Chapter 11

“THE DESERT?” Libby said in astonishment when Harry told her where they were going.

“Trust me, it’ll be wonderful,” Kim reassured her, picking up her bags. “Geez, what have you got in here?”

“Bricks, stones, and lead weights, of course,” Libby replied, then got back to the subject that interested her. “The desert?”

Harry sighed. “We can cancel if you want,” he said, and the disappointment in his voice was heavier than her bags.

“No, it’s just ... when you said you wanted to whisk me away for a romantic getaway, hot baking sun and sand without any blue water was not exactly what I had in mind.”

“You said you’d trust me,” he reminded her.

[134] “And I do, but ...” Her voice trailed off. She had a job to do. She’d go to the desert if that was where he wanted to take her.

As always when the reality of her relationship with Harry reared its ugly head, Libby felt slightly ill. Her interaction with Lieutenant Harry Kim wasn’t an act, but neither was it wholly genuine. She hated dancing on this knife-sharp edge: Was she or wasn’t she his girlfriend? Was he or wasn’t he a subject that she was assigned to study as part of her job? One or the other would be easier. Every night when she came home, she kept hoping for a message from Covington that the assignment was canceled. Then she could sit back and see how she really felt about Harry. But the hoped-for message never came.

What had come over the last six weeks were increasingly distressful reports about who was under suspicion as a traitor. Names she had respected and trusted for most of her adult life “were now coming up for her to watch, to monitor. It was unfortunate, in many ways, that Harry was so eager to get her alone. She needed to be in the thick of the social whirl in order to complete her assignment.

When they materialized in their lodging, though, she almost forgot about why she was here.

“Harry, it’s gorgeous!” And it was. They were in a beautifully furnished adobe house, large enough to feel roomy, small enough to feel cozy. Viga beams stretched across the ceilings. An exquisitely woven rug, obviously an antique, graced the orange-tan walls, while a more functional one was spread out on the cool tile floor. Round windows made moons of sunlight on the [135] floors and walls. A cozy daybed invited lounging, while a fountain burbled softly in a corner. They padded through the house, and Libby found a tiled bathtub deep enough for a real soak, and a tastefully furnished bedroom.

With a large, single bed.

Kim was watching her intently and at her slightly distressed reaction said quickly, “I’ll be sleeping in the daybed. You can have this one.”

Libby felt her face grow hot. “No, that’s all right, I’m smaller. I’ll take the daybed.”

Kim started to argue, then grinned. “We can argue about this later. In the meantime, we’ve got about an hour until we have to leave for dinner. Would you like to freshen up and get changed?”

“Where are we eating?”

Kim beckoned her to follow and led her to the window. The sun was starting to set, casting incredible colors on the sand-hued mountains. Kim pointed.

“There,” he said.

Libby emerged from the bathroom looking radiant. She wore a blue-green sarong draped attractively about her curvaceous body. Gold earrings set with turquoise dangled from her ears. Her hair was pulled back with a barrette and she wore only the barest hint of makeup. Kim’s heart dropped into his stomach with a plop and stayed there.

He was in love again, all right.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Oh, no, absolutely nothing. It’s all perfect.” He [136] extended a hand and she took it, curling her fingers, strong and callused from playing the lal-shak, about his. “You look ... amazing.”

“You’re pretty attractive yourself,” she said. He was all in white, from his button-down shirt to his shoes. From the way she looked at him, he knew the compliment was genuine, and was unduly pleased.

They went outside and a small shuttle appeared in the distance. It set down gently and they climbed aboard. Libby peered excitedly out the window as the shuttle rose into the air, but Kim, out of force of habit, found himself analyzing the ship itself. It was a short-distance luxury vessel, with pleasant pastel colors and deep, comfortable, soft seats. For what it was designed to do, it served its purpose well, but the Alpha Flyer it most definitely wasn’t. Kim sniffed, a bit self-satisfied.

The brief flight was almost silent, and the pilot discreetly did not interject “commentary as they flew over the desert and the mountains.

“Harry, you were right,” Libby said, squeezing his hand. “I never thought the desert could be so beautiful.”

“Or so comfortable,” Harry said. He pointed. “See that butte over there? That’s our restaurant for the evening.”

Libby gasped, looking at the elegantly set table and the two tuxedo-clad waiters. A small tent was set up a short distance away, its yellow and white panels fluttering gently in the slight breeze. The shuttle set down smoothly and the doors hissed open. The waiters were there to help Harry and Libby out.

She stood taking it all in, her mouth slightly open and curved in a smile, and Harry just watched her. He [137] didn’t even have to talk to her, to touch her. Merely to look at her was enough.

“Shall we start with some wine?” he asked.

Libby had never had so delicious a meal in her life. Harry remembered everything she liked to eat, and it was all on the menu. From a bottle of fine Merlot through French onion soup and artichoke dip, to chewy rolls with softened butter, to pasta with baby vegetables lightly sautéed in basil-infused olive oil, to a selection of the finest fruits and cheeses and a rich, dark, sinful triple-layer chocolate cake that was more than enough for two, it was all delectable.

The sun finished its descent while they dined. Right before the glowing yellow orb sank below the horizon, a hawk graced them with its flight. It flew close enough so that Libby could see its markings clearly. “A peregrine!” she cried.

“All part of the arrangements,” Harry boasted jokingly. Soft lights came on from somewhere, and music played in the background. The waiters were perfect, of course; she had noticed the small lights on the ground that indicated holographic emitters and assumed that the only thing real here was the food. Which, really, was all that mattered.

“Shall we have some port or Scotch to finish with?” Harry asked her.

“Oh, no,” Libby laughed. “I think I’ve had quite enough.” She leaned back, her stomach almost too full, and looked up at the stars. “It’s really beautiful out here,” she said.

[138] “Yeah,” said Harry. He rose and deactivated the waiters so they could have some privacy. “I’ll turn off the lights so we can see the stars better, okay?”

“Sounds wonderful!”

He settled back into his chair and looked up at the stars along with Libby. “I’ve got to get you up there one day,” he said.

Libby grinned. “I’ve got enough to do here on Earth to keep me busy, thanks.” And just like that, the recollection of why she was really here flashed into her mind, and she felt the smile bleed from her face. Why can’t this be just what it appears to be? Two people out on a date, relearning about one another? Why does Harry have to be an assignment?

Even in the dim light of the stars, Harry noticed the change in her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied. She faked a grimace and rubbed her stomach. “I think I ate too much.”

“I’m glad. I mean, I’m not glad that you’re feeling uncomfortable, I ...” He turned away. She knew he was blushing, although she couldn’t see it.

She looked over at him, at his sweet face dimly illuminated by the twinkling stars, and made her decision. To hell with the assignment, at least for tonight.

Slowly, bathed in starlight, Libby rose and went to him. He reached for her, shyly, and pulled her down into his lap. She looked into his eyes, dark, shadowed pools with faint glimmers of light, and leaned to kiss him.

It was as if they had never been apart. Her body remembered his touch, his scent, and she melted into him as easily and comfortably as if climbing into a warm, [139] familiar bed and pulling the covers snugly around her. Home. This was home. This was sweet, was true, was where she belonged, and the gentleness turned more intense as the kiss deepened.

God help her, she was still in love with him.

Neither one of them slept in the daybed that night.

Libby returned home much later the following day than she had anticipated and found several annoyed messages from Director Covington waiting for her. She felt bad at first, then defiant. She was doing exactly what Covington had ordered her to do.

Well, okay, not exactly. She smiled as she recalled the night before, the sweetness and the passion. She had been simply Libby Webber, not Mata Hari, while in Harry’s arms. And Covington would just have to deal with it.

“I will be transmitting you the latest updates Intelligence has gathered, Agent Webber,” said Covington, her pale face and hair almost white against the dark background of her office. “It’s pretty grim. After you read this, please delete, as per usual protocol. Check in with me immediately once you have read the information. Covington out.”

Libby sighed. She didn’t want to read reports, chase down leads of broken codes, mix and mingle with high-ranking dignitaries at parties after conceits. She wanted to be with Harry, laughing and playing and making love and rediscovering how wonderful it felt to be with him.

But she had a job to do. She downloaded the information onto a padd, threw herself on the bed, and [140] began to read. Indigo jumped onto the bed and curled up beside her, purring. She stroked the cat absently; then her hand froze as she read some of the names that Starfleet Intelligence currently regarded as being worthy of further covert investigation.

Ambassador Jakrid Kalgrua

Admiral Robert Amerman

Captain Jean-Luc Picard

Admiral Kenneth Montgomery

Admiral Owen Paris

Captain Robert DeSoto

She realized she was breathing quickly. Was it true? Did it really run this deep? She couldn’t imagine anyone on this list trafficking with the Syndicate! Her eye fell on one name in particular, and Libby went cold inside.

Admiral Kenneth Montgomery. She’d never met him, but she knew of him by reputation. Quite the hero of the Dominion War. Harry had said he’d chewed out Captain—Admiral—Janeway in her debriefing and had seemed interested ... what was it. ...

Extremely interested in Voyager’s new technology.

Hoping she was wrong, she said aloud, “Computer, what is Admiral Kenneth Montgomery’s latest assignment?”

“Admiral Kenneth Montgomery has been assigned to head Project Full Circle,” the computer answered in its crisp female voice.

“And what is the nature of the project?”

“Analyzing the starship Voyager’s futurist and Borg [141] technology for incorporation into Starfleet’s vessels,” the computer replied.

Covington had told her that technology—specs, actual items, and information—was what was being leaked to the Syndicate. She immediately contacted Covington, using the Top Priority code. Brenna Covington’s face appeared on the screen.

“There you are, Agent Webber,” she said. “You’re several hours late reporting in.”

“Never mind that,” said Libby, knowing as she said it that it was a breach of protocol and also knowing that once Covington heard what she had to say, she wouldn’t give a damn either. Quickly Libby repeated what she had heard Harry say about Janeway’s debriefing. Covington sat silently and listened intently, her eyes widening slightly every now and then, but other than that, betraying nothing of what she was feeling.

“Well, well,” she said, after Libby had finished. “We’ve had people on Montgomery, but nobody’s reported that particular incident. I’m very pleased I assigned you to Lieutenant Kim. I told you if you kept your ears open, you’d learn something valuable.”

“Yes, ma’am, you certainly did.” Libby hated to admit it, but her new boss was right.

Covington seemed shaken. “You need to know that we put him on the list only as a precaution, along with Captain Picard. Both of them had had interactions with the Syndicate within the last year. Montgomery didn’t campaign for the position as head of Project Full Circle, and in fact he wasn’t expected to get it. Commander Brian Grady was due to get that promotion; [142] he’s had a lot more experience with that sort of thing than Montgomery has. Strange that he was passed over in favor of Montgomery, don’t you think? We had no idea ...”

Her voice trailed off, then she cleared her throat. “Well. We’ll definitely pursue this further. In the meantime, I have a few other leads for you to follow up on. I’ve arranged for Lieutenant Kim to get invited to the opera tomorrow night. Eight ambassadors, including one who is a known dealer with the Syndicate, will be attending. I’m certain he will invite you to be his guest. I will give you a seating chart. You’ll have a chance to observe the ambassadors during the performance and at the intermission afterward.”

“Harry hates opera. He probably won’t accept the invitation.”

Covington widened her eyes slightly at Libby’s comment. “Then it’s up to. you to see that he does,” she said, her voice still pleasant but with a steely undertone.

“Understood, ma’am,” replied Libby automatically.

Covington’s expression softened slightly. “I know this is unusual for you, Agent Webber, but you’re doing a fine job. We’ll catch the mole, and then whatever happens between you and Lieutenant Kim will stay between the two of you. In the meantime, though, you are serving the Federation, and that has to come before everything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Libby, a bit more sincerely. “I am aware of that, and I’ll do my best not to let personal matters interfere.”

[143] “I’m certain you’ll continue to serve well and loyally. Covington out.”

Libby wasn’t so sure. She’d always been a good agent. She had a natural gift for ingratiating herself with people, earning their trust and confidence, and also seeming so innocuous that people didn’t really watch what they said around her. But it was different, playing this deception game with Harry, the one person above all others she ought not to be deceiving.

She hoped Covington was right, that they would identify and capture the mole soon. Harry was moving into her heart too quickly. He was no fool, and sooner or later, he’d begin to ask questions.

And she had no idea how she’d answer them.