Chapter Thirteen

WESLEY CRUSHER GROANED, rose from his desk, and stretched his arms over his head. He was weary from spending the last several hours recording every detail of his surveillance of Emil Costa. Mainly, he was bored from having no one to talk to except the computer. What had started out to be so exciting had turned into danger, drudge work, and forced confinement. It might be a while before he accepted another undercover job again.

A chime sounded, and Wesley turned eagerly to the door. “Who’s there?”

“Wesley, it’s me, Deanna,” came the reply from the other side of the hatch.

“I’m not supposed to talk to anyone,” the teenager sighed. Then he brightened, “But that doesn’t include you.”

“I just came by to see if you’re all right,” she replied. “We can ‘talk about that, can’t we?”

“Sure,” Wesley agreed eagerly. “Come in, Deanna.”

Deanna Troi entered the young man’s room and caught him tossing an errant sock behind his bed. He pointed excitedly to his computer screen. “I’m trying to get it all down, everything that happened up to the murder. At least, everything I saw or heard.”

“That’s wise,” Deanna replied with a comforting smile. “Have you talked to your mother yet?”

“Just briefly,” frowned the teenager. “She’s annoyed at me for keeping this assignment a secret from her. But that’s what Worf told me to do.”

“You did the correct thing,” Deanna replied. “You’re a full ensign now, and your mother will have to accept the fact that you may have assignments that are . . . unpleasant. Worf and I appreciate what you’ve done, even if we were too late to help Dr. Milu.”

“Yeah,” agreed Wes glumly. “It still doesn’t seem like it really happened. At the time I saw them arguing, Dr. Milu acted like he was in charge. Emil was the one who was scared.” The boy shook his head and added, “Of course, Emil was the one with the phaser.”

“Do you feel comfortable now?” asked the Betazoid, choosing her words carefully. “Now that Emil Costa is incarcerated and awaiting trial, does everything seem as it should to you?”

“No,” answered Wesley, blurting out the truth. “I’m still scared and still don’t know what’s going on.”

“Me too,” said Deanna sympathetically. “I think it’s residual anxiety. All of us have been slightly traumatized by these events.”

The teenager nodded, admitting, “It’ll be a long time before I go near one of those pods.”

The door chimed again, startling them both. A voice boomed, “This is Lieutenant Worf. May I enter?”

“Come in,” called Wesley.

The security officer entered and appeared mildly surprised to see Counselor Troi. But his face soon returned to a portrait of grim determination, as he tugged on his sash and announced, “The arraignment is set for ten o’clock tomorrow morning at the starbase. Ensign Crusher, your presence may or may not be required, but I would prefer that you beam over there with me tonight. Emil Costa is also beaming directly to a cell on the asteroid.”

Worf added solemnly, “I am acting as prosecuting attorney in this matter.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Wesley. “That should expedite matters.”

“Yes,” Worf replied, “except that Data is acting as defense attorney.”

“Wow,” said Wesley with somber realization. “He’s going to cross-examine me.”

The Klingon grumbled, “It was your suggestion, Ensign.” His anger softened, and he granted himself a smile. “I’ve just reviewed the deposition you gave to Counselor Troi a few minutes after the murder. Our case is stronger than I thought. We’ll play your deposition for the court, then you will have to answer a few questions. I wouldn’t be too nervous. Pack enough uniforms for a few days. I’ll return in an hour.”

“I should be leaving too,” announced Deanna. She gave Wesley an encouraging smile and followed the lieutenant out.

“I’m confident,” said Worf, striding briskly down the corridor, while Deanna hurried to keep up. “Crusher’s testimony clearly establishes that Emil Costa had a phaser weapon when he went to meet Karn Milu. He had both motive and opportunity. In fact, we have our choice of motives: greed, extortion, and revenge. This is more than a disagreement between two conspirators—Emil Costa also believed that Karn Milu had killed his wife! I have another witness who will testify that Karn Milu threatened to kill Lynn Costa.”

Deanna blinked in surprise. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Worf stopped and bowed his head gratefully to the Betazoid. “Counselor Troi,” he intoned, “you’ve been a valuable asset to this investigation and I hesitate to burden you, but somebody needs to go through Karn Milu’s personal files and records. If I have any time to spare, I will assist you.”

“Think nothing of it,” smiled Deanna. “Betazoids sometimes use arcane methods to keep notes. Let me check out his files and papers.”

“Dr. Baylak is now acting head of the science branch,” said Worf. “If you need help, see him. In all likelihood, I will be occupied in court, and you may not be able to communicate with me. But Captain Picard will remain on the Enterprise, should you discover anything noteworthy.”

The Klingon’s confidence gave way to puzzlement. “I cannot understand why Emil Costa won’t confess and save himself needless anguish? He would certainly qualify for psychiatric care instead of punishment. The only thing our case lacks is an eyewitness.”

Deanna’s brow looked as troubled as Worf’s, and she asked hesitantly, “Is there any way it could be somebody else?”

Worf stared at her as if she had said the unthinkable. “Counselor,” he warned, “what we need is support for the case we have, not new theories.”

“Understood,” said the Betazoid, feeling foolish. “I’ll report later.”

Worf nodded curtly and marched off to the turbolift. The new prosecutor felt almost light-headed from all the details swirling around in his massive cranium. Legal procedures in the Federation were still modeled after ancient Earth standards, but they had been vastly simplified since the time when arcane language confused normal people and made lawyers rich. In the Federation, law was more in the common sense vein of Solomon, so that people from radically different cultures could grasp it. Yet, there were still many decisions and considerations, and they kept tumbling through Worf’s mind, fighting for his attention.

The case against Emil Costa was self-evident, he told himself. All he had to do was present it coherently. True, Data was formidable, but the android was also scrupulously honest and would never resort to tactics that weren’t fair. He would do exactly what he promised—argue his case and cast doubt on the prosecution’s. So at least Worf didn’t have to worry about being tricked by a smooth-tongued orator. Justice would be served, and Emil Costa would be punished.

Thinking about the once-revered scientist brought a surprising twinge of pity, which the Klingon fought down. He was a murderer, plain and simple, and there could be no mitigating factors.

“O’Brien to Worf,” came the transporter chief’s voice.

The Klingon tapped his combadge and answered, “Worf here.”

“We’ve received the coordinates for the containment cell on Kayran Rock,” explained O’Brien, “and starbase security says they’re ready. We can beam Dr. Costa over whenever you say.”

“Stand by for my command,” said Worf. “I’m going to his cell now. Out.”

He swiveled abruptly on his heel and marched back toward the turbolift. When he arrived at the containment unit, he saw Data seated by the old man’s door, talking to him through the invisible forcefield. Emil was a pathetic sight, and once again Worf suppressed a feeling of sympathy,

Upon seeing the security chief, they stopped their discussion and rose uncomfortably from their chairs.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” said Data.

“Hello, Commander Data,” the Klingon replied. He turned to Emil. “Dr. Costa, we are ready to transport you to a cell on the starbase. I have requested some clothes for you as well as a medical examination.”

“Oh,” groaned the scientist warily, “I hate transporting. Isn’t there some other way?”

Worf scowled, “You had your chance to go by shuttle. Prepare to beam.” He tapped his badge. “Worf to O’Brien. Prepare to beam Dr. Costa to the starbase.”

“Acknowledged,” said O’Brien.

“Wait!” Emil shrieked. He turned plaintively to Data. “Please, I’m scared . . . Data, will you come with me?”

The idea of an old man begging the android to keep him company in a transporter beam was absurd yet oddly touching, thought Worf in spite of himself. Data turned to him and asked, “May I?”

The Klingon shrugged, “Go ahead.” Had it been anyone else, he probably would have refused, but no one was likely to overpower Data, especially a crushed old man.

“O’Brien,” said Worf, “lock on to Commander Data as well and beam them both to the containment cell. They can continue their conversation there.”

“Locking on to Commander Data,” the technician replied.

“Thank you,” Emil said sincerely.

“Thank you,” added Data.

Worf growled, “Energize.”

The accused and his lawyer dematerialized, and all the cells in the containment unit were again empty—that was how Worf liked it. He stepped out into the corridor, and the doors jarred shut behind him.

 

After wondering whether she should give sleep another chance, Deanna Troi decided that relaxation wasn’t in the immediate offing. Better start on Karn Milu’s records, she told herself. She took the turbolift to deck 5 and emerged on the main science deck where most of the labs and offices were located. Normally, deck 5 was bustling with activity, but this shift seemed deserted. Of course, the counselor told herself, when the head of the entire branch is murdered and the most famous scientist on board is held for that murder, the rank and file may not feel much like working.

She remembered quite well having been to Karn Milu’s office just before Saduk showed them where Lynn Costa had died. That seemed so long ago, but it had only been a few dozen hours. That first death—then so shocking and unexpected—had now paled beside the brutal murder of Karn Milu and the fateful shuttlecraft trip. Events had compounded upon events, offering clarification and a firm suspect—but no satisfaction. Deanna Troi did not feel relief.

She rounded the corridor leading to Karn Milu’s office and bumped headlong into a figure hurrying in the opposite direction. Shana Russel recoiled from her in shock.

“I just heard!” the young woman gasped. “I was working in the cleanrooms, and the intercom in my helmet must not have been working. This is horrible! How can he be dead?”

“Calm yourself,” Deanna suggested. “This has been a shock to all of us. Did you think by going to Karn Milu’s office you would find him?”

“I don’t know what I thought!” Shana wailed with confusion. “This makes it all worse. What is happening to us?”

Deanna put her arm around the girl’s shoulder and comforted her. “You must be brave,” she advised. “Emil Costa is standing trial for Dr. Milu’s murder, and you will probably be called to testify, as will I.”

“But I don’t know anything,” protested Shana. “What will I tell them?”

“You must speak to Lieutenant Worf about that.”

The young blond woman slumped against the wall. “This is not quite how I imagined it would be,” she muttered. “The Costas, the Enterprise—I thought I was the luckiest kid in my class. And I learned so much in this last six months, I hoped it could go on forever. But now it’s over before it began.”

Deanna smiled sympathetically, “You’re still aboard the Enterprise, and you obviously have work to do. Don’t be discouraged. These incidents are an aberration, believe me.”

“I do,” the girl smiled bravely. “Counselor Troi, would you like to go to Ten-Forward with me?”

“No,” answered Deanna. “I’ve just come from there, and it’s quite lively—I’m sure you will find people to talk with. If you missed Captain Picard’s announcement, he also informed us that we’ll be taking shore leave on Kayran Rock. You may want to get to a computer screen and put in a request.”

“I will!” exclaimed Shana, brightening considerably. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“It’s my job,” Deanna smiled.

The young woman started down the corridor but stopped and turned. “Tell Lieutenant Worf I would be happy to discuss my testimony with him any time.”

“I will,” Deanna promised.

Now the Betazoid wound her way down a corridor that was totally deserted. She wondered if Karn Milu’s door would be locked. If it was, she had only to contact Worf, and he could issue a security override. That wasn’t her problem; the problem was the volume of data he would have. Betazoids were inveterate record keepers, and they enjoyed the more arcane aspects of the practice. They seldom kept records only one way.

As chief administrator of the science branch, Dr. Milu’s daily proclamations were a matter of record. But how did he arrive at his decisions? When he chose Grastow over Saduk to head the depleted Microcontamination Project, for example, did he keep any log of his thought process? She doubted if he had told anyone the real reason for overlooking Saduk. Personnel assignments were a large part of Karn Milu’s job, and Deanna wondered if he operated by intuition, documented reasoning, or a patronage system.

She had admired the man inordinately, and she hoped she wouldn’t find more evidence of wrongdoing to tarnish his reputation. She was afraid she would, though. Whatever she rooted out, Deanna told herself, would help Worf find the truth—and that’s all that mattered. Karn Milu’s privacy couldn’t concern him now.

His door whooshed open at her approach, meaning it had been left unlocked, or set to open automatically for anyone who approached. Deanna entered the office and again marveled at the cases of exotic insects, all pinned, labeled, and preserved. Her eyes were drawn to the massive amber desk where a multitude of grubs twisted in eternal suspension. She stopped abruptly.

His computer screen was on.

Of course, thought Deanna, he may have gone off and left it that way. But Karn Milu didn’t seem to be the careless type. Would he go off to a secretive meeting and leave his screen on and his door unlocked? Had somebody else been in here in the last six or seven hours?

That was ridiculous, Deanna scolded herself. She should do exactly as Worf had admonished her: Forget half-baked suspicions and get on with the business at hand.

The computer was already opened to Karn Milu’s file area, and Deanna worked long into the night. She read as many representative files as she could and listened to his official logs. Still, she didn’t find the morass of material she expected. The administrator’s private files on the people under his direction were relatively complete but oddly dry and impersonal. His records for the entomology section he also headed were just as maddeningly succinct. Nowhere was the opinionated flair of the man himself.

Even his collection of memos and reports was mostly restricted to official business. Where was a happy birthday message? The odd copy of a favorite poem? A quick to-do list? Where was the person behind these sterile computer records?

This data was strictly for public consumption, the Betazoid decided, pushing herself away from the immense desk. She stood and glanced about the room. Not that she expected to find a sheaf of yellowing papers lying on the floor, but she knew her countrymen could be very surreptitious about their private affairs. Perhaps the ability to communicate telepathically made them somewhat paranoid about keeping information confidential. At any rate, it was not uncommon for a Betazoid to keep a secret diary or notebook.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t an easy office in which to search for something odd or out of place, because the walls were literally crawling with bugs. Deanna found herself distracted at every instant by a Regulan mantis or an Andorian silkworm. She was startled when the door suddenly opened automatically.

Deanna caught her breath and turned to greet the new visitor, but no one came in. No one was standing in the doorway. Hesitantly, she moved toward the open door and called, “Is somebody there?”

In response came rapid footsteps. By the time she reached the corridor, whoever had tripped the automatic door was gone. She could run after him, but the corridor broke into a maze of offices beyond the next bulkhead, and she hadn’t gotten even a glimpse of the caller. How could she identify him?

The only plausible explanation, thought Deanna, was that he had come expecting Karn Milu’s office to be empty and was surprised to find her inside. This did not bode well. Counting herself and Shana Russel, the unseen caller was the third visitor to Karn Milu’s office that night.

She touched her insignia. “Counselor Troi to Lieutenant Worf.”

“Worf here,” answered the Klingon, trying to keep the sleep out of his voice.

“Sorry to interrupt you,” she said, “but I’m in Karn Milu’s office, and I feel we ought to seal it off. I think people have been coming in and out of here.”

“Right away,” responded Worf. “I’m on the asteroid, so would you remain there until the security team arrives?”

“Yes,” breathed Deanna, feeling uncomfortable for the first time since entering Milu’s chamber. “Out.”

Now the room and the corridor were both exceptionally quiet. Deanna crossed her arms and began to pace. She didn’t know why, but she felt safer leaving the door to the office open and pacing outside in the corridor. That way, she could see who was coming and wouldn’t be taken by surprise again.

She was acting like she was on guard duty, Deanna thought angrily. What was she so scared about? If she had any sense, she would be using this time to read more files or look for Karn Milu’s hidden notes. If the only records he had were the ones she had seen, he wasn’t going to be much help in convicting his own murderer. Worf hadn’t said it, but she knew he was concerned about having his whole case dependent upon one witness. Wesley Crusher was a credible young man, but if Data placed one single aspect of his story in doubt, his entire testimony might be discounted. She had to keep looking for corroboration and forget her groundless anxieties.

Yet there it was again. The feeling that somebody was waiting out there, just out of sight, waiting to get into Karn Milu’s office. Deanna Troi was accustomed to being the observer, and it was very unsettling to know somebody was observing her. She heard a noise and stopped her nervous pacing. Listening carefully, she thought she heard footsteps coming toward her, and instinctively she retreated into the office.

The footsteps continued coming, and she knew she wouldn’t see their owner until he rounded the corner and was almost upon her. One thing was certain, thought Deanna with alarm, it was only one person—not the security team promised by Worf. She backed away from the door as the footsteps sounded loudly and then seemed to stop—just before the bulkhead. What was he waiting for? she wanted to scream. Was he planning his next move?

A hulking figure rounded the corner, and Deanna gasped. Then the relief poured out of her as she rushed to meet the bearded first officer.

Riker gasped at the hug she gave him. “Well, hello,” he grinned, not anxious to let her go. “To what do I owe this warm welcome?”

“Childish fear,” she replied, squirming out of his grip. “I’ve been here by myself, going through Karn Milu’s computer records, and I think I must be getting jumpy.”

“Worf told me you had some intruders,” said Riker, casting a concerned glance around the area. “The security team will be here any second, but I was close by.”

“Thank you, Will,” she smiled warmly, glad she had his protection and knowing she usually took it for granted.

“While we’re alone,” whispered Riker, “I’ve put in for shore leave and I wanted to coordinate it with you. I’ve been thinking about what you said before this whole thing started, about two people needing to spend time alone together. Why don’t we try it?”

“That’s sweet of you,” she smiled, touching his arm. “I don’t know how long I’ll be tied up here, or when they’ll need me to testify. But if any opportunity . . .”

A contingent of four security men noisily rounded the corner. They snapped to attention upon seeing Commander Riker. “Security team reporting for duty,” said their leader.

“Right on time,” Will replied curtly. He bowed to Deanna. “About that other matter, please keep it under consideration.”

“I will, Commander,” she promised.