A New Alliance

After several hours of fruitless investigation, Zhiva was starting to get frustrated.  Straightening her aching back, she muttered a rude word that she knew would have shocked her straight-laced traditionalist parents had they heard her.  The thought made her shrug with a momentary bitterness.  It had been a long time since she had worried about what her parents thought. If she’d done as they’d wanted she’d still be living in the ice caves.

Oh I wouldn't do that" a voice remarked behind her. "It doesn't sound very comfortable"

Zhiva spun round in surprise to see a slender red haired Romulan woman in a Starbase uniform.  Do what?  She was about to voice the question when she remembered the rude word she had muttered, a suggestion that any listener do something that was, to say the least, anatomically… difficult.  She blushed, embarrassment sending the blood rushing to her cheeks, staining them a delicate yet unearthly ice blue. Then she frowned, realising belatedly that she did not recognise the newcomer.  "This is a restricted area, you should not be in here. I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave."

 "I am here to assist you, Special Agent."

As the Romulan approached, Zhiva caught a glimpse of the FedKIN patch on her arm.  "You’re out of your jurisdiction" she said warily, "But I won’t deny I could use the help."

“Then let's get started.”

Zhiva hesitated, "Would you mind identifying yourself first?"

 "N'Sal.... Sal if you like.  Colonel Speares asked me to come and give you some backup"

Slowly the Andorian woman nodded. She should probably verify the claim but doubtless it would check out. No Starfleet employee would lie so readily, at least not about something that could so easily be confirmed. “Forgive me for being so wary" she said, "Its all been a bit...  I mean, we’ve never had a crime this serious on board the ship"

"All the more reason to find an answer quickly"

Zhiva nodded, gesturing for N'Sal to join her at the console.  "Whoever engineered this has to have done so from here" she said, "But they must be an expert computer programmer.  They’ve done an incredible job of covering their tracks"

"Are there personnel with those kind of skills on board?" The Romulan asked as she accessed the programming records.

"Too many" Zhiva said grimly, "Endeavour is the flagship, it only gets assigned the best"

"There is the best.... and then there is who did this...... and dropped a crumb" N’Sal grinned wolfishly, stopping on a screen that seemed to Zhiva to be no different to the others.

Her antennae twitched in concentration as she studied the screen N’Sal had highlighted. “What have you found?"

“This command sequence has recorded ID information that hasn’t been properly wiped”

Zhiva leaned closer, mentally resolving to take a course in advanced computer programming once she got back to the starbase. The data was degraded. It had been through a wipe attempt that had only partially succeeded.  Slowly the Andorian smiled.  "Can we identify the programmer from this?"

“There is enough data here to reconstruct the information from scratch. All you need do is input the command and with a bit of luck, the base command sequence will include a numerical operator unique to the person that wrote the sequence. And you have your culprit”

The Andorian woman gave a vindictive smile. She would have vengeance for this… justice, she corrected herself. Endeavour was a small community. Everyone knew everyone else.  She had known the people killed and very likely she knew their killer.  The thought sickened her.  "Let's do it then"

Side by side, the two investigators began to input the necessary instructions to reconstruct the damaged data blocks.  Slowly but surely a picture of the events leading up to the tragedy began to build up.

"Coward...." The Romulan hissed, her hand trailing to the distinctly non-regulation knife strapped to her leg.

"Have we got an ID?" Zhiva asked tensely.

"There is the ID code. The computer will match it to a crew member"

Taking the code, the Andorian agent swiftly input the data into the computer and waited for an answer.  It was almost instantaneous.  Lieutenant Commander Philippe Goyard. 

"Where is he?"

"Lieutenant Commander Philippe Goyard is currently in main engineering."  The computer's voice was cold and toneless as it gave out the information.  Despite the heat - and to the Aenar woman everywhere on the ship seemed unbearably hot - Zhiva shivered. Was it just her imagination or did even the ship's computer sound outraged over the atrocity?

 

"You have your culprit, Special Agent"

"So we do" Zhiva's voice was as cold as the ice caverns she had grown up in.  "Philippe Goyard, senior computer technician, Beta shift. Transferred six months ago from the USS Obready."  She hit her combadge.  "Security, have Lieutenant Commander Goyard arrested"

"On what charge, ma'am?" The voice was that of Lieutenant Mark Griffiths, the officer who until a few hours ago, had been Endeavour’s deputy security chief and who had found himself suddenly promoted by the murder of his immediate superior.

 If it were possible, Zhiva's voice became even colder "Murder, mutiny, sabotage... that should do for now"

"Consider it done, ma’am!" Lieutenant Griffiths’ voice was equally chilly. His senior was not the only security officer to have died in the attack. “A security team is on the way now”

***********

 

With Endeavour hanging motionless in space for the negotiations, there was little for the engineering crew to do.  Qeytok however, ran a tight department and kept his team busy with maintenance work, inspecting and tuning the engines and running various tests and diagnostics.

 

Goyard lay on his side halfway up an inspection tube, carefully monitoring the oscillations of the dilithium frequency as varying power levels were put through. The monitor reading spiked and he made an adjustment. The flow settled down again. "Bien" he smiled to himself.

 

Coming on board the Endeavour had been a difficult adjustment for him, although career wise it had been a good decision.  Unlike the Obready, the crew here spoke mostly English, a language which Goyard spoke well- it was the official language of the Federation after all - but he missed the sound of his native French around him.  There was no language barrier as such, but the Frenchman sometimes felt misunderstood by his colleagues through his thick accent. He sighed at the thought and turning his attention back to his work, he reached for his computer pass to sign off on his work, only to remember that it was still missing. Merde!  He'd been meaning to report its disappearance for a few days now, but no doubt it was just his carelessness and it would turn up under his bed or in some other equally silly place.  It would require a replacement, but right now he had to sign off. Without the card, he would have to give the computer an iris scan.  Sighing again, he activated the scanner, pressed his eye to it and hit the switch.

 

Commander Qeytok had been about to initiate a warp alignment test when the doors to his department had swung open, admitting several armed security officers.  He scowled.  He did not like intruders in his domain and he wondered irritably what they wanted.

 

"Where is Phillipe Goyard?" Griffiths demanded.

 

Qeytok let out a low warning growl, not appreciating the other man's attitude.  "He is busy. What do you want with him?"

 

“He's wanted in connection with the deaths of a number of personnel”

 

The Klingon's growl deepened, taking on a menacing tone as he made the connection.  "The shuttle bay?"

 

"Affirmative. SCIS have evidence linking him to the computer sabotage"

 

Qeytok’s growl became a roar of anger, his hand going automatically to the knife in his belt.  Calming himself with a visible effort, he turned and pointed.  "He is over there in the Jefferies tubes."

 

 "Which one?"

 

"I will show you" the Klingon rumbled.  Moving surprisingly quietly for such a big man, he crossed the room, followed closely by the security officers.  The group was still ten feet away when Goyard's feet appeared from the Jefferies tube as he wriggled out.  Straightening up, the Frenchman tugged on his creased uniform, pulling it back into place before glancing at the security officers in mild surprise.

 

“Phillippe Goyard turn around and put your hands on your head!" Griffiths ordered.

 

Goyard's surprise turned to confusion and alarm as he saw the phasers pointing at him.  "Je ne.. " He stopped and tried again, "I do not understand.  Avez vous une probleme?”

 

"Hands on your head! Face the wall!" The order was repeated to the sound of a rifle racking up charge.

 

Was this another joke on the part of his new colleagues, Goyard wondered?  Non, he decided, looking into the cold eyes of the security officers, this was no prank, it was serious, deadly serious.  Suddenly afraid, he obeyed their instructions. "Why am I being arrested?"

 

Someone grabbed his arm and wrenched it around. He felt the cold hard metal of handcuffs locking tight around his wrist and then the same with the other arm. "Philippe Goyard you are being placed under arrest on suspicion of espionage, treason, mutiny, sabotage, murder and attempted murder" Griffiths informed him before mechanically reading him his rights.

 

"Non!" The Frenchman protested, his fear rising as he listened to the list of charges against him. "This is a mistake."

 

"Take him to the Brig"

 

The security staff started to pull him towards the doors.  "Non!" he protested again, looking wildly around him, his eyes silently begging for help that was not forthcoming.  "Je n'ai rien fait de mal" he cried, "I have done nothing wrong, je suis innocent"

 

His colleagues watched him being led away in silence. It had been engineering that had cleared up the mess in the shuttle bay. The thought that one of their own was even suspected of causing it… As Goyard's desperate cries faded from their hearing, the engineering staff slowly returned to their work, muttering amongst themselves in disgust.