The Heart of Darkness
Lt. Cmdr. Peliar Zel
Chapter 4
The door to Peliar Zel's quarters swooshed open, and he quickly entered. The place was clean, and there was not much to pack. He slowly walked towards the large bed and let himself fall face-down upon it. The Admiral's words were spiralling around in his head, along with dreadful images conjured up by the ghostly transmission. The door chime sounded. With a groan, he answered it. "Come in!"
Ashley walked into the main room, and looked around for the source of the voice. Turning the corner into the bedroom, she saw Peliar, lying on his back.
"Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"No, no, come in," he replied. "I've just been thinking about our briefing. That's a lot of pressure, don't you think: the fate of the Federation in our hands..."
"It could be nothing, Peliar," Ashley soothed.
"I seriously doubt it. That message - there was something really strange about it."
"We could run it through the computer again, if it's really bothering you."
"I think that would just pique my curiousity further. The only real answers we're going to get are on that ship." Peliar stood up and they both sat down at the coffee table.
"T'Lar was right, the Romulans are not wasteful or vain. Everything they do has a purpose."
"You're probably right," Ashley admitted. "Maybe I'm just hoping that none of this is really happening. I mean, we might not come back from this one."
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that... with me around," laughed Peliar. Ashley started to chuckle, and hit Peliar hard on the shoulder.
"The day I need your protection is the day wild targs pilot starships!"
"Right you are," conceded Peliar. "Do you mind if I start packing?"
"Go ahead. Would you like to know just how we intend to get this ship?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," answered Peliar as he stuffed his spare boots into a small duffel bag. "It's rather interesting, and complicated.. It all breaks up into three parts..."
* * *
The Jaguar phaser range was alive with bright practice targets and the sound of phaser fire. Lt. Prestwich and Lt. Liao stood back to back as the target drones whizzed by at increasingly higher speeds.
"So," Mark began, "What do you think of our new assignment?" Prestwich was silent for a moment, and then fired a shot dead-on target.
"I don't think we should be discussing it here."
"Come on, Alan!" Mark retorted. "No one can hear us in here. Now tell me: what do you think," he said as he fired off a shot, only slightly off target.
"Sure, I like a little bit of adventure," Alan began. "But you're forgetting something."
"What's that?" asked Mark, somewhat confused.
"While you and your little security buddies are out shooting Romulans, I'll be sitting at some dust-covered alien computer console; staring at alien letters until my eyes bug out, or I manage to find something that I can understand." Alan fired his phaser, dead-on target again.
"Maybe you picked the wrong line of work, mister!" yelled Mark as he again narrowly missed his target. "I can see Commander Clark's report right now: 'Lt. Liao valiantly defended his fellow officers, securing an invaluable prize for the Federation.'"
"That's all fine and good, Mark," Alan began. "But again you're forgetting something. I can see the Admiral's report right now: 'The skilled and ingenious work of Lt. Alan Prestwich has revealed a treasure trove of high technology, surely turning the tide of our war with the Dominion, and assuring security for our citizens for years to come. Oh, and Mark Liao came along.'"
"I suppose you nerds, I mean, science officers do have your uses." One last miss turned Mark off of their activity, for the day.
"Nice shooting, Lieutenant." "Why, thank you, Lieutenant," replied Alan. The two of them reached for their towels against the walls. They wiped the sweat from their foreheads and sat down on the long synthetic-wood bench.
"Did you see Peliar Zel during the briefing this morning?" asked Mark.
"What do you mean?" "When the transmission was played back, he looked very nervous. I thought I could hear his heart beat, it was so loud!"
"That was probably YOUR heart," replied Alan.
"Anyways," Mark continued, "It caught me off guard. Usually, he's not easily unnerved. But this morning, I could have sworn that I saw fear in his eyes."
"Do you think he knows something?"
"I don't know. Maybe Redbay's cake just gave him indigestion."
"Your probably right," said Alan. "I'm going to bed; how about you?"
"Join me for a drink, first?"
"I'd be honoured, Lieutenant." "After you, Lieutenant."
* * *
Lt. Howell sat alone at the bar fondling his empty glass. "Bartender, another of the same, please." The bartender walked towards Howell until he was squarely across the table from him.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I think you've had enough. I think you might have a problem..."
"Give me a break, Ferengi," Howell replied. "It's only a milkshake."
"Are you sure? I mean, all those bubbles - it's not even real milk..."
"Another, please," repeated Howell.
"All right, but the least you could do is tell me your name!"
"Just call me Ryan. I'm the communcations officer on the Conquistador." He turned around to survey the room, but it was mostly empty. A pair of Tammarian teenagers were getting along quite well in the corner, and a Bolian merchant sat contented, also alone at his own table. The bartender returned with the milkshake.
"There you go."
"Thank you."
"So, Ryan," the bartender began. "You're from the Conquistador? What are you still doing here? Your ship pulled out this afternoon. Shore leave?"
"Special assignment."
"Can you talk about it?"
"Well, I..." Howell was interrupted by a strong pair of hands quickly descending on to his shoulders. He was swung around in his seat to face Nikki squarely.
"Just mind your own business, barkeep," she said. Gently pulling Ryan out of his stool, she whispered into his ear. "You better watch your mouth, Lieutenant. We can't afford any slip-ups, understood?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Now, it's late. I don't want you fighting your own fatigue tomorrow morning, all right? Now, go get some sleep."
"See you tomorrow, Commander," said Alan, truly sorry.
"Good night." Nikki sat down in the stool formerly occupied by Lt. Howell.
"What was that all about?" the bartender asked.
"Give me a break, Ferengi," Nikki replied. "And get me a milkshake."