Open Secrets

All around her, Atish Khatami heard the Endeavourgroan in protest as the starship dropped out of subspace. In front of her, Neelakanta’s fingers danced across his helm console. Without any further instructions from Khatami, the ship lunged once again to warp speed, making the shift so quickly that the captain felt herself pushed into the back of her chair as the inertial dampening systems struggled to compensate for the rapid changes.

Mog’s going to kill me if I wreck his pretty ship.

“Time!” Khatami called out.

“About fifteen seconds,” replied Klisiewicz from the science station. “The Klingon ship is changing course to intercept and accelerating. All weapons are armed.”

It was going to be close, Khatami knew. Very close. She was not a fan of reckless tactics like the one she and her crew were attempting. Constitution-class starships were not constructed for such maneuvers, even though Mog had assured her that the Endeavourwas more than capable of meeting the challenge. Despite her chief engineer’s confidence, Khatami still harbored visions of the ship shearing apart around her.

Of course, taunting a Klingon ship commander would not normally be considered a prudent course of action, either, but doing so had worked to perfection, drawing the enemy vessel away from its position and allowing the Endeavourto approach the planet.

“Closing to transporter range,” Neelakanta reported from the helm. On the main viewer, the blue and brown sphere that was Mirdonyae V grew larger with every passing second. Somewhere down there, if Carol Marcus and the Tholian Nezrene were correct, Lieutenant Ming Xiong awaited rescue.

“Coordinates verified?”

Klisiewicz replied, “Verified, Captain. The best we can do is put them down near the entrance to the artifact site.”

Damn it.

“Dropping to impulse,” Neelakanta reported. “Now.”

Once more, the Endeavourtrembled around her as the ship fell out of warp space, the image of Mirdonyae V filling the viewscreen.

“Lower shields,” Khatami ordered. “Transporter room, energize!” Even as she spoke the words, she began mentally ticking off the precious seconds required to complete the process of sending her people down to the surface.

“Captain!” Klisiewicz shouted. “They’re here!”

Over the intercom, Khatami heard the voice of the chief on duty in the transporter room as he reported, “Transport complete, Captain!”

“Shields!” she ordered. “Helm, bring us about!” They had delivered their package. Now, they needed to stall for time, and the only way to do that was to smack the Klingon commander once more across the face.

Come and get me.

Feeling the grip of the transporter beam release her, Lieutenant Jea

Not my first choice, that’s for sure.

With sensors unable to penetrate the Shedai construct from orbit, it fell to a landing party with boots on the ground to search for the missing Lieutenant Xiong, who, according to Dr. Carol Marcus, had been brought to this planet following his capture on Erilon. La Sala was fuzzy on the details, but as she understood it, the industrious young lieutenant had found some covert means of signaling for help, even going so far as to use the Klingons and the Shedai equipment to assist him in the effort.

Finding the planet on which Xiong was being held had been the easy part. Actually finding and rescuing him was another matter altogether. First, there was the Klingon battle cruiser in orbit above Mirdonyae V, the captain of which likely would have something to say about the Endeavourswooping in and taking the captive. Captain Khatami was currently addressing that issue, leaving La Sala and her security team to search for Xiong and deal with any Klingons who might be down here with him and who, La Sala suspected, would be equally resistant to the idea of a rescue operation.

That’s why we brought presents,she thought, hefting the stock of the phaser rifle to her right shoulder. Studying the area, she noted that the terrain looked almost exactly as described by the transporter chief just before the landing party beamed down. Rolling hills covered with all ma

Focus, Lieutenant.

Looking to one of her team members, Ensign Paul Simpson, she indicated the tricorder in the man’s left hand. “Anything?”

“I’m picking up power readings,” Simpson said as he studied his readings. “Three hundred meters ahead.” He pointed toward the black onyx façade set into the side of a nearby hillside. “In there.”

“Once more into the breach, as they say,” La Sala replied. It was not hard to remember her previous encounters with the Shedai or their technology, months earlier on Erilon. The first of those missions had ended with the tragic death of her former captain, Zhao Sheng, as well as several other very good people, some of whom she had called friends. The Endeavour’s second visit had nearly resulted in utter catastrophe, with their mysterious Shedai adversary almost succeeding in destroying the entire planet. Though Captain Khatami had assured the crew that the Shedai were not a threat on this occasion, that did not stop La Sala from constantly sca

“I’m looking for them, too,” said Ensign Hammond, another survivor of those battles. After a moment, the younger man forced a smile. “I suppose we should be happy that we’re just dealing with Klingons this time.”

“Yeah,” La Sala replied, frowning at the poor attempt at humor. “Okay, let’s get on with this.” With the barrel of her phaser rifle leading the way, La Sala took point and started toward the entrance to the centuries-old Shedai artifact. “Follow me.”

The muzzle of the disruptor loomed in Xiong’s vision, looking like a massive, toothless maw as its owner jammed it in his face.

“Move!” shouted the Klingon guard, using the weapon to indicate where Xiong should go. Raising his hands, the lieutenant followed the guard’s instructions and moved toward a far corner of the chamber, stepping away from the polished black computer console and around the crystalline pedestal, which at the moment was not cradling the strange Shedai artifact. Another guard, this one only slightly smaller than his hulking companion, aimed his own disruptor at Tasthene, ordering the Tholian to join Xiong.

“What is happening?” Tasthene asked.

Xiong shook his head. “I don’t know.” One moment, he and his Tholian companion had been working, just as they had done for however many days or weeks the pair had been prisoners of the Klingons. The next, one of their guards, the larger one, had received some kind of alarmed message via his communicator. Whatever the Klingon was told, it had set him on edge, and the next moments were spent with Xiong wondering when and if the excited guard would shoot him in the head.

“Quiet!” the guard snarled, baring his teeth at Xiong.

From somewhere beyond the chamber, he heard the muted reports not of a Klingon’s disruptor weapon but of what he was certain was a Starfleet phaser, its deep warbling echoing in the crystalline corridors. It was accompanied by another and yet another, then answered by a chorus of disruptor fire.