“So if we get to the probe after it transmits whatever data T’Prynn wants,” Pennington said, “then we’re out of luck.”
“You got it.”
Nodding, the journalist leaned forward in his seat until he could get a better look at the computer display on Quinn’s console. He recognized a series of Federation star charts, though he could not read the entire screen thanks to a smudge or smear of something on the panel. Reaching out, he rubbed away the offending obstruction with the sleeve of his shirt. “So, what systems are near the rendezvous point?”
“That’s what I’m checking.” Quinn pointed to the monitor. “According to the charts, we’ll be near the Jinoteur system.” Shaking his head, he added, “Never heard of it.”
“Neither have I,” Pennington said, though he knew that his and Quinn’s knowledge of the Taurus Reach meant little to nothing in this situation. With so much of the area still unexplored, even by unmanned sensor probes, there simply was no telling what mysteries lay within this unknown region of space.
Or, why T’Prynn might be interested in one of them.
As Quinn resumed his warp calculations, Pennington considered the privateer’s original theory about the Vulcan’s reasons for the assignment she had given him. “Why would she need data from a Klingon sensor drone to learn about Klingon ship activity? Starfleet’s already got listening outposts and sensor arrays strung out all over the Taurus Reach.” Indeed, he knew that a line of monitoring and relay stations had been brought to bear in this part of space and dedicated to Vanguard’s oversight of the region. Making use of state-of-the-art technology, such fully automated outposts also were currently being deployed along the Federation-Klingon border. Reportedly, they soon would replace the asteroid-based outposts and their crews who stood vigil along the Neutral Zone separating the Federation from territory claimed by the Romulan Empire.
What could a lone sensor drone of admittedly inferior capabilities offer that Starfleet’s own sensor arrays could not?
Curiouser and curiouser.
There was also the point to consider that the Rocinante,being a civilian merchant vessel, would conceivably be able to move through the Taurus Reach without attracting too much in the way of official attention—particularly if Quinn held to whatever course and timetable T’Prynn had given him. On the other hand, if the Klingons discovered what was going on, at worst Quinn and anyone unfortunate or stupid enough to be with him at the time would likely be captured or killed, leaving T’Prynn and Starfleet untainted by any accusations of illegal or antagonistic actions against the empire.
With Quinn involved in preparing the Rocinantefor warp speed, Pennington mulled over this new information, taking pieces of it and putting it together with what else he knew of T’Prynn’s activities aboard Vanguard. Was the unusual assignment she had given Quinn—and by extension, himself—somehow connected to some of the other things for which he knew she was responsible? Did it somehow dovetail with the questions that troubled Pennington himself, the answers to which he had pledged to answer by any means available to him?
While the story he had fed to Quinn about interviewing colonists and how they were faring in the Taurus Reach was not technically a lie, it was only part of the reason he had asked to accompany the privateer on his journey to Boam II. After several weeks of careful contemplation, the journalist had decided that in the wake of the personal and professional setbacks he had suffered, the only way he would ever regain his status—and his sense of self-worth—was by aggressively striving to solve the mystery that had taunted him for weeks.
What really happened to the U.S.S. Bombay,and who was responsible? Further, why did Starfleet already possess these answers while taking extraordinary steps to keep that truth from the public?
Pennington had found himself caught in the middle of that conundrum a month earlier when a tip, received from an anonymous source, had led him to information about the starship’s tragic loss at the hands of Tholian vessels while in orbit of Ravanar IV. More evidence—in the form of log entries, requisition and status reports, and transcripts of subspace communiqués—indicted Starfleet, specifically Commodore Reyes and members of his senior staff, as participants in a secret intelligence-gathering operation on the planet, which also had been destroyed by the Tholians. The evidence, which Pennington painstakingly had corroborated by interviewing people named in many of the reports and logs, should have formed the foundation for the story of his career while simultaneously bringing justice for the crew of the Bombay.
For Oriana,he thought, reminded once again of the captivating woman with whom he had shared a bed. That loss and the pain he still felt were made worse by the fact that he had been unable even to say goodbye to Oriana D’Amato before she had left on what turned out to be the Bombay’s final mission. The unexpected arrival of the U.S.S. Enterpriseat Vanguard, aboard which her husband served as a geologist, prevented him from seeing her in the days leading up to her ship’s departure.
While her death gnawed at him, Pennington’s grief and ire also were driven by the fact that Starfleet seemed hell-bent to keep the truth about the Bombay’s fate a secret. That alone was deplorable, but the measures that had been taken to accomplish the cover-up were beyond the pale. Evidence, sources, and testimony Pennington had acquired all had been manufactured in a deliberate scheme to draw the reporter into a web of lies, which he then had written and submitted to the Federation News Service. No sooner had the tremendous news story been published than it was immediately discredited, with Starfleet able to demonstrate that the information Pennington had used for his report contained incorrectly time-stamped log entries and notations by people either already deceased or not known to exist at all. And almost as immediately, he was fired from the FNS.
He had been set up. Deliberately. Everything was a fraud.
Not everything,he reminded himself. It can’t be.
Pennington was certain that the data itself—the sensor logs, communications transcripts—was simply too detailed and voluminous to all be a sham. Somewhere, beneath the surface of the lie which had been perpetrated, the truth lay concealed. He was certain of it—just as he knew that T’Prynn had been behind the entire affair. The intelligence officer had denied the accusation of course, but despite her best efforts he had seen the truth peeking out from beneath her rigid Vulcan façade.
Part of him understood the reasons for the cover-up. Any open acknowledgment of the Tholians’ role in the destruction of the Bombaywould damage the diplomatic relations the two powers currently enjoyed, which doubtless were already strained by the simple fact that Starfleet knew the Tholians were guilty and had called them on it. Pushing the issue would almost certainly lead to war.
Still, it made no sense to Pennington that the Federation should back away from the issue now. A strong, vibrant façade during its movements into the Taurus Reach seemed critical, not only with the Tholians watching their every move but also the Klingon Empire and any other power throughout the Alpha and Beta quadrants. To him, this action only seemed to further drive home the notion that this mysterious region of space contained something that the Federation—or more specifically, Starfleet—wanted to possess. Their apparent need was sufficient grounds in official eyes to downplay the loss of a starship and its crew.
Well, that’s just not bloody good enough,Pennington decided. Not for Oriana.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the unmistakable shift in the Rocinante’s engines as the freighter’s warp drive engaged. Beyond the cockpit’s canopy, he watched the stars stretch and distort into multicolored streaks as the ship entered subspace. Such would be the view, he knew, for however long it took to get to wherever Quinn’s formidable Vulcan master was sending them.