Chapter Text
Part Four (Cont’d)
Down in the Bounty’s dining area, the rudimentary strike team was also making preparations.
If Klath had his way, he would have been part of this group, instead of being back up in the cockpit checking over his weapons calibrations. But for this phase of the rescue, Jirel wanted his best sharpshooter onboard the Bounty. It wasn’t a decision that the Klingon had accepted without a stern argument.
With the surface team having been whittled down to three, Jirel and Natasha stared down at the detailed information on a padd on the table, as Maya finished her run down of what they would have to do once they got to their target.
“So,” she continued, “As you can see, once we use the information we have to get past the automated security systems, the rest should be easy.”
“Sure, easy,” Natasha sighed, “We just need to trick the automated sentries into thinking we’re a regular transport, beam through a dampening field, walk into a duridium mine slash illegal penal colony through a transport inhibitor, find your husband, sneak him away from the guards and get the hell out of there before anyone notices.”
Jirel’s jaw clenched slightly, but Maya still seemed entirely at ease as she glanced at the Trill and nodded in Natasha’s direction. “Maybe I was wrong about her. She might be fun after all.”
“Sorry, why did you think I wasn’t going to be fun—?”
“Ok,” Jirel sighed, gesturing to the padd, “Can we focus? You’re sure this is all accurate, and this is where Toren is?”
“Definitely,” Maya nodded, “And based on this information, Synergy’s owner is operating their usual cost-cutting approach with this new mine. Once we’re safely past the automated security procedures, there’s minimal physical security down in the mine itself. Half a dozen guards per shift, three shift rotation.”
“Still seems a little too lackadaisical from them,” Jirel mused.
“Call it overconfidence, coupled with a lack of hope. Think of how the Klingons managed to run Rura Penthe for so long with fifty guards and no shielding. Nobody can beam out, no ship can approach without authorisation, and no humanoid is surviving on the surface of a Class-L planet for long without supplementary oxygen. Who needs extra guards when there’s no point in escaping?”
Natasha considered the logic of what the other woman was saying, and couldn’t help but agree with it. Although there was still something off about the whole plan that she couldn’t quite put her finger on right now.
“So,” Maya continued, “Any more questions?”
Jirel remained silent, but Natasha did think of something, her analytical brain honed by years of Starfleet training grinding into gear. “One thing I’ve been wondering,” she mused, “If this company really is as paranoid and secretive as it seems to be based on all of these security arrangements, how come they just left their old mining operation back in the Badlands abandoned, for any passing group of bandits to raid? With a data link still running?”
This question was enough to raise Jirel’s defences, as he looked at Maya for a response. She merely offered a casual shrug of her shoulders. “Like I said, overconfidence. Which is good news for my husband. And for me, given how much latinum this has cost me. Not that you seem to be complaining about that aspect of our adventure, I’ve noticed.”
Jirel was reminded of the healthy payment she had made, and looked down at the details on the padd again. He had to admit that, when it was all laid out like Maya was presenting it, it almost seemed straightforward compared to some of her usual plans.
“Well,” he said eventually, offering a tentative shrug to Natasha, “Let’s go rescue a Trill, I guess.”
Natasha nodded, as Maya’s face creased into a relieved smile. “One final thing,” she said, reaching for something on a chair behind the dining table, “I thought it might be an idea for us to get changed.”
She retrieved three sets of black tops and trousers from the chair and handed two of them over, as Jirel and Natasha regarded the clothing with a little confusion.
“Replicated them just now. They’ll make it easier to blend in,” Maya offered to Jirel, “Besides, darling. You always liked pretending to be a captain. Now you get to pretend to be special ops.”
Jirel’s scowl returned to his face as he grabbed the clothing and walked off towards his cabin.
* * * * *
Automated Sentry Point Gamma whirred into life as it detected the approaching vessel.
The sensor scans it was constantly performing on the surrounding space had detected the vessel a few minutes ago, but the sentry point had remained dormant until it had concluded that the ship’s trajectory was indeed an intercept course.
Once that had been ascertained, the small ovoid probe orbiting the nondescript planet below gently turned on its axis, and a small hatch opening in its smooth silvery surface, from which a small phaser array emerged.
At the same time, Automated Sentry Point Gamma sent a message to the other five sentry points in orbit of the moon at strategic geocentric points. Automated Sentry Points Alpha, Delta and Zeta took no immediate action, after calculating that they would not be in firing range of the potentially hostile vessel based on its probable orbital insertion point. But Automated Sentry Points Beta and Epsilon both followed Gamma’s lead in arming and extending their phaser arrays.
And then they patiently waited for the unidentified ship to get closer.
As the vessel entered weapons range, Beta, Gamma and Epsilon all obediently targeted their phaser arrays at the threat, while Alpha, Delta and Zeta all set their own defensive systems to be ready to deploy at a moment’s notice, should their quarry attempt a last second course change.
And then, all of the sentries received a transmission from the approaching ship. A simple subspace handshake that contained a sequence of recognised codes.
The codes themselves were not the most up to date versions of the accepted protocols, but they were still within the accepted list stored within each sentry’s database. And it indicated that, far from being a hostile craft bearing down on them, the approaching vessel was a recognised ore carrier belonging to Synergy Mining Enterprises.
Granted, there was no scheduled ore pickup for this precise time on this exact day. But each sentry had a tolerance built in for that as well, given the sometimes unpredictable journey times the carriers had to take to avoid being tracked. Such an unscheduled arrival wasn’t unprecedented.
And so, with the code checking out and the arrival time within tolerances, each sentry point deemed that no action was necessary. The phaser arrays disappeared back inside Automated Sentry Points Beta, Gamma and Epsilon, and all six orbiting sentries returned to passive scan mode.
Moments later, the Bounty swung into orbit of the planet.
* * * * *
“Am I good, or am I good?”
Maya posed the question to nobody in particular as she, Jirel and Natasha stood in the middle of the Bounty’s cockpit, now all clad in their all-black gear.
For the sake of his own concerns, Klath couldn’t help but double check the situation from his own tactical console. “All automated sentries have powered down,” he confirmed with a slightly surprised grunt.
Maya couldn’t help but glance over and flash the Klingon a satisfied smile. “You know, you seemed a lot more trusting when we first met.”
“I was,” Klath responded, with no trace of mirth.
Jirel tore himself away from the view of the planet below them, and nodded at both Maya and Natasha, before setting off for the transporter room.
“Still a few more of your little tricks that need to work before we’re home and dry on this one,” he pointed out as he walked past Maya.
“They will,” she affirmed.
“Sunek,” Jirel continued as he reached the rear steps of the cockpit, “Move us to a geostationary orbit over the location of the duridium mine. And keep a close eye on those sentries.”
“Wasn’t planning on doing anything else,” the Vulcan responded, with only a fraction of his usual humour.
“And Denella,” Jirel continued, nodding at the Orion engineer, “Time for you to work your magic with that transporter. Get us through that dampening field.”
Denella nodded and stood from her own console. With that, Jirel started down the steps, only for Klath to call out.
“I still feel I should go down there with you.”
Jirel stopped himself and turned back to the Klingon, the glower on his face as dark as ever. “I know,” he replied with a slight smile, “But we’ve been over this. This isn’t a battle. It’s subterfuge. And the less people we have down there, the better. Plus, who’s gonna shoot us out of trouble up here when things go south.”
Klath’s glower didn’t lift one iota. “I do not like that plan.”
“I know you don’t. But still, it’s what we’re doing. And I need you up here. If anything moves while we’re gone, shoot it.”
“Unless it’s me,” Sunek chimed in from the pilot’s seat.
Jirel mustered a half-smile at Klath and shrugged his shoulders, nodding in the direction of the ever-talkative Vulcan.
“Weapons chief’s discretion.”
Despite his continued concerns about the content of Jirel and Maya’s plan, the corners of the Klingon’s mouth did curl up slightly at this comment. Instead of arguing further, an action he knew would be futile, he merely nodded back at his long-time colleague.
“Qapla'.”
Jirel nodded as well, then led the others down the steps and made their way to the transporter room, with Natasha alongside him. “You know,” he sighed, “You don’t need to come down there either.”
“Neither do you,” she retorted immediately, “Pretty sure Maya said that she’d be happy to do this part of the plan alone.”
Jirel conceded that point, as she continued.
“Besides, unlike Klath, I’m not going to be doing anything all that useful up here. So, given that you always need backup whenever you do something this stupid, I may as well make myself useful down on the planet.”
Jirel couldn’t find a way to do anything other than concede that point as well. Secretly, he was very glad for the backup.
The group walked into the Bounty’s small transporter room and Jirel, Natasha and Maya stepped onto the pads, as Denella worked the controls. “Ok,” the Orion nodded, “I’m matching the transporter harmonics to the dampening field. Gonna set you down as close to the range of the transport inhibitors as I can.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to set us down further away?” Maya queried, “Less chance of being seen when we arrive.”
“Given the range of the inhibitors, you’ll still have half a mile or so to get to the mining site,” Denella replied, “And given the atmospheric conditions, I’m gonna say you’ll want as short a hike as possible.”
Maya took those points on the chin and smiled at the Orion. “You know, it really is nice to see you talking so much these days.”
Denella didn’t respond to that, and merely focused on completing her work. Realising that she wasn’t getting anything from the engineer, Maya looked over at her fellow black-clad team members instead.
“Well,” she offered with a knowing smile, “Let’s get this threesome started, shall we?”
Jirel’s latest grimace was only visible for a second, as the transporter effect began.
* * * * *
When Automated Sentry Point Gamma had first detected the unknown vessel approaching, it had run through all the usual defensive steps before the appropriate handshake had been received and it, along with the other orbital sentries, had powered down.
Each task had been carried out exactly as Automated Sentry Point Gamma’s programming had been designed to do, by a particularly keen weapons trader in the Kassik sector, where Synergy Mining Enterprises had acquired them.
But along with the litany of scheduled tasks to identify and assess a potential threat, Automated Sentry Point Gamma had also carried out an additional job, one that had not been covered by the original design specifications. The additional piece of coding had been inserted long after the weapons trader had sold the sentries, and was designed to be hidden from the self-cleaning diagnostic tools contained within the original programming. And it was designed to do one single thing.
It transmitted a simple subspace message out to a predetermined reception point in close orbit around the fifth planet of the system.
A message that was hidden inside Automated Sentry Point Gamma’s regular series of programmed subspace pings, operating on a repeating cycle to keep it in near-constant contact with the other sentries in orbit. A message that, unless a seasoned subspace communications specialist knew what to look for, was entirely undetectable.
It was delivered to a vessel in orbit on the far side of the fifth planet, one that was using the vast magnetic and gravitational fields of the enormous gas giant to help render it equally undetectable to the Bounty’s sensors. And the message had been received loud and clear.
“You’re certain?”
The two figures standing in front of the vessel’s luxurious command chair nodded their heads in perfectly synchronised unison.
In truth, they were a little offended that he needed to ask the question. They had been sitting in orbit of the gas giant for several days now, waiting for this exact message from the only other device in the entire galaxy that knew where they were. The idea that they could have made a mistake was faintly ridiculous.
Still, it wasn’t the first time their competence had been questioned by their taskmaster of a commander. And it surely wouldn’t be the last.
Their commander seemed a little more satisfied with their affirmation, reclining in his seat as his face creased into an ugly grin. “Excellent,” he sneered, “They’re precisely on schedule. Prepare our course. It's time for us to send our…reply.”
The two subordinates nodded again, then stepped over to the front of the ship’s bridge, slotting into the two forward consoles in perfect unison.
As they both got to work carrying out his latest orders, their fingers dancing across the controls in front of them, the man in the centre chair steepled his own fingers in front of him and allowed his smile to grow even wider.
The hunt was nearly over.