Same disclaimers as last time****
"Stay sharp, people," Faraday admonished as her group left the engineering complex and entered the main corridor that led to the operations center. Gunn took the lead, his phaser rifle at the ready, placing himself between Faraday and any potential threat. She gave him a look at his presumption, but said nothing, merely drawing her own phaser.
Willow and Tara walked in the approximate center of the group, the former taking readings and relaying them to the ship and to Kolrami while receiving data in return. They had not seen any other bodies besides the one Tara had come a cropper at the beam-down point, though they did find other signs of the battle that had surely taken place some hours before. Dark, carbonized scoring on the walls and ceilings of the facility gave mute testimony to the carnage.
"These blast patterns are from several different weapon types, Commander," Willow reported. "Types-two and –three disruptors, at least three kinds of phasers…pretty eclectic assortment of firepower, if you ask me."
"The Maquis tend to collect weaponry as they go, Lieutenant," the first officer answered. "So far, what we've seen has been consistent—"
Tara's sudden gasp made everyone stop in their tracks. Faraday swung around and stared into the blonde counselor's eyes. "Are you all right?"
Tara nodded, distractedly. "There's someone nearby," she said after a second's pause.
The other security man looked at his tricorder, shook his head. "I'm not getting a lifeform reading," he muttered, hardly bothering to hide his irritation.
"Neither am I," Willow added, then tapped twice on her device, "but there's a conduit five meters in front of us where oxygen is spontaneously turning to carbon dioxide." She cast a don't-teach-Grandma-how-to-suck-eggs look at the security man. "Lots of ways of shielding bioelectric signatures from standard scans, y'know?"
Tara didn't allow herself the luxury of looking vindicated. Instead she crossed over to a panel set in the wall down next to the floor. "He's behind here…"
"Hold on, Lieutenant," Faraday admonished. Gunn was already covering the panel with his rifle. "This could be a hostile…"
"It's all right," Tara insisted, casting firm looks at both Faraday and Gunn. The dark man didn't look convinced, but stepped back to allow her to loosen the panel to access the conduit, leaving his weapon ready to retaliate should she prove wrong. Faraday nodded her consent, signaling the others to hold steady and keep watching the rear. Willow bit her lip and consulted her tricorder again; she wasn't detecting a weapon, but that was not always definitive, given the diversity of weapon characteristics in this century…
Tara, on the other hand, had a pretty good idea as to the nature of the person hiding in the conduit. She pried off the panel and shone her hand beacon in…
"Oh, God!" It was something between a shout and a whimper, filled with terror and fatalistic resignation. "Please, don't…I—"
"It's all right!" Tara said, shining the light briefly on herself. "I-I'm Lt. Maclay, from the starship
Hannibal. We're here in response to your distress call."
The relief from the man was almost palpable. "Oh, thank God. I'm Jeryn Newley, second technician. Listen, these people, they came in using falsified identities, then they started shooting up the place, and then they were herding everyone together, but I managed to hide in here…"
"Good idea. I mean, we almost missed you entirely. Are you hurt? Why don't you come on out, Jeryn? You'll be safe with us…"
"N-no….I can't." Newley shook his head miserably.
Tara crawled partway into the conduit. While it wasn't a tight squeeze by any means, she was still amazed that Newley had managed to stay in this small space for hours without getting a little claustrophobic. She stopped a meter away from him and assumed as sympathetic (but professional) demeanor as she was capable of. "I don't blame you. I-It's a little scary out there. These are all people you worked with, and you might be afraid to face them because you feel guilty—"
She finally realized that Newley was shaking his head and waving his hand in order to indicate how far off base she was. "No, no, no…it's nothing like that." His expression was, if anything, sheepish. "My foot's stuck."
Tara shone her hand beacon to where his pointing finger led, to his right foot which was indeed jammed in between an optical-data network line and an electro-plasma conduit. She had to nibble the inside of her cheek to keep from braying laughter right in Newley's face. When she felt that she had sufficient control of herself, she said evenly, "Why don't I give you a hand?"
"Would you, please?" Newley replied pathetically. "'Cause I gotta go to the bathroom something fierce."
****
As it turned out, that was probably the most excitement Team Two had in their mission, before they linked up with Thelvran's team in the operations center. From there it was a simple search to locate the bulk of Memory Alpha's staff, sealed in the main refectory behind phaser-welded doors. Most of them were unhurt, and the exceptions mainly had minor neural trauma from phaser-stun, along with a few sporting contusions and broken bones. Govarr and Sivek found it necessary to transport only a few cases to the Hannibal for more extensive treatment.
Tara and Dr. Devereux had their hands full debriefing the remainder of the staff, watchful for any signs of post-traumatic stress. A small part of Tara found it odd to have her comforting people who had many more years of deep-space experience than she had. Nonetheless, she felt satisfied putting into practice in the field what she had learned at the Academy or had used in the relatively controlled conditions of a starship.
Willow, too, was kept busy for quite some time, as the Maquis – the staff's descriptions of the marauders had confirmed the captain's suspicions – had blasted the computer consoles after they gotten whatever information they had come for…or not, as the case may have been. It was Willow's job, in conjunction with Kolrami and Thelvran, to determine whether or not the Maquis had penetrated the computer's security protocols and made off with any sensitive information. Also, working with Dr. Govarr, she was ordered to do a forensic analysis of the operations complex to pick up any physical trace of the intruders for the purposes of identification. Fortunately, she was able to recruit several science technicians from the ship to assist in what would be a back-breaking chore; even so, there was an incredible amount of information that Willow would have to sift through in a fairly short time.
Easy, Willow thought to herself ruefully, easy as…really hard pie.
She finally hit upon an idea to access Memory Alpha's computer: use the Hannibal's computer…
"We can sync our computer in parallel with Memory Alpha's core," Willow said in the conference back aboard ship, with Faraday, Kolrami, Thelvran and DaKar seated in the chairs listening to her brief presentation. "This ship has three computer cores, right? Drop one of the cores out, probably one of the ones in the saucer section, and have the other two take the computing load. I mean, even one core is enough for all essential operations, right?"
DaKar nodded. "Pretty much. The three cores operate in parallel, updating each other every forty-three milliseconds. We routinely drop them out in a cycle for routine maintenance about once a month."
"I'm not sure as to whether this is an appropriate use of ship's resources, " Kolrami countered. "In an emergency situation, we might need the total computing power of this ship against a hostile force. We can still access the Memory Alpha data core remotely and use its own central processor to re-trace the Maquis' intrusion into the archives."
"But…with all due respect, Commander, that will take too long," Willow protested as gently as she was able. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she continued, "Between the time-lag from the remote link, and the fact that Memory Alpha's CPU is far less powerful than the Hannibal's the process could take days!"
"It could mean the difference in catching the Maquis before they successfully carry out whatever plan they might have," Thelvran added.
Kolrami and Willow were both about to speak at this point, but were both stayed by Faraday's raised hand. "Normally, I'm loathe to supersede Gelfa's authority when it comes to coordinating this ship's departments and resources. However, Captain Murdock designated finding the Maquis, after caring for the Memory Alpha personnel, as our highest priority." She focused on Willow, her soft voice firm with command responsibility. "Carry out your plan, Lieutenant. Ensure that nothing you do will impair this ship's ability to function in a crisis."
Willow came to attention. "Aye, Number One."
Faraday turned to the others. "Gelfa, Jodell: you two work together to drop out one of the cores and place it at Lt. Rosenberg's disposal. I want Level 1 protocols in place; we don't want any little surprise viruses making us fly backwards. Dismissed." As her junior officers made for the door, she added in a quiet voice, "Commander Kolrami, a moment more, please." She waited while Willow and DaKar left the conference room, then turned to her colleague and friend. "Why do you dislike her so much?"
A less blunt person than Gelfa Kolrami might have prevaricated. Being who she was, however… "She thinks that she can just…pop in here, from her primitive century, and remodel from scratch every protocol on this ship according to her design. Merely because Lt. Rosenberg has some natural insight for science and technology, that doesn't mean she can reinvent warp drive." The Zakdorn sniffed in disdain.
Faraday crossed her arms and struggled not to laugh. "You're jealous of her!"
Kolrami did not even bother to deny it. "Why shouldn't I be? It's bad enough that she's nearly as intelligent as a Zakdorn – which is positively shocking in a human – but she is far more than I will ever be." The downcast expression on her puffy face was sad to see.
"I don't believe that. The captain knows that you make this ship run as well as it does—"
"It's not a question of how well I do my job, nor of your misplaced faith…however much I appreciate it, Olivia." Kolrami sighed. "My people are great natural collators, historians, cartographers and even strategists. But we have no creativity, as such. Concepts such as art, music, poetry…these things were virtually alien to us until we discovered other races." She looked at her superior officer and friend, a wistful countenance on her usually stern face. "Olivia…you humans have such natural disadvantages. You don't have outrageous mental faculties, you aren't as physically strong as many races, and you don't heal as fast nor live as long. But, sometime, long ago, you refused to accept your lot in life. You strived to be something more than you are…and against all odds, against reason itself, you succeeded." Kolrami shook her head. "Your people, unlike mine, learned to dream."
****
Willow was banging away – not literally, thankfully -- at the Science station on the bridge when Tara arrived there several hours later. The assistant counselor had spent hours with the Memory Alpha staff, not only providing emotional support but also trying to glean any information on the Maquis' plans.
"Willow," she said in greeting, squatting down next to the science officer.
"Hey. Where've you been?"
"Interviewing. Lots and lots of interviewing. After the first fifteen or so people telling you that they were frightened for their very lives, clinical detachment becomes much easier."
Willow grinned. "I'll bet. Did any of them have any useful information on our bad guys?"
Tara shrugged. "Only that the Maquis were definitely looking for a specific bit of information, as opposed to, um, trolling around for any good tidbits."
"Well, that checks out," Willow conceded. "From what little I've been able to get from, pardon my Fabrini, the antiquated piece of crap that Memory Alpha uses for a datacore, they were trying to break into one certain part of the protected files. Unfortunately, because they deliberately fragmented the file directory, I have no way of knowing exactly which files they tried to crack, or if they succeeded. Though I doubt that; the encryption on these files is primo."
"'Primo?' Is that a technical word?" Tara asked with a deadpan expression. She abruptly turned serious again. "Well, we kinda have to assume that they found something…otherwise, they would have headed back to the Demilitarized Zone, right? Uh, unless they did, and we can't tell because they covered—"
"No, no, we do know they headed in a completely different direction, even if we can't pinpoint it enough to plot a course. Unless, of course, they took the sort of scenic route, like, going from Earth to Vulcan by way of the Andromeda Galaxy."
Tara nodded. "So, if they did head somewhere else, someplace they knew to go to, and they weren't able to decrypt the files, how would they know?"
Willow frowned deeply in thought. Tara could almost see little indicator lights blinking on and off in her head. "So, they learned something about the files themselves, rather than the information contained within. Like, who wrote or collated the information…or where…" She broke off.
"Where the files were sent from?" Tara prodded gently.
Willow nodded distractedly. A smile broke out lightning-quick. "The navigational database!" She tapped in commands which were relayed through the link to the Memory Alpha computer. Within seconds, the information was displayed on the console. "This is it! The last record accessed in the navigational database, which according to the time index had to have been read while the Maquis were occupying the station! Tara, you're a genius!"
Tara put on a modest expression. "Aw, shucks, ma'm."
Willow smiled back. "Couldn't'a done it without ya." She studied the coordinates on the screen. "This is even deeper into Federation space…although a bit aways from the core worlds and the regular trade routes. Hang on, maybe I can cross-reference what files came from this location." However, she paused with her hands over the control pads, as if lost in thought.
Tara picked up something from Willow's mind that she had trouble articulating to herself. It felt like the sort of phantom itch one gets from an old experience, or like the proverbial bad knee on a rainy day. "Willow? Is something wrong?"
The science officer blinked, shook her head as if to clear it, then shook it in answer to Tara's question. She searched the Memory Alpha datacore using the navigational coordinates as a reference point. "Hmmm," she said after a short interval. "Seems we have a winner here. The files that came from this location…and wow, there are a lot of them…are all under the heading of 'Curator'."
"Curator? Like, as in, of a museum?"
"Yeah, I guess, but look," Willow said, putting up the index and pointed to the description of the planet, "there's no museum there. Actually, there's not much of anything there. The planet is uninhabited, it's the only one in its system, the star is way past its main sequence, it's just a dead world—"
All at once, a memory clicked into place for Willow. Part of it was the description that she heard herself say of the origin of the transmitted files. The other thing was the name of the collected information: Curator. Willow, with her unceasing fascination with logic puzzles, had been toying with the word as soon as she had read it onscreen. "Curator:" usually means custodian of a museum, but it didn't necessary have to. It's also another word for--
The wave of emotion that Tara felt from Willow was so powerful that for a few seconds it defied her ability to describe it. Only when she saw the blood drain out of her friend's face did she recognize the feeling as sheer horror. Perversely enough, there was also the strangest sense of nostalgia, as if whatever was causing Willow's fear also had a link to her past.
"Ooooh," Willow said, something between a whisper and a moan. "This is not good."
Feeling concerned and a little frightened herself, Tara gently gripped Willow's arm. "Willow? What is it? What's wrong?"
The young redhead looked like she almost wanted to laugh. "Wrong? I think we're beyond 'wrong' here…our next stop, 'catastrophic.'" She tapped her commbadge. "Captain Murdock, can you please, uh, come to the bridge. Thanks." Without waiting for an acknowledgement or a question, she closed the line.
A few seconds later, a bemused Murdock, followed by a curious Dr. Devereux, who had been briefing the captain on the Memory Alpha personnel, came out of the ready room and walked over the Science station. "Willow…and Tara, hello. Now, what can I help you with that Commander Faraday—" he indicated the first officer sitting in the command chair, "—isn't able to?"
Willow knew she had committed a breach in protocol but was too anxious to bring it up. "Captain, I found out where the Maquis are going!" Briefly, she outlined the methodology she used to find the information and showed him the coordinates.
"Okay, then, good work, Lieutenant," Murdock said, nodding at her ingenuity. "So these files, under this 'Curator' heading, originated here?" He indicated the schematic of the system on the Science station screen.
"Yes, sir," Willow answered.
"Were you able to access the files?" he asked.
"Um, no, sir, the encryption is still in place. If you care to try…"
At Willow's suggestion, Murdock crossed over to the Science station. "If you two will excuse me a moment," he said to Willow and Tara, who moved a discreet distance away. "Computer, create a Alpha-1 secure link to the Memory Alpha computer."
"Alpha-1 security link established," the computer promptly replied.
"Computer, access all files under the Curator heading, authorization Murdock-delta-tau-seven, and transfer them to my ready room screen."
The computer whirred and beeped for a couple of seconds, then chirped disapprovingly. "Unable to comply. Access to files under Curator heading is restricted. Zeta Bravo clearance is required"
"Whoa," Devereux said, looking over Murdock's shoulder. "'Zeta Bravo' is the clearance code that Starfleet Command place on heap-big secret mojo. Like, the quantum torpedo research project, only higher." At Willow's quizzical look, Tara's equally inquiring brow, and Murdock's bemused expression, he added, "I have friends in low places."
Murdock turned back to Willow. "Lieutenant, do you think the Maquis was able to penetrate the security encryption?"
"I, well, I'm not sure, sir," Willow said, looking nervous, "but-but I doubt it. I think I could have detected that. In fact, I'm pretty sure."
"But…if this was what the Maquis was looking for, and they found out where it was without looking at the files, then maybe they don't know the exact nature of 'Curator,' whatever that is," Murdock mused.
"It's entirely possible that someone in the Maquis might have come across a passing reference to Curator in a relatively low-level communiqué," Devereux added. "If they thought it might be something worth going after—"
"Why would they want something to use against the Federation?" Tara asked. "Their enemies, primarily, are the Cardassians. We try to prevent them from violating the treaty, which they resent, but I can't imagine they would pursue an aggressive act against, well, their own people, even if they have renounced Federation citizenship."
Willow had been keeping silent during this exchange, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. Tara noticed this due to her empathic senses but said nothing about it up to this point; eventually, Murdock became aware of her anxiety as well. "Lieutenant, something tells me you have a better idea about what the Maquis want with Curator than—"
"No! I mean, I don't know if they even know what Curator is, sir…"
"…but you do," Murdock finished as the science officer trailed off. "You don't need to read those files, because you know exactly what Curator is, right?" When Willow did not answer right away, he folded his arms and peered downward into her eyes. "What, are you falling asleep on m—"
"Captain, I can't tell you," was her terse reply.
Murdock looked about as flabbergasted as anyone had ever seen him. After several seconds of double-takes and jaw-droppage, he recovered and said, "In order to avoid some unnecessary silliness, I'm going to assume you mean that you do know, or think you know, but can't tell me for some esoteric reason. Am I in the ballpark?" Willow nodded, looking guilty but nonetheless resolute. "Go to my ready room and wait for me there." Looking like a shamefaced schoolgirl sent to the headmaster's office, Willow turned on her heel and went as directed. Murdock watched her go silently, then went over to the Operations station. "Gelfa, are there any Starfleet vessels near the coordinates Lt. Rosenberg retrieved?"
After accessing the Science station logs and cross-referencing them with Starfleet patrol assignments, Kolrami had the answer. "The Trieste, sir. It's passing through that sector in about two hours."
Murdock chewed his lip, thinking. "Send a coded message to the Trieste; my compliments to her captain, and inform him the Maquis are coming to town. See if he can hold them off until we get there. What's our best time?"
"At maximum warp, six hours. But, Captain, the Trieste is a science vessel, not heavily armed. They may not have sufficient offensive capability to—"
"Noted, Commander. Send the message anyway. Number One, let's rock and roll."
"As you wish, sir," Faraday answered. "Are we informing Starfleet Command—"
"No. Dr. Devereux, you're with me." As the first officer gave the orders to proceed at maximum warp, the captain went into the ready room with the chief counselor in tow. Tara, at the last second, walked in behind them. As the doors shut, Murdock walked towards Willow, who had been sitting on the couch and now leaping to her feet. He glanced at Devereux, noting for a second that Tara had come along for the ride, and turned back to Willow. "All right, Lieutenant. Since I've ordered the Hannibal to the coordinates you found, and therefore sticking our collective head into the lion's mouth, maybe you'll do me the courtesy of telling me what we might find at the end of this particular rainbow." Murdock's voice, starting out in a conversational tone, acquired a nasty edge along the way.
Willow took a deep breath, as there was no easy way to do this. "Captain, please believe me, I know I'm asking a lot on faith here, but I cannot tell you what I know."
Keeping a rein on his temper with great effort, Murdock made a conscious attempt not to grit his teeth. "Why the hell not?"
"I gave my word, sir."
"To whom?"
Willow was not able to meet Murdock's eyes. "Captain Francisco Cumberland."
Hands on hips, Murdock paced a step or two away from Willow. "Francisco Cumberland knew what this…Curator is, and he told you not to tell anyone?"
"Yes, sir."
Inhaling a deep draught of air, Murdock closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to spear Willow. "Cumberland's not your commanding officer anymore. I am. And as your CO, I am giving you a direct order—"
"Please, don't, sir." It was the plea of a child.
Murdock did not relent. "You are aware that if you don't tell me, you'll be disobeying a direct order of your commanding officer. That is a court-martial offense. So is potentially endangering the lives of your fellow crewmembers. Is that what you want?"
Tara could see Willow was wavering; however, she knew that trying to browbeat the information out of her was the wrong approach. Willow Rosenberg would throw away her career and her freedom to keep her word. "Captain, wait." She stepped between Willow and Murdock, forming a barrier between the two. "This isn't a question of trust, on her part. She sees a no-win situations and she's trying—"
"Lieutenant, you're here at my sufferance," Murdock cut her off, "and if you can't keep quiet, you can leave." The emotional flames that threatened to singe her mind mirrored the anger in his eyes.
Devereux stepped to Murdock's side. "You want to chastise my staff, Captain, fine. But you do it through me."
The captain swung on the older man. "I will 'chastise' whomever I wish, and in whatever manner I wish!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Tara could see Willow grit her teeth in disgust, a repugnance of the male ego that Tara felt as well. Seeing that her superior was about to retort angrily, she stepped in hard: "Gentlemen! Can we focus on the problem, please? With all due respect, sirs, you can whip 'em out later." Ignoring the double-take from Murdock and the bemused grin from Devereux, she turned towards Willow, stepping a little into her personal space. "Willow…I know that keeping this promise to Captain Cumberland is like having a little piece of him to keep for yourself. But if he promised you to keep this secret in the first place, then Curator, whatever it is, must be something…bad. Right?"
Willow shrugged. "Well, it's…dangerous, sort of."
"Okay. Then, if the Maquis get a hold of it, then it could cause a lot of, um, trouble…damage…loss of life…am I warm?" At Willow's nod, she went on. "I would think Captain Cumberland would want you to prevent that. I-I mean, based on what I've read about him…"
Willow's eyes seemed to fill with tears, but they didn't quite fall. "I suppose I knew it all the time."
"Yes, but you had to struggle with it first."
Taking another deep breath, Willow looked at Captain Murdock, who had been standing against his desk. "Captain, I'm sorr—"
"Save it, Willow," Murdock interjected, though in a more conciliatory tone. "You were saying…?" he prompted.
"Well, the planet that we're heading towards, that is, Curator is actually, uh," Willow began, falling into babble-mode, "gosh, now that I think of it, you're probably going to find this hard to believe…"
"Chop it off and say it," the captain said in great exasperation.
"It's the Guardian of Forever."
The ready room was silent, except for the distant, almost subliminal hum from the warp engines. Murdock blinked, stepped closer to Willow, glanced at Devereux and Tara, and then asked, "The Who of What?"
_________________
"Honey, in case you didn't hear me the first six thousand times: no more teleportation spells."
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Capt,
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4ever!