Though Starbase 47’s officers’ club had been open and available for use by the station’s crew for several weeks, it was only the second time T’Prynn had seen fit to visit the facility. Unlike her human colleagues, she did not find the club—with music broadcast over the intercom system to accompany the numerous conversations taking place around the room—conducive to any form of real rest or relaxation. She instead preferred the tranquillity and solitude of her quarters. Failing that, there was the station’s gymnasium, which often was largely unoccupied during gamma shift, midnight to 0800 hours.
The club’s atmosphere two hours prior to the start of gamma shift was anything but quiet. The overhead lighting had been extinguished in favor of rows of recessed track lighting along the walls near the ceiling, and small lamps on each of the tables as well as various points along the bar. A quick visual inspection told T’Prynn that most of the seats at the bar as well as the tables and booths scattered around the room were occupied, either by off-duty Starfleet personnel or members of the station’s civilian contingent, who had been provided with club access privileges by Commodore Reyes until such time as the various restaurants and taverns located in Stars Landing were open for business. Moving around several tables and their patrons, T’Prynn looked for the commodore but did not see him, nor did she see any other member of the starbase’s senior staff. Ambassador Jetanien was present, seated alone at a secluded booth in the room’s far corner, his attention focused on whatever meal he had ordered as well as one of three data slates arrayed on the table before him. She was thankful for the ambassador’s choice to dine alone rather than sharing the company of his subordinates—and one subordinate in particular: Anna Sandesjo.
None of the other chairs at the young woman’s table were occupied, and T’Prynn watched Sandesjo for several moments as first a Starfleet lieutenant and then a civilian—both males—approached her table and inquired about joining her or perhaps asking her if she wanted a drink. A data slate sat on the table near Sandesjo’s right hand, along with a glass filled to the halfway mark with a clear liquid. She did not drink from it during the few minutes T’Prynn observed her interactions with her would-be suitors, both of whom she rebuffed with what appeared to be practiced ease and poise. T’Prynn surmised that this was the sort of situation the ambassador’s aide encountered on all too frequent occasions. It therefore prompted the question why Sandesjo would come to a place like this, knowing she would encounter unwanted attention from prospective companions.
Perhaps she simply awaits someone who conforms to specific criteria. It seemed to T’Prynn a logical notion, and she decided it was a theory worth testing.
Moving from her vantage point at the front of the room, T’Prynn maneuvered around tables and patrons, offering or returning greetings as she made eye contact with a fellow officer or a civilian she recognized, until she stood before Sandesjo’s table. The other woman’s attention was on the data slate before her, and from watching her expression and body language T’Prynn realized that the young human knew someone had approached her. Sandesjo was pretending to have taken no notice, and it was another five seconds before she released a small sigh and looked up from the table. When her eyes met T’Prynn’s, Sandesjo’s widened in surprise.
“Commander,” she said, a slight stutter accompanying the first syllable.
T’Prynn nodded. “Ms. Sandesjo. It is . . . agreeable to see you again.”
Smiling, Sandesjo replied, “It’s good to see you, too.” She gestured to the chair closest to T’Prynn. “Please, sit down.”
“You’re not expecting someone?” T’Prynn asked, placing her hand on the back of the chair.
Sandesjo shook her head. “I’m afraid not, though several people have tried to get me to change my mind.” As T’Prynn settled into the proffered chair, the human woman asked, “May I get you something to drink?”
“You may,” T’Prynn replied, sitting up straight in the chair.
A few seconds passed with the two women eyeing each other before Sandesjo’s brow knit in apparent confusion and she released a small chuckle. “Well?”
Maintaining her impassive expression, T’Prynn asked, “Yes?”
“I asked if you wanted something to drink,” Sandesjo said, her eyes beginning to glance past T’Prynn.
The Vulcan shook her head. “No, you asked if you could offer me something to drink. I merely granted your request.” Why was she acting this way? T’Prynn knew that her verbal wordplay might be seen by the other woman as being critical of her grammar, but at the same time she found she could not resist the gentle teasing afforded by the exercise.
Sandesjo’s mouth curled into a small, hesitant smile, and her green eyes bored into T’Prynn’s. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No,” T’Prynn said, and when she spoke this time she arched her right eyebrow, and Sandesjo was unable to stifle a louder laugh.
“Commander,” the aide said, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me, but I didn’t think Vulcans flirted.”
Pausing to consider her answer, T’Prynn replied, “Vulcans do not engage in the activity with the same proclivity as humans, but we recognize it as a desirable means of discourse with a potential companion.” Having observed the behavior in her human friends over the years, she felt as though she understood how to employ the conversational tactic effectively.
Her blunt remark seemed to catch Sandesjo by surprise, and she blinked several times before offering a response. Then, leaning forward so that her elbows rested atop the table, she regarded T’Prynn with a bold, unflinching gaze. “Is that what we are? Potential companions?”
“There are always possibilities,” T’Prynn said. For the first time since entering the officers’ club, she reconsidered the course of action she had undertaken. Getting involved in any kind of personal relationship was something she had not done since Sten’s death. Given her dead fiancé’s lasting effects on her psyche thanks to their frantic mind-meld in his last moments of life, T’Prynn had long been wary of further emotional entanglements with anyone. Still, this woman fascinated her for several reasons, some of which she could not describe or even identify. This of course troubled T’Prynn, given what she now knew about the young ambassadorial aide.
Anna Sandesjo was the spy she sought.
At first unwilling to believe the conclusion to which her investigation had led her, T’Prynn had rechecked the information compiled and collated by the search algorithms she had launched into the station’s main computer and communications systems. On its own, the evidence she had found was largely circumstantial, revolving around the woman’s occasional presence in the Federation Embassy offices at odd hours of the night, each instance of which was followed in short order by the inclusion of the encrypted and purposely fragmented messages T’Prynn had found embedded in outgoing communications traffic. The gap of time between Sandesjo’s working late hours and the inclusion of the covert messages was always less than two hours. Working backward from what she knew might still be a coincidental connection, T’Prynn had performed a thorough review of Sandesjo’s background information and other personal data. The anomalies she found might be dismissed by a casual inspection as errors or oversights, but a more comprehensive analysis revealed to T’Prynn a pattern of minor, even unconnected inconsistencies, which someone skilled in counterintelligence might conclude were unavoidable gaps in an otherwise well-crafted false identity. As the recipient of the messages appeared to be someone affiliated with the Klingon Empire, T’Prynn now also had cause to wonder if Sandesjo herself might be a Klingon agent. Was she simply a traitor to the Federation, or might she be an alien—perhaps even a Klingon—surgically altered to appear human?
There may be only one way to be certain.
While it might not be enough to engage the services of the Judge Advocate General or even Starfleet Security, T’Prynn felt she had sufficient information to act on her own and determine the true nature of Anna Sandesjo’s apparent clandestine activities. In order to prove her theories without alarming either Sandesjo herself or whoever might be providing her instructions and receiving her reports, T’Prynn would have to proceed with caution.
“I have to tell you,” Sandesjo said, clasping her hands atop the table and looking down at her fingers as she interlaced them, “this isn’t the sort of thing I do very often.”
T’Prynn nodded, recognizing the attempt at erecting an emotional barrier. Sandesjo, if she was a spy, also would be leery of placing herself at risk of exposure, while at the same time endeavoring to ascertain T’Prynn’s own motivations. It would require patience on T’Prynn’s part if her scheme was to succeed, despite whatever personal feelings she might be experiencing toward Sandesjo.
The mission must come first. It was an unconvincing rebuke, T’Prynn decided.
“Nor is it something with which I have much familiarity,” she said, sensing an opportunity to perhaps put them both at ease. “Perhaps we should ‘take things slowly,’ as you humans sometimes say.”
Sandesjo smiled again. “Perhaps, but not too slowly, I hope,” she said, holding T’Prynn’s gaze as she spoke the words. There was no mistaking the sentiment being expressed. What T’Prynn now required was a strategy for turning this evolving situation to her advantage, and to do so without alerting Sandesjo to her true agenda. That would be a challenge, she realized, given that she could not deny her own physical attraction to this mysterious young woman, which only seemed to be amplified when considering her possible true identity and affiliations.
A challenge, indeed, but one T’Prynn welcomed.