The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [20]
“Captain? Is something wrong?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, although I suppose it hardly matters now.”
The signs were so clear; surely T’Sara had seen them, too? Picard reached out one hand, trailing his fingers over the crumbling bricks and mortar, wondering what fierce emotion had driven the hands that had built this wall.
“This chamber was sealed from the inside.”
CHAPTER 6
Embedded discreetly along the outer shell of Starbase 193 were a series of subspace signal collectors, a small part of the vast communications network that linked one end of the Federation to another. These electronic scoops gathered up decaying transmissions from passing freighters or from settlements uneasily perched on the fringe of Federation territory, then computers sorted the compressed digital packets and directed them to the appropriate transmitter along the upper rim of the station. The newly fortified signals were flung back into the void toward their destination or to yet another of the relay boosters seeded throughout Federation territory.
The process was automatic, so the communications packet from the Enterprise passed through the system in a matter of seconds. It would have taken even less time, except Captain Picard’s mission report had to be detached from the compressed bundle before the remaining portion of the transmission was sent on its way to Vulcan.
Suffering yet another half-second lag, the captain’s report was routed through a short system subroutine. Following the program’s instructions, the computer created a duplicate of the transmission and shuttled this copy to an untitled buffer file. The original proceeded to Commander Miyakawa’s message terminal.
Minutes later, a technician in the communications center accessed the duplicate and perused its contents. After the first quick reading, a nervous tic began to tug one corner of his mouth askew. He read the message a second time.
This breach of security procedures would have been more difficult to implement on a starbase fully staffed by Starfleet officers, but Thomas Grede often worked unsupervised, so the subroutine had been relatively easy to install. None of the other operators knew the system well enough to discover the alteration, and few would have cared.
He was depending on this same apathy when he slipped away from his post in the middle of a shift.
No one noticed his departure, but then no one noticed Grede much of the time anyway. He was a slight, timid man who had grown accustomed to being overlooked by the people around him. Competent and reliable, his only weakness was a hunger for attention, yet this craving had persisted unfulfilled for most of his life.
On Starbase 193, one person had seen his need and used it to her advantage.
As a matter of routine, any new employee hired by the base commander was soon tempted to provide certain business interests on the station with private services. Grede had stood firm against repeated bribes, and over several years of steady if unspectacular performance, he had earned a high security clearance. During this time, however, Camenae had patiently cultivated his friendship with a few kind words and the occasional free drink at the Due or Die. This mild flattery was all it took to buy his loyalty.
Grede grew anxious to please her. Without any prompting, one day he came to her with the gift of a coded communiqu`e to Commander Miyakawa that he had skillfully intercepted. Camenae had paid him for the betrayal, but it was her smile of appreciation that thrilled him. Unfortunately, her gratitude did not last very long, and soon her manner toward him grew cool and distant.
Desperate to regain her favor, the technician realized that the only way he could maintain his good standing was with a constant stream of tribute.
Today, as he scurried through the doors of the Due or Die, Grede belatedly admitted that the price of pleasing Camenae was climbing higher than he could afford.
“I have information.” These were the magic words that had first fulfilled his desire