Chapter 9 – Avertissement
The heavy silence that reigned in the Flyer was broken by a small clatter from the aft cabin, where Major Pakoth was apparently amusing himself by playing with the shuttle's replicator.
Icheb cast a questioning look at Tom, who shrugged indifferently. He couldn't bring himself to care what their involuntary life-sign donor was up to; they were coming close to the edge of the anomaly and not only would the flying get rough, but they would be losing their cloak. And any consideration of their Denarian passenger vanished when Icheb detected the expected signature on his long-range sensors.
"Alien vessel under cloak, one-point-two billion kilometers at vector nine-oh-seven-four," he announced. "The weapons signature is identical to that of the ship that pursued us, and the coordinates are consistent with the area where Voyager encountered it."
Tom nodded, as the all-too-familiar outpouring of adrenaline sharpened his senses and sped up his heart rate. How often had he felt this surge before? Almost by instinct he flexed his fingers, felt them curl around the comforting coolness of the weapons controls.
He willed himself to release the lever that would activate the phaser bank.
The vessel belonging to the 'Children of Talasar' appeared to have held its position, waiting for Voyager to make her next move. Tom quickly activated the phased carrier wave that would send an encrypted message to Voyager with the alien's coordinates; the plan was to have her approach from the opposite side, in a classic pincer maneuver.
"Time to engage those echoes, and call up our passengers," he said, with a nod to Icheb.
It was disconcerting, to say the least, to watch Qorath, Karon and Naldar materialize in their midst. The cabin suddenly seemed much smaller, given the Supreme Marshall's hulking frame and menacing disposition, which even in holographic form he managed to project around himself like a force field. There was no noticeable reaction from Talith, though; she must have immune to the impact thanks to having to sit across from the real thing over the last few weeks.
Kalon and Naldar's homunculi also did not appear too happy to be there. Given time constraints, the holograms had been equipped with only the most basic of their models' personality features, so that they would be able to interact with outsiders as necessary; this would require them to be able to put on a show of supreme reluctance at being offered up in exchange for Voyager's safety. They had not, much to Tom's relief, been programmed for small talk, and would have remained silent even if Icheb had activated their voice functions. The program was enhanced by the very real force field behind which the three were held, very obviously against their will.
"Hail them," Tom ordered Icheb. "Voice only, for now." Show time.
"Federation shuttle Delta Flyer to the group that calls itself the Children of Talar. We come with a proposal."
The familiar face of the Talari renegade – or whatever he should be called, Tom hadn't decided yet – filled the view screen. Clearly, he did not feel the need to keep his screens off for the first round.
"Federation shuttle. This is Commander Farqoth of the Children of Talar. We have you in our sights. Halt, or be prepared to be attacked. Only then will we listen."
Cocky bugger, Tom thought. He had no doubt that he could fly circles around the vessel, but Picard's voice rang in his ears: For the actual hit, use just a little snap of your fingers – don't wind up with your whole wrist. If you do it right, I won't realize I'm about to be hit until it's already happening, and there isn't a lot I can do about it.
Tom turned to Icheb - and, if he were to admit it to himself, to Talith – and commented grimly, "I think they mean they'd attack us with conventional weapons. Guess the Flyer doesn't rate the scourge. At least not yet."
He activated his own comm link, voice only. "Hold your fire. You said your fight was not with the Federation. We are prepared to come to an arrangement. We've brought you what you wanted, but we need a guarantee that you will let my ship pass unharmed."
Farqoth's grey-green eyes narrowed to a slit, giving his deeply scarred face an almost grotesque appearance.
"Show me."
Tom repressed a small grin, glowering instead at his opponent in a show of supreme reluctance, and activated the view screen. Talith was keeping herself out of view, ready to make her presence known only when needed.
"See for yourself."
He imagined how it must look to the renegade Talari: The well-known faces of the President of Denaros and the Supreme Talon, herded together behind a shimmering force field with the vicious-looking brute that was the Butcher of Talaros, all three men gesticulating wildly and obviously protesting their treatment at the hand of the Federation. The rudimentary programming of the three holograms was sufficient to have Qorath deliver very real, very colourful threats about what he would do to Tom Paris if given the chance, while Naldar and Karon were condemning the day they had decided the Federation was a body that could be trusted.
Tom derived some degree of satisfaction when Farqoth seemed momentarily riveted by the spectacle. Didn't expect we'd actually bring them, did you? Each and every second of fascination would distract him from his sensors, and buy valuable time for Voyager to get into position …
"As you can see, we only brought Qorath, Karon and Naldar. We didn't think you'd really care about a bunch of bureaucrats and soldiers, and leaving them behind made transport easier. They're not exactly happy to be here, as you can see, and have been a bit of a handful. Bringing the lot might have made things impossible."
As if to make his point, holo-Naldar straightened himself out and reminded the Farqoth in his most imperious tone of the price to be paid for sedition and attacks upon the Head of State.
"You will be hunted down with all the force of the law, mark my words! And…"
In a rare show of solidarity - if not good manners - Karon's image cut in. "The Denarian forces have been alerted to your presence in our sector, and will use all available force to ensure a swift end to your terrorist activities."
"Your sector?" holo-Naldar was immediately sidetracked. "This is Talari territory. And …"
"Computer, dampen sound," Tom ordered with just the right degree of imperiousness, and whatever additional tangents any of the holograms might have embarked on were muffled into oblivion. Hopefully, the display had been enough to set the hook for Farqoth. He sat back, preparing himself for an unpleasant but ultimately rewarding discussion.
"So," he said to the Talari. "Now what?"
Two minutes until Voyager would emerge from her natural cloak. More if there were problems. Let's hope the ruse holds until then. Two more minutes…
"I need proof that you're not tricking us. Anyone can transmit nice pictures."
Farquoth punched a few commands into his console, then turned around, obviously conferring with someone just outside the range of the screen. He poured over the data he was receiving from his unseen sidekick with a frown, as if studying something with which he was unfamiliar, before finally nodding in satisfaction. Thank you, Mike Ayala.
"One Talari, two Denarian, one human life sign. And … something we don't recognize. Explain."
Good. Farqoth's curiosity would bring Voyager that much closer …
"My science officer. He's Brunali, from the Delta Quadrant. You may have heard that my ship was stranded there for …"
"No small talk, human." The latter epithet was laced with considerable disdain. Ah, touch of the racist. Figures.
"I should punish you for changing my terms. But seems you have brought me what I wanted most. The glorious achievement of the Children of Talar is nearly complete."
"Glad you agree, Commander." Tom managed to infuse the title with the same inflection Farqoth had just used. No point in playing a complete pushover; even if I'm supposed to have caved to this guy on the big issues.
"You want to come aboard to pick them up? Or do you want me to send them over there? Your move." Keep talking…
"Indeed." Farqoth's expression turned sly, as he gave a hand signal to his sidekick. It did not take a particularly wild imagination to determine what he was intending to do, and one of the Flyer's non-holographic passengers evidently recognized the signal even as a small light erupted from the alien vessel.
"Hold fire!" Talith barked at the screen, which now had her in full view, having appeared behind Tom with the grace and speed of a pouncing cat, despite the sudden movement on the bridge as banked the Flyer in a sharp evasive maneuver.
"If you are a true soldier of Talar, you will honour your commitment for the safety of this and the other Federation vessel. The commitment I guaranteed, by coming here with them."
Farqoth's eyes widened in surprise, and he raised his hand halfway, as if to stay the attack he had just ordered.
"M-m-marshall Talith," he stammered a little, having lost some of his swagger. "Why are you … what are you …"
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
Part of Tom wished he could have just blasted Farqoth out of this and into fluidic space, but there was a plan to complete. He whirled the Flyer around in a complete loop, placing her behind the alien vessel and fired off a series of precision phaser shots into her propulsion system. His fingers itched to do it again, and again, and …
Restraint, Captain Paris. You're not … them. And there's a plan to complete.
Besides, their opponent didn't seem particularly well-trained for a dogfight. It was over before it had really begun. Farqoth could still be seen on the screen screaming new orders, but it would never be known whether or not he would have continued trying to fire on the ship containing his erstwhile commander, or might have used the weapon in his shuttle's belly to melt himself into oblivion when it was clear he had failed. His ship now immobilized and hanging beside the shimmering vision of metal that was Voyager, he shimmered out of existence before his vessel could get off another round.
On Voyager's bridge, Harry nodded to Admiral Janeway, who had been observing quietly as the command team's plan unfolded.
"We've got him. He's in the brig, as is his side kick."
She nodded her pleasure. "Excellent. And the ship?"
"Will be tractored into Shuttle Bay Three as soon as we have confirmed there are no other life forms onboard, and the Scourge hasn't been armed yet. Looks like the Flyer disabled her pretty well."
Janeway smiled, for the first time in quite a few days, if somewhat dimly. "Well done," she announced to the bridge crew.
Harry failed to repress a satisfied smile, but there were other matters to attend to already. He could see Asil's fingers flying on her console, and the Vulcan equivalent of a frown creasing her smooth, ebony forehead. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't good. And Tom was still out there ... But he had his orders.
"Lieutenant Baytart, prepare to take us away from the anomaly as soon as we have that ship. Let's hope they really only do have two of those weapons. And no more ships in the vicinity."
….
On the Flyer, Tom and Icheb exchanged self-congratulatory glances. Icheb turned off the holographic projector, a gesture that immediately left the cabin appear less crowded, and Tom wishing it would always be that easy to get rid of unpleasant things. Computer, delete Hirogen …
He turned to Talith, prepared to give credit where credit was due."Thanks for your little intervention there, Marshall. You bought us some valuable time."
She shrugged, and held out her hand to stop what she clearly considered unnecessary words.
"Captain," she said, "Two things. First, that vessel is definitely not of Talari origin. Second, you seem to know a bit about flying. Was that, in your view, a long-range ship?"
Tom frowned, and not because he had been interrupted. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point – one he and his crew should have thought about earlier. There hadn't been time to think, though… Now there was. And Talith was right.
"No," he said. "It isn't. They must have a base nearby. I wonder …"
He looked over to Icheb, who understood immediately, nodded solemnly and started tapping commands into his console.
"What are you doing?" Talith's frowned question betrayed genuine interest now.
"I am attempting to find the resonance trace from the ship's warp core. We might be able to determine the ship's course vector prior to its arrival in this area," Icheb explained. Talith's eyebrows rose, giving her an even more hawk-like appearance.
It was easy to forget that the peoples of the Antarean sector were not as technologically savvy as their Federation counterparts, Tom mused. Presumably this was a direct consequence of their focus on weapons development and defence systems over the last couple of decades, and the unwillingness of potential trading partners to stop into the burning morass that was the Binary War …
He activated the comm. "Paris to Voyager," he said crisply. "You made the pick-up?"
"Just completing the tractoring of the shuttle," Harry confirmed. "Asil has noted a gravimetric surge building inside the anomaly; it may be about to erupt into another expansion sequence."
Damn.
"Understood. Get Voyager out of there as soon as you can; she's not ready to take another buffeting, and we can't be sure the Children of Talaros don't have any more surprises for us. Head for somewhere halfway between Denaros and Talar, give the Admiral a chance to figure out what to do with her negotiations. We're going to do a bit of detective work at our end, and will join you as soon as we're done."
"Understood. Kim out."
"Wait, Harry. Is the Admiral with you?"
Harry gave a sideways glance at Kathryn Janeway, who was standing beside him.
"Yes she is."
"What is it, Tom?"
"I think it's important for us to figure out where the ship came from, Admiral. I assume the talks are off while everybody takes in the new picture. Do you think you could get this Farqoth guy to talk?"
He hesitated a split second, then looked straight at the viewer. "I remember you're pretty good at that sort of thing."
Kathryn suppressed a shudder, and a rueful headshake. Some things she'd rather not be reminded of.
"I'd be happy to, Tom. I was planning to pay him a visit anyway, and try to figure out where he fits into the picture. And I agree – we need to find out who his friends might be."
Tom nodded gratefully. If someone could extract information from a stone – or a fanatical enigma - it was Kathryn Janeway.
"Yeah. They may have gotten those scourge weapons from sympathizers among their own people, but it's pretty clear that someone else has been selling these guys far more sophisticated kit than is available around here, or that they're trained to handle."
He bit his lower lip, and nodded almost more to himself than to his former Captain. "I'm beginning to wonder just how 'binary' this war really is anymore."
…..
"I have located what could be parts of the vessel's warp signature, Captain," Icheb announced. "It appears to be broken, though, likely due to the effect of the anomaly on this region of space."
"Can you image what you've got and put it on screen? Maximum range."
Icheb entered the necessary commands.
"On screen now, sir. I am afraid the information is not as detailed as it would be in Voyager's Astrometrics lab."
The Flyer's view screen showed the by now familiar constellations of the Antarean sector, with the binary suns of Denaros and Talar and their respective worlds; the outlying worlds where colonies had been settled, fought over and devastated were about two-thirds out.
"What's that blur on the lower rim?"
"The subspace anomaly, sir."
Kahless. Tom stared at the phenomenon with a frown. So far it had proven to be an interesting scientific phenomenon, a handy cloak, and of late, a major inconvenience. But seeing it on the screen like that, approaching the worlds on the outer rim of Talari and - eventually - Denarian space, it appeared more like a hungry mouth, opening wide to swallow what had not been affected by war and whole-scale, man-made destruction. An unnecessary complication, in an already complicated world.
His throat suddenly dry, Tom pushed the thought back in favour of the more immediate issues.
"Those lines are un-decayed warp signatures, left by the ship we just took. There should be others like it."
He turned to Icheb. "Can you highlight the coordinates where the Gettysburg … was destroyed?"
Icheb entered an additional command, and a thin line appeared, nearly identical to the ones left behind by Farqoth's ship, leading – and ending – at the Gettysburg's last coordinates.
Bingo.
Together, the majority of the lines, including the one that led to the Gettysburg's orbit, reflected two separate vectors. The more recent ones pointed to a moon in one of the outlying colonies. Home base, most likely. A couple of others, of different configuration, were streaking off in a seemingly random direction.
But what had him whistling silently under his breath were much older, barely visible lines – resonance traces left probably months ago, now almost gone – that led clearly and inexorably to the planetoid the Voyager's crew had dubbed Midas. And one trace, very fresh and very different, leading away from it. Towards deep space, away from the Antarean sector.
Icheb stared at the screen, dumbfounded. When he spoke, his normally even voice was full of indignation, and a touch of accusation.
"How is it possible that there could be a place on Midas where these ships might have landed at some point? We were in orbit around it for a month, as was the Gettysburg. Lieutenant Asil, Lieutenant Commander Kim and I looked at it every day, trained all our sensors and instruments on it. We would have noticed if there had been something there. Should have noticed."
Tom's eyes hadn't left the screen. Idiot, he scolded himself. Blind and stupid and …
"It's not your fault, Icheb. I shouldn't have just assumed that that bloody rock was empty. If I'd given the proper directions …"
"There doesn't have to be an actual base there," Talith chimed in. "They could have just landed there to take on supplies. Dilithium crystals for their warp engines, or benomite crystals, to stabilize the Scourge."
"No, I don't think so." Tom said, even as he mentally filed that little piece of technical/tactical intel about the Talari super-weapon. Might be useful some day.
His finger stabbed in the direction of the screen.
"That's the grand prize over there. The bauble they've been fighting over, the celestial jackpot. We knew that, and were sent to watch over it. And dammit, I should have known better than to assume there was nothing there to be seen. And I bet someone's been there all along. Just keeping a very, very low profile while we were hanging right over top of them, bored to tears."
Someone who had been harvesting those crystals and ores, dripping in blood and dusted with ashes … And who no doubt had used the clear space created by the death of the Gettysburg to take a shipment to market.
"But I still don't understand how they could be there undetected, Captain?" Icheb was genuinely puzzled, if not upset, and Tom managed to excise the anger out of his voice as he responded.
"How did that first ship manage to get to the Gettysburg? And the other almost got to us, if you hadn't outsmarted them? Cloaks, Icheb. Cloaking devices. We've seen that they can cover whole planetoids, so installations like mining operations would be a peace of cake. The problem is, you look for what you expect, and I did think to look for the unexpected."
Tom turned to his console. A few clipped sentences and Voyager was in the picture. Or what he believed the picture to be - for now, anyway. At least they would know where the bases were, even if they had no idea who manned them; if you needed to prepare for unwanted guests, it was always useful to know which direction they were likely to come from.
Icheb continued to frown. "Would cloaking devices not suggest Romulan involvement then, sir?"
The young Brunali's studies onboard Voyager and rapid progress through the Academy had given him sufficient grounding in Alpha Quadrant politics and strategic capabilities to rule out the Klingons as a possible source; the Empire would never trade away its defensive technology.
Tom shrugged. "Don't know, but I doubt they're involved directly, frankly. That said the Romulans are pretty down at heel these days, and I wouldn't be surprised if they're selling off some of their strategic kit to pay for reconstruction and a new fleet. Officially, or on a private basis – who knows."
"But sell their technology to whom, Captain Paris? And why?" Talith was skeptical, Tom could tell. Clearly, the years she had spent focusing on a single enemy made it difficult to see a world – and possible interests – beyond Talar and Denaros.
"That I have no idea," Tom. "Yet. I intend to find out though. And whatever we come up with, I bet it'll spice up your negotiations a little. But, it probably all boils down to one thing. The Ferengi have a saying - one of their Rules of Acquisition, I believe. War is good for business. And someone out here is bent on making a killing."
The statement – and its more literal implications - hung in the suddenly viscous air of the cabin until the silence was disrupted by a small noise from the aft cabin, a sudden reminder of the Denarian 'volunteer' whom all three officers, Starfleet and Talari alike, had completely banished from their thoughts. As if conscious of their lapse, Major Pakoth entered the cockpit, heavy boots announcing his presence.
Tom's earlier supposition, that the noises he'd heard from the aft cabin could be ascribed to the Denarian's enthusiasm for replicator technology, could not have been more wrong. For in the Major's hands was the unmistakable silhouette of Starfleet-issue compression rifle - evidently removed from the rear storage compartment - that now moved very deliberately from one of his fellow passengers to the other.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Avertissement is French for "warning". Warnings come accompanied, as they do in soccer, with the flash of a yellow card by the referee. Basically this puts you or your opponent on notice that something bad will happen, the next time the rules get broken.