Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Lieutenant Gregory Hurd emerged from the hidden room of the prayer pit covered in a thick layer of grime. Only when he got back to the Orion and cleaned up did he resemble anything like a human. A short, stocky human with the kind of dull face and generic brown hair that allowed him to blend into the background just about anywhere.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant, I give you a clean bill of health,” Dr. Chen said. She left her office at the same time Robyn entered.

Once the door slid shut, Robyn extended her hand. “I’m acting Captain Robyn Lichen. Welcome aboard.”

Hurd took her hand, giving it a polite shake. “I think it’s about time someone filled me in on what’s happened here.”

“I thought you Intelligence guys knew everything,” Brett couldn’t resist saying. Robyn shot him a dirty look.

“My team went incommunicado two weeks ago. We were sent here in advance of your mission to investigate the rebel activity. Then everything went to hell.”

Robyn told him about the Serparnian Liberation Army’s attack on the Cassandra, Orion, and mining station. As she spoke, Hurd listened without expression. No doubt he’d experienced much worse situations than this one during his years with Intelligence.

“I’m sorry about Captain Stewart and your crew,” he said in a tone identical to ordering a bowl of soup. “This Serparnian Liberation Army has become a real thorn in our sides lately.”

“Do you have any idea who they are? Or where they came from?” Robyn asked.

“Until a year ago they were a small-time group, mostly students from the major university on Serpalal Prime. Not much more than your garden variety protests and petty vandalism.” All of this matched what Brett had read on the Orion’s computer. “Then we noticed a spike in their activities. They became more violent, blowing up a handful of depots and assassinating at least three offworld corporate executives.”

“So who’s bankrolling these activities?” Brett asked.

“Captain, I’m not sure it’s appropriate to discuss this any further in front of Mr. Boutwell. There is Top Secret information involved here.”

“Commander Boutwell is my first officer. He needs to be informed of anything pertinent to this mission,” Robyn said. A flimsy excuse, but Hurd didn’t argue the point.

“We ascertained from financial records that the money is coming through a small soil mining corporation on Serpalal III. Our best guess is the company is a front for their activities. Before we could find out who was behind that front, the situation on the planet became untenable.”

“What about that ship? And it’s captain? I don’t suppose you know of a Serparnian with a mangled hood and a scar on his face, do you? If you did that would be really helpful,” Brett said, making no attempt to disguise his contempt.

“If I check in with Headquarters I might be able to pull something up, but off-hand, no.” He let out a small sigh. “From what you’ve said about the ship, they probably bought the pieces from various salvage yards and assembled it themselves so no one could trace it. If they’re smart, they assembled it in another system to make it even harder to track.”

“That’s not going to help us much.”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more at the moment. Captain, if you can arrange for me to send a subspace transmission to Earth, I can get them started.”

“Thank you for the generous offer, Lieutenant, but I’ve already talked with Starfleet Command. They’ll let me know what your friends at Intelligence turn up,” Robyn said.

This came as news to Brett. He wondered what else Robyn might be holding back from him. As she’d told Hurd earlier, the first officer should be aware of everything pertinent to the mission at hand.

Keeping secrets had never been a skill Robyn Monroe had mastered during their time at the Academy. Back then, she blurted out any juicy gossip she heard before he could even say hello. But as Brett was learning the hard way, that girl he knew fifteen years ago was gone forever.

“If you don’t mind, Captain, I’d like to get some rest.”

“Of course. Commander Boutwell will arrange quarters for you. If you think of anything else that might be useful about this Serparnian Liberation Army, please let me know.”

Robyn left Hurd in Brett’s custody. Serving as a concierge for visiting dignitaries or rescued Starfleet Intelligence operatives was one of Brett’s least favorite duties as a first officer. And at the moment, empty quarters were at a premium without moving Hurd into those of a dead person.

After consulting the computer for a minute, Brett found the smallest quarters available. He motioned towards the door. “If you’ll follow me, Lieutenant, I’ll show you to your room.”

Along the corridor, Hurd said, “I’m sorry if I offended you in there. In my line of work it pays to be cautious.”

“No offense taken,” Brett said, his tone glacial.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly for rescuing me from that hole. If your ship hadn’t happened along—”

“You’re welcome,” Brett snapped. He didn’t want to explain, but his mistrust of Starfleet Intelligence extended much farther back to the incident in Dr. Chen’s office.

During his court-martial, an Intelligence analyst was called as a witness. This analyst—another generic-looking human like Hurd—testified to give her analysis of the data extracted from the Icarus’s databanks. From her ivory perch she said, “Captain Boutwell actly rashly and without provocation.”

Even before that, Brett hadn’t shared a much higher opinion of Starfleet Intelligence. Throughout the Dominion war there were stories of blunders in intelligence-gathering that wound up with Federation task forces getting ambushed by the enemy. Analysts like the ones at the trial and operatives like Hurd had indirectly killed many of Brett’s friends and colleagues, including Robyn’s husband.

Before he could dwell on the subject any longer, the corridor lights turned red and the alert klaxon sounded. “Sorry, Lieutenant, but I have to get to the bridge. I’m sure you can find your way from here.”

“Wait, I’ll go with you.”

As much as Brett wanted to argue this, as much as he didn’t want Hurd on the bridge, he didn’t have the time. “Fine. Knock yourself out.”

Brett took off without looking back to see if Hurd was following. The Intelligence operative darted past Brett, making it to the turbolift first with enough time to arrange a bored look on his face. Brett reminded himself to make a dent in that face the first chance he got.