“Dammit, I’m not trying to be Curzon,” Dax snapped. “I’m trying to be your first officer, and your friend. Or are you so wrapped up in yourself that you don’t need either one anymore?”
Vaughn rose to his feet suddenly, staring down at Dax. “I strongly suggest you walk out of here now, Lieutenant, while I’m still willing to pretend this insubordination never happened.”
Dax didn’t budge. “Why aren’t we on our way to the Alpha Quadrant, sir?”
“I’ve already said—”
“The Borg have been here, Commander,” Dax said. “They’ve been to the Gamma Quadrant. We should be learning everything we can about this incursion and taking that intelligence home as quickly as possible. Instead, you’re making the restoration of Commander Tenmei our top priority and putting the crew at unnecessary risk. Why?”
Vaughn said nothing.
“You’re the captain of this ship,” Dax went on. “You have a duty to these people who have done nothing but serve under you faithfully for this entire voyage. And you have a duty to the Federation to put its security before personal considerations.”
Vaughn’s hands, Dax saw at the periphery of her vision, had clenched into fists. He was shaking visibly now, but once again Dax held her ground, and his stare. Finally he turned and flung his combadge with all his might at the mirror across the room. With a sharp impact the badge hit the reflective shatterproof panel point-first, and became imbedded in it.
The action seemed to cause Vaughn to diminish. His shoulders sagged, and slowly he sat back on his bunk, breathing heavily, staring at nothing.
Dax grabbed the chair, placed it opposite him and sat in his field of vision. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it, Elias?” she said quietly, using his familiar name for the first time. Even Curzon had never used it. “You’ve spent eighty years putting the Federation first. Every time. You put it ahead of yourself, ahead of friends, ahead of Ruriko, ahead of Prynn. Over and over. Now you’re trying to make up for an old sacrifice.”
Vaughn met her eyes. “I did this to her, Dax. She became a Borg because that’s the situation I put her in.”
Ezri reached out and took his hands in hers. “Tell me what happened.”
“Everything?”
“If it feels right.”
Vaughn let out a long breath, considering. Then, after a long silence, he started talking.
Kora II, Cardassian Union
2347 Old Calendar
Holding the small forcefield-isolator carefully, Lieutenant Commander Elias Vaughn moved the device in a two-meter-wide arc, like a painter making broad, unbroken brush strokes across a gigantic canvas. Hundreds of bright spots danced briefly along the incision, dying fireflies lining his makeshift bypass of the Cardassian security perimeter. Of course, the device couldn’t actually slice through the installation’s energized boundaries. What it did instead was mark the precise location of the intended ingress-point and relayed the data back to the orbiting scout craft. From there, it was a relatively simple matter for T’Prynn to distract the local security subroutines and manipulate the shape of the forcefield remotely.
Vaughn gazed upward into the chill, moonless night. One of the countless points of light that wheeled slowly overhead would be found on no Cardassian star chart. “Please tell me that Cren Veruda’s brainchild hasn’t detected either of us yet, T’Prynn,” Vaughn said into his combadge.
The Vulcan’s response was somewhat distorted, thanks to the scrambled comm beam. “I’ve detected no alarms thus far,” she said. “However, I suggest you pick up Dr. Veruda quickly. I cannot keep the security systems occupied indefinitely.”
“Acknowledged. Try to give me an hour. I’m willing to bet I’ll only need half that long, but why take chances?”
T’Prynn’s response was characteristically sardonic. “Prudent, Commander. As always.”
Vaughn stood before the coruscating aperture he’d outlined and squinted into the darkness. Beyond lay dense stands of towering vegetation and an impenetrable communications shadow. Five kilometers from Vaughn’s present position lay Kora II’s artificial intelligence lab, the workplace of Cardassia’s answer to Richard Daystrom or Noonien Soong. Other Starfleet operatives had cultivated a relationship with Dr. Veruda during recent months; they had learned of his conscience-driven desire to defect, and had discreetly worked out the logistics involved in making the distinguished cyberneticist an asset to the Federation.
It was Vaughn’s job to cross paths with Veruda during his evening constitutional. And to get him clear of this place. Discreetly.
“One hour,” Vaughn repeated. “Mark.”
He moved through the aperture, heading toward the predetermined coordinates. The combadge was dead, cut off by the security system. Either he was going to return to the transport-zone with the defector in tow, or he’d never be heard from again.
Ten minutes later his tricorder confirmed that he had reached the predetermined spot. It also made it clear that Dr. Veruda was not present. Damn. Something’s gone wrong.
Vaughn began moving back the way he’d come. He’d have to reach the gap in the forcefield in order to signal to T’Prynn that he needed a beam-out. The mission was a scrub.
A voice issued from his combadge, startling him.
“Hello, Commander.” The voice was a smooth baritone, its inflections refined and cultured. Vaughn recognized it immediately and smiled.
“Dr. Veruda, where are you?”
“This isn’t Cren Veruda, Commander. But you might consider me a close relative.”
Vaughn’s heart sank. He knew he was conversing with Veruda’s A.I.
A proximity alarm light flashed on the tricorder. A trio of flesh-and-blood pursuers was suddenly on his tail. He broke into a run.
“Don’t exert yourself, Mr. Vaughn,” said the A.I. “There really isn’t any point.”
Vaughn pumped his legs harder. By the time he’d gotten within thirty meters from his entry point, he was feeling each and every one of his seventy-two years.
The night-visor betrayed a flash of movement in the shadows to his right. Without hesitation he fired, then heard a body crash into the darkened foliage, so much dead weight. Seconds later he dispatched a second pursuer who had come from the opposite direction.
A disruptor bolt struck him between the shoulder blades a moment afterward. It’s always the one you didn’t see that gets you,Vaughn thought just before the darkness of the jungle became absolute.
A voice drifted to him from the darkness. “Elias Vaughn. Starfleet special operative. Rank of lieutenant commander.”
Vaughn opened his eyes and regarded the Cardassian glinn who stood before him. The Cardassian glanced down at a padd before turning his intense gaze back on Vaughn, who noted that he was lying on a table, restrained either by a forcefield or drugs. Looking down at his body with great effort, Vaughn saw that he was stripped to the skin, his black stealth uniform and body armor gone. The slight motion made his head flare with pain. Disruptor hangover,he thought as his memory of recent events returned.
He recalled the mission. The chase through the wilderness of Kora II after failing to find Dr. Veruda. The Cardassians knew about the defection. The scientist, Vaughn reflected, was more than likely already dead.
The glinn was regarding him with a look of patient expectation.
“You’ve saved me the trouble,” Vaughn said, “of telling you my name, rank, and serial number.”
The glinn laughed, a dry, brittle sound. But his eyes were hard, set deeply beneath gray, scaly brows. Vaughn could see at once that this was a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted. He clearly didn’t have to raise his voice very often.
This won’t make for the sort of after-action report Ruriko Tenmei is used to reading,he thought, fighting down an absurd impulse to laugh. But at least she’ll find this particular mission hard to top. Too bad I never got to meet her face-to-face.