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I am Lurqal. I am Klingon, a servant of the Empire.
Everything disappeared in an explosion of pain, and T’Pry
A
• • •
Get out of my head!
Sandesjo tumbled to the sand, feeling the weight of her opponent crashing down upon her. His breath was in her face, hot and pungent with the stench of unchecked anger. One hand clenched into a fist and he brought it down, smashing the side of her head. She lashed out, hearing his grunt of pain as the edge of her hand struck his face.
We are one, T’Pry
Where was she? How had she gotten here? All around her was sand, surrounded by ornate stone pillars. Somewhere out of her line of sight, someone beat drums in a rhythmic cadence, the tempo increasing with each passing moment. Sandesjo had never seen this place, and yet there was a familiarity she could not understand, just as she knew her opponent and the unrestrained desires which now guided him.
You are mine.
No!
Sandesjo struck out once more, her fists pummeling Sten’s chest. He ignored her attacks, his hands reaching to grasp her head so that he might pull her to him. Placing her hands on his chest, Sandesjo pushed back from him, but she was pi
Reaching up, Sandesjo felt her hands tighten around Sten’s throat. Even as her fingers dug into his skin, Sten pressed closer, his eyes burning with unrelenting need.
Submit.
The word pounded against Sandesjo’s consciousness as she twisted her hands, feeling Sten’s neck snap.
Never.
Unchecked emotion slammed against T’Pry
“I’m sorry,” T’Pry
“What . . . what was that?” Sandesjo asked, every word racked with pain as she rolled away from T’Pry
T’Pry
“I . . . know,” Sandesjo replied. “It’s not your fault. It’s . . . Sten. You’re carrying his . . . whatever you call it?”
“His katra,” T’Pry
As though still aware of T’Pry
Pausing a moment, T’Pry
“Please stay.”
Feeling shame well up within her, T’Pry
T’Pry
You are weak, T’Pry
Never.
She pushed Sten back into the depths of her mind, forcing him into the void from which she knew he soon would reemerge, driven by his unending quest to crush her consciousness with his own. T’Pry
This would pose a problem, sooner rather than later. Of that, T’Pry
12
Reclining in the high-backed chair that was a match for the one in his office, Reyes regarded the image of Captain Adelard Nassir displayed on the computer workstation situated in one corner of his quarters. The incoming transmission from the Sagittarius’s commanding officer had come at just before 2100 hours station time, well after the conclusion of his normal duty shift but not so late as to have roused him from sleep.
“Sorry to disturb you, Commodore,”Nassir said, his voice sounding somewhat hollow as an effect of the data compression and encryption processes being used to push the captain’s transmission through however many subspace relay beacons currently separated the Sagittariusfrom Starbase 47. “But I figured you’d want to hear from us as soon as possible.”
Reyes chuckled as he rubbed his chin, which he had last shaved nearly twenty hours previously and now once again was rough with beard stubble. “Be thankful I’m still sober and wearing pants, Captain. It’s been a long day, but not so long as the last couple you’ve had. My compliments to your crew. That’s quite a talented bunch you have working for you.”
On the screen, Nassir nodded. “For which I’m eternally grateful, Commodore.”He then offered a wry grin. “You’ll be happy to know that Ensign Theriault is insufferably pleased with herself. The way things are going, there might not be enough room aboard ship to contain her ego.”
“Let her have this one,” Reyes replied. “Anybody who could pull off that stunt has to be good, or at least damned lucky, and sometimes that’s all you need.” He had read with fascination and no small amount of amusement the ingenious sensor tactic Theriault had employed in order to evade the Sagittarius’s Klingon pursuers while escaping from Traelus II. “Tell her the first round’s on me once you make port.”
Smiling, Nassir said, “She’ll be only too happy to collect.”The captain’s expression then turned serious. “I trust you’ve had time to review our other reports?”
“Yes,” Reyes replied. “They definitely make for interesting reading. The science teams here can’t stop talking about them.” That he found it so easy to slip into a form of code when talking even over an encrypted frequency surprised him, but as he had learned in short order upon taking command of Starbase 47, such measures were necessary in order to preserve operational security. No mention of the Taurus Meta-Genome by name was allowed in verbal communications, and any references to it in written reports were made using euphemisms, where the meta-genome was referred to as a “Type V life sign.” To further cement the disinformation campaign with respect to the enigmatic alien DNA, Federation and Starfleet life sciences data repositories listed that life sign as a form of primordial mold. It was true enough, given the circumstances surrounding the meta-genome’s discovery two years earlier, but no further mention of its unique properties or potential origin was to be found in those publicly accessible records.