep, steadying breath and she stood rigid.
Keren’s hand curled over the top of Jeshoh’s chair, her fingers trembling. “You have a weapon, Jeshoh.”
Jeshoh said nothing.
“I’ve never known you to carry a weapon, and yet you have that sidearm pointed at Shar.”
“I’m defending something, Keren. I’m defending our right to have a life together.”
She became visibly pale, shaking as she tried to maintain her control, even as her words became choked with sobs. “You were at the meeting—you agreed with me that the radicals’ plan could destroy everything we’ve worked for. Please tell me you didn’t join them, Jeshoh!”
Jeshoh turned his sidearm on Ezri; her eyes darted between Shar and Jeshoh. “You,” he pointed at Ezri, “you take my seat.”
She complied.
“If you do this, Jeshoh, we could lose it all. Nothing has to change. We can continue our struggle honorably,” Keren pleaded.
“That’s where you’re wrong, my love. Without change, we have no future.”
“Where are you taking us?” Ezri asked.
The shuttle had cleared the atmosphere. Cold starry space awaited outside the viewport.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” was Jeshoh’s reply, and once again he turned his weapon on Shar. “Prepare to go to warp.”
As Vaughn anticipated, the Cheka warship maintained a direct intercept course with the Avaril, a fact that satisfied him; he enjoyed a predictable adversary. True to Bowers’s original estimate, the Cheka warship would intercept Avaril’s meeting tonight, five hours out from Vanìmel. “Meeting” is probably the wrong word, Vaughn thought. More like an “ambush.” The Defiant would level the playing field. He conceded there was a slim chance that the Yrythny leadership had masterminded Nog’s kidnapping, but his gut told him Chieftain J’Maah would be caught unawares when the Cheka finally showed up. Bowers continued to monitor communications from both the Avaril and the Cheka warship, hoping that additional information would be revealed.
Meanwhile, the crew of the Defiant worked; no one had any desire to leave much to chance.
For the full shift before the showdown, every crewmember perfected his or her roles. Vaughn had walked about, first observing Chief Chao’s transporter simulations, moving along to Prynn who studied the lay of the sector the Defiant would be flying through. Together, they visited the database for ideas to make evasive maneuvers more effective. On the bridge, Bowers analyzed every snippet of data the sensors revealed about the Cheka warship to devise their strategy. Lankford, one of their conn officers, upgraded the Defiant’s navigational database with the starcharts purloined from the Cheka with, among other things, web weapon locations. Vaughn admired the crew’s single-minded intensity.
Foremost among the single-minded was engineering. Nog’s team had been assigned the most critical tasks. Ensigns Permenter, Senkowski and Leishman had hid out in a lab, working with surprising focus considering their long hours over the past twelve days. Or maybe their dedication wasn’t surprising: they worked on behalf of their beloved chief.
Permenter had quickly taken to the idea of a noisemaker, once Vaughn had explained the twentieth-and twenty-first-century tactic.
“So when an aircraft or a submarine was targeted with a missile, a noisemaker was released, tricking the missile into fixing on the noisemaker instead of the intended target?” she had reasoned.
“Exactly,” Vaughn had answered, pleased that she’d readily caught on to the idea.
“In this case, we want the Avaril’s shuttle to be the noisemaker.” She had chewed her fingernails absently. “Trying to trick the Cheka into thinking that they’re seeing two Avarils. Mess with their sensors. Possibly project a false visual.”
