Available Light, page 6
Akaar leveled an accusatory finger at her. “I know about your relationship with Picard, and how you were the one who prosecuted him during his court-martial for the loss of the Stargazer. I also know that despite this, you and he became friends. You respect and trust each other, even when duty’s placed you on opposite sides. If you’d had any doubts about him—real doubts—you’d have already made your demand to bring him back, rather than wait three weeks.”
He’s right. Damn him, but he’s right.
“For a man like Picard to arrive at the decision to remove Min Zife from his office,” Akaar continued, “you have to know what that did to him. How he wrestled with it. How it still haunts him.” He leaned back. “And the truth is that while we can’t condone the methods, we all know he and the others did the right thing, for all our sakes.”
“It doesn’t matter what we think, Leonard,” snapped Louvois. She pushed herself from her chair and started pacing the length of her office, stopping at her desk before pivoting and crossing back toward the door. “My sworn duty is to uphold Federation laws, just as yours is to support and defend against all who challenge them and what they represent: all enemies, external and internal. The last thing we need right now is to act like we learned nothing from the Leyton affair.”
James Leyton.
The name rattled around in her head as she continued to pace. Leyton, a former vice admiral who had served as the Chief of Starfleet Operations in the months prior to the Dominion War. During that period of uncertainty, as the Federation and indeed the Alpha Quadrant remained largely ignorant of the true threat posed by the Dominion, he had attempted to push Starfleet toward taking more proactive measures and prepare for the war he was certain was coming. While he had his supporters, both within Starfleet and the Federation government, Leyton encountered ongoing resistance to his ideas from President Jaresh-Inyo.
Driven by what he believed to be the good of the Federation, Leyton began manipulating Starfleet personnel and resources as he prepared to defend Federation security against the looming Dominion threat. As part of his plan, he directed the sabotage of Earth’s global power distribution network, directing a group of elite Starfleet Academy cadets to carry out his plan. The resulting fear and the implication that the attack was the work of the Dominion, specifically a group of Changelings who had infiltrated positions of power on Earth, gave Leyton the leverage he needed to convince Jaresh-Inyo to declare planet-wide martial law. Having also orchestrated a sophisticated ruse to push a story that the Dominion was sending cloaked ships from the Gamma Quadrant as a prelude to full-scale invasion, Leyton was preparing to stage a coup to remove Jaresh-Inyo from power and assume control as a military dictator for however long it took to defeat the Dominion threat.
And where was Leyton? Louvois had no idea as to the disgraced admiral’s current whereabouts. Following the completion of his five-year term of incarceration at the Federation Penal Settlement in New Zealand, Leyton seemingly faded into obscurity, eschewing any requests for interviews by journalists, historians, or would-be biographers. Given the circumstances of his fall from grace, Louvois was surprised to see his name conspicuously absent from those implicated by the Section 31 affair. Had he somehow become involved in that madness? She made a mental note to task one of her assistants to track down the elusive James Leyton.
“The threat Leyton and others feared was real,” said Akaar, “but his actions were abhorrent, undertaken for the wrong reasons. You can’t compare him to Picard.” When Louvois started to protest, he added, “All I’m saying is that not everyone wrapped up in this shares the same level of guilt. In our haste to see that justice is done, we have to make sure that it’s meted out in just portions.”
Nodding, Louvois halted her current sojourn across her office. “You’re absolutely right, but we can’t make those determinations without first doing the legwork. Our search for the truth must be unrelenting. We have to use every legal means at our disposal, shine all available light into every corner, so that no one can hide. It all has to come out. Every last distasteful shred of truth has to be laid bare for all to see. Otherwise, we’ll never be free of doubt or worry that something like this could ever happen again.”
She turned to face Akaar. “The Federation Council has charged me with making sure all of that happens, but I can’t do it without your help. Can I count on you, Leonard? Can I trust you to be objective? To carry out what I know is a dreadful yet necessary task as we put aside our personal feelings and loyalties, no matter the cost?”
The admiral stood, stepping around the coffee table until he was close enough to extend his hand to Louvois.
“You can absolutely count on me, Phillipa. Let’s do this.”
7
T’Ryssa Chen was smiling even before the transporter beam released her.
Aside from the illumination provided by the work lights built into her environmental suit and those of her companions, the room in which they materialized was cloaked in darkness. Chen noted assorted groups or clusters of soft, multicolored lights peeking out from the shadows, highlighting workstations or some other equipment. She turned, allowing her suit lights to sweep across the room around her. In addition to highlighting the other members of the away team, she saw rows of consoles lining the walls. What did they do? What onboard systems did they oversee? Overhead, a large dark sphere descended from the center of a ceiling festooned with what might be conduits and even ventilation ducts. The sphere was pockmarked with more than a dozen holes suggesting light emitters.
You’ve been here ten seconds, and already you’re on overload.
“I can see you, you know,” said Dina Elfiki, her voice subdued as it came through the communication system built into the helmet of Chen’s environmental suit. “Your helmet lights are reflecting off your teeth.”
“Can I help it if I get excited about these things?” She could feel her smile widening as she oriented herself within the space into which she had materialized, accompanying Elfiki along with Worf, Lieutenant Commander Taurik, and Lieutenant Rennan Konya as the first away team to visit the alien derelict.
At this point during her tenure as the Enterprise’s contact specialist, Chen had participated in several away missions and initial meetings with representatives of newly discovered civilizations. The anticipation she experienced at the start of such outings never failed to send a small thrill coursing through her. This was why she had joined Starfleet, after all, and her tour of duty with the Enterprise saw to it that such opportunities were frequent. As a cadet attending Starfleet Academy, she had devoured books and official logs detailing the missions of ships like the Enterprise and its predecessors along with various others that had contributed to the ongoing exploration of the cosmos. Her posting to such a vessel and being a part of the wonder that was “seeing what was out here” would always be exhilarating.
“Away team to Enterprise,” said Worf, who had stepped away from the group and allowed his suit lights to illuminate the area ahead of them. “We have arrived without incident.”
“Sensors have detected no shift in the derelict’s attitude or defensive status in response to your transport,” said Captain Picard, his voice sounding small and distant in their helmets.
Worf replied, “As our scans indicated, there is no internal atmosphere or gravity here. All interior lighting remains inactive. There has been no noticeable reaction to our arrival.”
Despite her anticipation at the idea of investigating the derelict, Chen, like the others, had held her breath during transport, half expecting some automated intruder control system to come to bear even before they finished materializing. Thankfully, nothing of the sort had come to pass.
At least, not yet.
Over their speakers, the captain said, “Keep us informed, Number One. Picard out.”
With the connection severed, the team turned their attention to their surroundings. Elfiki already had her tricorder out and was using it to take a scan of the entire room. “It’s just as our initial scans detected, Commander. Our point of arrival appears to be some kind of centralized workspace, located in outboard section number one.”
Prior to the away team’s departure, each of the three spires jutting forward from the derelict’s central core had been labeled in order to give Worf and the others easy points of reference while navigating the alien ship. “Outboard section number one” or “OS-1” was the identifier given to the spire that internal scans of the ship determined to be its “lowermost” level, with OS-2 and OS-3 indicating the sections ninety degrees to either side of OS-1 should one view the ship from the front.
Elfiki added, “There are what look to be power or equipment interfaces set into the bulkheads and even along the deck or ceiling.” She pointed ahead of her, into the near darkness. “There’s an access point at that end of the room. According to our scans, that leads to a central passageway running the length of this spire. We should be able to get anywhere using that.”
“Has anyone else noticed how clean everything is?” asked Chen. “For a ship that’s supposed to have been adrift in space for decades or even centuries, there’s no dust on anything, or even floating in the vacuum. If whoever was here abandoned ship at some point before life support failed, there should be some kind of dirt or dust somewhere, right?”
Elfiki said, “Maybe an automated cleaning and filtration process is one of the systems that’s still online.” When Chen directed a skeptical look at her, the science officer added, “We’ve seen weirder things.”
Shrugging, Chen said, “Point taken.”
“Commander Worf, you may want to see this.”
It was Taurik, who along with Lieutenant Konya had moved away from the group to stand next to a console set into the room’s far wall. The array of displays, indicators, and what Chen thought might be rows of touch-sensitive controls was obviously unfamiliar to her, but already she could see patterns in the layout. While Konya stood a few paces from the equipment, cradling his phaser rifle close to his chest, Taurik had extracted his tricorder from a pocket along his left thigh, and the device was open and active as he waved it in front of the console.
“This is the room’s only active station,” he said. “If these readings are correct, this console oversees environmental controls for this entire section.” Moving the tricorder along the station’s lower edge, Taurik held the unit steady for a moment before reaching out with his free hand to touch something underneath the panel. Chen watched as a rectangular panel or wing appeared from a slot in the wall, halting in place after extending approximately one meter.
“A place to sit?” she asked.
Konya replied, “That means someone—or something—was supposed to operate this console.”
“Somebody expected this place to be used by something other than an automated process,” said Elfiki. “At least at some point. Maybe prior to the ship’s launch, or once it reached its intended destination.”
Chen said, “Without more information, the only thing that makes sense is that this is some kind of spatial habitat, or maybe even a colony ship. If it’s the former, then why is it out here in the middle of nowhere without any link to a home planet or other support system? If it’s the other thing, and it was meant to transport a large group to some unknown planet or other destination, where are they?”
“That is what we are here to learn,” said Worf. “Commander Taurik, are you able to access the ship’s main computer from this station?”
The Vulcan engineer replied, “Perhaps. A connection with the Enterprise computer would facilitate a translation protocol, but our scans show this system is heavily encrypted. There likely are security measures in place to prevent unwanted access, and until we learn more about its operation, there is no way to anticipate the risks involved to our systems.” He tapped a control on his tricorder. “I may be able to use this as an intermediary option. Doing so presents a much lesser risk, as opposed to a direct connection with our computer. However, it will require all of my tricorder’s processing capacity.”
“Use mine,” said Worf, offering his own tricorder to the engineer. “The Enterprisecan monitor the process remotely.”
Chen watched Taurik pull a small adhesive strip from another pocket and affix it to the back of the tricorder before placing it on the console. He then set its controls to run a continuous passive scan. The unit flared to life and she saw indecipherable script begin to scroll across its compact screen.
“I have enabled access to the Enterprise’s library computer, in order to assist with building a translation matrix,” said Taurik. “However, the link will not permit any connection with this computer. If it detects any attempt at an unauthorized access, it will sever all activities and shut itself down.”
Worf said, “This process is likely to take some time. We should use this opportunity to continue our sweep of this section.” From his study of the data collected by the Enterprise’s sensors prior to their transfer to the alien ship, he recalled a spacious compartment near the end of this spire with a large external access point. It suggested an airlock or perhaps even a landing bay, one of three such areas detected by scans. Though there appeared to be nothing resembling escape pods, the three larger sections contained what might be collections of smaller craft.
“Since this room is supposed to be the main control center for this part of the ship,” said Elfiki, “I’d like to stay here and check out the rest of the equipment. Maybe I can find something else that’ll give us a clue as to where this ship’s crew is.”
Worf agreed with her request, and instructed Lieutenant Konya to remain with her before leading Taurik and Chen out of the room and into the connecting corridor. As with the chamber behind them, the passageway was an amalgam of form and function, with curving bulkheads sweeping from the wide deck and a high ceiling. Different displays and access panels, all of them inert, were set into the walls, and Chen saw more of the strange spheres descending from the ceiling. So far as she could tell, they were identical to the one in the control room. She indicated one of the spheres with a wave.
“Please tell me those things aren’t part of some kind of intruder control system.”
Taurik replied, “Though I was able to confirm that the device is composed of an array of energy emitters, its outer casing is constructed from a material that prevents my tricorder from conducting a thorough scan.”
“That’s not a no, Taurik.” Unsatisfied with her friend’s report, Chen aimed her own tricorder at the nearest of the spheres. She frowned at the returns from her scans, which were coming back muddled and indistinct. Grunting in mild irritation, she tapped the device’s controls.
“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” asked Worf.
“I’m not sure, sir.” She held up her tricorder. “Some new interference in this part of the ship. We weren’t detecting it when we first arrived, but it’s here now and seems to be getting stronger the farther we walk.”
Examining his own tricorder, Taurik said, “I have reconfigured my scan frequencies to compensate. It does not eliminate the interference, but instead mitigates it so that our tricorders remain usable.”
“Keep me apprised of any changes,” said Worf, and Chen heard the apprehension in his voice. She knew the first officer did not like surprises or for anything to remain unexplained. It was a trait she shared, even though she tended to approach such things as mysteries to be solved, rather than potential threats to be countered. However, hard-won experience during her tenure with the Enterprise had shown her there was value in such diversity of attitudes.
Particularly when we’re wandering around mysterious alien ships like this one.
The corridor ended at a massive circular hatch set flush into the far bulkhead. Directing her suit lights toward the door’s polished surface, Chen noted that like everything else they had encountered to this point, the door gleamed as if it was brand-new, free of dust or grime. Extending her arm, she placed her gloved hand on the hatch’s smooth metal, then used her fingers to trace the seams where it joined with the surrounding bulkhead, and moved inward to form an X. Chen imagined the door parting into four equally sized triangular sections as they pulled back into the surrounding wall.
“A little big for a personnel door,” she said. “Maybe large enough for some kind of utility vehicle or other equipment for loading and unloading?”
Taurik replied, “A logical assumption.” The engineer held his tricorder toward the door. “According to my scans, the hatch is magnetically sealed. I am detecting no evidence of force field emitters. I suspect the compartment must be depressurized prior to opening any external hatches.”
Worf eyed the Vulcan. “Can you open it?”
“I believe so, Commander.”
Reaching into the oversized pocket on his suit’s left thigh, Taurik extracted a hand-sized rectangular object Chen recognized as a P-38. One of several useful components of a good engineer’s tool kit, the device was designed to circumvent the magnetic seals on doors and assorted access panels. With practiced ease, he placed the P-38 near the hatch’s center, just above where the seams met, before pressing one of the tool’s control keys. Though there was no sound thanks to the vacuum enveloping the team, Chen still thought she sensed a slight metallic click as the seals locking the hatch were defeated. Then she saw the seams outlining the door’s two lower sections widen.
“There you go,” she said. “Nice job.”
Retrieving the P-38, Taurik returned it to his suit pocket. “The tool functioned as I expected it would, and per operating specifications.”
Chen could not help a small chuckle. “Ever the humble one.”
With Taurik’s help, Worf was able to widen the gap between the door sections far enough to get a grip on one edge. Then it was a simple matter of applying brute strength to force the door open. As they pushed downward on the hatch’s lower sections, the upper portions corresponded by lifting up and into the recessed slots at the top of the doorway. It took only seconds to create a large enough opening through which they could pass. Worf, once more leading the team, was the first through the door, directing the light on his left arm ahead of him as he surveyed the new compartment.
