Identity theft, p.30
Identity Theft, page 30
Zavetta looked at the captain. “Kirk?”
“Fine.” He regarded Ryjo stonily. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
* * *
Ryjo took a deep breath. This was likely to be his last and only chance to speak to these men before he was sent away forever. He had to make it count, if only for his own peace of mind.
“First off, I want to apologize for lying and deceiving all of you when I was posing as Chekov. For what it’s worth, I misjudged you and the crew of the Enterprise. Regardless of your interference on Voyzr decades ago, you were far more than the arrogant meddlers I’d always been told you were. Despite myself, I couldn’t help coming to respect, even admire, your courage and integrity. Betraying you was harder than I ever expected it to be.”
He turned toward Sulu. “Sulu—Hikaru, you were a good friend to the person I was pretending to be, not just on Wexx but aboard the Enterprise as well. Honestly, I envy the real Chekov having a friend like you in his life. I hope he appreciates it as much as I did.”
“More,” Chekov said, frowning. “Make no mistake of that.”
“Look,” Sulu said solemnly, “you lied to my face, impersonating my best friend, and took me hostage at the embassy. Don’t expect me to forget that, but… I can’t discount the fact that you saved my life on Wexx. I’ll give you that much, even if you only did it because that’s what Chekov would do.”
Fair enough, Ryjo thought before turning to the man whose face he’d been wearing all the way from Tykona to Voyzr. It was strange looking at it now, like a reflection from another life.
“Commander Chekov, I don’t really know you, despite all my research. We only briefly met on Tykona, but, playing you, I came to understand why your friends and crewmates held you in such esteem. If I distinguished myself at all during my stint aboard the Enterprise, it’s because I was trying hard to live up to the standard you set.”
“For your own ulterior reasons,” Chekov pointed out, not incorrectly. “Let’s be clear here. You stole my body and tried to frame me for murder. That’s not something I can readily forgive, but I understand you now, more than I might like. And as for friends… you should know that Dise never stopped caring about you. She saw something of value in you, beyond your crimes, and still does. If I were you, and I was, I would not take that lightly.”
“Dise? You met Dise?”
“I would not be here without her,” Chekov said. “She kept you from becoming a murderer.”
Dise was responsible for Chekov stopping him? Ryjo was rendered speechless by this revelation. He couldn’t begin to know how to feel about it. That was going to take some time to process. Maybe even an entire life sentence.
“Is that all?” Kirk asked crisply. “Have you had your say?”
Ryjo glanced around. The regnant and her guards also looked impatient to have him carted off to whatever cell awaited him. He suddenly had a hundred questions to ask Chekov about Dise, but it was clear his time was almost up. He was lucky to have been allowed this much grace at all.
“Just this: It was an honor to serve under you, Captain, if only for one voyage.”
* * *
Nonnd’s guards escorted Ryjo out of the office.
“What’s going to happen to him?” Chekov asked.
“Voyzr has no death penalty,” the regnant said, “if that’s what you’re asking, but he did come within moments of killing me, sabotaging Voyzr’s relations with the Federation in the process. He’s facing a long prison term.”
Chekov nodded. “I see.”
“I have to ask, Commander, why the concern for one who stole your very life from you… and almost had you damned as an assassin in the eyes of the galaxy?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t excuse what he did or tried to do, but there’s a wise, old Russian saying about how you can’t really know somebody until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.” No longer under guard, Chekov crossed the room to join Kirk and Sulu before the regnant’s desk. “As it happens, I just traveled light-years wearing much more than Ryjo’s boots. Again, I can’t condone his actions, but I can comprehend what drove him to make some very bad choices. It’s hard to trade lives with someone without developing some sympathy for them and regretting the mistakes they’ve made.”
Kirk nodded knowingly. “If only…”
“So who is this Dise person?” Nonnd asked. “Somebody we need to investigate?”
“To the contrary,” Chekov said. “You owe her a medal.”
“Speaking of which,” the regnant said, “we have one last bit of unfinished business.”
Rising from behind her desk, she removed an ornate wooden box from a drawer, which she opened to reveal three exquisitely carved wooden medallions nestled on a cushion.
“Allow me to finally present you gentlemen with these well-deserved honors, for past and present services to Voyzr.”
Forty-One
“How the hell did the Voyzr Exiles get their hands on that top-secret Camusian technology?” Kirk wanted to know. “I thought Lester’s infernal discovery was supposed to be tightly under wraps?”
Fleet Admiral Lance Cartwright occupied the viewscreen in Kirk’s office. A furrowed brow and somber countenance conveyed his concern over recent developments. A deep, resonant voice issued from the screen.
“Believe me, Jim, we’re just as troubled about this security breach as you are. Maybe more so.”
“With all due respect, sir, I doubt that. Not unless you’ve personally had your body and identity stolen by that device.”
Cartwright did not take offense at Kirk’s retort.
“I don’t blame you for being upset, after what happened to you and Chekov. We’re doing everything we can to get to the bottom of this incursion. Current intel points to a compromised Federation scientist named Jacqueline Morval, who is presently in custody on Tykona and reportedly willing to talk in exchange for immunity and/or a reduced sentence. We’re in the process of trying to get direct access to her, but as you know, Tykona has no formal extradition treaty with the Federation, so that’s taking longer than we’d like. Hopefully, we can question her sooner rather than later.”
“And in the meantime?” Kirk pressed. “How do we know that transference know-how is secure?”
“We can’t, not yet. Our investigation is still in its early days. Rest assured, though, that we’re cracking down hard on security regarding anything to do with ancient Camusian science and relics. We’re running new, in-depth background checks on all of Morval’s colleagues and associates, while also reviewing the security clearances of everyone with access to that research, which is going to be much more restricted going forward. And Tykon Civil Security confirms that the device used on Chekov and Ratikin has been destroyed.”
Kirk wished he found all that more reassuring.
“All reasonable precautions, Admiral, and obviously overdue. I just hope the genie isn’t already out of the bottle.”
* * *
A blank screen replaced Jim Kirk’s image on Cartwright’s computer screen. He sank back into his chair, feeling the weight of the four-leafed insignia on his right shoulder even more heavily than usual. Multiple, redundant security measures protected the privacy of his office at Starfleet Headquarters but couldn’t keep out the constant worries and dilemmas that came with the job.
“Well?” he asked.
Colonel Patrick West emerged from the inconspicuous corner where he’d been silently listening in on Cartwright’s long-distance conversation with Kirk. As cool and collected as ever, he smoothed his dapper mustache with a finger.
“Our probe is leaving no stone unturned. If there are more leaks, we’ll find them, along with any further evidence of Klingon subterfuge. Kirk’s not wrong to be concerned, however. I strongly recommend that this ‘turnabout’ technology be placed under the sole authority and auspices of Starfleet Intelligence.”
Cartwright had heard this argument before. A hawk by nature, West typically came at every issue from a strictly military perspective, always proactive with regard to defense and security. He was first and foremost a soldier, always phaser-focused on defending the Federation from any and all threats. Possibly to a fault.
Then again, the Federation did have enemies, and Chekov had confirmed that the Klingons were up to their filthy elbows in this latest covert attempt to foment trouble between the Federation and its allies. Cartwright knew too well that the Empire was forever scheming to gain an edge of their rivals. Generations of unremitting hostility between the Klingons and the Federation had taught him that the Klingons would stop at nothing to achieve their barbaric aims, no matter how vicious and underhanded the means. Klingon “honor” was an oxymoron.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Civilian scientists might bristle at having to report to Starfleet or having the entire project taken out of their hands entirely.”
West scoffed. “Scientists like Morval?”
“Touché,” Cartwright conceded. “If the Klingons can get to Morval, who knows where else we might be vulnerable? Maybe we should just shutter the whole endeavor altogether. Bury the data as deep as we can and declare Camus II off-limits, period.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” West said. “If nothing else, this close call demonstrates the enormous potential of turnabout tech when it comes to undercover operations. The Exiles taught us a valuable lesson. Now imagine that technology being applied properly… in the right hands, of course.”
“Ours, for instance?”
West shrugged.
“Better us than those bloodthirsty Klingon bastards.”
Forty-Two
“So that’s the real you?” Dise asked from the viewscreen.
Chekov realized that she had never laid eyes on his actual face before. “I’m afraid so.”
“Weird. Not going to lie. That’s going to take some getting used to.”
They were speaking via a priority subspace channel from Oasis Station, where she had been released from custody thanks to Kirk’s long-distance intervention. That Starfleet had compensated Xoline’s owner for the destruction of the yacht had also gone a long way toward persuading Oasis to drop any charges regarding Dise’s role in abetting Chekov’s theft of the spacecraft.
“Thanks for pulling strings to get me off, though,” she said, “and for keeping Ryjo alive, despite everything.”
“Well, I can’t take full credit for either of those.” He sat at the workstation in his quarters, facing a desktop computer monitor. “Captain Kirk did most of the heavy lifting after I managed to get back to the Enterprise, thanks in no small part to you.”
“But the important thing is Ryjo survived… and we kept him from killing anyone.”
“With ‘we’ being the operative word,” Chekov stressed. “So what’s next for you? Back to Tykona? If you lack funds to secure passage back home, I’m sure Starfleet can arrange something, given your pivotal role in averting an assassination and a diplomatic catastrophe.”
“You bet they owe me a lift, especially after you blew most of my credits on that rutting cruise.” A twig dangled from her lower lip. “But not to Tykona. I want a free ride to Voyzr… and the opportunity to visit Ryjo in whatever hole they’ve got him stowed away in. On a regular basis.”
Ryjo’s confession had spared everyone the messy spectacle of a public trial. He had been sentenced to a protracted prison term almost immediately. He had not contested the charges or the sentence.
“I can put in a good word for you with the regnant and her people,” he promised, “but are you sure want to relocate to Voyzr for that long? Ryjo is not going to be a free man anytime soon, if ever.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? Somebody has to help him get through this rough stretch, even if he did bring it on himself. He’s going to need a friendly face, and who else is there but me?”
“You are a loyal friend.” Chekov felt a mild pang of jealousy. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Look who’s talking,” she teased. “Besides, it’s about time I checked out our fabled homeworld. I’ve never been obsessed with it the way the Exiles are, but I’ll cop to some curiosity about my roots. If nothing else, it might be nice to live on a planet where the average Voyzr isn’t some grumpy Indee loser still nursing a grudge over a war that was lost before I was born. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll fit in better on Voyzr than I ever did on Tykona. Maybe even get a real job. Make something of myself.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”
An awkward silence ensued as Chekov pondered how to bring up the intimacies they’d shared aboard the Quintessential, and what exactly that might or might not mean for them now that their shared adventure was over. Meeting Dise, and getting close to her, had been the only bright light during that whole harrowing stint in Ryjo’s body, but was there any sort of future for them, especially with her heading off to Voyzr to support Ryjo during his confinement? And did he truly want to pursue that? Painful experience had taught him just how challenging cross-quadrant relationships could be.
“Anyway,” he began, “about what happened on the cruiser. Between us, I mean…”
“Oh, that.” She squirmed, avoiding his eyes. “Look, Chekov, it was great and all, and absolutely what I needed just then. No regrets, no complaints, I swear, but—” He recognized the telltale tone of a woman trying to let a guy down easily. “Honestly, I’m not into older males… or humans.”
* * *
At least he wasn’t allergic to vodka anymore.
He took a bracing sip of a White Russian, his taste buds once more savoring its familiar kick and flavor, as he sat on the sundeck overlooking the Enterprise’s Olympic-sized swimming pool. Artificial sunlight glinted off the rippling water, where any number of off-duty crew members were enjoying themselves. The sundeck was sufficiently distant from the pool that neither he nor Simone Tovar had to worry about getting splashed on.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” he said, “despite everything.”
“Not your fault some imposter took your place.” She attempted a casual shrug, less than convincingly. This encounter was obviously awkward for her.
“Just the same, I figured it couldn’t hurt to clear some air.”
Sulu had filled him on Tovar and Ryjo’s rocky interactions while the Voyzr was posing as him. Chekov was both resentful and jealous that Ryjo had spent more time with her than he had, even forming some sort of connection. He hoped that, on top of everything else, Ryjo hadn’t messed up his own chances with Tovar.
Carefree squeals and laughter rose from the pool. “Nice location, by the way,” he said. “Can I ask why you suggested this place in particular?”
“No associations with the imposter, to be honest. He wanted nothing to do with the pool after our subsea misadventure on Wexx.”
Chekov nodded. “I heard about that.”
“It’s so strange.” She looked across the table at him, a pensive expression on her face. “Realizing that, after all of that, I barely know the real Chekov. No offense.”
“Understandable.” He felt a sudden urge to punch Ryjo. “For what it’s worth, it’s really me this time. The guy you vaccinated in sickbay before all this body-swapping craziness.”
“That seems like forever ago.”
“Tell me about it, but… perhaps we can start over? Pick up where the real me left off?”
“I don’t know. It’s going to be hard to get past my history with the false ‘Chekov.’ You look and sound just like him… even though I realize, intellectually, that was more like him looking and sounding like you.”
His heart sank. “Was the fake me that awful to you?”
“I wish! That would make the big reveal that he was lying to me the whole time a lot easier to take. Problem is, there were times—” She hesitated. “You don’t mind me talking about him, do you?”
“Go ahead. Sounds like you need to get it out of your system.”
“Okay, just wanted to check.” She took a swig of pure Altair water. “There were times, especially down on Wexx, when he seemed like a stand-up guy, heroic even. Chances are, I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t stepped up after Copernicus crashed, and there were moments when I truly felt something real happening between us… before he suddenly turned around and gave me the cold shoulder again.” She chuckled bleakly. “In hindsight, I guess all those mixed messages make sense. Small wonder I could never figure out where I stood with him. He literally wasn’t who he was pretending to be.”
Chekov winced inside, hearing about her confused feelings regarding Ryjo, but he moved past it. He wasn’t about to let a little thing like a temporary life-entity transfer derail his own mission to get to know Simone Tovar better. He had his own life back and he intended to make the most of it.
“No secret agendas here, I promise. What you see is what you get.”
She smiled. “That would be a pleasant change, I admit, and maybe seeing Ryjo in his true form does help me wrap my head around the idea that you aren’t him. But starting over from scratch with the real you? I’m not sure.”
“Not entirely from scratch,” he reminded her. “We did have sickbay, and I believe I still owe you a walk in the garden.”
“True,” she conceded. “There is that.”
“Besides, from what Sulu tells me, it sounds as though you liked my doppelgänger best when he was acting the most like me.”
She laughed, much more lightly this time.
“That’s one way to look at it, Commander.”
“Call me Pavel.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Hard to believe that this is my twentieth Star Trek book, not counting various novelettes and short stories. This would not have been possible without the support and contributions of such past and present Trek editors as John Ordover, Ed Schlesinger, Marco Palmieri, Margaret Clark, Jaime Costas, Kimberly Laws, and, most recently, Sarah Schlick. I’ve also benefited from the able oversight of Paramount/CBS, as embodied by John Van Citters, Paula Block, Dayton Ward, and others. Writing for Star Trek has always been a collaborative enterprise (pun intended), and I couldn’t ask for better skippers on this decades-long voyage. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention ace copyeditor Scott Pearson, who has kept me honest for several books now, and who heroically took over the actual editing of this particular novel during difficult circumstances, as well as my agent, Russ Galen, who has been with me since the beginning. Thanks again, Russ.
