Chapter 14
As it turned out, the Orion’s engineers hadn’t needed to make such an effort to retrieve the security footage from the damaged computers. Robyn asked Brett to join her in the ready room, where she showed him the slaughter again with the logo of the Serparnian Liberation Army in the bottom corner.
“They’re airing it themselves,” he said.
“Throughout the entire system,” she said.
“That’s just great.” Brett sat down across from Robyn at the desk. “They want everyone to see their handiwork.”
“It gets better. Watch this.”
The footage of the carnage in the mining control room cut away to the lead Serparnian renegade seated on in the command chair of his bridge. “This will be the fate of any who cooperate with the Federation or their pawns. The Serparnian Liberation Army will not rest until their foul stench is removed from our space. We have not forgotten the Federation’s treachery. We remember the Sunigwil!”
Brett nearly fell out of his chair when he came onto the screen, standing in the Cassandra’s engine room with Serparnian disruptors pointed at his head. The Serparnian renegade said, “The Federation allowed the criminal Brett Boutwell to go free, to escape justice while their puppets on Serpalal did nothing. Only the Serparnian Liberation Army had the courage to kill this foul scum in the same manor as he slayed our sisters and brothers on the Sunigwil.”
“My God,” Brett said as he watched the Cassandra blow apart once more. A setup. The lucrative run to Serpalal III had been a ruse designed by the Serparnian Liberation Army to lure Brett into the system so they could kill him and use it to further their political goals.
Ril must have known. That’s why he’d done everything possible to coax Brett into going. Being a Ferenghi, Ril would have betrayed Brett in a heartbeat for a few bars of gold-pressed latinum. He would have sent his own mother to die for a few bars of gold-pressed latinum. If he made it back, Brett swore to wring the Ferenghi’s neck.
Finally the Serparnian leader came back onto the screen. “The time grows short for all tools of the Federation’s oppression. Every day our strength grows. This is but a taste of what is to come for those who do not believe in a free Serpalal. Soon you shall see our full might. Remember the Sunigwil!”
The screen went blank. “It’s been broadcasting every ten minutes. We traced the signal to a buoy near the fifth planet.”
“They must have dropped it there after they finished with this place,” Brett said. “At least we have some idea what direction they went.”
“Unless they double-backed. Or had another ship drop the buoy for them.”
“They wouldn’t have left the system. Not if they have something bigger planned.”
“What do you suppose that could be?” Robyn asked.
“It could be anything. But taking out a Federation ship would be a nice feather in their cap.” Brett looked out the window over Robyn’s shoulder at the emptiness of deep space. He should have known better than to come here. Now he was a pawn in someone’s game of interstellar terrorism. “Have you alerted Starfleet Command about this?”
“Not yet. What do you think they’ll say?”
“They’ll want you to press on with the mission. Show we’re not scared of their threats.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “I’d say we should get the hell out of here while we still can.”
“That message scared me too, but—”
“It’s not just that. If we press on, we might as well paint a bull’s eye on the hull. Everyone from here to Serpalal is going to be gunning for us to show their support for these guys or so they don’t end up as the next one on the hit list.”
“This is just a rogue element. They don’t speak for everyone,” Robyn said with typical Starfleet naïveté.
“Maybe, maybe not. Do you want to take that chance?”
“We can’t shirk our duty. You know that.”
“Some things are more important than duty. Survival for one. This whole system is going to explode pretty soon and we’re going to be the first ones to go up.” He lowered his voice to add, “I know I can’t give you an order, but I’m asking you to consider your crew. Don’t throw their lives away.”
Robyn’s face flushed. “I am thinking of them, Commander,” she said with genuine menace. “I’m thinking of the fifty who are already dead thanks to those Serparnians. Do you want Captain Stewart and all the others to have died in vain?”
“Better fifty then everyone. Or do you want to end up a martyr like Shawn?”
“Don’t you dare bring him into this!” For a moment Robyn quivered with rage as if she wanted to leap across the desk to strangle Brett. Then she composed herself and sat back down. “I’ll pass your recommendation along to Command. The ultimate decision is theirs. Until then, supervise the repairs and keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir,” Brett said. He turned on his heel to leave the ready room, his fists clenched. Command had already ordered them to stay here; a threat from the renegades wasn’t going to change their minds about the importance of posturing. More than ever, Starfleet would want the Orion to wave the flag to show the Federation wouldn’t be pushed around by one petty group of terrorists with a patchwork ship.
Brett made his way through the maze of damaged corridors to his quarters. A beer from the replicator would hit the spot right now, but he couldn’t drink on duty. Knowing Robyn, she’d have him tossed in the brig out of some obscene devotion to her duty. A devotion likely to get them all killed.
Instead of going to the replicator, he sat down at his tiny desk and activated the computer. The Orion’s system took longer than usual to process his request for anything on the Serparnian Liberation Army. When it finally did process the command, the computer didn’t have anything more than sketchy data.
The Serparnian Liberation Army had first shown up five years ago during student protests in the capital city of
Someone was bankrolling the renegades, someone capable of buying warship components and putting them together into the ship that had destroyed the Cassandra and nearly the Orion. Brett wondered if Starfleet Intelligence had a more comprehensive file, but he doubted it. Monitoring brush wars in a backwater system wasn’t high on their list of priorities. He would just have to keep his eyes open and hope to put the puzzle together before it was too late.
His communicator beeped, Robyn paging him to the bridge. He needed only to see the hardened look on her face to know Starfleet Command had given her the response he thought. “Reporting as ordered,” he said.
“Take your seat, Commander. Ensign Cooper, set a course for Serpalal Prime at full impulse.”
The ship got underway, leaving behind the mining colony and its fallen crew, pawns in a sick game of brinkmanship like the Cassandra and Orion.
There would be no going back now.
