by Dayton Ward
Ying shrugged as she took up her fork and started eating. “Too little freedom, too much compromise, too many broken promises . . . take your pick, Captain. We aren’t short on reasons for being here.”
“I guess not,” Desai said.
“Were you and Aole close?” Ying asked.
“Somewhat. Our jobs intersected a great deal. That’s how we became friends.”
“I envy you that. I wish I could have known him better. He had this way about him . . .”
Desai smiled. “I know. Everybody who spent enough time talking to him says the same thing.”
“That’s quite a legacy. I’m glad to know my experience with him wasn’t unique.”
“I take it his powers of persuasion weren’t enough to convince you of the need to evacuate this planet.”
Ying exchanged a look with Sgouros. “No, they weren’t.”
Desai set down her fork. “Doctor, help me to understand. Why are you fighting this? What sense does it make to remain out here, on your own, so far from Starfleet protection?”
“We long ago accepted that New Anglesey and the Federation have grown apart,” Ying said. “Maybe you should do the same, Captain.”
Desai noticed Sgouros watching her, and she decided to try a different tack. “I couldn’t help but notice as we traveled through town that everyone in New Anglesey walks around armed. Is that one of the freedoms you believe you have too little of?”
“Newly colonized planets are dangerous, Captain,” Sgouros answered. “Surely that’s something Starfleet needs no help understanding? Especially given the events of this week.”
“Because Commander Miller left the safety of the settlement by himself?”
“Yes, but let’s be clear about this,” Sgouros said. “We don’t carry weapons to make a political statement. We have no shortage of dangerous predators on Kadru, and we’ve had to adjust our everyday behavior to fit that reality. We can’t even use communicators safely outside the town perimeter, because for some reason the sound of electronically filtered voices attracts the predators.”
“The bottom line,” Ying said, “is that we’re playing the hand we’ve been dealt. We’re big believers in self-reliance.”
“I actually have no trouble believing that, Doctor,” Desai said, “given New Anglesey’s abrupt shift toward isolationism.”
“As I mentioned earlier,” Ying said, reaching for her lemonade, “there’s a great deal we wanted to get away from.”
“It didn’t start out that way, though, did it? Back when the Bombay assisted you and your people in establishing this settlement, you weren’t motivated by the desire to get away, but by a passion to explore a new and biologically diverse world. Then, for no reason you were willing to explain, you started keeping Starfleet at a distance. Captain Gannon was quite distraught about it. She thought you were her friend.” Ying seemed taken by surprise at the mention of Gannon, and suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “So what changed?”
“Maybe you should ask the colonists on Gamma Tauri Four,” said Sgouros.
Desai nodded. “I did consider that the destruction of the New Boulder colony might be the reason for your sudden withdrawal, but the chronology doesn’t line up. New Anglesey went independent six months before the incident at Gamma Tauri.”
Ying set down her glass and leaned forward. “Then call it validation of our decision—the most recent in a long history of so-called ‘incidents’ where Starfleet failed the colonies it was supposed to be protecting—Tarsus Four, Azha-R7a, Ingraham B, Deneva, Omicron Ceti Three, Cestus Three, Janus Six, New Paris—do I really need to go on, Captain? Oh, yes, I know: some of those settlements were actually saved by Starfleet intervention, but you couldn’t actually protect any of them, could you?”
Desai said nothing. Everything she feared Ying might say had been heaped at her feet.
And still Ying wasn’t done. “Twenty years ago on Tarsus Four, the system failed spectacularly. When famine threatened the colony, Starfleet sent ships to help, but they didn’t get there before the colony’s warped leadership exterminated half the population in order to save the other half. Our entire colonial system has been paying for that crime ever since. Each new crisis has led to stricter laws, tougher regulations, tighter controls, forced relocations, and less freedom to live as the colonists choose—which is the reason many of them became colonists in the first place!
“So let me say it as plainly as I can, Captain. If Starfleet abandons this sector, New Anglesey is prepared to stand on its own. My people won’t be pressured into leaving Kadru by anyone.”
“Is that why Aole Miller died?” Desai asked.
Sgouros frowned. “Exactly what are you implying, Captain?”
Desai looked at her. “I’m on Kadru to investigate the death of a Starfleet officer. By the governor’s own statements, her feelings toward Starfleet represent those of her constituents. I need to know if some of them would resent Miller’s presence here—and his purpose—enough to do something about it.”
Ying rose slowly to her feet. “You want to know if one of my people was capable of murdering Aole?”
“That’s exactly what I want to know.”
“Then this is my answer: you and your doctor have twenty-four hours to complete your investigation and get the hell off this planet.”
6
2259
“. . . Unfortunately, Captain Reyes, this matter is beyond your authority,” Admiral Telles Vindeilin said from the briefing room monitor, the Denobulan’s usually genial manner taking a back seat to her grim news. “You’re to take no action while the Federation Council tries to resolve the situation diplomatically. Dauntless is ordered to withdraw to the edge of the Azha system, escorted by the Chech’Iw. I know that adds insult to injury, Diego, but it was the only way the Klingon ambassador would even consider meeting with the Federation Council about this. Starfleet Command wants you to remain in the vicinity and to continue monitoring the situation as best you can. Keep me updated, and I’ll advise you of any changes on this end. Vindeilin out.”
Reyes, Fisher knew, had already sat through the recording once. He spent the replay watching the faces of his gathered senior officers, as well as that of their guest, Philippe Latour, for their reactions. No one looked happy.
As silence settled over the circular room, Reyes tapped the comm on the tabletop’s computer interface. “Reyes to bridge.”
“Jordan here, sir.” “Mister Jordan, I believe the Chech’Iw is waiting to hear from us. Please inform them we’ll be ready to get under way at one-quarter impulse in ten minutes. You may then proceed at your discretion to a position thirty astronomical units from Azha.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Reyes out.”
“That’s it, then,” Brzezinski said.
“The hell it is,” said the captain.
“Sir, Starfleet Command—”
“We may not be able to engage the Klingons directly,” Reyes said, “but I’m not about to simply do nothing. Think, people! Let’s break it down: an explosion of indeterminate origin on Azha-R7a forces the Arkenites to send out an SOS, just when the Chech’Iw was close enough to be the first responder. Does that strike anyone else here as even remotely suspicious?”
“It can’t be a coincidence,” Sadler agreed. “And since when do the Klingons come to the aid of Federation citizens in distress?”
“It’s unlike them,” Gannon admitted, “but not unprecedented, as long as it suited their purposes. The real question is, what have they achieved by answering the Arkenites’ call for help?”
“It’s a diplomatic knife between the ribs,” Shey said. “Think about it, the Klingons have acquired new territory and absorbed its population without firing a shot, essentially beating us at our own game. When word of this gets out, and it will, the Federation will be humiliated. Its ability to protect its members and holdings will be cast into doubt. If Gorkon did engineer all this, he knew exactly how to hit us.”
> “Commander Gannon,” Reyes said, “what’s your read on Gorkon?”
“Current leader of the House of Makok and a thirty-year veteran of the Klingon Defense Force,” Gannon recited. “Thought to be a favorite of Chancellor Sturka, who is rumored to be grooming him for the High Council. Widely regarded as a brilliant strategist and one of the foremost military minds in the Empire. As commander of his current ship, the Chech’Iw, he’s been directly involved in sixteen skirmishes with Federation forces. Five of those involved the Dauntless. His wife and three of his sons are deceased. He has two surviving children, a twenty-one-year-old son in the KDF, and a daughter, six. As a grand master of klin zha—”
“That’s enough background,” the captain interrupted. “I’m more interested in how you’d assess his behavior inside the colony.”
Gannon hesitated. “I think that whatever is going on, Gorkon is worried about something,” she said at last. “He held all the cards, yet he twice acceded to Doctor Duvadi, as if he felt he had no choice.”
Reyes turned to Fisher. “Doctor, do you agree with Commander Gannon’s assessment?”
“I do, Captain,” Fisher said. “I got the same impression.”
“So did I,” Reyes agreed. “So what does that tell us?”
“That Duvadi is the one pulling the strings,” Brzezinski said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Reyes, raising a finger toward the science officer, “but he definitely didn’t want to do or say anything to piss her off. That suggests to me he needs her for some purpose, and he’s willing to take atypical steps to ensure her continued cooperation.”
“Atypical is exactly the word for it,” Gannon said. “Nothing about this reflects usual Klingon behavior. Azha-R7a has little value strategically. Its mineral resources have some worth, but they represent neither a crippling loss to the Federation nor a significant gain for the Empire. No offense, Doctor Latour.”
“None taken,” Latour said.
“Arkenites, as a species, have never been of particular interest to the Klingons before, so it’s unlikely this has anything to do with them,” Gannon went on. “And with all due respect to Shey’s valid analysis of the astropolitical fallout of this crisis, the tactics employed simply don’t track with Klingon psychology. They favor direct confrontation to subtlety and lateral thinking. It’s hard to see what they’ve really gained from this.”
“The science labs,” Reyes mused, suddenly turning his full attention to Latour. “Why is it that, of all the locations to set up as their command post, the Klingons chose the laboratory wing?”
“Honestly, Captain, I have no idea,” Latour said.
“But what are the labs for?” Brzezinski asked. “I thought Azha-R7a was strictly a mining complex?”
“We started branching out last year,” Latour explained, “after a survey of a high-impact region revealed the presence of a subsurface frost layer teeming with exotic microbial fossils and unusual organic compounds, which we’ve determined were deposited by past cometary strikes. The Federation Science Council granted us a full array of state-of-the-art analysis-and-research equipment to study what we found. We’ve been at it ever since. But before you draw any hasty conclusions about that, we’ve made a thorough study of the frost and its contents, and I can assure you there’s nothing dangerous about our discoveries.”
“Let’s say you’re correct,” Sadler said. “What about the lab equipment itself? Is there anything about it that might be cause for concern if it fell into the wrong hands?”
Latour started to reply, but his confidence in whatever answer he was about to give faded quickly. “I’m not sure.”
“Shey,” Reyes said. “Take Doctor Latour with you to engineering. I want you to work together on compiling an inventory of everything the FSC sent to the colony. Check the library computer for their specs and review them for all possible applications.”
“Aye, sir,” said the Andorian engineer, nodding to the deputy administrator as the two of them got up from the meeting table and exited the briefing room.
Reyes turned to his chief of security. “Terry, I want you to start developing contingency plans to storm the colony. If we find out that diplomacy has failed, Starfleet Command might want us to take direct action to liberate the Arkenites, regardless of the political consequences.”
“Will do. But you need to know this, Captain . . . I’ve already made a thorough study of the mining complex, and in my current estimation, there’s no scenario that won’t involve civilian casualties.”
“Find one,” Reyes said. “Brzezinski, please assist Mister Sadler.”
That left only Gannon and Fisher in the room with Reyes. “Captain, I understand the necessity of preparing for worst-case scenarios,” the XO said, “but you must realize that if we do resort to force, we’ll be giving Gorkon exactly what he wants: an even stronger claim on Azha-R7a.”
Reyes looked close to losing his patience. “Commander, I respect the fresh perspective you bring to the table, but I know this man in ways that transcend what you can memorize from a computer file. And despite any pretense of honor, Gorkon is a ruthless, cunning bastard who won’t hesitate to space those people down there if and when he decides he doesn’t need to perpetuate this farce any longer. Once he has whatever he came here for, they’re as good as dead. My job is to make sure that moment never comes. Now, is there anything relevant you have to contribute to that objective?”
“There is one thing,” Gannon said evenly, “but I don’t think you’re going to like hearing it.”
Reyes’s eyebrows shot up. He cast a glance Fisher’s way, then leaned back in his chair. “Speak freely, Gannon.”
Gannon laced her hands atop the wood-stained oval table. “Gorkon takes great satisfaction in pushing your buttons, Captain. And frankly, that’s something he shouldn’t know how to do. This has gotten personal. You can’t seem to respond to him any way other than viscerally, and Gorkon knows it. He’s using your hatred of him to keep you off balance, to throw you off your game, to interfere with your judgment. And from what I’ve observed so far, he’s succeeding.”
Wow, Fisher thought. Go, Hallie!
Reyes’s eyes blazed. “Observation noted,” he answered curtly, abruptly vacating his chair and moving toward the exit.
“Gorkon was paying Commander Mehta a compliment, by the way,” Gannon called after him, and Reyes stopped in the doorway. “Before you threatened to blow his head off, when he told me to die as well as my predecessor? He wasn’t threatening me, or spitting on Mehta’s memory. He was acknowledging the honorable death of someone he considered a warrior. Among Klingons, it’s high praise.”
“What’s your point?”
“Only this, sir: The only way you’re going to beat Gorkon is by understanding what’s driving him, not by judging him according to human values. He’s never going to fit into the box you keep trying to put him in.”
• • •
As he strode down the curved corridor two hours later, Fisher told himself he’d waited long enough. When he reached his destination, he stopped at the door and thumbed the buzzer. It was answered in a distinct tone of resignation: “Come in, Zeke.”
The door slid open, and Fisher stepped inside the captain’s cabin to see Reyes working at his desk. “How’d you know it was me?”
Reyes’s eyes rolled toward him. “Everyone else aboard has the good sense not to bother the captain when he’s in a bad mood.”
“That’s a relief. I was afraid you were gonna make some smart-ass crack about hearing my joints creaking from down the corridor.”
Reyes rose and moved to his food slot. “Look, Zeke, if you came here to say something, just say it and go. Or you can shut up and join me for some bad coffee. Either way, I’m too busy to put up with the usual crap.”
“I’ll take the coffee,” Fisher said agreeably as he strolled toward the desk, where the screen displayed Reyes’s after-action report on the incident at Xarant. The doctor ignored
it, reaching instead for the slate that Reyes had placed facedown on the desk when Fisher walked in. He turned it over and saw Gannon’s personnel file.
“Archery,” Fisher noted. “Who would have thought?”
“Hey, do you mind?” Reyes said irritably, grabbing the slate and handing Fisher a steaming cup. “What if this had been a top secret file?”
Fisher waved dismissively and went to sit in the chair opposite Reyes’s desk. “So what? You hate keeping secrets.”
Reyes sighed and returned to his own chair. “So what do you want, really? If you came here to talk to me about Gannon—”
“Actually, I came here to talk about you.”
“What about me?”
Fisher smiled. “Are you going to keep Hallie as your XO?”
Reyes scoffed and leaned back. “That’s none of your damn business, Doctor,” he said without heat.
“Well, now, that’s where you’re wrong, Captain. But we’ll let that one go. Here’s a better question: do you think she’s right?”
Reyes didn’t answer, and after a moment, he picked up the slate again and handed it to Fisher. “That special training she received about the Klingons . . . Look who she studied under.”
“Doctor Emanuel Tagore,” Fisher read. “The former ambassador?”
“The same. He’s been on the lecture circuit since his retirement. Felt he owed it to the Federation to share what he’d learned from living on the Klingon homeworld for four years. Somebody at Command finally realized Starfleet had something to gain from his knowledge and experience. The thinking was that star-ship captains would benefit from having officers with specialized training in the Klingons’ language, culture, history.”
“Let me guess: somewhere in this file is a glowing recommendation from the ambassador.”
“Glowing? It’s radioactive. She was one of his star pupils.”
Fisher shrugged and handed back the slate. “So she’s got a black belt in Klingon and she’s not afraid to use it. That doesn’t really tell you anything you didn’t already know.”