Open Secrets

The voice intruded on his thoughts, and Xiong turned to see Lorka regarding him with an expression of disdain. Her large, muscled arms were folded across her chest. Behind her stood two more Klingons, flanking what appeared to be an oversized packing crate. How long had she been standing there? He chose to assume that Lorka had overheard several minutes of the conversation between him and Tasthene.

“We’ve made some progress,” he said, indicating his Tholian companion and the consoles with a nod of his head, “but we’re limited with what we can do here. Accessing the global network to any meaningful degree would take far more power than we could ever generate. Access to the subterranean power source is impossible because of an incredibly complex encryption method, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.”

Seemingly unimpressed, Lorka asked, “What about the planetary defense system?”

It was Tasthene who responded, stepping away from the console and turning to face the Klingon. As he did so, the mille

“The defense system is protected in similar fashion,” Tasthene said. “Even if we were able to access it, without the proper key or other decryption method at our disposal, there would be no means of utilizing any of it, to say nothing of gaining entry to the larger network used to communicate and send information across the Taurus Reach.”

“I’m not interested in that,” Lorka countered. “At least, not at the moment. The weapons system is the first priority.”

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Xiong pointed to the console. “We don’t even know what we’re looking at. Tasthene might understand a fraction of the information we’re getting to. There’s nothing with which to compare it, nothing for a universal translator to grab onto. We need more time.”

“Perhaps you recall what I told you the last time you made such a request,” Lorka said. “My husband grows more impatient by the day, but he has come into possession of something that may prove helpful to you.” She nodded toward Xiong and told her two subordinates, “Bring it in here.”

Xiong looked past her, catching the look of uncertainty the two Klingons shared before—in what Xiong took to be a somewhat reluctant fashion—bending and straining to lift the container sitting between them and bring it closer. He felt a sudden, unexplained hint of unease, even paranoia, tingle at the back of his mind. Though he already felt fear, of course, given Lorka’s threats to kill him, this was something else.

The guards set down the crate at Xiong’s feet, and he noted that even Lorka took a step back before saying, “We believe the contents of this container to be another artifact. If those who possessed it are to be believed, it may well prove useful to our research.”

Without asking permission, Xiong ran his hands along the crate’s surface. Determining that it was not locked, he raised the lid, beholding what he could only describe as a stone sarcophagus within. “What is it?”

“Unknown,” Lorka replied. “No attempt to scan it has been successful.” As she spoke, Xiong noted that she appeared to swallow a nervous lump.

What the hell is this thing?

Despite his curiosity, Xiong sensed his own agitation growing as Lorka directed the guards to remove the lid from the sarcophagus. He felt his jaw slacken as he beheld the stone casket’s contents.

Lying on a bed of lush, thick fabric that reminded Xiong of an ornate tapestry sat a large crystal. Nearly the size of a human head, it had been cut to resemble a dodecahedron. Its clear, colorless exterior formed a solid shell around a smaller, violet crystal sphere at its center. The smaller crystal was about the size of a large grapefruit.

As he studied it, the i

“Oh, my God,” Xiong said, unable to control his reaction. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” There was no way to determine with certainty that the crystal was a Shedai artifact, but there was no mistaking its apparent lineage. Looking up, he watched as Tasthene stepped away from the crate, his entire body seeming to tremble in panic as he beheld the crystal.

Was it a true missing link, perhaps the very sort of key for which he had been searching since his earliest examinations of Shedai technology? The challenge now facing Xiong was twofold. He could not waste this opportunity to learn something new, though he also would have to do everything in his power to avoid giving too much to his Klingon captors. Somehow, he would have to find a way to balance those two goals, at least for as long as it might take for Starfleet to find him, if they were searching for him at all.

You have to do all of that and not get yourself killed. Good luck.

45

Draining the contents of his coffee cup, Reyes relished the brew’s rich flavor. He reached toward the table before his small sofa to set down the cup but pausing in mid-motion. As he examined the cup, he considered the odd notion that had just come to mind.

“I’ll bet the coffee there tastes like crap.”

Sitting next to him with her legs curled beneath her, dressed once again in the uniform she had earlier discarded, Desai released a tired sigh followed by a small, humorless laugh as she shook her head. “Your sense of priorities never ceases to amaze me, Diego.”

“I’ve had plenty of time for ponderous reflection,” Reyes said, rising to his feet and crossing the room to return the empty cup to the food slot. Deciding against another cup, he turned back to Desai. “Any word on Xiong?”

Desai shook her head. “Nothing. Jetanien’s still pursuing a few back-cha

“That’s SOP for them,” Reyes said. Still, Ming Xiong was Starfleet’s foremost expert on all matters related to the Taurus Reach. If the Klingons—or the Tholians, for that matter—wanted insight into the progress the Federation had made in understanding the secrets of the Shedai, Xiong was the prime candidate to provide that knowledge.

“Nogura’s not buying it, either, if that makes you feel any better,” Desai said after a moment, “but there’s not a lot he can do. With tempers ru

Reyes nodded. “I know.” The Klingons’ calls for his extradition were inconsequential. Every day brought closer the specter of war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. He had seen his share of combat against Klingons during his career, and it was not something he relished seeing again, but he particularly did not welcome the idea of seeing it from within a prison cell.

Glancing to the chronometer on his desk, he noted the lateness of the hour—or the earliness, depending on one’s point of view. It was 0230 hours. They would be coming for him soon, he knew. The prospect of a lengthy passage to Earth was not something he had looked forward to during the best of times; that he now would make that trip as a prisoner made the notion almost unbearable to contemplate. “I don’t suppose they could just put me to sleep for the entire trip, could they?”

It had taken only three days for a ship to become available for the journey. In this case, it was to be the U.S.S. Nowlan,a Starfleet Antares-class transport configured for ferrying passengers rather than cargo. With a maximum speed of warp five, the voyage would take nearly three months, though Reyes knew the ship was equipped with enough amenities to make the trip bearable. He already had been assured that he would be allowed full use of the transport’s recreational facilities. After all, he would be the vessel’s only passenger, and what else were they going to do with him?