The Lost Era: Well of Souls: Star Trek (25 page)

Suddenly, the pressure from the invisible hand on his chest lessened. Weakened. Was gone. Gasping, Halak sagged to the deck. For a moment, all he heard was the sobbing of his own breath.

Then, the computer shrilled:
“Warning. Environmental systems failure. Hull stress has exceeded maximum tolerance levels. Hull breach imminent in three-point
...”

“Kill that thing, Strong.” Halak let his head fall back for an instant. He knew how much time they had. Not much.

“Thex.” Halak groped at the Andorian’s neck for a pulse. He felt it: faint, thready. Reaching around, Halak heaved Thex over. Halak’s breath sizzled through his teeth. An ugly black rose of burnt cloth and skin blossomed on the Andorian’s chest.

“Strong, we have to get out! Get off a distress call to the
Barker!”

The lieutenant’s chest heaved, and Halak saw that Strong’s face was slicked with blood gushing from a laceration in the man’s scalp.
“Strong!”

“I’m okay,” said Strong, his voice hitching with pain. “I’m okay, I’m okay. There,” his fingers crawled over the controls, “done. Sending out a general distress. There goes life support.” Strong wiped blood from his eyes. Blinked. “Hull stress ...”

“Forget that!” The ship shimmied, and Halak staggered, clutching at a bulkhead for balance. He clawed his way to the equipment locker, slammed his fist down, and broke the seal. The locker sighed open. Reaching in, Halak dragged out an environmental suit. “Help me!”

“But, Commander,” Strong was holding his head and blood leaked around his fingers, “there’s no time!”

“Did you
hear
me, Lieutenant? Get over here and
help
me!”

Clamping his mouth shut, Strong said nothing more. Together, they shoved the inert Andorian into an environmental suit.

“All right, slap on a compressive and suit up!” Halak or
dered, jamming on Thex’s helmet. He eased the Andorian to the deck. “Go,
go!”

Jamming the white rectangle of a compressive bandage on his scalp, Strong shrugged into his suit. Halak fought with his suit, pawing clumsily at the legs, the arms; he was still dizzy and off-balance, and he could tell from the way the ship bucked, the groan of metal, that it couldn’t last much longer.

Without being told, Strong hooked his hands under Thex’s right arm, and Halak took the left. They dragged the Andorian upright.

“All right,” Halak rasped. His own breaths were loud in his ears. Looking over, he saw Strong’s grim, blood-streaked face staring at him from behind his faceplate. Halak read the look. They’d be lucky if anyone heard in time.

Eight hours of air.
Halak activated the emergency transport.
Then we suffocate.

The ship around him shimmered, dissolved, broke apart. The deck fell away from beneath his feet. And then there was blackness. The ship was gone.

“And the next thing I knew we were floating in space,” said Halak. He’d omitted anything to do with his real mission, or his concerns about having been recognized by Qadir’s men. He was under orders not to divulge the truth of that Ryn mission to anyone, up to and including his captain. And, of course, SI knew nothing about his past. But the remainder of his story was true; his coal-black eyes had never left Burke’s face, and his voice rang with conviction. “No lifeboat. We clipped our suits together. But we were stranded, not even sure if our suit’s distress beacons would make it to the
Barker
.”

“So your situation was desperate,” said Burke, flatly. Throughout Halak’s recitation, her brown, appraising gaze betrayed no emotion save a faint derision.

“You could say that,” Halak said, without irony. “Thex died two hours after the ship disintegrated. We bled what was left of Thex’s air into our systems.”

Halak looked over at Garrett, his tone becoming a little defiant as if deflecting a perceived criticism. “Thex wouldn’t need it, and Strong’s suit was leaking, probably damaged in the beam-out.”

Mutely, Garrett nodded. She was shaken. She knew the story from reading Halak’s official reports as well as her private talk with Captain Connors. Connors hadn’t faulted Halak, and neither did she. Thex hadn’t needed air. Halak and Strong had. These were the cold, simple equations of life and death in space.

Halak was telling the truth. Her gut told her so. His recitation was too fluid; everything hung together. Garrett’s quick glance around at her officers—Tyvan, Stern, even the lieutenant making recordings—confirmed they believed him, too. So why was Burke quizzing Halak? How did this relate to Batra? Farius Prime?

“Why not simply switch out Lieutenant Thex’s seals for Strong’s?” asked Burke, as if she found Halak’s decision distasteful. “Bleeding air is a bit dramatic.”

“Dramatic.” Halak’s expression revealed what he thought: Here was an officer with a desk job. No matter if he switched seals or bled air, Thex was just as dead. “You think switching out seals isn’t dramatic? One slip up, and you’re dead. But, yeah, I thought about it. I discarded it.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to compromise Strong’s systems more than they already were. His wasn’t a simple seal failure. If it’d been that easy, we’d have rigged a stricture above the leak. So we bled the air, and I gave Strong the lion’s share. Then we dialed down oxygen, trying to conserve as long as possible. The problem was my repurification system was damaged, and I started building up carbon dioxide.”

“Ugly,” Stern murmured. “Carbon dioxide poisoning isn’t pleasant.”

“Plus, we had other problems. I didn’t want us to be too far from where our shuttle exploded.
Barker
would be looking for a debris field. But the hell of it was that staying close meant we were at risk from the debris field itself, and radiation. Local space was lousy with it. Add in ambient gamma radiation from the Ryn sun, and I figured that if we didn’t suffocate, we’d cook.”

“Why not phase your suits’ electrostatic charges into a force field?” Burke asked in that same bland, faintly judgmental tone. “That would have bought you some time.”

“Sure. We thought of that. But our priority was contact with the
Barker.
Phasing electrostatic fields would have drained our suits’ battery packs, made our carrier waves much weaker. With all that radiation, I wasn’t sure our distress beacons would pierce the interference locally, much less make it to the
Barker.
We elected to phase our carrier waves, instead. A gamble, but it was the only choice, really.”

“But you won,” said Burke. “The
Barker
caught your boosted signal.”

Halak shrugged irritably. “If you call losing crewmates
winning.
I don’t.”

“Yes, that’s right. I forgot. Strong’s air ran out before
Barker
got there.”

“That’s right.”

“And yours didn’t.”

“No.”

“That must have been unpleasant, listening to your crewmate suffocate.”

Halak’s expression was stony. “Very. Especially when he cracked the seal on his helmet.”

Dear Lord.
Garrett closed her eyes. She’d seen what happened to the human body under sudden decompression in a vacuum.

Halak continued, his black eyes burning with contempt. “Ever been there, Lieutenant? The guy’s out of air. He can’t breathe. He’s got this insane idea that if he can just twist that helmet loose he’ll be able to. Even hanging in space, vacuum all around, he thinks that. It’s not logical.” Halak’s dark eyes raked over Sivek’s expressionless features before returning to Burke. “But it happens.”

Sivek’s only reaction was to blink. Burke didn’t acknowledge the reproach. “And you didn’t try to stop him.”

“Goddamn you.” Anger flooded Halak’s features, turning his sallow olive skin a copper color. “Of course, I did. But he straight-armed me. I don’t know what type of deep-space experience you
haven’t
had, Lieutenant, but when you’re weightless and someone gives you a push, unless you’ve got a thruster pack there’s no way you’re going to change course real fast.”

“So he unclipped you. In the middle of suffocating to death, where the only thing on his mind was getting air, he still had the presence of mind to make sure you couldn’t stop him.”

“No, he didn’t unclip me. He pushed, and then he cracked the seal, but when he did that, his systems shut down. After that, I had to rephase my carrier wave with Thex’s. Somehow I did it, though I honestly don’t remember much. I was pretty far gone.
Barker
showed up when I had about a half hour of air left. At least that’s what the doc told me. I had passed out. Next thing I knew, I was in sickbay.”

“And that’s all.”

Garrett spoke, her voice hard. “There has to be more, Lieutenant?”

“Much,” said Burke. “I have proof that nearly everything Commander Halak just told us is a lie. No,” she held up her hand when Halak opened his mouth to protest, “that’s
unfair. Lieutenants Thex and Strong
did
die, just not the way Halak tells it.”

“Proof?”

Burke bobbed her neat blonde curls. “Absolutely,” she said, steepling her fingers like a professor making an important point she doesn’t want her students to forget. “Captain, autopsy results on Lieutenant Thex indicate that his wounds were not that severe. And Strong’s tissues do not indicate characteristic changes you would expect to see in severe hypoxia. Thex should’ve lived. He didn’t. Strong wasn’t suffocating, but he died, too.”

Garrett struggled to keep her disgust for Burke under wraps, and failed. “Are you suggesting, seriously, that Halak stole Thex’s air? That he murdered a member of his crew? Maybe both of them?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Garrett’s tone was deadly. “How? What’s more, why?”

“My scenario runs like this: Thex was unconscious. It wouldn’t take much for Halak to convince Strong that Thex was dead. Then, under the pretext of sharing Thex’s air with Strong, Halak cracked the seals on Strong’s helmet. Halak had never intended for either of his crewmates to survive.”

“Captain,” said Halak, his voice strangled. “Captain.”

Burke pushed on. “Then he bled Thex’s air into his suit.”

“Well, that’s dumb. Why not take both?” asked Stern.

“Because then he couldn’t be half-dead, could he? That might raise too many eyebrows.”

“That’s the how,” said Garrett. She made a shushing motion with her hand at Halak, who subsided. “Now, what’s the why?”

The edges of Burke’s lips flirted with a smile, as if she knew that Garrett’s not letting Halak interrupt meant that she’d scored points. “Commander Halak’s situation was desperate, but for reasons quite different from what he’s presented.”

“But there was an inquiry, Burke. Halak was cleared.”

“Corruption breeds powerful allies, Captain.”

“Corruption.” Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Sivek stirred. “If I may?” At Garrett’s nod, the Vulcan stood and approached the conference room viewscreen.

“I had the opportunity to download a series of encrypted computer records that verify everything Lieutenant Burke alleges.”

“Encrypted? From where?”

“From Commander Halak’s personal log.”

Garrett’s eyes widened. “You took it upon yourself to break into Commander Halak’s personal log? On whose authority?”

“
I
gave Sivek the go-ahead, Captain,” said Burke.

Garrett felt her blood pressure rising. “Without consulting
me?”

“Captain, Starfleet Intelligence’s mandate supercedes command prerogatives in matters of security,” said Burke. “But I did clear it with Commander Batanides, if that’s any consolation.”

“It’s not,” said Garrett, though she knew that Batanides owed her no explanations and didn’t need to ask her permission. “I should’ve been told.”

“Point taken,” said Sivek. His sleek black coif gleamed like the skin of a well-oiled seal. “And what is done is done. In any event, embedded within Commander Halak’s personal logs were encrypted entries that confirm and augment computer records retrieved from the shuttle Commander Halak appropriated on Farius Prime.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” said Garrett. “We searched that shuttle. Are you telling me that you found things we didn’t? How?
Where?”

“Intelligence operatives are trained to look for that which has been overlooked,” said Sivek. He had the computer display a star chart on the conference room’s viewscreen. “I have to apologize, Captain. These will necessarily be crude
because they’ve not been completely analyzed. In addition, I’m not at liberty to reveal the entire contents of the files we uncovered. This might be a little confusing, or you might find there to be leaps in logic. That can’t be helped.”

“Thanks,” said Garrett. “I’ll try to bear up.”

“First, from Commander Halak’s personal logs: this is a map of sectors seventeen through nineteen.”

Garrett’s expert eyes scanned the chart. “Ryn space.”

“Precisely. Stardate markers indicate that was recorded nine months ago. Now, here,” the Vulcan indicated a yellow-coded star system, “is the Ryn system: the Ryn sun, Ryn III, and its two moons. And here, these green ellipses, you see the range of Ryn scout vessels, their patrol routes, and the orbital paths of planetary security systems.”

“What are those other points?” asked Garrett. She pointed at five red, inverted triangles. “Are those satellites?”

“No. Those are drop-off points: distribution nodes, if you will.”

“For?”

“Red ice. Extrapolating back from vessels commandeered at various Federation security checkpoints, these coordinates match with our projected points of origin.”

“So you’re saying those smugglers originated in Ryn space at those precise coordinates.” Garrett saw where this was going. Almost peripherally, she noted that Halak hadn’t uttered a word of protest since the Vulcan had begun. “And the records you retrieved from the shuttle Halak got on Farius Prime?”

“As I’ve said, I can’t reveal everything. Here is, however, a representative sample. Computer, display File Sivek Exhibit 7-A.”

The image on the viewscreen dissolved into soft focus to be replaced by a graphical display of what Garrett saw at once was not a star system but an entire sector. She picked out markers that could only be ships scattered in and around various star systems and nebulae. At first she didn’t recognize the region of space, but then she spotted a marker for Starbase 129 and she knew exactly what she was looking at. “That’s the Federation border with Cardassian space. Starbase 129 is a listening post.”

Her eyes swiveled to Sivek. “Those records are classified. Command level.”

“More than classified, Captain. They’re top secret, properly of Starfleet Intelligence, available only to select command personnel such as yourself.” Sivek let that hang in the air a moment then proceeded. “Computer, start animation.

“Here,” said Sivek, as markers denoting Cardassian ships advanced and retreated, “is what Starfleet has gathered so far on Cardassian movements in the area. As you can see, they have sufficient ships to maintain fairly tight surveillance of their border, with the exception of this area here.”

He tapped the viewscreen with his finger. “Grid 28. The Cardassians are rather sparse there, perhaps because there’s a nebula. Hard to get accurate readings.”

Garrett didn’t offer her opinion that if she were in command of the Cardassian patrols, she’d double her patrols, not decrease them. A nebula was a good place for a smuggler—or anyone—to hide. She knew from experience: when she’d been the
Carthage’s
XO and nearly flattened her shuttle against a Cardassian
Akril
-class ship.

“Those are Cardassian patrols,” said Garrett. “So?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Captain?” Burke asked.

“No. I see two unrelated findings: Ryn space and Cardassian space. One data set you
allege
was in Halak’s possession, though just how you knew to look is a little vague. Just how
did
you know? Never mind,” she waved off Burke’s reply before the SI officer opened her mouth, “I’ll bet you’re just dying to tell me. And the other set of data is from a stolen shuttle that wasn’t Halak’s to begin with. What am I supposed to find that’s so damned obvious?”