You are the first of my kind I have encountered since my imprisonment. Do our people thrive? Are we the masters of all the stars?

No. The Wanderer’s reply was tinged with sadness. Our once-great civilization has fallen; it is no more, and what was there before its demise was something less than your great vision. She sensed the Progenitor’s disappointment, though another emotion was there, as well: determination. It had not been there before, she thought, but now there was no mistaking its presence.

Then perhaps we will remake it. After all, my vision remains clear.

Doing so requires us to escape our confinement, does it not?

Yes, the Progenitor replied. For this, we must be patient. Our time will come. Of this, I also am certain.

24

Reyes waited for an alarm to sound, or for secret doors to open and hordes of Orions or whoever else Ganz might have on his payroll to come storming out of the walls, each of them wielding a disruptor or blade. He wondered if and when a hidden airlock hatch might open, blowing him out of the ship and into open space.

Despite his mounting anxiety and paranoia as seconds seemed to pass at a glacial pace, none of that happened. Instead, the computer terminal before him emitted a simple, innocent beep before a single line of text appeared on its display screen: “Transfer Complete. Original Data File Purged.”

“Okay, that’s got it,” he said, reaching for the terminal and retrieving from one of its peripheral slots a red hexagonal data card. The card was similar to those used with Starfleet computers, and T’Prynn assured him that bridging any compatibility gaps between the media formats would not present a problem. Reyes would have preferred to transfer the data directly from the Omari-Ekon’s computer to T’Prynn over on Vanguard, but the Vulcan had assured him that such activity would almost without fail be detected by the Orion vessel’s security measures. “They’re going to be pretty pissed when they find out we’ve deleted their navigational data. Are you sure we got it all?”

In the utter quiet of the small maintenance office that had been selected for this last iteration of Reyes’s covert activities, the voice of T’Prynn in his mind seemed loud enough to rattle the walls. “My search protocols found no duplicates of the data. It is possible the data was copied to secondary storage, but there is nothing we can do about that now. “It is now time to bring you to safety, Diego.”

Though he had known this was going to be the end result of this little game of espionage, Reyes still was not sure how to feel about it. He knew that, despite what he had done here with T’Prynn’s assistance, he was still a convicted felon who had been court-martialed and dismissed from Starfleet. The time he had spent in the custody of the Klingons and the Orions also made him a fugitive. Though he wanted to believe that his decisions and actions while in such questionable company had been in keeping with the best interests of Starfleet and the Federation, he knew that others would see him as nothing more than a traitor.

Time for that later, he reminded himself. Maybe.

“All right, then,” he said, moving the data card and the transceiver supplied to him by Ezekiel Fisher to an inside pocket of his jacket. “What’s the plan?”

“I have identified two areas of the ship where the shielding can be penetrated by the station’s transporters,” T’Prynn replied. “I have designated these as primary and secondary extraction points. The first location is closest to your present position. I suggest we begin moving you in that direction with all due haste.”

“Show me the way to go home, Lieutenant,” Reyes said, feeling a rush of adrenaline and anticipation. After so much time living aboard the Omari-Ekon, the thought of finally being freed from his pseudo-prison was almost too much to believe. Of course, it was easy to temper his mixed feelings of enthusiasm and apprehension, just by thinking about all of the things that could still go wrong before he once more set foot aboard Starbase 47.

Following T’Prynn’s instructions, Reyes exited the small office, emerging into a dark, narrow corridor. He knew from his studies of the Omari-Ekon’s layout that T’Prynn had directed him to one of the lower levels near the port-side impulse vents along the vessel’s aft section. Chosen by the intelligence officer for its relative isolation, this part of the ship was free of most foot traffic, save for the occasional maintenance employee and, on more unfortunate occasions, a member of Ganz’s security staff.

Such occasions were even less pleasant when there was more than one guard, as there was now.

“Well, look who it is,” said one of two goons Reyes saw in the passageway as he stepped from the office. To his surprise, this thug was a Tellarite he did not recognize, stocky and sporting a large belly that lapped over the wide leather belt he wore. His prodigious midsection almost, but not quite, succeeded in hiding from view the sizable disruptor pistol resting in a holster along his right hip. As for his companion, he was an Orion whom Reyes had seen on occasion, working in the bar or wandering the gaming deck. Unlike other members of the ship’s security staff, this Orion, Nakaal, seemed content to wear form-fitting tunics rather than walking about with a bare chest and sporting his assortment of tattoos and piercings. There was something about the way the pair carried themselves that told Reyes this was not to be one of the frequent harassment calls paid to him by members of Ganz’s organization who were feeling brave and looking to stir up some kind of confrontation.

No, Reyes decided, this is definitely different.

“And wandering around all alone,” Nakaal said, his voice low and carrying more than a hint of menace. “It’s dangerous down here. A person could get hurt if they’re not careful.”

“Your concern is touching,” Reyes replied, working to keep his own tone neutral, even casual. “That’s what I like about everybody on this ship. Always looking out for everybody’s welfare. Somebody should tell Ganz how conscientious you are. That’s the sort of thing that looks good on personnel reviews when the time for pay raises comes around.”

“Mister Reyes?” T’Prynn prompted, though Reyes did not acknowledge her.

Predictably, neither Nakaal nor the Tellarite seemed amused by his observations. “You need to come with us,” the Orion said, his expression turning to one of irritation as he reached for his belt and retrieved a long, sharp knife from a scabbard on his left hip.

“Where are we going?” Reyes asked, unable to keep his eyes from watching the knife as light from the overhead fixtures reflected off the blade’s polished surface.

Stepping forward, the Tellarite reached toward him with one beefy arm. “We don’t want to spoil the surprise.” At the same time, his other hand was moving to a knife on his own belt. Reyes figured that meant the goons were trying not to attract too much attention, even down here and well away from the ship’s more populated areas. No doubt their plan was to hustle him away to a more private chamber and carry out whatever plan they had in mind.

Well, screw that.

In the close quarters, Reyes decided he had the advantage over the burly Tellarite, who now blocked Nakaal as he moved closer. Without pausing to consider what might happen next, he lashed out with one leg, his foot connecting with the Tellarite’s right knee. The thug grunted in pain and staggered, trying to keep his balance. Behind him, Nakaal was already moving, but Reyes kept his focus on the Tellarite. Closing the distance, Reyes struck with his right fist, catching the guard along his left temple. He heard the knife fall from the Tellarite’s hand and clatter to the deck, and instinct guided his foot as he kicked the weapon out of reach. He shoved the goon backward, blocking Nakaal’s advance and clogging the narrow passageway so neither guard could maneuver. This gave him the opportunity he needed to reach for the Tellarite’s holstered disruptor.