Her standing position made sleep impossible and her legs were soon aching for a chair. She was considering asking the guards for something to sit on when a rustling in the trees put the guards on alert. Spears ready, they spun toward the rustling, relaxing only slightly when Una’s youthful defender dropped from the branches, bearing a basket woven from strips of bark and a pair of stoppered gourds hanging from vines slung across his chest. He started toward the stump, only to be blocked by the guards, who raised their spears in warning.
“What do you want?” Bloodshot asked, scowling. “Have you not said enough tonight?”
“I bring a last meal for the condemned, as is only merciful.” The youth, whose earlier defense of her had apparently not won him any friends, presented his offerings for the guards’ inspection. “Why should she spend her last night hungry and thirsty?”
The guards dipped their spears somewhat. They regarded the basket and gourds with interest. Jagged Tooth licked his lips. “What have you there?”
“Fresh fruit and nutmeats, from my private store.” The youth unslung a gourd and held it out to the guards. Something sloshed wetly inside it. “And strong drink to ease her final hours.”
That got the guards’ attention.
“A shame to waste such fare on one who will soon be nothing but ash,” Bloodshot said. “You look to have brought a feast.”
“And who can say if our food is to her taste,” Jagged Tooth added. “It might be poison to her kind.”
“She is already condemned to death, so where is the harm?” the youth said with a shrug. He handed over the basket and a gourd. “But, please, help yourselves. There is enough for all.”
The hungry guards welcomed the repast. Putting aside their spears, they dug into the food and drink, biting into the juicy fruits and taking deep swigs from the unstopped gourd with such enthusiasm that Una began to doubt whether she was going to see any of the refreshments at all. Her stomach grumbled in protest, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since downing some Starfleet rations on the voyage to Usilde. Then again, she probably ought to abstain from the “strong drink” anyway.
I need to keep a clear head, she thought, if I’m going to avoided being cremated before my time.
Although a bite of food wouldn’t hurt . . .
“Don’t forget to save some for me,” she said. “That’s my last meal you’re devouring.”
“Wait your turn,” Jagged Tooth said with mouth full. He washed down a handful of nutmeats with a gulp from the gourd. A smoky brown liquid dribbled down his chin. “You’re already as good as dead.”
He slurred his words, leading Una to speculate as to just how potent that brew was. Swaying unsteadily, the guard also appeared startled at how quickly the drink had gone to his head. Bleary eyes examined the gourd, and he sniffed its spout.
“This is stronger than I . . .”
The gourd slipped from his grip, much as Una had dropped her palm beacon after being drugged. Jagged Tooth’s legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed onto the ground. He tried to stand up again, but without success.
“What’s happening . . .”
His voice trailed off as he went limp and still.
“Sugol!” the other guard cried out, his tongue sounding equally impaired. He grabbed for his spear, but his body refused to cooperate. He toppled over, landing on the forest floor not far from his insensate companion. “Wake up,” he groggily urged Jagged Tooth. “You have to wake . . . wake . . .”
His face hit the dirt, leaving both guards passed out on the ground. Heavy breathing, punctuated by snores, testified that they were still alive. Una put two and two together.
“You drugged them,” she said, not exactly objecting.
“The forest holds solutions to many problems,” the youth said. “Fear not. They will wake unharmed, but none too soon.”
“Fine with me.”
Using a sharpened stone, he sliced through the vines binding her wrists together, then unstopped the second gourd he’d brought with him and poured a clear, bubbly fluid over the hardened sap trapping her feet. The potion acted as a solvent, dissolving the resin-like substance so that she could pull her boots free. She wasted no time hopping off the stump and recovering her gear and pack. It felt good to be mobile again. She checked to make certain that the Key was still secure in her pack.
“Thanks so much,” she said. “But why are you doing this? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“I am saving you from your own recklessness,” he said, “as you once did for me.”
The proverbial lightbulb went off above Una’s head. She stared at the young man’s face, peering past the dyed skin and time’s changes to find the curious little boy she had befriended so long ago. Now that she thought of it, there was a familiar brightness in his eyes.
“Gagre?”
“You did not recognize me?” he asked. “I knew you at once, Una.”
Nice to know that I’m not showing my age too much, she thought. “Well, it’s been a long time and you’ve grown up a lot since then.”
“Thanks to you,” he said. “If not for you, I would have never returned from the walled fortress of the Despoilers or grown to manhood here in our forest.” He shuddered at the thought, before turning worried eyes on her. “But tell me true: Does your return mean the Jatohr are coming back as well?”
She shook her head. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m simply looking for something I lost the last time I was here, that’s all.” She wondered how far Gagre was willing to go to aid her in her quest. “I need to get to the Jatohr’s citadel. Can you help me?”
“The island of the Despoilers?” He backed away from her in dismay. Fear filled his emerald eyes. “You must not go there! Even now, it is haunted by their unclean presence. Some say they dwell there still, slumbering perhaps, or merely biding their time until they emerge again to plague us.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. As far she knew, the citadel had been unoccupied for years now, ever since Eljor had banished the other Jatohr from this universe. “Haunted how?”
Gagre paused, as though reluctant to talk about it. “None may go near that accursed place, but all know that strange things go on there to this day. Thunder sounds from behind its walls, even when the sky is clear, while the ground trembles sometimes as though the fortress is stirring in its slumbers. It is . . . an unquiet place.”
Una recalled the persistent background rumbling she’d heard in and around the citadel before. Professor Eljor had mentioned something about ongoing renovations or construction. She supposed it was possible that some automated systems had kept running all these years, even after the Jatohr were sent back to where they’d come from. How that might affect her mission remained to be determined; she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
“I still have to go there to recover what was lost,” she said. “Can you show me the way?”
“You ask too much.” He retreated further from her. “My debt is paid. I can go no further.”
She remembered a time when Gagre would have been eager to join her on the adventure, but it seemed he had learned to temper his curiosity over the years, perhaps because of his close call in the camp that one time. Una appreciated his caution, but couldn’t help mourning the bold little explorer she’d once known.
“Fair enough,” she said. “You’ve already done more than I could have hoped for and saved me from going up in flames. Don’t think I’m not grateful for that.” She nodded at the unconscious guards. “But won’t you be in trouble when they come to?”
“I’ll drink what is left of the drugged spirits, so no trace of my trickery will remain.” He shrugged. “It will seem as though you somehow bewitched us all.”
“I hope so,” she said. “But will your people really believe that?”
“Some may suspect, but there will
be no proof. And my clan enjoys much respect and honor. Not enough to spare you from the Ranger’s harsh judgment, I fear, but enough to shield me from any accusations of wrongdoing.”
He sounded confident enough. Una figured that he had a better grasp of the local tribal politics than she did. If he thought that his family’s connections and influence would keep him safe, that would have to be good enough for her.
Not that I have any better ideas.
“Thank you again,” she said. “You may have rescued more lives than you know.”
The guards stirred fitfully in their drugged state. Gagre gave them an anxious look, then turned his apprehensive gaze toward the cloudy night sky. Dawn appeared hours away yet, but he looked worried anyway.
“The night passes and others may come this way. You must go, and quickly, before we are discovered.”
Una had to agree. She strapped on her pack and readied her phaser and tricorder. The latter, which contained the geographical coordinates for the citadel, would help keep her on the right track in the jungle. On consideration, she helped herself to Jagged Tooth’s hatchet as well. An idea for how to get past the citadel’s walls was already forming in her mind . . .
“All right,” she said. “Just point me toward the citadel.”
He shuddered again, but gestured reluctantly to the right.
“Please believe me, friend Una. You should stay far away from that dread place. Only danger waits for you behind those monstrous walls.”
Been there, done that, she thought. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”
“No,” he said dolefully. “I don’t think you do.”
Eighteen
“Bad news, Captain.” Uhura held her hand up to her earpiece. “I’m picking up chatter from a Klingon listening post a few systems away. They’ve detected our incursion into ‘their’ space.”
Kirk could practically hear the quotation marks in her voice regarding the Klingons’ questionable claim to this region, which the Enterprise had entered less than five hours ago. Frankly, he was surprised that it had taken the Klingons so long, even if the Libros system was somewhat off the beaten track.
I was afraid of this, he thought, with good reason.
“Their response?” he asked, already anticipating the answer.
“Three Klingon battle cruisers have been dispatched to engage us,” Uhura said, frowning. “Sorry, Captain.”
“Never apologize for being the bearer of bad news, Lieutenant.” Kirk appreciated being kept informed. “What about the Shimizu? Any indication that the Klingons are aware of its presence in this territory?”
He was still working on the assumption that Captain Una was heading back to Usilde with the Key, as seemingly confirmed by the faint traces of a fading ion trail. According to Spock, the trail’s decay indicated that the Shimizu had a roughly eight-hour head start on the Enterprise and had probably already reached Usilde.
“Negative,” Uhura reported. “That seems to have escaped their notice, at least so far.”
Kirk could believe it. As Una had argued earlier, it was one thing for a small, inconspicuous spacecraft to slip into the region, but a Federation starship was bound to attract a lot more attention—and provoke a more substantial response.
“Estimated time until the Klingons intercept us?”
“The Klingon commanders are vowing to crush us within three hours,” Uhura said. “They claim to be heading our way at maximum warp, assuming this isn’t deliberate misdirection on their part. They could know that I’m listening in.”
“Or maybe they simply don’t care,” Kirk said. “Have they made any attempts to hail us?”
“No, sir,” Uhura said. “They sound more eager to fight than talk.”
“Imagine that,” McCoy said sarcastically. The doctor had remained on the bridge, loitering in the command well in order to stay abreast of the crisis. “Who would have guessed it?”
“Anyone who has ever gotten on a Klingon’s bad side,” Kirk replied.
The captain was inclined to take the intercepted communications at face value. The Klingons were nothing if not territorial, even when they had no legitimate right to be. He couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t want to confront the Enterprise—and defend “their” space—with extreme prejudice.
“They have a good side?” McCoy asked.
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Kirk admitted. “Granted, they can be subtle and cunning if they have to be, but when it comes to enforcing their claim on this sector? They’re going to bring out the heavy guns.”
“I concur,” Spock stated, studying the readings at his science station. “Which can only complicate the upcoming peace talks, if not derail them entirely. An armed confrontation with Klingon military forces is best avoided for any number of compelling reasons.”
That’s putting it mildly, Kirk thought. He was already going to have some explaining to do to the Federation’s diplomatic corps if and when this affair was concluded. Not that this was the first time he’d rushed in where angels feared to tread. He’d butted heads with bureaucrats and ambassadors before.
“We’re approaching the Libros system, sir.” Sulu looked back over his shoulder at the captain. “Should I keep on course, or turn back?”
Kirk exchanged worried looks with Spock. The Klingons posed a serious threat, but so did the possibility of the Empire getting their hands on Una and the Key, which could not be discounted with those enemy battle cruisers already heading in this direction.
“We could still retreat back across the border,” Spock stated, “and perhaps lure the Klingons away from this system and the Shimizu.”
But that would still leave Una and the Key in the wind, with no guarantee that her activities wouldn’t attract the Klingons’ attention eventually. Kirk weighed the pros and cons of leaving her to her own devices and concluded that he couldn’t in good conscience do so. There was too much at stake to leave matters in the hands of one rogue captain, even if she was one of Starfleet’s finest.
“Not yet,” he said. “We’re here and we still have a few hours to recover Captain Una—and certain valuable Starfleet assets—before the Klingons show up.” He nodded at the helmsman. “Stay on course, Mister Sulu.”
“Aye, sir.” Sulu turned back to his controls. “Proceeding to Libros III.”
“Usilde,” Kirk said pensively. “The planet’s inhabitants call it Usilde.”
Kirk had reviewed April’s abbreviated log entries on that previous mission years ago. The official record held only that April and his crew had encountered some mysterious alien explorers on Usilde, who had retreated after a confrontation that had left nine crew members missing in action. April had also advised that Starfleet and other Federation vessels steer clear of the planet in the future out of respect for the Prime Directive and the independent cultural development of the Usildar. As far as Kirk knew, no Federation vessel had visited Usilde since.
Until now.
“So, now that we’re here,” McCoy said, “are you finally going to let us in on what in blazes is going on?”
Kirk assumed the rest of the crew shared his impatience and curiosity, even if they were too well disciplined to voice it. Given the mortal threat posed by the imminent Klingon battle cruisers, he knew he owed them some answers.
“When this becomes a medical matter, Doctor, you’ll be the first to know,” he said sharply. “But I understand that you all have questions.”
He pressed a switch on the armrest of his chair to address the entire ship via the comm system.
“Attention, all crew. This is the captain speaking. No doubt you are wondering what we are doing here in this disputed region of space. Certain details are classified, but I can tell you this: Captain Una has absconded with a potentially dangerous piece of alien technology that was recovered from Libros III some eighteen years ag
o, when the Enterprise was under the command of Captain Robert April. We have reason to believe that she is pursuing her own agenda on the planet, but her objective is uncertain and her mission has not been sanctioned by Starfleet. Our goal is to recover Captain Una—and the aforementioned technology—before either can fall into the hands of the Klingon Empire. We hope to achieve that goal and return to our previous course with all due speed. Captain out.”
Kirk ended the broadcast.
“Oh, is that all?” McCoy said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Kirk let the doctor’s attitude slide. “The rest, I’m afraid, is on a strictly need-to-know basis, and right now only Spock and I need to know.” He looked pointedly at McCoy. “Is that understood?”
McCoy harrumphed, but backed down. “Clear as dilithium, Captain.”
The frustrated physician would surely try to pry more details out of him in private later on, Kirk guessed, but that was the least of the captain’s concerns right now. Finding Una and the Key before the Klingons arrived was enough to worry about.
The parallels between the Transfer Key hidden in his stateroom and the Tantalus Field device his barbaric counterpart had deployed in that alternate universe had not escaped him, and he had often pondered the connection between the two. That other Kirk had used the Tantalus device to ruthlessly “disappear” his opponents in his pursuit of power. The mere possibility of a similar weapon falling into the hands of the Klingons was something to be averted at all costs.
“Approaching Libros . . . Usilde,” Sulu reported, correcting himself. “Entering standard orbit.”
Kirk examined the infamous planet as it appeared on the main viewer. This was the second time the Enterprise had gone into orbit around Usilde, even if there was no one left among the crew who remembered the previous visit. The cloudy Class-M planet looked hospitable enough, despite having claimed at least nine Starfleet officers years ago.
Although those people weren’t actually trapped on Usilde, he recalled, but in another reality accessible only by the Key.