Star Trek (2 page)

C
ommander Sonya Gomez was having a hell of a time paying attention to her tricorder as she scanned the breathtaking interior of the shrine of Ho'nig.

The shrine had been built in an enormous natural cavern. The walls, ceiling, and floor were cut from native stone, a kind of gold-veined ruby marble that had been polished to a smooth finish.

The place was vast and filled with treasures, so many that every time Gomez thought she'd seen them all, she spotted another one. Statues carved from massive gemstones of many colors perched on marble pedestals, gleaming in the light of worklamps positioned throughout the chamber. Altars, pillars, pulpits, and alcoves were adorned with multitudes of gold, silver, and crystal relics.

It was a huge and beautiful place. The fact that it was dedicated to Ho'nig, a religious figure with whom Gomez had some familiarity, served to increase her interest in it even more.

That was why she had to force herself to focus on the tricorder scans and doing her job.

Reviewing some results that she had missed while gawking, Gomez nodded for the benefit of those who were watching her. “There are even more booby traps in here than your people detected, and those are just the ones that aren't cloaked.”

Pika Ven-Sa, the old high priest who was showing Gomez's team around the shrine, snorted and shook his head. “Thanks a lot, Dominion!” he said to the ceiling. “So glad we gave that whole
alliance
thing a whirl!”

Fabian Stevens, who was working alongside Gomez, elbowed her in the side. “I like this guy,” he said with a grin. “He's got
spunk
.”

Gomez kept scanning with the tricorder. “You did the right thing, not trying to defuse them yourselves,” she said, glancing at Ven-Sa. “Let's just say there're some nasty surprises around here.”

“We only regret that one life was lost before the traps were discovered,” said Ven-Sa's grimmer twin, Chi-Sa. Chi-Sa wore the same gray Pika priest robes as Ven-Sa, but he wore them with stark gravity instead of sardonic attitude. “We are grateful for Starfleet's assistance in this matter.”

“Now
that
was an easy call to make,” said Ven-Sa.

“ ‘Hello, Starfleet? Sorry about that whole teaming-up-with-your-worst-enemies-in-the-big-war thing. Any chance you might stop over and knock out a couple Jem'Hadar booby traps in the holy shrine in the caves under the surface of our moon?' ”

“Don't forget the part about the big pilgrimage to the shrine in two days,” Stevens said with a smirk.

“Just to make it more interesting,” said Ven-Sa, “the
Chala Ho'nig,
a pilgrimage of beings from a host of spacefaring species in the Alpha Quadrant, is converging on the very same moon.”

“Remember our many converts in the Gamma Quadrant, as well,” Chi-Sa said solemnly. “The word of Ho'nig has spread like lightning beyond the wormhole.”

“Like I said, that was a tough call to make,” said Ven-Sa. “Good thing you Federationists don't hold grudges.”

Gomez flashed Ven-Sa a smile, but she knew that relations between the Federation and the Miradorn were not all sweetness and light. The pain of the Dominion War was still pretty fresh in the Federation's little corner of the Alpha Quadrant. The Miradorn had aided the Dominion in noncombat roles, serving chiefly in logistics support, but the fact remained: help of whatever kind from anyone, including the Miradorn, had fueled the war machine that had taken so many lives and nearly brought down the entire Federation.

Gomez personally held no grudge, though. Her only concern was the success of the mission. “It's in our mutual best interest to clear out these booby traps,” she said. “And I think we'd all like some answers about why they're here.”

“Good question,” said Stevens. “There's some major ordnance planted around this shrine. What are the traps protecting?”

Ven-Sa snorted. “Or are they just a farewell gift from our former allies? They're not really known for leaving showers of candy and flowers when they pull out, are they?”

“Just look what they did to Cardassia,” said Chi-Sa.

“I think I have an answer for you.” The high-pitched, tinkling voice of P8 Blue, the insectoid Nasat structural systems specialist, drew everyone's attention to the rim of the blast crater in the middle of the entryway floor. “Is there supposed to be a massive chamber underneath the shrine of Ho'nig?”

Ven-Sa and Chi-Sa looked at each other and answered simultaneously. “No.”

“Well, there is now,” said P8 Blue, known affectionately as Pattie to her teammates. “The explosion opened a pinprick hole in its shielding.” Pattie returned her attention to the screen of her tricorder, adjusting several controls with her pincerlike digits.

Gomez walked over to stand alongside Pattie and directed her own tricorder into the heart of the crater. “How big is the chamber?” she said.

“If I had to guess,” said Pattie. “I'd say it's bigger than the shrine itself.”

For a moment, Gomez watched data flickering across the screen of her tricorder. Familiar energy signatures and trace elements told the story. “It's a Dominion facility,” she said, “and it's functioning.”

“Functioning?” said Ven-Sa. “Functioning how?”

“I can't tell yet,” said Gomez. “We need to get down there.”

“And to do that, we have to clean up the booby traps.” Stevens blew out his breath and looked around the shrine. “Booby traps set by the Jem'Hadar, no less.”

“Without damaging the shrine of Ho'nig,” said Ven-Sa, “if at all possible.”

“Don't worry,” said Gomez. “We came prepared.” She waved in the direction of two of the four security personnel who had accompanied the team to the shrine. “Hawkins and Soan have more than a little experience with demolitions.”

Deputy Chief of Security Vance Hawkins coolly met Gomez's gaze. For reasons unknown to Gomez, he did not seem to be in a particularly good mood today. “We'll do our best,” he said.

Beside Hawkins, the diminutive Bajoran Lauoc Soan simply nodded in agreement.

“What can we do to help?” said Ven-Sa.

“We could use a guide,” said Gomez. “Someone who knows this shrine and the surrounding caves inside and out.”

“Done,” said Ven-Sa. “No one knows this place better than Em-Lin. She and her sister were spearheading restoration efforts here at the shrine.”

“Em-Lin's sister died in the explosion,” said Chi-Sa.

Gomez frowned. “Will Em-Lin still be fit to work here then?”

Ven-Sa shrugged. “If it means saving the shrine. This place is her passion, that's for sure.”

“All right then,” said Gomez. “We'd better get busy. We only have two days until the pilgrims get here.”

“If we're lucky,” said Chi-Sa. “They seem to show up earlier every year.”

“ ‘It is better to be one year early than one minute late,' ” said Gomez.

Ven-Sa brightened. “You are familiar with the teachings of Ho'nig?”

Gomez pinched her thumb and index finger close together. “Just a little.” She had met a Bolian follower of Ho'nig during her mission to Sarindar. The Bolian, whose name was Zilder, had left her a copy of the
Se'rbeg,
the holy book of Ho'nig, when he was killed by the murderous
shii
.

Ven-Sa bowed. “Perhaps you and I can speak further of his teachings,” he said.

Gomez shrugged. The truth was, she thought she might enjoy talking about Ho'nig with the priest. For reasons that she could not quite put her finger on, she had found parts of the
Se'rbeg
inspirational. She almost hated to admit it, because Zilder had gotten on her nerves while trying to convert her, but she sometimes felt drawn to the teachings of Ho'nig.

“Maybe later,” Gomez said to Ven-Sa. “First things first. Could you find our guide while we bring down some equipment from the
da Vinci
?”

“Consider it done,” said Ven-Sa. “Please be patient with Em-Lin, however. Losing her sister was very traumatic for her, and she's not really been herself lately.”

“I can only imagine,” said Gomez. “Each set of twins functions as a single being, right?”

“That's something of an oversimplification,” said Chi-Sa, “but that's more or less it.”

Ven-Sa cleared his throat. “Let's just say that when a Miradorn loses her twin, the…attachment…doesn't end overnight.”

“Especially when the loss is traumatic,” said Chi-Sa. “There can be a…continuation.”

“What your people might call a haunting,” said Ven-Sa. “This is what Em-Lin is going through.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” said Gomez, trying to imagine what a Miradorn haunting might be like. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“V
ance,” said Commander Gomez. “Will you work with the local security personnel to establish a perimeter around the shrine?”

Four men—two sets of Miradorn twins in blue-and-silver-uniforms—stepped forward, and Vance Hawkins nodded. “I'm on it,” he said without hesitation.

Inside, though, as he looked at the four Miradorn with their familiar widow's peaks and pasty skin, Vance thought of Jomej VII and felt a chill.

“Shall we?” he said, waving toward a spot to one side of the plaza in the cave outside the shrine. As the four Miradorn walked toward the place that he had indicated, Vance summoned the rest of the security team from the
da Vinci
with a bob of his head.

Everyone gathered in the plaza. Vance introduced Soan, Tomozuka Kim, and T'Mandra. The Miradorn introduced themselves as Boz-Nu, Yet-Nu, Saf-Lig, and Gre-Lig. It was all very businesslike but perfectly friendly.

Vance shook hands with all four of the Miradorn, and he was no less professional than always—but underneath it all, deep underneath, he was crackling with tension.

One instance of abusive behavior by a handful of people did not mean that an entire species was no good. Vance knew that. In time of war, people often did things that they normally would never do. Vance knew that, too.

Still, he was not comfortable around the Miradorn.

“We have twelve men on shrine detail,” said Boz-Nu. “We have another thirty-six from surrounding precincts on call for the pilgrimage. How about if we bring them all in early?”

“Sounds good,” said Vance. “I'd like to see a map of these caves.”

Saf-Lig drew a disc-shaped holoprojector from a pouch at his hip. As he raised the projector, his hand brushed past a holster slung at his side. The black grip of a handheld weapon stuck out of the holster, curved and padded for comfort.

Vance had seen weapons like that on Jomej VII.

At the touch of a button, a glowing blue map leaped out of the holoprojector, rippling in midair in the middle of the group. “This is the shrine of Ho'nig,” said Saf-Lig, stirring his finger in a large block of space in the center of the three-dimensional map. “I suggest we set our perimeter in a dome configuration, securing the caverns above the shrine as well as the ring of caverns fanning out on the same level as the shrine.”

Vance nodded, staring intently at the map—though, actually, he was looking right through it at the holstered device strapped to Saf-Lig's side.

It was a Miradorn “puppet gun,” the ultimate in personnel control devices. Why bind a prisoner or opponent with physical restraints when the puppet gun can inhibit his actions by manipulating nerve clusters in his brain?

The puppet gun enabled its user to take complete control of a target's body. A user could make an attacker freeze in his tracks, make a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn, and waltz right into a waiting cell.

A user could make a target do other things, too. Things like turn against his own allies or sabotage his own handiwork.

Or degrade himself in humiliating ways in front of other people. That was how Vance had seen the puppet gun used by the Miradorn at Jomej VII.

“The real challenge comes when the pilgrims start pouring in,” said Saf-Lig. “It will be difficult keeping them away from the shrine.”

“I'm hoping the
da Vinci
can solve that problem by holding off any landings or beam-downs until we're done,” said Vance.

“That will be a challenge,” said Yet-Nu. “There are multiple landing sites and access points in this region of Zasharu. If I may illustrate.” Yet-Nu adjusted a control on the holoprojector in Saf-Lig's hand, causing the view to zoom out to include a bigger wedge of the moon.

As Yet-Nu said his piece, Vance listened and nodded, but his mind still swam with dark memories.

He remembered Miradorn guards with puppet guns in the prison camp on Jomej VII during the Dominion War. Federation and Klingon prisoners forced to perform in degrading ways for an audience of interrogators. Vance, part of the team sent to liberate the camp, was himself taken over and manipulated until reinforcements arrived and freed him.

Until that day, Vance had not known what it felt like to have control of his own body taken away from him. Afterward, back aboard the
Prometheus
-class
U.S.S. Shiva,
he found that he could not get that terrible feeling out of his mind.

And he never did. He never really got over it.

That was why he was having trouble relating to the Miradorn in a buddy-buddy way. That was why his heart just wasn't in it as he listened to the Miradorn talking about local security opportunities.

The Miradorn might have worked only in noncombat roles for the enemy, they might have had a reputation as the least malevolent of Dominion allies, and they might now be bending over backward to get in good with the Federation, even to the extent of renaming their homeworld “New Mirada”…but Vance would never forget that day on Jomej VII. He would never forget the red-haired Miradorn man who directed the puppet gun at him, and how the Miradorn's twin giggled as Vance was made to crawl on all fours like an animal.

And how he was made to do other things before it was all over. Screaming screaming
screaming
inside the whole time.

“Do you find these arrangements acceptable?” said Boz-Nu, snapping off the holoprojector image of the shrine's surroundings.

“Absolutely,” Vance said with a sharp nod.

But he did not return Boz-Nu's smile. And when Gre-Lig reached out in his direction, Vance did not shake his hand.