Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Mistral, here's a link to
Here There Be Dragons:
http://www.trekbbs.com/showthread.php?t=43456
Back to the story at hand . . .
Chapter Twenty seven
Stardate 54077.9 (3 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
In standard orbit - Thurilin's Moon
Dr. Essch' a' Kliss, the Andorian geneticist, sat nervous and alone in the interrogation room of the
Bluefin. The room seemed much too warm and stuffy and the hard, metal chair was uncomfortable.
He was both angry and frightened. Angry and indignant to be incarcerated like a common criminal by these Border thugs, yet frightened that his predicament might be much, much worse than he previously imagined.
Now, this infernal
waiting was wearing on his already frayed nerves. He had neither seen nor spoken to anyone since being locked in this stark room, with just two chairs and a table. His head hurt. He was thirsty. He really needed to void his bladder!
The blue glow of the forcefield at the doorway suddenly blinked out. Three officers entered the room - two humans and another Andorian. The Andorian Captain sat opposite Kliss, yet did not acknowledge his presence. She held a data padd, perusing it with a slight frown. The humans stood against the wall. The dark-skinned one glowered at Kliss, while the pink-skin wore a thin smile.
"Why am I being held here?" demanded Kliss. "I demand to know why you disabled my ship and abducted me! This is barbarous tratment!"
Lhar'Shon set the padd on the table and regarded the scientist impassively for several moments before speaking.
"Essch' a' Kliss, you are being held as a suspected co-conspirator in a plot to wage genocide against an allied power. In addition, you are implicated in the violation of several Federation statutes including genetic manipulation, genetic augmentation, cloning of a sentient being, illegal possession of controlled substances, illegal possession of controlled technology . . . shall I continue?"
Kliss' face had turned a dark shade of blue and his antennae flattened against his head. He had trouble getting enough breath to speak. His mouth moved for several seconds before he uttered words.
"I . . . I never intended . . . I didn't know . . . " he stammered.
Lhar'Shon's face was impassive. "Come now, Dr. Kliss. You are a highly intelligent person - surely you understood what Garth was doing?"
"No! No . . . I did not . . . I thought he merely wanted to plant the replicants in the Empire to force an eventual change in the Klingon government! I did not suspect his real purpose until . . ." Kliss suddenly stopped speaking, realizing the implication of his words. He swallowed. "I demand counsel before I speak further."
"That
is your right," agreed Lhar'Shon. "However, you need to consider this." She leaned forward, peering intently into the older Andorian's eyes. "Time is of the essence,
Doctor. The longer that you dither, the greater the head-start Garth has! If he succeeds,
your name will forever be tied to his as an accessory to one of the most heinous crimes in the history of this galaxy! Now . . ." She leaned back, maintaining her gaze, "You can 'lawyer up,' or you can help us stop Garth! The choice is yours - you have ten seconds to decide, then these officers and I will leave you here, to ponder your fate and your legacy."
There was silence in the interrogation room. Dr. Kliss looked ill. The dark blue flush had faded from his cheeks. Now his face was almost gray. Tears formed in his eyes.
"I didn't know!" he rasped. "If I did, I would never have . . ."
"
Enough!" said Lhar'Shon, sharply. "We're not interested in your puerile mewling! Tell us something useful if you can, but do
not waste our time!"
Kliss blinked at her, his expression stunned as if she had struck him physically. Finally, he nodded jerkily. "I . . . will tell you what I know."
And he did.
* * *
"Akinola to sickbay,"
Dr. O.C. Castille tapped his combadge. "Sickbay - Castille here. Go ahead."
"Doc, I'm on my way down there. Is Garth conscious yet?"
"No sir, and frankly, I'm puzzled by that - he should have recovered from the phaser stun by now."
"Doctor, listen carefully - I need you to perform a cellular scan. Find out how old he is - got that?"
Castille frowned, puzzled. "Sure, I understand, but why? . . . "
"Humor me, Doc - it's important! I'll see you in a minute."
* * *
Akinola and Castille stood over Garth's bed. The Izarian's vital signs appeared normal, yet he was still unconscious.
"Let's see what we get," murmurred Castille as he held a special scanner over Garth. The device emitted a soft, wavering hum. Castille looked at the device and frowned. "
That can't be right!"
"What does it say?" asked the Captain.
Castille shook his head, puzzled. "According to this cellular scan, this man is only a few hours old!"
Akinola glanced at the still form. "That bastard has played us every step of the way! He's left us his goddam clone!" The Captain stormed out of sickbay.
Castille stood by Garth's bed, a perplexed expression on his face.
"What just happened?" he asked the unconscious form.
* * *
Former Marine Major Wayne Tilos lay on the bunk in his cell. It was a relief to not be bound to a chair and the bunk wasn't too bad. He had received a decent meal a short time earlier, so he felt pretty good physically.
But something still gnawed at his gut - had he done the right thing in protecting Garth?
His heart said, "yes." Garth had taken him in when Tilos had been at his lowest. He had given him a job of importance and a sense of purpose. For that, Tilos would always be grateful.
But whispers in his mind were giving him doubts. Tilos had assumed that Garth was setting up the Klingon government for a fall. That was something with which Tilos whole-heartedly approved.
His earlier conversation with Captain Akinola had shaken him, though he concealed that well enough. Had Garth been straight with him? He was beginning to have doubts.
Tilos suddenly realized the slight background hum of the forcefield had ceased. He sat up on the bunk, wary.
Captain Akinola stood in the doorway, his face unreadable.
"Mr. Tilos, I'm giving you one more chance to talk. Before you clam-up, there's something you need to know . . ."
* * *
Stardate 54077.9 (3 February 2377)
Garth's shuttlecraft
Areq'dola system
Garth guided the shuttle craft to a small planetoid in the Areq'dola system - another remote, unpopulated string of planets and asteroids circling a mundane red star in the no-man's land between Federation and Klingon space. He entered a deep ravine in the planetoid, slowing the craft for landing.
He smiled as the shuttle's spot lights revealed a small, Klingon transport a few dozen meters away. Garth nimbly adjusted the controls, bringing the shuttle to a smooth landing on the rocky terrain. He brought the impulse engines to idle, not shutting them down completely, then left the flight deck, moving aft to the main cabin.
The cloning cylinder took up most of the space in the cabin. Garth was able to squeeze by its side and inputted a series of commands into the control interface.
The cylinder began to hum, then with a sudden loud
HISSSS, the cylinder opened. Opaque gases flowed from the open sarcophagus, obscuring the occupant. Garth waited for the atmosphere to clear, then smiled as his gaze fell on the replicant.
An imposing Klingon male lay in the cylinder, his eyes closed, his chest unmoving. Garth inputted another series of commands and waited.
A tube moved from the side of the cylinder, and pressed against the Klingon's neck. Suddenly, the Klingon's eyes flew opened wide and his back arched. He inhaled loudly and deeply in several gasps, before his respiration became more steady. The dark eyes turned and focused on Garth, narrowing. The Klingon appeared to size-up Garth.
"Who are you?" asked the Klingon in a guttural baritone. There was neither fear nor threat in his tone - merely curiosity.
Garth smiled. "That's not important right now. I want you to listen carefully to this . . .
'eclipse.'"
The control word had its desired effect. KTinga blinked rapidly and his face relaxed. He sat up, and quickly climbed out of the chamber. Garth stood back, giving the tall Klingon room. He handed K'Tinga a stack of clothing.
"You have instructions for me," stated K'Tinga. Garth was impressed with the Klingon, in spite of himself. Even with the programmed mental conditioning, KTinga had an aura of command about him. He spoke not as a subordinate, but as a peer . . . perhaps more.
"They are very simple, my friend. I will explain as you get dressed." said Garth, smiling.
* * *
Fantastic klingon story where they do their best dual enemy and ally of the Federation bit. On top of which you throw in Garth, Section 31, Anti-31 and put Bateson back in the saddle!
