The Bajoran is tall, with a dark-skinned, squarish sort of face. She wears informal clothing, like all of Pexlini's crew - in this case, a short yellow dress. Her name is Umaro Ajbit, and, like so many Bajorans, she is angry. I have the distinct impression she would be kicking at the transporter console, were that not a breach of protocol.
"We need to get a line on the Admiral," she says. "We need to know what Thrang's done with her -"
"Reasonably," I point out, "we must assume the worst." She glares at me. It is true, but it is clearly the wrong thing to say.
She holds up a datapad. "I have all the data here that the Dechenchholing was able to gather on Thrang's warp signature." We are both assuming, only, that the ship was Thrang's, but never mind. Assume the worst. "I was thinking - your ship might have superior sensors, if we can maybe triangulate on the contrail -"
I shake my head. "A sound thought, but a futile one. Thrang's warp signature is unique and distinctive, true, but it is also... fleeting. His ship travels at such speed, the energy contrail from his drive is stretched, spread over a wide area. It will dissipate rapidly in the normal random eddies of subspace energy." No wonder, now, that Thrang's warp signature has proved so maddeningly elusive. Or that he has travelled so quickly to so many different places.
"We have to do something," Commander Umaro spits at me.
"No doubt. But what? Our last clue of any other kind was the invitation to Nali Caerodi -"
"Perhaps we should head there, then. All right, so it's a trap, but at least we know it's a trap -"
The intercom on the transporter console bleeps for attention. "Heizis," I say.
"Sir." E'Maon's voice. "We are receiving a subspace transmission - you should see it -"
I switch on the console's repeater screen. "Put it through."
The screen flashes, shows a holding pattern, then flashes again and a face is there. My eyes widen. "Yo!" says Pexlini. It is her - at least, the face is undoubtedly hers -
"Pexlini," I say. Commander Umaro shoulders me aside so that she, too, can stare at the screen. I would have words with her about that, but now is not the time.
"Heizis. Oh, hey, yeah, Ajbit, that'll make things easier," says Pexlini. Or whoever is using the Talaxian's face... though it certainly sounds like her, too. "Listen, I couldn't get you guys on secure comms, right?"
"Our secure comms units were compromised during the virus attack," I say. And, since our agreements included information sharing between the Republic and the KDF... the loss of our secure links with Imperial Intelligence also cuts us off from Republic Intelligence. A nuisance.
"'kay, so I can't go into, like, details or anything. Maybe just as well. Anyway, listen. I'm at Nali Caerodi, so, y'know, can you come and pick me up?"
"Nali Caerodi?" I am nonplussed. "That was... our first thought of where to go next -"
"Terrific, so I'm not interfering with your plans. Yay. Now how quick can you get here?"
Commander Umaro speaks up. "At maximum warp, perhaps a little over three days. But, sir, there's Starfleet liaison at the shipyards, you can get help from them, surely?" Her tone is suspicious.
"Yeah," says Pexlini. "Three days, yeebles. 'kay, I can hold still for three days, assuming some Hupyrians don't get a whiff of me or something. But, listen. I'm kinda-sorta dealing with a Starfleet contact, but I wanna hold off making any sort of official connection, just for a bit. Well, for the next three days, I guess. Can you do that? I mean, yeah, I know I gotta check in eventually, but, well, it'd be good if I could do it a bit late. I'll explain when you get here, honest I will."
"There is going," I say, "to be a great deal to explain."
"Oh, yeeps, don't I know it. But you know I can't explain on an open channel, yeah?"
This, at least, is true. "I can make no reports to my superiors in any event," I say. "Not before our secure comms are reinstalled. Commander Umaro -"
"I'll hold off," says the Bajoran. She glares at the screen. "You better be Pex, and you better be right, and you better have one hell of a good explanation."
"Yeah, well, I'll work on that, 'kay?" She glances at something off the screen. "Better go. I got stuff cooking, here, and anyway this call is burning my available credit at a rate of knots. Speak to DaiMon Prago when you get here, all right? See you soon. I hope." The screen goes blank.
I look hard at the Bajoran. She returns my gaze levelly. "It may very well be a trap," I say.
"If it's bait," she replies, "we have to take it."
"Will you do as she says? Not inform your superiors?"
"I shouldn't." Her gaze moves to the darkened screen. "But - if that really is Pex, she must have her reasons."
She is looking for some reason to comply. I am curious, myself - I will give her an excuse. "This is supposed to be a joint operation. Starfleet should not be informed of developments ahead of the Republic and the KDF. I should require you to wait, until I have re-established my own secure communications."
She darts a sharp glance at me. "I... see," she says slowly. She accepts the pretext for what it is. "Very well, sir."
---
The trip to Nali Caerodi is - not eventful. It gives me time to brood, but my brooding brings me to no meaningful conclusions.
I am not in the best of humours when our ships crash out of subspace and into the chaos of the Ferengi orbital shipyards. Hundreds of orbital modules competing for space and attention, a dozen incompatible traffic-control systems vying for authority, ships and work bees zipping in all directions... typically Ferengi. The Dechenchholing and the Palatine cruise through the confusion with sleek menace and authority.
In all the shouting on the comms channels, one signal draws us to a particular module. We dock the Palatine, while the Dechenchholing stands off the station a little way - weapons banks ready to charge.
Umaro and I meet Pexlini in the docking tube. Her coveralls are torn at some of the seams, and there is a medical monitor pasted beside a half-healed gash on her head, and she looks bizarrely cheerful. "Hey, guys," she says. She waves a datapad at us.
Umaro is scanning with a tricorder. "Biometrics check out," she says guardedly.
"Yeah, well, they kinda would, seeing as how I'm, yanno, me," says Pexlini. "Now listen -"
"How did you escape from Thrang?" The Bajoran's voice is iron.
"I didn't. He let me go. Now listen -"
"He let you go." Umaro reaches for the weapon at her hip.
"Yeah, he let me go. Because he figured you'd be thinking exactly what you are thinking, that he's brainwashed me or replaced me with a doppelganger or whatever. Now listen. I had plenty of time to think about all this. OK, that asynchronous-subassimilated hybrid drive of his is fast, but he had me in a cell, I had nothing to do but think."
Umaro and I exchange glances. "Keep talking," the Bajoran says.
"I was gonna. OK, so, what's the only way I can prove Thrang hasn't turned me? The only way I can see, is if I take him down."
"And just how," I ask, "do you propose to do that?"
"I got ideas," says Pexlini. "And I got friends." She indicates the torn seams of her coverall. "Intelligence issue, it comes with little reserves, enough to buy me some Ferengi friends. And before Thrang sent me here, I scratched his face."
"And what did that accomplish?" I ask.
"Tissue samples," says Pexlini, and holds up the datapad. "Under my fingernails. I got to thinking, and I figured, Thrang can't just be an Orion smuggler. He's too good and he thinks too big. We salvaged enough cells to put together a coding-molecule profile, it looks like DNA, but DaiMon Prago ain't got the computing power for a full genetic workup. We're pretty sure he's not a Changeling or an Undine, but we don't know what he is, yet."
"That... might make sense," I say. "KDF security starts by looking for Orion biometric signatures, and if Thrang is not actually Orion -"
"Right," says Pexlini. "So I figure your ship, or even mine, has enough computer power to parse his DNA and tell us what he is. Because I figure that's important. The other thing is, whatever he is, we gotta catch him."
Umaro draws her phaser, and rams the emitter grid into Pexlini's face. "All right," she says. "I'll admit, you're making sense, and you sound like Pex. But if you're playing us, I swear, I will kill you myself."
Pexlini appears completely unfazed. "Fair 'nough," she says. "You wanna hear the rest of it?"
"Keep talking," Umaro says.
"'kay. We got one big problem - Thrang's ship is fast. But there's gotta be some reason we don't combine the two transwarp systems, yeah? That drive of his has gotta be finicky. Delicate. We figure out some way to knock it out, we can catch Thrang."
"We would have to find him first," I point out.
"I got a plan there, too," says Pexlini. "I figured a way we can make him come to us. Put him in a situation where he has to come looking in his souped-up ship." She positively grins at me, past the end of the Bajoran's phaser. "You and me, buddy, we're gonna be pirates."
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