Star Trek: Section 31: Control by David Mack

Author:David Mack
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books

Twenty-three

Sarina closed her travel case. The lid locked with a soft click. There hadn’t been much in the hard-shell case when she had first packed it before leaving home on Andor, and it was still partially empty inside—a state she found familiar.

Her life before being transformed by Julian’s medical prowess had been that of a semicatatonic near-invalid, thanks to the botched genetic enhancements her parents had foisted upon her early in her childhood. Consequently, for most of her life she hadn’t had much need of possessions. In the years since being emancipated from the prison of her own mind, that had remained true. Never had she owned more than a few changes of clothing, and she had long since discovered her profound distaste for clutter. Unlike Julian, she eschewed knickknacks, mementos, books, houseplants, or anything else she didn’t consider necessary. All of which made it a simple matter for her to pick up and leave on a moment’s notice.

On the other side of their bed, Julian folded one of his shirts, then proceeded to roll it up tightly, to save space inside his over-the-shoulder duffel. His years of service in Starfleet had taught him how to travel with minimal accouterments, thought it was obvious to Sarina that the practice did not come as naturally to him as it did to her.

She set her case at the foot of the bed. “I’ll go see if Ozla’s ready.”

Julian kept on folding and rolling. “Right. I’ll check in with Data.”

A sense of impending threat quickened Sarina’s pace as she crossed the suite’s main room and exited its front door. At either end of the corridor, near the lifts, armed Cardassians wearing the white suits of the castellan’s private guard stood sentry in pairs. None of them stirred as Sarina hurried to the door of Ozla Graniv’s suite and pressed the visitor signal. Though the closed portal was soundproofed, she heard the feedback tone from the panel beside the door. Seconds passed without a response.

Not good.

Ozla’s door was unlocked, so she opened it and entered the journalist’s quarters. All was quiet. Purging any note of fear from her voice, Sarina called out, “Ozla? It’s Sarina. Are you packed? We need to get going.” No reply came.

Don’t panic. Don’t assume the worst. Stay calm.

Quick steps carried her to the bedroom’s open door. Ozla wasn’t there, or in its attached bathroom suite. There were no obvious signs of a struggle or foul play, but Sarina had a bad feeling nonetheless. She tapped the personal comm pinned to her jacket’s lapel. “Sarina to Ozla. Ozla, do you read me? Please respond.” Silence reigned. She checked the device’s settings. They were just as they had been when Data had issued them from his personal cache on Archeus—right down to the encryption mode and synchronized rotating frequency.

Now it’s time to get worried.

Another tap on the comm. “Sarina to Julian. Please respond.” Nothing. “Sarina to Data. Can you hear me? Sarina to all comms on this channel.

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