Despite what she had found, T’Prynn had not yet discovered anything that might be construed as a reference to the Taurus Meta-Genome. This was encouraging, especially if the Klingons indeed were the ones benefiting from the efforts of a covert operative. Still, if the Empire succeeded in establishing footholds on worlds known to harbor samples of the complex, artificially engineered DNA strand—or, perhaps, other artifacts or evidence of the unknown race responsible for creating it—Starfleet’s mission to contain the secrets surrounding Operation Vanguard would be jeopardized.

That is not your concern now,T’Prynn reminded herself. Her immediate priority was tracking down the spy and ending his or her clandestine activities before such efforts could undermine or even expose Starbase 47’s mission.

And what will you do to achieve that goal?

Whatever was necessary, T’Prynn decided.

7

The door to Captain Nassir’s quarters slid aside and Clark Terrell entered the cramped room to find the Sagittarius’s commanding officer lying on his bunk, his booted feet resting atop a folded field jacket as he held a data slate before his face. The glow of the device’s compact display screen illuminated the captain’s features, making him appear gaunt and pale. As Terrell stepped into the room, Nassir dropped the data slate onto his chest, but did not rise from the bunk.

“You sent for me, Skipper?” Terrell asked by way of introduction. Then, taking an extra moment to study Nassir’s face, he added, “Are you okay? You look tired.”

Nassir waited until his door shut before answering, “You sound like Ilucci an hour ago.” Closing his eyes, he reached with both hands to rub his temples. “I was helping him with repairs to the warp engines, but then Theriault alerted me about her latest report on the sample you two retrieved.” He did not have to offer any clarification for Terrell to understand that the captain was referring to the meta-genome. “According to her preliminary findings, the sample possesses several properties that are identical to what was found on Ravanar.”

“Really?” Terrell asked, his curiosity piqued.

Shrugging, Nassir replied, “It also contains elements that look to be unique to Traelus II, but Theriault’s report shows a definite match to other aspects. Whoever put it there also placed it on Ravanar and who knows how many other worlds, thousands of years ago.”

Terrell shook his head as he moved to sit in the small, straight-backed chair situated before the equally diminutive desk that jutted out from the bulkhead next to the captain’s bunk. “Any ideas on what that might mean?”

“Only that whoever was responsible,” Nassir said, “their level of scientific advancement had to be extraordinary. I mean, I know we’ve already been theorizing along those lines for a while now, but it’s still incredible to consider what we may really be talking about here. Any civilization capable of creating that meta-genome, no matter what its purpose might have been, would have about as much in common with us as we do with a colony of ants.”

Nodding, Terrell chuckled. This was not the first time a discussion along these lines had been held, of course. “And I’m going to ask the same question I always ask: Where are they? What happened to them? Did they die out because of some natural disaster, or were they conquered by someone even more powerful than they were? And if that’sthe case, then where are thosepeople?”

“That’s the fun part, Clark,” Nassir said, offering a wide grin. “Sooner or later, we’re going to find something else, something more substantial that can tell us about these people. I can’t wait for that day.”

Terrell laughed again, unable to resist the infectious enthusiasm with which his captain approached the exploration aspects of Starfleet’s charter. “You really are in the wrong line of work, you know.”

Sighing, Nassir waved away the suggestion. “Except for days like today, I wouldn’t trade this job for anything.” Reaching for the data slate on his chest and laying it beside him on the bed, he rose from the bunk and stretched his back muscles. “Enough goofing off. I’m going back to engineering to help Ilucci.”

That idea was interrupted by the telltale beep of the ship’s intercom, and the voice of Bridget McLellan. “Captain Nassir, please come to the bridge, sir.”

Without bothering to respond to the call, Nassir exited his quarters and made the transit to the bridge in seconds, with Terrell following on his heels. No sooner did the two men enter the Sagittarius’s nerve center than McLellan turned from the tactical station to face them, her expression one of concern.

“What is it, Bridy Mac?” Nassir asked.

Nodding toward the main viewscreen, which at the moment depicted the desiccated, pockmarked landscape of the desert region in which the Sagittariushad sought temporary refuge on the surface of Traelus II, the second officer replied, “Long-range sensors just picked up a contact, Skipper. Hard to tell unless we move out into the open, but I’m thinking we might be looking at a Klingon battle cruiser.”

“Well, that was predictable,” Terrell said before looking to Nassir. “What do you think? Get a better look?”

Standing with his arms crossed behind McLellan, the captain did not say anything for a moment, but Terrell could guess what the other man was thinking. As a precaution and after Ensign Theriault had provided a comprehensive sensor scan of Traelus II and its two moons, Nassir had ordered Lieutenant zh’Firro to guide the Sagittariustoward the largest continent of the planet’s southern hemisphere. Scans of that area showed it to contain vast quantities of thallium and other minerals that were capable of disrupting sensor scans. Once there, the ship had soft-landed near one of the larger deposits of thallium, allowing the massive storehouse of untapped ore to act as a rudimentary yet still effective camouflage screen. The trade-off was that while here, the ship’s own sensor array was to a large degree compromised, as well, but it had been Nassir’s hope that the admittedly feeble protection might still work long enough for Master Chief Ilucci and his engineers to finish repairs to the ship’s warp drive.

Our luck might be running out,Terrell mused.

“Theriault, how long do you need to get a decent reading?” Nassir asked.

Seated at the science station, Ensign Theriault replied, “Ten to fifteen seconds should be good enough for a decent snapshot, sir. About double that, if you want a full readout. Any more than that and they might be able to pinpoint our position.”

Nodding in approval, Nassir said, “Get us the quick picture and anything else you can before I pull the plug.” He then turned to Lieutenant zh’Firro at the helm. “Take us up to a low orbit, Sayna. Just enough to have a look around.”

“Aye, sir,” said the young Andorian before glancing at McLellan and nodding as the two women began to coordinate their efforts.

Terrell felt a tremor in the deck plates beneath him and sensed similar vibrations coursing across every surface of the bridge as the ship’s impulse engines came on line and zh’Firro applied just enough thrust to lift the Sagittariusfrom the ground. Despite the artificial gravity and inertial damping systems, Terrell’s stomach still lurched as the ship ascended toward orbit. In short order, the barren, uneven terrain displayed on the viewscreen gave way to the black of empty space, and the first officer half expected to see the screen dominated by the massive forward hull of a Klingon battle cruiser and its ominous forward disruptor array. He failed to suppress a small sigh when such an image did not appear.

Small favors, and all that.

Within seconds, Theriault’s workstation began to emit a series of almost musical indicator tones as the young science officer bent over the console’s hooded sensor viewer. “Definitely a Klingon ship.” She paused, and Terrell saw her frown as she studied the data being relayed to her. “It’s a D5, Skipper.”