Jetanien was incredulous. “A bomb? Tonight? Of all nights?”
“It would seem that coincidence is unlikely,” D’tran said. “The meeting was a public event, after all, and scheduled several days ago. Plenty of time to orchestrate an act of insurrection.”
“You’re saying this was planned?” Jetanien asked, his beak clicking at an increasing rate in keeping with his elevated anxiety.
Lugok hissed, “Don’t be a fool, Jetanien. Someone wanted either to scare or to hurt anyone who might be viewed as being in support of making the colony work. I wouldn’t be surprised if that petaQKanjar intentionally disrupted the meeting in order to force an early end and get people into the streets amid confusion before the explosive was triggered.”
As they reached one of the building’s rear exits, Jetanien paused, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. It’s one thing to start a brawl, or cause a work stoppage, or protest overzealous law enforcement, but this? Causing deliberate injury and perhaps death?”
“Anyone with such grievances possibly feels their complaints haven’t been heard,” Lugok said, opening the door and casting a furtive look into the street beyond. “You’re listening now, though, are you not?”
Running footsteps outside the door made Jetanien step back, and Lugok pushed forward, his fist raised and poised to strike. Then the door opened to reveal Constable Schiappacasse and one of her security officers, both with phasers drawn. Both officers looked worried, their concern only heightened by the constant wail of the alarm sirens permeating the outside air.
“Gentlemen,” Schiappacasse said, gesturing for them to follow her. “Come with me, please. We’re taking you to the Federation Consulate, as it’s the most secure location that we can get to quickly.”
The three diplomats followed on Schiappacasse’s heels as the constable guided them from the building and into the narrow alley separating it from the neighboring structure. Her companion guarded their rear as they moved, while the sounds of chaos filled the air. Sirens blared their warbling tones, which rang sharply off the storefronts, and people shouted either from the streets or the open windows of nearby buildings. Schiappacasse seemed to move with practiced ease through the side streets, avoiding exposure on the main thoroughfares. Light from what Jetanien took to be fire flickered against nearby walls, and acrid smoke from an unknown source assailed his nostrils. Shadowy figures sprinted along intersecting streets, though no one seemed to be taking any notice of anyone other than themselves.
As Schiappacasse led them around a corner at one intersection, Jetanien was startled to see a ground transport belonging to the colony’s security forces bearing down on them. Rather than stopping, the transport screamed past them on its way deeper into the city, and Jetanien offered silent thoughts for the safety of the officers inside the vehicle. After all, there was no way to know the severity of the situation into which they were traveling. Though security teams were the only persons allowed to carry weapons within the colony, that would not deter any would-be insurgents, particularly if they had greater numbers, which seemed likely.
“D’tran,” Jetanien said, looking to his friend, who was showing visible strain in the face of the prolonged exertion. “We’re almost there.” He gestured ahead of them, where the familiar entrance to the Federation Consulate beckoned. Jetanien was relieved to see that a detachment of six security officers stood outside the structure’s reinforced main doors. When one of them caught sight of Schiappacasse, he waved for her to bring her charges forward, and within a minute the group was inside the building’s relatively safe environs.
“Ambassador!” called Sergio Moreno, who looked as if he’d been waiting for Jetanien to return. “Thank goodness you made it back safely. Are you all right?”
Jetanien shook his head. “I’m not injured, but Senator D’tran needs rest.” Indicating his friend with a nod, he added, “Please tend to him.”
As Moreno saw to D’tran, Jetanien turned to Schiappacasse. “Constable, I’m in your debt.”
“Just part of the job, Ambassador,” Schiappacasse replied, holding her communicator in her hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to get an update on the situation.”
“Please keep me informed,” Jetanien said, and the security officer nodded as she stepped away, already talking to someone else via her communicator and leaving the Chelon alone. Looking around the lobby, he saw Lugok making his way toward the door.
“Lugok,” Jetanien called out, “where are you going?”
Pausing at the door, the Klingon turned and replied, “I must get back to my own consulate. I need to apprise my superiors of this situation, and advise that they send us assistance.” He regarded Jetanien with a somber expression. “You should do the same, and so too should D’tran.”
“Reinforcements?” Jetanien asked. “Do you think the situation will deteriorate that far?”
“I do not know,” Lugok answered, “but my standing orders are to advise the High Council of any change in the status quo here, particularly if something occurs such as what we’re now witnessing.” Nodding toward the door, he added, “Face it, Jetanien, this may well be just the beginning of something far worse than what we’ve already seen.”
Walking to a nearby window, Jetanien reached up to part the heavy drape so that he might gaze out at the street beyond the consulate grounds. He was able to see fire from at least three locations elsewhere in the city. The sounds of people shouting were only just audible over the cry of alarm klaxons and the sirens of security force ground transports. A few people ran between buildings, and when he looked toward the courtyard at the center of the city he saw a gathering of colonists, though from this distance he could not discern what they might be doing. Were they planning more disruption, or were they among those who might now need the assistance of the constabulary and anyone else not interested in rousing unrest and violence?
“I’m not ready to give up on this, Lugok,” Jetanien said after a moment. “Not after everything we’ve invested in this effort.”
Lugok sighed. “I know, my friend, but you must consider the possibility that all of this may well have given up on you.”
32
Cup of coffee in hand, Reyes moved from the food slot along the interview room’s rear wall and returned to his seat at the small, rectangular table. The table and its quartet of chairs were the room’s only furnishings, constructed from the same sort of dull, depressing slate gray duranium composite materials often used in Starfleet facilities where comfort was not a primary concern. Similar furniture adorned the guest quarters to which Reyes had been assigned, so he did not mind the decor. It was a step up from his previous billeting, at any rate.
“Lieutenant Commander Moyer,” Reyes said as he took his seat. “Congratulations on your promotion. It’s well deserved.”
Moyer nodded, though her demeanor remained professional as she used the stylus in her right hand to write something on the face of the data slate she had brought with her. “Thank you, sir. The rank is permanent, but the position is temporary. Starfleet is sending someone out to formally replace Captain Desai. I don’t know who it is yet, but they should be here by the end of the month.”
“Plenty of time for Starfleet to reconsider leaving you where you are,” Reyes said before taking a sip of his coffee. “But I suspect we’re not here to talk about you, are we?”
Clearing her throat, Moyer replied, “No, sir, I’m afraid not. I’ve been ordered to debrief you in full about your time in Klingon and Orion custody. Admiral Nogura has asked me to emphasize that this is not an interrogation. You are not being charged with anything, at least not yet. Any interviews that might go toward determining that will be held at a later time. For now, the purpose of this session and any that might follow is strictly for the gathering of information with respect to its relevance to Operation Vanguard.”