The Lost Era: Well of Souls: Star Trek (22 page)

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Authors: Ilsa J. Bick

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BOOK: The Lost Era: Well of Souls: Star Trek
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Burke made a pass motion with her hand. Garrett directed her attention back to Stern. “What else about Batra, other than evidence of there being a phaser involved?”

Stern summarized what she’d already told Garrett. “Then there’s the dirt.”

“Dirt?” Tyvan echoed.

“Dirt,” Stern repeated. “Look, I don’t have any doubt that most of what Halak said is true. Really,” she added in response to a skeptical snort from Burke. “I believe that he was attacked; I believe that he defended himself. I believe that a Bolian killed Batra. All that squares with the evidence. But the time course is off. The sequence is wrong. I didn’t start to put it all together until I began comparing what I found on Halak with what I found on Batra. Just like Halak, Batra had Bolian blood on her hands, under her nails, on her clothes, in her hair, and the blood spatter’s consistent with her stabbing the Bolian. Then the Bolian shoots her at point blank range. The impact knocks Batra off her feet onto her back, but she’s dead before she hits the ground. Death was virtually instantaneous. The lieutenant’s heart stopped pumping. No blood flow, no bleeding.

“But here’s the kicker: the dirt. The dirt on her clothes, especially on her back, doesn’t look much like what you’d find in a city. And there’s dirt on her jaw—actually, minute fragments embedded in tissue. But it’s not the
same
dirt.”

“I’m not following,” said Tyvan.

“Look, we know she was hit because of that bruise on her jaw and those bite marks on her tongue. But I assumed
someone
hit her, because Halak said they were jumped. Made sense. But that’s wrong. She had abrasions on her jaw, and there was dirt in the wound. Only it wasn’t dirt. It was brick.”

Burke stirred. “But why couldn’t she have been hit by a fist?”

“Because the lieutenant’s skin was torn. Her skin had come into contact with something sharp, jagged, and hard. Someone hits you across the face with his fist your skin’s not going to tear, not unless what he’s wearing, like a ring, catches on skin. And there should be marks that look like fingers, or a fist. There should be prints. Now, I found nothing that smacks of fingers or an imprint from a ring, and there were no prints. There were, however, latent prints on her clothing. The Bolian’s easy to spot; their ridge patterns are species-specific, can’t confuse them. And Halak’s. Hers. But that’s it.”

Tyvan sat up. “No fourth person. Halak said there was another man.”

Stern’s eyebrows arched. “See the problem? Halak says there was another guy when Batra was killed, and I just showed you that in order for Halak to get cut the way he did, there had to be at least two more: one to hold him, the other to take care of Batra. Only where are they? And somehow Batra got the knife only no one noticed? No one tried to grab her? Unless something happened much earlier than he says and then the brick ...”

Tyvan finished for her. “Comes from the city. Meaning they were attacked, first, in the city.”

Stern took aim with a forefinger. “Bingo. There’s no mistake. Brick’s very porous. It crumbles. This stuff is cheap, so I’m guessing some slum on Farius Prime. But there’s no brick anywhere on her clothing, just her skin. So Batra got herself cleaned up. Probably changed her clothes. That’s why the dirt on her clothes is different from
what’s embedded in her jaw. She didn’t get hit. She
slammed
into a brick wall. But the dirt on her clothes was a mixture of quartz and mica, some decomposed organic matter ...”

“That would still be consistent with a city,” said Tyvan.

“There was also a fair amount of bentonite. That’s volcanic ash. And there were high levels of triuridium.”

“Farius Prime’s got triuridium mines.”

“That’s right, except those mines have been closed a good long time. It’s why that Asfar-whatsa got so powerful to begin with, because the mines dried up. So if the mines aren’t active, that means there are no workers bringing the stuff back into the city. There’s nothing being released in the air; there’s been no volcanic activity on that planet for centuries. So the only place you’re going to find volcanic ash and triuridium ...”

“Is at the mines,” said Garrett. She was past anger now. She’d sat through Stern’s dissertation, knowing where it led but still not wanting to believe it.
I may not like him much, but maybe that’s my fault, and he’s still my XO
. Now, she felt only a creeping weariness, as if an enormous weight had settled on her shoulders. “So there were two separate events.”

“That’s how I see it, Captain.”

“Me, too.” Garrett scrubbed her face with her hands. Then she rolled her eyes toward Tyvan. “You have
anything
germane? Anything to explain this?”

But it was Burke who answered, flashing Garrett a smile that was infuriating because it was so disingenuous, and just a little too smug. “Captain, there’s nothing a
psychiatrist
can say. Nothing at all.”

Tyvan stiffened, but Garrett didn’t reply. Instead, she reached for the companel before her on the conference room table. “Security, get Halak in here. Now.”

Chapter 18

“Well, Commander?” Garrett asked, not sure that she didn’t want to shake Halak until his teeth rattled. “Can you shed some light here?”

There was a pause, as if it had taken time for Garrett’s question to register. Then Halak moved his head fractionally in a weary negative. “I can’t explain it, Captain. I’ve told you what happened. I loved Ani, and I wouldn’t have done anything to harm her. I simply don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“The truth would be a good start.”

“Captain, I’ve
told
you the truth,” said Halak. His voice was hoarse. “I received a message from an old family friend. I detoured to Farius Prime to see her. I admit I should have reported that change in my itinerary. I didn’t, mainly because I had no intention of staying on Farius Prime for long. Ani followed me. I don’t know how she figured out where I was going; I didn’t tell her. But she ended up on the passenger transport from Starbase 5, and there was nothing for it but have her tag along.”

“Stop.” Garrett hacked the air with the side of her hand. “Stop right there, Halak. I don’t want to hear this again. That’s not what we’re interested in, and you know it.”

“Captain.” Halak ran a hand through black hair that was greasy and matted, like lumps of cooked tar. “Captain, I don’t know how to resolve the discrepancies. I don’t know how the dirt that you say shouldn’t have been there got there. Dirt is dirt, and I don’t know. The simple truth is that we were attacked. She was killed and there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t know what you want from me.”

She heard the genuine undercurrent of pain, and Halak looked awful. His eyes were dull, their whites etched with a tracery of thin, red lines. The lids were swollen and the skin beneath his eyes looked smudged, puffy, and bruised. The olive cast to his skin had turned sallow, and his features were pinched and sharp as if he’d lost weight. When he walked, he favored his right side, and it was obvious he was still in pain. And he was grieving: no faking there.

But it was a grief Burke wanted to exploit. Garrett cast a swift glance at the Starfleet Intelligence officer. The lieutenant was all attention, her brown eyes sparkling and bright. She looked like a Perettian glare-hawk just itching for its chance to swoop down and strike. Well, if Halak couldn’t do better, she’d have her chance. Garrett wouldn’t have any alternative.

Damn Halak, why was he sticking to that story? Impatience gnawed at Garrett’s gut like the sharp beak of hunger. Didn’t he realize that he was throwing everything away—his career, the shreds of what little trust she had in him?
Work with me.
She tried willing the thought into the gulf between them.
Help
us
help
you
before it’s too late and it’s out of my hands.
Later, she would be surprised that, yes, she
did
want to help.

“Halak.” She edged her voice with the imperiousness of a command. “That’s not good enough. I don’t know what the real story is, but it’s somewhere between the lines. I’m going to make this extremely easy for you, Commander. Either you address these discrepancies here and now, or I have no choice but to remand you over to Starfleet Command for a more formal inquiry, and probable disciplinary action.”

Burke spoke. “Captain, if you would
please
let me ...”

“Stow it, Burke.” Garrett didn’t even glance her way. “If Halak goes anywhere, I talk to Starfleet Command first.”

“That’s not what ...”

Livid, Garrett swung her head around and glared. “What part of
shut up
don’t you understand, Burke?”

Burke’s cheeks flared red, and Garrett felt a vicious stab of satisfaction. “I understand perfectly, Captain, but ...”

“Obviously, you don’t. Be. Quiet. When I want to hear from you, I’ll ask. If you can’t comply, then you leave and I’ll take my chances with Starfleet. Got it?”

Without waiting for Burke’s reply, Garrett spun her chair back toward Halak and pinned him with a hard look. “Now, Commander, I want the truth. This is an inquiry. You are under oath as a Starfleet officer and a member of my crew. Don’t make me recommend you be charged with perjury. Now, on your word, as an officer in Starfleet and a member of my crew,
my first officer,
what the hell happened?”

Garrett saw the indecision flash in Halak’s eyes, and then understanding. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbled as he swallowed, hard. She waited.

“All right. But, Captain, please understand that whatever I left out,” his eyes darted away, but not before Garrett read his shame, “I did it to protect innocent people. I did it. ...”

“You let me be the judge of whether you acted wisely, or not,” said Garrett. “Go on.”

Using the back of his hand, Halak swiped at perspiration beaded on his forehead. Garrett saw sweat trickle down his left temple. “I have to start from the time we hit the market.” When Garrett waved for him to continue, he said, “Ani and I had a talk, in a café. She wanted to know more about my past, who I was there to see. I told her about Dalal. Dalal was a woman who worked for my father.”

Briefly, he sketched in the details of his childhood on Vendrak IV. “When my father died, Dalal took over. She made sure I buckled down, and it’s because of her that I ended up in Starfleet. Like I told Ani, I owe Dalal a lot. Why Dalal ended up on Farius Prime, I don’t know. But when she called, I came.”

“And then?”

“And then, on our way to her apartment, we were jumped.” Halak closed his eyes, spoke through teeth that were clenched tight. “Yes, I lied. Three men—I’d never seen them before—attacked us. One of them grabbed Ani.
She fought, bit him on the hand, and he knocked her against a wall. I didn’t see all of it because the other two had gone for me.”

In a monotone, Halak recounted how he’d been stabbed. “And then Ani grabbed my phaser and she shot one of them. The one with the knife.”

“A phaser.” Garrett’s voice was thick. “So you
did
have a phaser.”

“Yes. My own weapon.”

“Do we have it registered?”

“No.”

Garrett closed her eyes for a brief instant.
“Halak,”
she said, exasperated. A finger of pain dragged across her right temple, and she knew a headache was on its way.

She flicked a finger—a signal for Halak to continue—and then she listened with a growing sense of unreality as Halak told about stumbling up to Dalal’s apartment with Batra, and how Dalal had patched him up, given them a change of clothes, and fed them. When Halak paused, Garrett said, “And why did Dalal want to see you?”

Halak looked at his hands. “You know, after all that, she didn’t say. Maybe just to check up on me. I don’t know.” His eyes drifted back to Garrett’s. “Anyway, we talked. I tried to get her to leave Farius Prime. She wouldn’t. In the end, because we’d missed our return transport, Dalal offered to set us up with someone she knew. Dalal lives on Gemini Street, not far from the spaceport. So we, Ani and I, went to meet up with this fellow, name of Matsaro.”

“The Bolian.”

“That’s right. Obviously, he knew we weren’t natives and he said that his shuttle wasn’t registered and that he’d stowed it in one of those old abandoned mines in the Katanga Mountains. I didn’t like it, but I wanted to get Ani off the planet and I knew I had to get better medical attention than Dalal was able to give. So we went with him. I had my
phaser. Ani had the knife. We went by aircar. There was a shuttle waiting, just like he said. But then, at the last second, he turned around and demanded credits. When he found out we didn’t have any—our credits had been stolen—he threatened to kill us. He had a pulse gun, and he took my phaser. Then he started marching us over the rocks toward one of the old mine entrances. I think he figured to hide our bodies there. Anyway, there was a lot of loose rock, and the going was rough. Ani fell, twisted her ankle.”

“And?” Garrett asked.

Halak raised his face, but Garrett saw that he was far away, looking at the memory. “He wouldn’t let me help her. When she couldn’t get up, the Bolian reached down, and that’s when Ani,” his voice broke, “that’s when she stabbed him.”

“He didn’t know she still had the knife.”

Halak’s face was a study in misery. “That’s right. And then, before I could get there, he shot her.” A single tear rolled down his right cheek. “There wasn’t anything I could do, Captain.”

The room was silent for several moments. Then Garrett cleared her throat. “What happened next?”

Halak tore his gaze away from the memory and looked straight at her and said in a voice as flat and matter-of-fact as if they were discussing a duty roster, “I killed him. I grabbed a rock and I smashed his skull. I beat him until he didn’t have much of anything left you could call a head. Then I put him back into his aircar and programmed it to crash into the Galldean Sea. I tossed the pulse gun and my phaser in there, too. And then I put Batra in the shuttle and ... well, you know the rest.”

Garrett nodded, digesting what she’d heard. If Halak was to be believed, he’d killed in self-defense. His story certainly explained the discrepancies Stern had found. “But why didn’t you come forward with this earlier, Commander?”

“Because, Captain, I was worried about Dalal, about implicating her in any way.”

Garrett spread her hands. “But how would she figure in?”

“I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly,” said Halak. “I guess I panicked.”

That struck a false chord in Garrett. She frowned. Halak was impulsive, and he was passionate. But Halak didn’t panic. With a sudden pang of dismay, she realized that she’d believed him—until that moment.

“Captain.” It was Burke, again. “Captain,
please,
may I say something?”

Garrett didn’t see how she could refuse now. “Does it have direct bearing on what Halak’s just told us?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Proceed.” Then, as Burke opened her mouth, Garrett added, “You take one detour into hypotheticals without convincing me you need to go there, and I’m shutting you down, Lieutenant.”

Burke’s voice was smooth as velvet. “Understood, Captain. I’m just going to deal with facts.”

She swiveled her chair toward Halak. “You say you went to see a woman named Dalal?”

Halak’s black eyes were wary. “Yes.”

“On Gemini Street?”

“That’s right. I said that before.”

“Yes, I know, and that’s what puzzles me, Commander.” Burke inclined her head toward Sivek; the Vulcan hadn’t said one word thus far. “Puzzles
us,
actually. You see, we checked out the name and the address you provided. Commander,” Burke used his title almost regretfully, “there is no such woman. There isn’t now, and there never has been.”

Garrett started. “What?”

Alarmed, Halak sat bolt upright. “What are you talking about?”

Burke was unruffled. “Precisely what I just said, Commander. There is no Dalal. She’s a story you made up to cover your real motive for visiting Farius Prime.”

“No,” said Halak, half-rising from his seat, “no! That’s not true!”

Burke looked at Halak askance. “You really aren’t in a position to be telling me about truth, Commander.”

“Burke! No, Halak.” Garrett put out a hand as if to restrain her first officer even though she couldn’t touch him. “Sit. Down. Now.”

“But, Captain ...”

“Am I speaking Klingon?” Garrett flared. “I said, sit down and be quiet, mister!”

She flashed an angry look at Burke. “Burke, I warned you. I won’t have you inciting my officers. If this is a crazy theory ...”

Sivek interrupted, but he did it so smoothly, his interruption sounded as if it had been by invitation. “It’s not theory, Captain. I have verified Lieutenant Burke’s information through the V’Shar. Dalal does not now, nor has she ever existed. She is a convenient, though necessary, fabrication.”

“That’s
crap!”
Stern said. “You heard the man! I
told
you I found evidence that he’d been patched up! What, you think Halak bandaged
himself?”

“Doctor,” said Sivek, and if Garrett hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the Vulcan purred. “The fact that Commander Halak’s wounds were tended to is not in dispute. It’s obvious that they were. But it does not logically follow that the person who treated Commander Halak was in fact the woman he claims.”

“And you have a different theory?” asked Garrett.

“We do,” said Burke. “Captain, I think that if you’ll allow me some free rein here, a little leeway, I’ll be able to shed some light on any nagging issues that remain.”

“Go. Make it good, Burke.”

Burke scraped back her chair and stood. Crossing her arms, she approached Halak. “Commander, I just told you that this woman Dalal doesn’t exist. We checked it out.”

“Then they did something to her,” said Halak. The color
in his face had drained away until his eyes looked painted on. “They did something.”

“They, Commander? What
they
are you referring to?”

Halak made a nondescript move of his hand. “I don’t know. Just an expression. But she lived there. She was
there
.”

“Perhaps.” Burke injected just enough skepticism into her tone so it was clear she didn’t believe a word. “But let’s leave Dalal aside for a second, all right? I want to focus on something else, something earlier in your career. Let’s talk about the Ryns, Commander.”

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