The Art of the Deal Page 8

  But then, slowly but surely, and there was no mistaking it, she saw that the nose of the missile was starting to rise, away from the crumbling skyscrapers.

  The missile completed a midair arc that brought it frighteningly close to the roof of Phantas 61’s tallest structure. It missed the building cleanly, though, and then began climbing up. But in completing the arc, too much strain was placed on the tractor beam on Pattie’s runner, and the connection between the missile and the small ship was broken. The runner continued plunging toward the city before finally crashing into the side of a skyscraper. Pattie was now trapped on the missile as it headed for its new destination: the sun of the Norvel system.

  Higher and higher the missile climbed, returning to the stratosphere and fast approaching the mesosphere. Soon, it would be back in outer space, with Pattie along for the ride.

  But then the Nasat saw one of the other runners rise up alongside the missile and pull in closer. She recognized the ID marking on the ship: It was Corsi. Pattie could even see the security chief through the cockpit window, motioning for her to jump. She did not need any further prompting. She released the hold that each of her limbs had on the missile and allowed her insectoid body to get yanked off and into free fall.

  Pattie landed roughly on the nose of Corsi’s runner, her protective shell bearing the brunt of the impact. She swiftly used her limbs to grab on to the ship, which was already descending out of the stratosphere. Pattie clambered up the length of the nose to the cockpit, where Corsi raised the canopy high enough so that the Nasat could crawl in and fill the empty copilot’s seat in the rear.

  “Pattie,” Corsi began once the canopy had closed again, her voice filled with joy, anxiety, relief, and exasperation, “that was the stupidest, bravest, most reckless, ill-conceived, wonderful display I’ve ever seen!”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Pattie replied simply.

  They watched in silence as the missile headed up into space, toward the sun.

  “Time for us to get back to the stars ourselves,” Corsi said as she adjusted controls and the runner began climbing above the clouds. Pattie saw the other five remaining runners approaching and heading up with them.

  Phantas 61 was safe, at least for the time being. Now their efforts would be devoted to helping the da Vinci.

  Corsi was gladdened when the da Vinci came into view, still intact and defending itself. It was taking a pounding, to be sure, and its shields were drastically weakened, but it was still there, and still putting up a fight. In fact, it was right then ripping into one of the attacking Orion mercenary ships with a barrage of quantum torpedoes, a relentless torrent that did not end until the attacker was blown to bits. Corsi did a quick survey of the scene, noting that there had been ten mercenary ships to begin with, but now there were seven.

  Way to go, Captain!

  “Is the communications jamming still going on?” Pattie asked from behind her.

  “It is,” Corsi replied. “Thankfully, we don’t seem to need communications at the moment. Elless and his people followed us up here to help the da Vinci, just like they agreed to before we lifted off. It seems pretty straightforward from here on in: Each of us picks an Orion ship and opens fire.”

  Corsi picked her target and dived in. With her tractor beam deactivated, she transferred power back to the shields and weapons systems and got them up to full capacity again. As she swept by the Orion ship, she fired the plasma guns mounted atop the wings of her runner. The weapons were fairly easy to master, somewhat similar to the kind found on the wings of an old-style Romulan bird-of-prey.

  The plasma shots were deflected by the Orion ship’s shields, so Corsi came about for another attack. But the Orion fired its disruptor cannons first, catching Corsi’s runner across the starboard side. The runner shuddered from the impact, but its shields held. Corsi rushed toward the Orion ship and fired the plasma guns again at her opponent, at point-blank range, which had the desired effect—the Orion’s shields began to fluctuate. Corsi swiftly followed up with another bombardment of plasma energy, then switched over to phasers at full intensity. At last, the Orion’s shields came down. Corsi switched back to the plasma weapon and fired. The Orion ship burst into a ball of brilliant light before quickly disintegrating to nothingness.

  Corsi turned her ship around to face the main battle and chose another target. She immediately saw the da Vinci pummeling two Orion attackers with quantum torpedoes, while Elless’s runner had gained the upper hand on another and was firing its plasma guns relentlessly.

  Suddenly, without fanfare, the Orion ships began pulling away from the battle, retreating from the da Vinci and the runners. One by one, the Orions fled at top speed for parts unknown.

  “Maybe that was their leader you destroyed,” P8 Blue suggested.

  “Could be—or they simply decided Portlyn isn’t paying them enough for this kind of aggravation.”

  Checking her sensors, Corsi located the one ship that remained: the freighter in low orbit that had launched the missile at Phantas 61. That was the last target. She set a course to intercept it, and saw that Elless and the other runners were also headed in that direction.

  Above Phantas 61, aboard his private ship, Gerard watched from a safe distance as the remaining Orion mercenary ships fled and the Taru Bolivar ships raced toward the remote-controlled robot freighter. Mr. Portlyn will not be happy about this unfortunate turn of events, Gerard knew. But the agent also knew that his employer would undoubtedly find a way to turn it into a victory. For that to happen, though, there could be no evidence of what had transpired here.

  Gerard activated the computer console on his control panel and tied it into the systems on the robot freighter. Tapping in a numerical sequence, Gerard finished by pressing ENTER.

  On his viewscreen, he watched as the robot ship obliterated itself. He smiled as the Taru Bolivar ships scrambled desperately to get out of the way of the blast—they never saw it coming. Too bad the explosion didn’t take some of them, too.

  Gerard then set a new course for his ship and turned away from Phantas 61. As his ship accelerated out of the region, he deactivated the communications jamming device on his control panel, took a deep breath, and prepared to transmit his status report to Mr. Portlyn.

  Chapter

  10

  Corsi wasn’t sure what surprised Captain Gold more—that she and P8 Blue were part of the mysterious squadron that came to the da Vinci’s aid, or that the squadron also consisted of the terrorists that the da Vinci had come to hunt down.

  With communications no longer jammed, Corsi contacted Gold from her runner and gave him a brief update on what had happened on Phantas 61. She explained what “Taru Bolivar” meant and informed the captain about who had really attacked his ship. Gold ordered Corsi back to the da Vinci, and at Corsi’s urging, the Taru Bolivar leader, Elless, followed her to the Starfleet vessel in his own runner.

  Thinking ahead to the full briefing she planned to give her captain, Corsi requested that both Soloman and Bart Faulwell be on the bridge of the da Vinci upon her return.

  Once aboard, Corsi and P8 Blue escorted Elless directly to the bridge to meet with Captain Gold. Stepping out of the turbolift and onto the command deck, Corsi was very pleased to see Fabian Stevens, and exchanged the briefest of smiles with him. She told herself they’d have to make some time to talk, as soon as possible. But Corsi quickly returned to “all business, no nonsense” mode, and approached the captain’s chair.

  “We picked up two distress calls from the planet,” Gold told her without preamble. “Powers and someone else.” The captain looked over at Elless. “One of your people, I presume?”

  Elless nodded. “Vazga,” he said flatly. Corsi could tell from the look on his face how concerned the Taru Bolivar leader was about the fate of his lieutenant. Clearly, he considered Vazga a trusted comrade and confidante…and perhaps something more.

  “They crash-landed,” Gold continued. “We beamed them up and Dr. Lense has
them in sickbay. They both sustained some pretty extensive injuries—Powers especially. At the very least, he’ll need hip replacement and some nerve regeneration in his spine. At any rate, right now, neither of them could even wrestle a tribble.”

  “At least they’re both alive,” Corsi said with a relieved sigh.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Elless murmured, bowing his head briefly.

  Gold nodded once at Elless, grimly. He then focused on Corsi. “Hawkins is there, too. He contacted us as soon as the communications jamming ended. Just getting his arm looked at—he should be back on duty shortly.” The captain then leaned back in his chair and looked squarely at his security chief and the Taru Bolivar leader. “Now, how about bringing me fully up to speed?”

  Gold was obviously stunned by what Corsi and Elless had to say: Rod Portlyn was behind the attack on the da Vinci. He was also responsible for the missile that nearly killed everyone on Phantas 61. And he intentionally ruined the soil on Vemlar to get the farmers to sell their land to him. Corsi knew all of this was hard for the captain to accept, but she also knew that she had his trust, and that meant he had to believe what she was telling him.

  Gold leaned forward in the center seat and rested his chin atop his fist. “We’re going to need hard proof,” he mused. “Without solid evidence, there’ll be no way to bring Portlyn down.”

  Corsi then pointed to Elless. “You said the file you stole from Portlyn has all the information we’d need.”

  Elless pulled the computer file out of his pocket and held it up, waving it derisively. “I also said it can only be opened on Portlyn’s personal computer. Believe me, we’ve tried to extract the information. Several times. It’s hopeless.”

  “Not necessarily,” Corsi insisted. “Maybe we can use the da Vinci’s equipment, and the expertise we have aboard, to get it open. I mean, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely it is,” Gold replied, holding his hand out to Elless for the file. The Taru Bolivar leader shrugged and handed the file over to the captain. Gold then turned his attention directly to the Bynar computer specialist, who had been standing quietly with Bart Faulwell near the bridge’s aft stations.

  “Soloman, get to work on this right away. If we’re going to get something on Portlyn, we’ve got to do it fast.”

  The Bynar stepped forward and took the file.

  The captain then looked over at Faulwell. “Your talents will come in handy if Soloman gets the file open and the data is in code.”

  “I’ll be happy to help, Captain,” Faulwell replied enthusiastically.

  As Soloman and Faulwell entered the turbolift and left the bridge, Gold focused on Elless. Corsi noticed from the moment the captain met the Taru Bolivar leader that there was tension between them. Corsi knew Elless and his group were terrorists in Gold’s eyes, just as they had been in her own. But a certain degree of trust had been established between Corsi and Elless through their shared experiences on Phantas 61 and in battle. Her view of the Taru Bolivar was no longer quite as harsh as it had been. She still did not approve of their methods, but she understood what motivated them. She wondered if Captain Gold would take a similar stance.

  “We’ll be getting under way shortly, Mr. Elless,” the captain began. “You helped us against the Orion ships, and I appreciate that a great deal.”

  “Just as I am grateful for the aid your people gave us in saving all the lives on Phantas 61, Captain,” Elless replied cautiously. All eyes on the bridge briefly glanced over at P8 Blue, whose singular efforts in stopping the deadly missile had been dutifully reported by Corsi once communications were reestablished.

  Gold continued. “But I’m afraid you present us with a dilemma. You and your group have engaged in terrorist activities, and that cannot and will not be tolerated. Those activities have to end now.”

  Elless replied coldly, “This is not your jurisdiction, Captain.”

  “But it is our fight, now that Portlyn tried to wipe us out. Look, my primary focus now is to stop him. If that’s what you and your Taru Bolivar want, as you claim, then you’ll stay out of our way and not interfere with our efforts. No more terrorist acts, Elless. I’d hate for us to end up on opposite sides after what happened here today, and I don’t want to have to split my attention between Portlyn and you. So don’t give me any tsuris, okay?”

  Corsi couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. Gold had to know that Elless probably never heard that term before. But the Taru Bolivar leader seemed to understand what it meant, and that was enough.

  “All right, Captain. We won’t cause you any trouble—for now. But if your efforts fail, the Taru Bolivar will act again.”

  “Until then, Elless, I would say our business is finished. There’s just the matter of the two people from your group who are currently in our sickbay. I trust you have medical facilities on Phantas 61 to care for them?”

  “Of a sort. The man you picked up from Vemlar is my brother. What is his present condition?”

  Gold frowned and shook his head. “He’s in bad shape, I’m afraid. Dr. Lense says there’s not much hope for recovery.”

  Elless nodded. “I understand. I would appreciate it if your doctor would prepare him and Vazga for beamdown.”

  “I’ll have Lense see to it,” Gold assured Elless. “Commander Corsi will escort you to sickbay.” The captain then turned to his helmsman. “Wong, once our guests have beamed down to the planet, set a course back to Vemlar, warp two-point-five.”

  Gold then stood up and headed for the turbolift. “Shabalala, I’d like you to contact Patrice Bennett at her residence on Tau Ophiucus, and have the call sent directly to my quarters, private channel.”

  With that, Gold left the bridge.

  Corsi thought, It’s none of my business, but why does he want to talk to an ex-girlfriend at a time like this?

  “Why would the captain want to talk to an ex-girlfriend in the middle of all this?” Fabian Stevens asked Corsi as they rode together in the turbolift, on their way back to the bridge from visiting Hawkins and Powers in the sickbay. They were alone for the first time in what felt like days instead of hours.

  “My, aren’t you the curious little cat?” Corsi replied, putting a disapproving tone in her voice.

  “C’mon, Dom, you’re telling me that question didn’t cross your mind?”

  Her attitude became serious. “What do I look like, the ship’s gossipmonger? I don’t engage in that childish nonsense. It’s none of my business.”

  Stevens stared at her blankly for a long moment before she finally broke into a grin. “Okay, you got me,” she chuckled.

  Stevens laughed. “You almost had me going there.” Now it was his turn to become serious, but in his case, he wasn’t play-acting. He said, “Computer, halt turbolift.” The car smoothly came to a halt. “You know, Dom, at one point today it really looked like we would never get another chance to be together like this. To share a laugh…or anything else.”

  “I know,” Corsi replied softly.

  He continued. “Look, I’ve been in Starfleet long enough to know that the end can come at any time, and I accept that. But with me almost getting killed on Teneb and you not being there, and what we just went through separately at Phantas 61…well, I just don’t want anything left unsaid between us in the event that the worst happens, and—”

  She put her finger on his lips. “You don’t have to say anything, Fabe.”

  They stared at each other for a few moments, Stevens staring into those eyes that were ice-cold most of the time, but which were now the pleasant blue they were that first night they slept together almost a year ago.

  Finally, in a soft voice, Stevens said, “Computer, resume.” The car restarted its journey up the turboshaft.

  The da Vinci was minutes away from arriving at Vemlar when Captain Gold returned to the bridge. As he took his seat, Soloman’s voice piped in over the intercom.

  “Soloman to Captain Gold.”

  “Gold here, go ahea
d, Soloman.” The captain smiled, anxious to hear what the Bynar had to say. He was looking forward to good news, and to viewing the evidence against Portlyn.

  “Sir, I regret to report that the file has indeed proven impossible to open.”

  Gold’s face fell.

  “The encryption is as intricate as Elless warned. We are unable to get around it to open the file and gain access to the data within.”

  Gold was sorely disappointed, but not overly surprised. He had, after all, been warned in advance that the file might not be penetrable. But he nonetheless allowed himself to hope that the experts aboard his ship would somehow find a way around that.

  “Thank you, Soloman,” he said with a sigh. “I know how hard you and Faulwell have been working on it.” Gold signed off and leaned back in his chair.

  Behind him, the turbolift doors slid open and Corsi and Stevens stepped out. Gold updated the security chief on the Vemlar file as she came up beside him.

  “Damned frustrating,” she groused.

  Gold tried to come off as optimistic. “Well, we’ll just have to confront Portlyn with what we know, and try to get a confession out of him.”

  She shot him a look that told him she was thinking the same thing he was: Yeah, right.

  Wong then announced, “We’re approaching Vemlar, Captain.”

  Haznedl suddenly spoke up. “Captain, I’m detecting another ship in orbit around the planet. It’s one of ours, sir. Sovereign-class.”

  “Oh?” Gold was intrigued.

  Haznedl adjusted the controls at her station to augment her scan of the area, and then looked up at her commanding officer. “Sir, it’s the Enterprise.”

  Shabalala spoke next, and his voice sounded grim. “Captain, I’m receiving a transmission from the Enterprise. They’re insisting that we stand down immediately.”