“Do you understand, Doctor Crusher?”
“Yes,” said Crusher firmly. “Yes, I believe I do. You’re right, Alizome. This is a remarkably generous offer. I’ll present it to the president immediately.” Making sure she didn’t lose sight of the immediate crisis, she added, “But what about your ships? Will they halt their approach to Outpost V-4 while we discuss this offer?”
Alizome smiled and shook her head, as if to say that she wasn’t prepared to give up everything. “Not yet, Doctor. Our people on Outpost V-4 are still in need of those emollients. We would be remiss to withhold them. For the sake of their health. You are a doctor. You understand.”
“I understand. I hope to speak with you again, Alizome,” she said, and cut the comm.
Crusher felt like an electric charge had been put through her. She drew a deep breath. “So that’s the deal,” she said. “We stand down our ships, they reveal a little of their physiology, and in return there’ll be no war.” She glanced at her husband. “I think it’s a good deal.”
He grunted. “Let’s see if Admiral Akaar agrees.”
15
2 DAYS TO WAR . . .
FROM:
A syndic formed to consider rationing
TO:
The people gathered under the Venette Convention
MESSAGE:
Water rationing: Find as many containers as you can and store water. We do not know how long water supplies will remain drinkable. Fill as many containers as possible with drinking water and seal them.
Local sub-syndics for water supply can provide you with vacuum sealers that will help to keep the water clean and fresh. Water sterilization tablets are also available from these sub-syndics.
If a sub-syndic for supplying water has not been formed in your area, please consider forming one with your nearest neighbors. Advice on what to consider follows . . .
COMMANDER BEVERLY CRUSHER
CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER’S LOG
Whatever I expected from this mission, it was not that I would end up playing diplomat in perhaps the most sensitive meeting that we’ve had so far. And play the part solo. But that’s where I am. And I can’t help this feeling of dread. Everything about this mission so far has been a failure. My own small attempts to observe any physiological changes in the Venetans. Jean-Luc’s and Jeyn’s attempts to keep Detrek under control. Then the Ferengi leaving, and now a return to the old belligerent ways by the Cardassians. It’s hard not to feel this mission is jinxed in some way. But this time, any failure on my part could have disastrous consequences.
Picard asked Jeyn to join him and Crusher in the observation lounge. “Frankly, it’s a bewildering offer,” Picard said, when Jeyn arrived. “Anything that we give to them obviously couldn’t be used to make bioweapons.”
“So why would they make such a deal out of coming to inspect it?” said Jeyn. “Surely they haven’t gone through this whole charade simply to gain access to Starbase 261? Their information networks must be giving them excellent data on our starbase specifications—”
“I don’t think we should be thinking of this offer in those terms,” Crusher said. “My instinct tells me that there’s genuine fear behind this. I think the Tzenkethi are afraid that we’re hurtling toward a war that they don’t want either—”
“Yet this situation is entirely of their own making,” Picard said. “Think of the opportunities Alizome has had over the past week to call a halt—”
“But there came a point when we’d all come too far,” Crusher said. “Jean-Luc, you and I both know that we’ve been standing here thinking: How did this happen? How did we get to this? I think the Tzenkethi have been wondering the same but until now we haven’t been able to think of a way to back down without losing face. Is it really so difficult for us to believe that the Tzenkethi are as horrified at the prospect of war as we are? All this time, we’ve been obsessing about them manipulating events, but I think they have as little control of what’s been happening as we do.”
“They’ve certainly manipulated the Venetans,” Jeyn said.
“Yes, you’re right on that score, Ambassador, but I also think the Tzenkethi didn’t expect us to issue an ultimatum. I believe their entire plan here was based on sending the Ferengi packing as soon as possible so that we’d be isolated and have to back down. I think they thought it would demoralize us. I know that when Ilka left, I was certainly demoralized!”
“There’s a great deal in what you say,” Picard said slowly. “We have only recently emerged from a devastating war. Perhaps they were relying on us not to have the stomach even to contemplate another war so soon.”
Jeyn gave a short, sharp laugh. “Detrek’s presence may have been a blessing in disguise after all!”
“She certainly was a most memorable colleague,” Picard muttered.
“But perhaps not just for us,” Jeyn said. “If the doctor is right, the unexpected presence of the Cardassians might have thrown the Tzenkethi plans into disarray too and driven them farther than they’d planned to go. And now they’re looking for a way out.”
“A complication of Cardassians,” Crusher said with a smile. “We weren’t the only ones thrown by Detrek.”
“They were right about one thing,” Picard said, drumming his fingers along the arm of his chair. “I don’t have much stomach for another war. Still,” he went on, levering himself up from his chair, “if they’re willing to make this offer, it seems they don’t have much stomach for it either. But why push us so close to the brink?”
“Think about what Alizome was hinting in her offer,” Crusher said. “Think of their fear of bodily disintegration as a symbol for their borders. That way that net of weapons around the Venetan border isn’t so much offensive as defensive. Like putting on a mask to protect yourself from an infection.”
“And about as effective.” Picard smiled. “I can see why they wanted to speak to a doctor.”
“Yes, well, it all counts for nothing if the Federation Council won’t have it.”
Picard went over to the comm. “I’ll certainly be advising Starfleet Command to accept Alizome’s offer,” he said. “But ultimately, it’s the Council’s decision.”
• • •
The sky over Ab-Tzenketh was cloudless, and the lights from the Autarch’s palace on the Royal Moon were clearer than ever. Through a gap in the roof of leaves, Efheny stared at the moon shamelessly, picking out whatever features she could. Were those windows? Or perhaps those? A thrill passed through her. Could the Autarch himself be standing at one of them, looking down upon her?
A low moan interrupted her train of thought. Turning, Efheny saw Corazame sitting with her hand in front of her face, as if to shield herself from her Autarch’s reproachful gaze. She looked cold. Her skin was mottled with dark patches and her glow very dull. She was shivering too. Efheny took off her jacket and placed it around Cory’s shoulders.
“When are you going to get the transporter, Mayazan?” Hertome said.
“Later. When the moons have set.”
“I know you’re talking to each other,” Corazame said suddenly. “I don’t know how you do it, but I know you can. But there’s something I want to say. Something I want to say to both of you.”
“And what makes you think you can speak without my permission, Ret Corazame?” Hertome said roughly.
“With respect,” Corazame replied, to Efheny’s amazement, “I do not believe that you are my Ap-Rej.”
“I’ve not been reconditioned yet.”
“No,” Cory said politely but doggedly. “What I mean is that I do not believe you are an Ap-Rej at all.”
“Why do you say that, Cory?” Efheny said in surprise.
“Oh, Maymi.” Efheny was stunned to hear the gentle reproach in Corazame’s voice. “It’s obvious that you’re not an Ata-E. It was obvious to all of us. All those odd questions and silly mistakes. Do you know how often we’ve had to cover for you? Pelenten thought that you were an EE that had been recalibrat
ed and was struggling to understand your new function. We felt sorry for you, so we tried to protect you. We wanted to keep you with us rather than have you sent back down. Who wants to be an Ata-EE? But do you know how often we’ve made sure your errors weren’t seen by Hertome and Karenzen?” Corazame smiled. “You didn’t know, did you?”
No, Efheny thought, in shock, she had not known any of this. She had thought she’d been doing so well. Hertome’s laughter, hidden from Cory, rang in her ears.
He shut up as soon as Corazame continued. “And then there was you, Hertome. You were another puzzle. Oh, don’t misunderstand me. We thought you were a good person to have as Ter, but we were sure you wouldn’t remain in that position for long. If anyone was heading for recalibration, it was you. Karenzen has been counting the skyturns until you were gone.” She shivered. “I suppose he’ll be happy now. Unbearable, but happy.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “Not that I’m going back there. But I do worry about the others. Poor Pelenten! Poor Nemeyan! He’s got them where he wants them now.”
Neither Efheny nor Hertome replied.
“Anyway,” Corazame said, collecting herself, “it’s not simply that you’re oddities. So what else could it be?” Her voice suddenly dropped. “I know my aptitude scores mean I’m only able to understand the E-bulletins, and I know my knowledge is limited to what’s needful and my superiors are best placed to judge what that means. So I apologize if what I’m about to say sounds like the usual foolishness of an Ata-E. But . . . I’ve heard that there are other worlds beyond these under the protection of our beloved Rej. I’ve heard that on these worlds, there are people who are not like us, who look different and do things differently. I know that no world can be as blessed as those in the care of our Rej, but . . . I’ve heard there are places where people are free to be whoever they want to be, where they can love whoever they want to love. I think that you might be from one of these places, Hertome. And”—she looked up, directly at Efheny—“I think you might be too, Maymi.”
A night bird flapped past. Efheny stared up through the keteki leaves at the glimmer of the Royal Moon.
“Well, Ret Mayazan,” said Hertome openly. “What do you have to say to that?”
Efheny looked down at the ground. “Cory, you should put such things out of your mind.”
“But are they true, Maymi?” Corazame asked softly, urgently. “Do you know? Do you know for sure?”
“It doesn’t matter whether they’re true or not!” Efheny burst out. “That’s not our business. If it was needful for us to know such things, our bulletins would tell us. But they don’t. So we should put such questions out of our minds and perform our function to the best of our ability, for the sake of our Autarch who loves and protects us!”
“You bloody hypocrite,” Hertome said in wonder. “She comes all this way to look after you, and you feed her a pack of lies. What are you going to do about her? Are you just going to leave her when you go? You know what they’ll do to her when they find her. She’ll never have a thought like that again—”
“Shut up!” hissed Efheny. “Shut up!”
“At last, the glimmer of a soul.”
“I said shut up!”
Corazame said, “You’re talking to each other again. Not letting me listen. As if I’m a child.”
You are a child, Cory! Efheny thought fiercely. You’re a child who’s well out of her depth and who’s going to be punished by relentless adults.
“But I think that you can still hear me,” Corazame said. “I only want to say one more thing. Whatever happens, I’m grateful to you both.” She hugged herself and bent back her head to stare through the leaves at the sky. “I’m glad that I’ve known that there really are other worlds. These memories, these thoughts . . . they won’t survive reconditioning. But I’m grateful to have had them. Thank you.”
Angrily, Efheny wiped her eyes. She could not afford this kind of luxury. And this was not her function. She wasn’t trained for this. She wasn’t trained to feel.
Oh, Cory, why did you follow me?
But Efheny already knew the answer to that. Corazame had followed Mayazan because she was her friend, and she had wanted to protect her.
Hertome rolled onto his side. His voice came through the darkness. He sounded surprisingly gentle. “Go to sleep, Corazame Ret Ata-E. Who knows what tomorrow might bring?”
• • •
Approaching the edge of the Tzenkethi system, the Aventine slowed its pace to something that could be achieved by a local cruiser. They were drawing close to the net of satellites that comprised the system’s outer wall of defenses. Dax watched on the viewscreen as a large silver, teardrop-shaped object appeared. A smaller silver teardrop suddenly peeled away and headed in their direction. A dark shape unfolded upon it, like an eye winking open, watching them.
“Unmanned probe,” said Alden. “They’ll ask for identification in a moment and almost certainly visual confirmation.”
“All right, Nekelen,” Dax said. “Time to find if your holo-filters work.”
“I’m sure they will, Captain,” Nekelen said cheerfully. “But let us not forget that this is also a test of Commander Alden’s ability to reprogram flight schedules into the Tzenkethi system.”
Dax glanced at Alden, but he gave Nekelen a wide smile. Throughout this tense journey, Alden had been relaxed, as if this was all in a day’s work. The jagged, febrile intensity of the previous week had disappeared entirely. This was someone confident of his ability to handle this situation, sure of his own expertise. This was somebody you would send on a mission without compunction.
Along with the engine modifications making the Aventine appear to be a Venetan ship to sensors, the holo-filters were needed to give the same visual impression. Alden’s hack into Tzenkethi traffic control provided confirmation that this ship should be where it was right now.
At a request from the probe, a channel was opened and Dax indicated that Alden should speak. His body seemed almost to shift; his posture changed, became more fluid, and yet, if it were possible, even more self-contained. She wondered how often he’d played this part. He seemed very comfortable with it.
“I am Anzegar Tor Fel-A,” Alden said, “requesting, in the name of our exalted Autarch Korzenten Rej Tov-AA, entry into our beloved system on behalf of myself and our friends from the Venetan Convention.”
There was a screech as the probe carried out identification checks. Then the eye winked shut, and the smaller teardrop peeled back to its mother satellite.
The Aventine moved on. And that was that. They had entered the Tzenkethi system.
“Thank you, Commander,” Dax said quietly.
He turned to look at her. There was a little fire in his eyes, dying away. The thrill of it? The satisfaction of getting past his enemies? “My pleasure.”
“You make it look so easy.”
“It is easy. With practice.”
Dax turned to Nekelen. “How are we doing?”
“We’re making good time,” Nekelen said. “It’s all down to her now. Whether she’s reached the pickup point, or whether something has prevented her from getting there.”
• • •
The ship with its cargo of Atas had long since left, taking them back to their new postings at the building works, so Inzegil and Artamer were staying at billets provided by the local enforcer subsection. Plain rooms but functional, and, besides, Inzegil didn’t think she was going to get much rest.
“I can’t understand it,” she said to Artamer, who was spread out on his cot, his hands behind his head. “How have three Atas managed to avoid us for so long?”
“Hertome’s a cunning one. Have you checked his record again? No sign of any prior declassification?”
“No, although to keep out of sight for so long, you’d almost think he was a higher grade. Perhaps not even an Ata at all.”
“That would explain his erratic behavioral patterns,” said Artamer.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if he’s been misclassified as Ata, he must be bored out of his mind. What was his day-to-day function?”
“He was part of a six-Ata maintenance unit at the Department of the Outside. But he was its leader. That should be providing him with sufficient intellectual stimulation. He’s only an Ata-C! Anything more would overwhelm him—”
Artamer rolled over onto his side. “Look, Inzy, I don’t often say this to you, because you’re first-rate. But I’ve been doing this for a long time, and it’s been my experience that every so often one or two get stuck with a wrong grade.”
“That shouldn’t happen. The Yai scientists are very skilled at what they do. They’d be picked up through testing and recalibrated.”
“But sometimes that doesn’t happen. Sometimes they’re missed. They’re a kind of genetic wild card. No,” he said quickly, seeing her frown, “I don’t think I’m saying anything inappropriate.”
“But the Yai scientists know what they’re doing.”
“Yes, and I think these wild cards are intentional. Part of the design. I’m not a Yai, but I think a random element helps. Why else are there irregularities? Why else does our whole function exist?”
Inzegil sat down on her cot. A random element intentionally introduced into the great screening programs? If what Artamer said was true, that meant the Autarch was wiser and more far thinking than she had ever imagined. Humbly, Inzegil ducked her head. She gestured in gratitude from her chest up at the sky, and gestured her contrition too. The Autarch was all-wise, and he was not bound to explain his ways to her. She felt ashamed ever to have thought that his intentions might always be clear to her. But the thought that her function had a deeper purpose in his plans, one that she did not fully understand, moved her deeply. She was indeed blessed to be under his protection. Blessed and humbled.
“Anyway,” said Artamer with a yawn, “there’s nothing irregular about the Rets Corazame and Mayazan. They’ll soon give themselves away.” He turned his head away from the shuttered window and sighed. “At least I hope so.”
Star Trek: Brinkmanship Page 21