Chapter 8

"A cutting out expedition, sir?" DeMarco asked, beside himself with glee; finally, a mission to sink his teeth into. Security trained for complicated rescue scenarios, but it remained training hardly ever called upon.

"Mr DeMarco, take heed," Spock warned, "we have reason to believe one of the subjects is injured and may not be co-operative."

"Understood, sir. The Matli are using transporter jammers?"

"Yes," Spock said.

He sat back and let his people talk turkey and took his measure of DeMarco, who, while young to be the head of a department, was hardly a neophyte. As Enterprise's captain, it stuck in his craw that this was one mission he would not be going on, let alone leading, but he stifled his sulking. If only he might target a phaser strike on the structures that housed those damn transporter blocks. Out of the question. Sledgehammer to crack a nut, and too much likelihood of collateral damage measured in lost lives.

DeMarco had a faraway look in his eye. "Do we know the extent of the field's radius, Mr Spock?"

"One thousand metres."

DeMarco winced. "Oh, well, gotta work with what we got." DeMarco said, thinking aloud. "Captain, I would recommend small teams of six. Make our presence as discrete and low key as possible." He spared a jaundiced eye for the red garb of his uniform. "We have something that resembles Matli cloaks in ship's stores that should help."

Six? DeMarco had lost his mind?

"As I am sure Mr Spock has already reported, sir. The jammers play havoc with our instruments. I'd bet that hospital and the other two large sites are packed to the rafters with guards. I could take all of Security and get bogged down in a firefight. The last thing I'd think you'd want, sir."

"You think right, DeMarco."

"So, my plan is to go after the jammers on each site. Go after their power supply. Knock them out, and our instruments will pick out the Vulcans in the affected areas. Should allow for an easy beam out, sir."

Quick. Simple. Efficient. Except there was that nasty little wrinkle to consider. "You may not have heard the injured boy's bondmate has been fitted with a neuro-lytic restraint."

DeMarco's face fell. "Aw, hell, that's going to complicate matters." He, DeMarco and Spock tossed a few ideas around, when Uhura hailed him from the bridge.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, something is unfolding on the surface. I've been monitoring Matli communications and there are reports that a Vulcan has escaped from the one of the security compounds."

"We're on our way. DeMarco, you're with us."

xxx

"On audio, Uhura," Kirk said, crowding round his communications officer.

A buzz of white noise resolved itself into intelligible speech. "—port, Squad Three."

"Vulcan fugitive sighted. He's moving toward the river."

DeMarco's face fell, his lips compressed in a firm line. An opportunity to distinguish himself shrivelling up before his eyes. Was nothing simple in this life? Now was probably not the time for amusement at his security chief's expense, but he'd been around the block a few times and the answer to that was a resounding no, not if one served aboard a starship.

"Squads Four and Five deploy to sector one." He winced at the squawk of static that almost drowned out Matli acknowledgements.

Uhura pulled out an earpiece as if it were on fire, and set to work to clean-up the signal. "Sorry, Captain, that's the effect of those jammer things."

"Spock, can you track our missing friend?"

His first officer, already engaged in making that determination, briefly raised his head and shook it in negation. "Suppression fields form an overlapping corridor blanketing the entire area."

Of course they did.

"Captain," said Uhura, urgency in her tone, "we are being hailed from the surface. Audio only. It is Assembly Member Trukoi. He says he must speak to you urgently."

"Trukoi? Put him on, Uhura."

"Ca-Captain," words tumbled out of Trukoi's mouth, "I have been told to ask if this is a secure transmission?"

His eyebrows shot up. "It is. Trukoi, can—?"

"I have the male Vulcan in my custody. Custody! What a strange notion that is. Perhaps I should say protection, but that is probably debatable."

"Trukoi," he said, halting what had all the hallmarks of an impending disquisition in its tracks, "we have heard reports he is on foot near the river."

"One of our own, attired in Vulcan mode of dress to occupy the attention of the first minister's security thugs, while we carted the Vulcan into an ambulance and moved him here. A decoy, Captain, Surely a ruse with which you are familiar?"

"Our sensors are not detecting him, so he must be hidden under the screen of a transporter jamming device."

"I am informed that is likely to be the case."

"Trukoi?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Where exactly is he?"

"Oh, forgive me. We are all at our Central Medical Facility. There is a detention block used by law enforcement, which the security forces of the coalition had appropriated for their own use."

"Lower the field and we shall beam up the Vulcan."

"Er," there followed an embarrassed pause. "How exactly would one go about doing that?"

He let out a silent snort. Academics! "You need some help, Trukoi?"

"Oh yes indeed! Yes, I most certainly do!"

xxx

Kirk predicted ulcers in DeMarco's future. If the man looked peeved on the bridge, by the time he and his security team massed in Transporter Room One, he was visibly grinding his teeth and downright testy.

"Sir," said DeMarco, at parade ground attention, "may I counsel you again that venturing to the surface, when the disposition of Matli forces is unknown is not wise. How may we even know Trukoi is trustworthy?"

Calling your captain a fool, DeMarco? He let it go. The security chief, at least, had the guts to tell truth to power. "Your objections are noted, but you have your orders."

"Aye, sir." Evidently, it was the answer DeMarco had been expecting. Starfleet discipline might impose demands of obedience, but he didn't have to like it. DeMarco clamped his jaw shut on further objections and, when he mounted the transporter platform, took up position beside him, the rest of the security detail forming up behind their senior officers.

He caught Kyle's eye. "Energise."

They materialised in a non-descript corridor, part of the larger medical facility, where the jamming field did not extend. DeMarco deftly manoeuvred his people so that their captain somehow was neither in the vanguard, nor relegated to a vulnerable position at the rear. In the event, DeMarco's caution proved unnecessary for they encountered no Matli on either side of the current political divide and, in short order, located the room Trukoi presently occupied.

DeMarco burst through, phaser at the ready, his team ready to provide covering fire.

"Captain Kirk!" The Assembly Member, a little worse for wear, with a fat lip and a torn cloak, came lumbering toward him, arms outstretched, the sudden move thoroughly alarming a young security man in the process.

"Easy, Adebayor." Adebayor glanced at him and the other members of the landing party, before a second appraisal of Trukoi made him relax. Yep, the man might talk you to death, but other than that…

Rather than the fulsome embrace he'd been expecting, the assembly member settled for shaking his hand enthusiastically. Someone had been researching Terran customs. Trukoi was not alone. Eselleese gave him a tired grin and two more of Trukoi's people also appeared to be present. Two others, wearing the uniforms of the Matli security forces gave him pause for thought, but Trukoi would have probably needed inside help to get into this facility. He was about to instruct DeMarco and his team to secure the room, but the security chief anticipated him, so he turned his attention to Trukoi.

"You alright?" he asked, waving a finger at the livid bruising and swelling around his mouth. "You get into a scrap with Jomadai's forces?"

Trukoi wouldn't meet him in the eye. "Er… no."

"No?"

Trukoi wrung his hands. "Your Vulcan compatriot has been injured and was not amenable to sense. It took all of us to subdue and put him in a cell, where we felt he would be safe." His shoulders slumped. "I am very sorry, Captain. It was necessary for us to stun him."

In illustration, Eselleese held up an ancient style of phaser. It would still get the job done. What had Spock said about a volatile young Vulcan?

Cell? "Where is he?" For the first time he took stock of the quarters he and his people had invaded, decorated in a shade of drab, institutional grey. An observation window hogged almost the entirety of the wall directly opposite the entrance, a prevailing Matli design, affording a magnificent vista of the Matli capital, and the river bisecting it and, closer to home, Matli medical personnel, unaware of their presence and going about their business in the linked, adjoining building. A bank of consoles, with video displays above, took up most of the wall to the left of the entrance. DeMarco occupied himself in examining the readouts on a console, consulting with Adebayor. Judging by the nods and an exchange of confident grins, they had positive news to report on the jammer.

Trukoi waited for his attention to revert to him and then pointed to the right, where a heavy door, controlled by an access code pad, led to another corridor; someone had jammed it open with a shoe wedged into the gap between door and floor. Trukoi set off down the corridor and he followed; Eselleese trotted to catch up with them.

Bright illumination warred with more of the drab palette, but what he saw in the first cell made him forget all about décor and suck in his breath in dismay. The figure that lay upon a wall-mounted bunk was bloodied and bruised, face disfigured with a massive contusion around his left cheek that distorted youthful features. Even in unconsciousness, he nursed his right arm, as if to keep it steady and not jar it. The boy twitched in a manner to suggest he was fighting off the effects of the phaser stun. This post was supposed to be part of a larger medical facility, yet he saw no evidence pointing to the provision of any sort of medical treatment.

Trukoi registered the thunderous expression on his face and babbled. "We did not do that to him, Captain, and only stunned him because we ran out of options and he was endangering both himself and us."

Instead of replying, he gave Trukoi a terse nod, signalling for the cell door to be opened. Eselleese sent a dubious look his way, but trained to obedience did as instructed. Honestly, he was not holding Trukoi and his people responsible, but anger made any response impolitic and he was therefore grateful for DeMarco's interruption.

"Sir, we've located the transporter suppression generator and are ready to disarm it on your orders. We need to hurry up, though."

"Explain."

"We've got the knack of using this post's sensors and they show we're going to have company. There's a squad of Matli security massing at the main entrance of this facility. I doubt they know we're here, but I can't say the same for Assembly Member Trukoi and his staff. The squad are working on cutting their way inside this compound. I'd say judging by their progress they'll be inside within five minutes tops."

Trukoi froze, eyes round. At a guess, the assembly member had never contemplated the need for a plan B.

"Someone seen though your ruse, Assembly Member?" Eselleese drew herself up to her full height and glowered. Easy tiger! He hadn't meant the comment as a reflection on Trukoi or his staff. "Hurry up, indeed. Mr DeMarco, very well, bring the transporter block down. Trukoi, you and your people are going to be Enterprise's guests, until we can place you back on the surface in safety." He flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Spock, here. We can now detect you on the surface, Captain."

"Bigger and badder than ever one hopes. There's been a development. We have gate crashers at the party. I want Trukoi and his people beamed aboard first."

"I was about to contact you, sir, and report that one of the Matli cruisers, shadowing Enterprise since we entered standard orbit, just broke off and targeted their weapons upon a point on the surface."

"Target? Casualties?"

"Both unknown, sir."

"Acknowledged and stand by."

"Captain," Trukoi said, a shaky hand gathered his cloak tighter about him, "I'm not sure this is necessary!"

Transporter virgins. "Assembly Member, believe me, it is, it really is. Trust me, it won't hurt a bit." He threw a firm arm around the shoulder of Trukoi, the other around Eselleese and steered them back to the outer room. "Enterprise, lock on to all Matli life signs within five metres of this signal and beam up immediately. Call McCoy to the transporter room and beam up the Vulcan prisoner as soon as he arrives. I think his injuries are serious and I think we need to be careful how he is moved."

"Aye, Captain." Kyle's voice.

Moments later The assembly member and his friends dematerialised, Trukoi's mouthed objections, the last thing he saw of them.

"Captain," DeMarco said, so happy, he danced an impromptu jig,

"You need the head, DeMarco?"

"Sorry sir, I always get like this, when I'm excited. I think we've hit the jackpot. We have Matli Security's pass codes and can copy their files, and I am confident my team can hold off the invading Matli long enough for us to complete the task."

He thought about it. Was the delay, was putting his people in danger worth what they might gather?

"How much data?"

DeMarco beamed, his elation reminding him his security chief was still young. "Sorry, sir, I don't think I made myself clear, but it's not just for this facility, but for the entire world-wide security net."

Worth it? He matched grins with DeMarco. Oh, hell, yes! How much might they learn of Jomadai's next step? How much would such a prize tell them of his offworld contacts? He almost joined DeMarco in his dance of joy. There was always the possibility the Matli at the castle ramparts would haul in a new transporter suppression field, but he would order DeMarco and his team back to Enterprise and safety, before that ever became something to worry about.

"Good work, DeMarco. Enterprise security!"

Heads looked up.

"Good work! All of you!"

The security team basked in their captain's approbation. A pity then, they unconsciously took their eyes off the ball, attention directed toward the Matli consoles. He himself had quite forgotten he'd asked for the cell to be opened, and nor had he yet registered turning his back on the occupant was not the brightest of moves, either. To illustrate his dereliction, something gave him a smart whack on the back of the head and he went down, rolling to his side in the process. A mad-eyed Vulcan loomed above him, toting an improvised cudgel, he distantly recognised must be a strut from the bunk upon which the boy had been lying.

His vision went dark at the edges. Before it failed him completely, he made eye contact with his assailant. The new viewpoint angle held some advantages. The planes of the face, the tilt of the jaw, worked loose a connection in a mind turned alarmingly sluggish.

The mad aspect cleared from the boy's eyes; astonishment briefly registered on his face, an astonishment replaced with a correct and proper detachment.

"Hello, Siran."

"Captain Kirk!"

DeMarco levelled his phaser, fired a burst, and Siran fell atop him. After being beaned with a two by four, he felt hardly any of the boy's bulk.

"Commander Spock is going to kill me," DeMarco wailed.

It was the last thing he heard, before he lost the fight with the darkness gathering behind his eyes.

xxx