On the screen, a twisting, roiling column of eldritch flame reaches out across the stars. I slam my fist on the command chair's armrest. Too late. Too late, again.
"Tractor beam on the Arcturus Sunfire, now!"
The smuggler's ship is arcing away from the source of the blast. We learned a great deal from the facility at Gamma Occidentis, and we already had M'eioi's list of possible locations - we put the two together, and we came up with the right answer. But not quite in time.
Blue light reaches from our engineering hull, seizes the Arcturus Sunfire. "Active scans, all bands. Lock in targeting, all phaser banks. Oh, and hail them." We may as well go through the motions.
The image of the ship disappears from the viewer, replaced by a tricky-looking human face. "Captain Surella, of course. I'm Denver Serton." The voice is light, dry, urbane. "You'll notice we're offering no resistance. I've heard about you and your, ahh, direct methods."
"I will not disappoint you." I bare my teeth. "Where is Premaratne?"
"Ah, well." Serton's smile is one I would like to punch off his face. "I won't insult an officer of your undoubted perspicacity by feigning ignorance... but the fact is, I fear you're going to be disappointed. He isn't here."
"Scans are tending to confirm that, boss," says Thala, crouched over the science station.
"You know, I'm sure I read something in the Federation Charter, once, about the right to privacy," says Serton. "But never mind. No, Mr. Premaratne gave us instructions to be here - and I'm just as surprised as you are by the light show, Captain - and then he beetled off." His smile grows broader, and there is a light in his eyes, as of some fond personal reminiscence.
"We have movement orders for the device used in this light show, Serton," I say. "We know where the device was made, and where it was shipped to, and who was supposed to take delivery. Proving that you did - well, it will take a small amount of time. But we can prove it, and we will."
Serton shrugs. "So what? If Premaratne and his backers paid me to set off some pyrotechnics in empty space, light years from anyone, what concern is it of yours? I'm not seeing where I've done anything illegal, here, Captain. Under the Federation Charter, which Starfleet is sworn to uphold. Or do those rules not apply?"
"Unethical scientific experimentation's illegal under the charter," says Thala offhandedly, "and ignorance is no excuse." Serton's smile slips a little. I could warm to Thala, for once.
"Where is Premaratne?" I demand.
"He took a commercial fast shuttle," says Serton. "Really, I don't know where. He's not an easy man to get to know, Captain."
"I will accept your best guess, Serton. I suspect you make the effort to find out all there is to know about your passengers."
"Yes." Serton's smile is slowly fading. "Look, Captain, you do realize I'm simply an employee in this affair? A hired hand, nothing more. It pains me to admit it, but I'm not of any significance in this -"
"I do not discriminate, Serton. There are figures as insignificant as you in my ship's brig now."
"Well, you wouldn't want it overcrowded, I'm sure. Premaratne is - well, he's an agent. Used by some discreet persons in the Federation who want to remain discreet. So he doesn't say who he's working for. But when he lit out with Quon, it was on a VCE shuttle." The smile comes back. "In case you weren't aware, that's -"
"Adrian Vansittaert. Yes." I frown. "Wait. Lit out with Quon?"
"The redoubtable Captain Quon, yes. Last seen blissfully unconscious in Premaratne's company. I didn't ask what he was planning to do with her, it seemed indiscreet. Captain Quon caught up with me and Premaratne before you did, and she had a discussion with the gentleman. I don't think it went quite the way she planned. Though Premaratne was obviously leery of just disposing of a Trill symbiote -"
"So he took her away." My frown deepens. This is worrying. If Premaratne is taking a potential witness, and on a traceable vehicle - it implies they are not concerned about being discovered. As if their plans are about to come to fruition... and nothing after that will matter. Which was Havishaw's line, too.
"So, now you can guess where Premaratne is," says Serton, "how about going off in hot pursuit? I'm sure you're a sensible person, Captain, you know you should chase after the important people and not worry about the little ones -"
"Sir." Som Bloxx speaks up from the comms station. "There's something odd. I'm receiving an all-stations priority hail, but the ident is a civilian one -"
"What? On screen. Put this weasel on hold."
Serton's affronted face is wiped away, replaced by an abstract holding pattern. After a moment, that, too, vanishes. The scene now shows two people standing before a plain metal wall. One of them is human, tall, thin, with a long angular face. The other - My eyes widen. The other is M'eioi.
The human speaks. "For those who don't know me, my name is Adrian Vansittaert. If you're receiving this message, please, be happy, because the millennium is only a day behind it. By now, my project to stimulate Galactic Object 4704 is completed, and a new age of unlimited joy is at hand." He smiles. It looks false. "I know that's a grandiose claim, but you'll discover that I'm right. I have with me Admiral M'eioi of Starfleet's science division, who's had ample time to review my findings and confirm them. Perhaps you don't want to rely on my word, but you know you can trust Starfleet. So, I will hand this over to the Admiral, who is free to speak as she wishes, without compulsion or coercion." He turns. "Admiral M'eioi, the floor is yours. You know my plans. Please, in your own words, explain them."
M'eioi looks at him. I am not an expert in Caitian body language, but I can see her ears are folded flat to her skull, her tail is switching rapidly from side to side. "M'eioi," she says. "Admiral. Six four six dash delta dash two niner zero two seven."
Vansittaert looks briefly puzzled, but the significance is evidently lost on him. It is not lost on me. Name, rank and serial number....
"Mr. Vansittaert thinks he has a gateway to unlimited happiness for everyone," M'eioi continues. "He thinks he's persuaded me of this, too. He's wrong. What's happening here at Galactic Object 4704 is a violation of both the conventional and the temporal Prime Directive. It has to be stopped."
Vansittaert is gazing at her in what looks like confusion and mild disbelief.
"All Starfleet vessels," M'eioi continues, "proceed to GO4704 and make every possible effort to stop Vansittaert's ship, the Andrew Carnegie, from interfering further with the anomaly. You have a day. Use it. Vansittaert must be stopped, and all other considerations, including my life, are secondary. Calling the Madagascar -"
The transmission stops, is replaced by the holding pattern. I curse and slam my hand down on the chair's control panel. Alarm sirens sound.
"Helm. Get us under way."
"What about Serton?" Thala asks.
"It is his lucky day. Cut him loose. Forget Serton. Can we use quantum slipstream?"
"We've got slipstream capacity for a limited time, boss."
"Use it. Warp to GO4704, now, absolute maximum speed, every warp factor you can squeeze out of this antique."
"Sir, the Madagascar -" Bloxx begins.
"Vansittaert must think he can handle the Madagascar. He may be wrong. He evidently misjudged the Admiral." Beneath me, the Amphicyon's engines begin to growl. I lean forward in the chair. "We will find out, at first hand. And stand ready for battle stations as soon as we arrive."
The starfield appears on the viewer, and the stars stretch out into streaks of light as the warp drive engages.
Too late. We were too late to stop Serton and Vansittaert's plans here, whatever they are.
We must not be too late again.
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