"Secure the main control room," he ordered. "We will set up the communicator... somewhere more comfortable, I think. There must be a conference room or some similar facility -"
"Sir." A lieutenant from one of the injector battalions spoke up, urgently, from behind him. Chrog stopped and turned. "Security sweep reports an enemy vessel docked in one of the landing bays. Romulan, twenty-fifth century commander's gig. No one aboard -"
"What? Security sweep! Scour the station until the Romulans are found!" Chrog glared at a nearby science officer. "I was told there were no life signs!"
"There were none," said the scientist. "Not when we docked. Perhaps the Romulans have left - ?"
"Without their shuttle? Did they walk home, perhaps?"
"Transporter operations might -"
"If you can resolve a set of transporter coordinates for this place, I would be very interested to see them." Chrog turned back with a snarl. "This station should be secure. I only chose it to stop Luga's whining about the risks of running comms from K-22. Now I find it is crawling with Romulans!"
"A single gig can carry only a few crew," the science officer pointed out.
"They should not have been able to get a gig here, in any case! We are in a fragment of a different timestream! Navigating to these spacetime coordinates should be beyond twenty-fifth century science!" Chrog thumped at the nearest door; it slid open, revealing a small, bare room - an office of some sort, he supposed. "This will have to do. Bring the communicator. Set it up." He shook his head. "I thought this place was suspiciously warm and comfortable. Evidently the Romulans have restored some part of the power supply. Well, we will use that to power the communicator, then. And keep a sharp watch!" The whole point of this operation, he reflected, had been to avoid the Roms....
The anti-chroniton transmitter occupied most of the single desk in the middle of the office. Chrog found an adapter and rammed it home into the room's power main. The transmitter's screen lit up, showing the abstract, random, shifting shapes of a routine self-test.
"Preliminary sweeps completed," the injector lieutenant reported. "Security forces confirm no unknown life signs detected."
"Roms are devious," Chrog growled. "Beam over more squads from the Strange Attractor. I want this facility searched and secured. Do not rest until every millimetre of every room and every corridor has been scanned!" The transmitter seemed to be taking forever to start up. Of course, Luga had no way to reach this station, she would have to use her own chroniton rig instead of just leaving recordings... that would take time to tune in, itself....
Chrog frowned. No, that could not be the reason. Luga's rig was already tuned, had been for a century and a half. No, if there was a delay, it had to be due to something here and now. But what?
Then the screen flickered and changed, and his frown deepened. Luga's face appeared, but it was vague, fuzzy and blurred - and there was someone with her, he could see them over her shoulder, someone with green skin -
"Chrog." Luga's voice was tinny and distorted. "Are you receiving me? There is interference -"
"I hear you," said Chrog, "and see you. Who is that with you?"
"His name is Thyvesh, a Suliban. He came out of an artificial temporal anomaly here on Priyanapari. We need to reach an agreement with him."
"I told you," said Chrog sternly, "this project was to be ours. Recruiting a Klingon agent in your century is one thing, but an alliance with the Suliban -"
"Is necessary," Luga interrupted, "if we are to gain access to his temporal anomaly."
"And what is so vital about this particular anomaly?"
Luga's face lit up with a smug, gloating smile. "Only that it contains the Suliban's principal cache of temporal and genetic weaponry. Does that capture your interest, Commander?"
Chrog shut his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again. "It... does," he said slowly. "Yes. I... see your point." He took another breath. "So. What is this Thyvesh's price?"
"We have yet to reach an equitable understanding. We were waiting, obviously, for your approval. Now that we can speak to you - though I curse this interference -"
"Interference!" The Suliban suddenly shouted, turned, and pushed the astonished Luga away from the screen. Wild eyes stared at Chrog. "You are the Na'kuhl commander? Good. Listen to me. This interference -"
"What?" Chrog was baffled. "What are you talking about?"
"Interference! In a chroniton transmission! There is another temporal anomaly, and it must be near you! And I know what it must be!" Thyvesh clutched his brow. "Someone opened the door!"
"The door?" Chrog shook his head. "What door?"
"There is an artifact here," said Luga, "which controls access to the Suliban weapons cache. Thyvesh, here, is the only one who can use it - his brain is sensitized to chronitons -"
"You do not understand," said Thyvesh.
"No," said Chrog, "I do not. So, let us resolve this simply. Explain."
"Someone opened the door. Someone used the anomaly to access the weapons cache. But the door is here, here on Priyanapari, and only I can open it, and I did not."
"Then -" Chrog groped for an answer. "Someone else, someone with the same abilities -"
"There is no one else! And I can see the interference! I know what it means! The door was opened from your end of this link!"
"But there are no anomalous artifacts here," Chrog protested. "Unless you count the station itself - but our scans would have revealed any temporal artifact -"
"Yes," said Thyvesh, "yes. Don't you understand?"
"No," said Chrog, "I do not."
"The door was opened." Thyvesh's voice was strained and patient, as if explaining to a backwards child. "Only I can open it. Therefore, I must have opened it. From your side, without being in its physical presence. Somehow, a future or alternative version of me has learned how to manipulate the doorway without using the artifact." His eyes locked with Chrog's; they were avid and anxious. "You wish an agreement? The first part of my price is this. Find that other me, and bring him to me. Because I must know how he does it."
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