“If I knew I’d do it.”
“Hush. Everything will be fine. But we’re going to have to be brave. You said he might approach the enforcers . . .” She dropped her voice. “So we must approach them first.”
The previous skyturn, two Mak enforcers had come aboard, traveling on the route for a while on business of their own. They had of course disappeared into the part of the boat reserved for the senior echelons, but the Ata quarters had been busy with the news of their arrival: Who were they here for? Was someone in trouble? A few eyes had fallen on Efheny. Neither enforcer had yet put in an appearance, but the Atas’ fascination with them would continue for some skyturns yet.
Efheny, who had been pondering their possible utility since their arrival, made her jaw drop at Corazame’s suggestion.
“Approach them? Cory, is that possible? One of them is graded BB! I’m not sure they even have any dialects in common with us.”
“If they’re graded so highly, they’ll be permitted to learn our dialect,” Corazame said doggedly. “They’ll certainly have the ability. I know it’s a risk—”
“But won’t it make us stand out? That’s not appropriate for Atas of our grade. We might end up censured—”
“But they are the only people here who have an Ap-Rej’s authority over Hertome. We’re not slaves, Maymi. And we are most certainly not Hertome’s slaves! You and I, all of us, we serve our beloved Rej. But because he can’t always be with us, he lets others speak and act on his behalf so that we are all under his protection, even those of us who bring so little to our world. Yes,” Corazame said, her mind made up, “we must approach the enforcers. We’ll beg permission to speak, and we’ll hope in the name of our most beloved and exalted Rej that they grant us permission and see us.”
Corazame stood and pulled Efheny up after her. And Neta Efheny, who had intended this outcome all along, obediently followed.
• • •
Tarses quickly got back to Dax with the information that she needed. When Dax entered the sickbay, she saw six large containers on the nearest worktop.
“Is this what we need?” she said. Tarses nodded. “Simon, you’re a marvel!”
“I carried out some research into what kinds of skin emollients would be suitable for the Tzenkethi,” he told her. “Based also on what I learned from the solvents acquired from Outpost V-4, I’ve prepared samples of six different possible options. I have been in touch with Doctor Bishop at Starbase 261, and she confirms that she could supply us immediately with excellent stocks of three of these and produce the rest quickly. If the Tzenkethi are willing, then we can supply them with everything they need, and perhaps this crisis can be defused.”
“And if they’re not willing,” Dax said, “we can only hope that to Venetan eyes that will seem hostile or evasive.”
“Certainly accepting our offer is the most reasonable decision to make, given the alternatives,” Tarses said. “Assuming, of course, that the Tzenkethi do indeed wish to avoid war.”
Big assumption, thought Dax, and one that Peter Alden most likely wouldn’t make. Thought of Alden put another idea into her head, one Dax didn’t like much but nevertheless felt duty bound to explore.
“Where did you get your information about Tzenkethi physiology, Simon?” she said casually, running a fingertip around the seal of one of the containers. “Did you speak to Alden?”
“The commander is still off duty,” Tarses said. “But there was sufficient information in the Starfleet Medical database.” He frowned. “Why? Should I have spoken to Commander Alden? I’m aware that he is an expert on Tzenkethi political affairs, but does he also have expertise on Tzenkethi physiology?”
“No, not that I know of,” Dax said quickly. “And better not to wake him.”
She’d learned what she needed to know. Now she didn’t have to worry that Alden had suggested to Tarses options that were in some way inimical to Tzenkethi health. And how low have I come, to think that about a friend? she thought. Can I even think of myself as his friend any longer, when I suspect things like that about him? But she had to check. She had to be certain.
“Thanks, Simon. I’m very pleased with all this. I’ll get on to Heldon right away.”
Dax returned to her ready room and got in touch with Heldon, who received the offer with a combination of surprise and unconcealed relief. “This is very generous of the Federation, Dax. And you’re right that it could well be the way out of this impasse that we’ve all been looking for. I will of course have to consult with my Tzenkethi colleagues—”
“Of course,” said Dax, keen to appear accommodating.
“But I can’t see any reason why they would refuse. Thank you. I take this as a sign of good faith.” Heldon gave a bright smile. “I’m glad that at last we are finding the grounds upon which trust can be built.”
Dax cut the comm and fell back into her chair, relieved that things seemed finally to be turning the corner. While she waited to hear from Heldon, Dax read the updated reports from Venette, which sunk her spirits for a while, until she reminded herself that she would soon be able to cut through all the diplomatic wheeling and dealing with a solution of her own. She checked in with Hyatt, and the counselor told her that Alden was still off shift and in his quarters, presumably sleeping. No signs, yet, that he was suffering any adverse effects from the mission. When Bowers eventually persuaded Dax to get some sleep herself, she went off to her quarters in a positive frame of mind: I think I’ve got away with it. I really think we’ve cracked it. It was worth it.
Her hopes were dashed two hours later. The captain was awakened by an incoming communication from Heldon. The Venetan’s face, usually so warm, so friendly, was stern again, and very angry. Dax steeled herself. Was it possible that Heldon had somehow found out about their raid on the medical facility? They were all sunk if she had . . .
“Dax,” said Heldon, “a grave situation has arisen here and, as a result, I need to speak to Peter Alden. I must ask you to send him to Outpost V-4 at once.”
She knows, thought Dax. Hell! But then she stopped herself. Why only Alden? Why not Kedair too?
“That’s a most unusual request,” Dax replied calmly. “If you wish to speak to the commander, I can certainly ask him to come to my ready room, and you—and I mean you, Heldon, nobody else—are welcome to ask him whatever you like. Will that be sufficient?”
“No. Unfortunately that will not be sufficient.”
“May I ask why not?”
The screen went suddenly dark. “Heldon?” Dax said quickly, leaning in toward the comm. “Heldon, are you still there?”
The screen filled with a pale blue glow, and the Tzenkethi medical officer, Entrigar Ter Yai-A, came into view.
“Captain Dax,” Entrigar said. “Our friend Heldon has made a request of you. Are you going to comply?”
“No, I’m not,” Dax replied firmly. “Not without a very good reason. Ter Entrigar, the last time I checked, Outpost V-4 was still a Venetan base and not yet a Tzenkethi one. If you don’t mind, I’ll speak to Heldon or I’ll speak to nobody.”
Heldon’s voice came from slightly beyond Entrigar. “I’ve made my request,” she said. “I can’t force you to hand over Peter Alden, nor do I wish to do so. But I’ll take it as a sign of good faith if he is here on Outpost V-4 within the hour.”
Dax, her stomach twisting with fear and incipient panic, tried to keep her voice calm. “I’ve already offered a sign of good faith, Heldon. I’ve offered a resolution to this whole crisis. How about we discuss if your Tzenkethi friends are prepared to let you accept our offer of whatever supplies they need? Because it strikes me as very convenient that the moment I make an offer that could end this affair in a matter of days, I’m asked to surrender one of my senior officers without being given any good reason why.”
There was no reply.
“Heldon,” Dax said insistently. “Have your friends said whether or not our offer is going to be accepted? If not, have they said why?�
�
Still silence from the other end. What was going on down there?
“Well,” said Dax, “until I hear back from you as to whether or not our offer is going to be accepted, think about what’s on the table, Heldon. And when you see your way to responding to it, I’ll take that as a sign of good faith.”
Dax cut the comm channel and swore creatively for the best part of the next two minutes. And when Bowers alerted her that a coded transmission had been sent from Outpost V-4 to the Venetan homeworld, Dax knew she wasn’t getting any more sleep that night. Shortly, she was going to have a whole lot of explaining to do. And she would very much like a few explanations herself.
10
FROM:
Civilian Freighter Inzitran, flagship, Merchant Fleet 9
TO:
Ementar Vik Tov-A, senior designated speaker, Active Affairs, Department of the Outside
STATUS:
Estimated time to border: 15 skyturns
Estimated time to destination: 20 skyturns
FROM:
Captain Ezri Dax, U.S.S. Aventine
TO:
Admiral Leonard Akaar, Starfleet Command
STATUS OF TZENKETHI FLEET:
ETA at Venetan border: 7 days
ETA at Outpost V-4: 9 days
Dax eventually got her explanations from Picard. He appeared on the viewscreen in her ready room looking tired, fretful, and about a minute away from explosively losing his temper.
“Dax, what the hell has been going on over there? What’s all this about a bomb?”
Dax nearly dropped her coffee cup. “A what?”
“A bomb, Captain Dax, found on Outpost V-4. The Tzenkethi representative here, Alizome, just graced Ambassador Jeyn and myself with her presence. She had two pieces of news, neither of them good: first, Rusht is unlikely to speak to us again, and, second, this is because the base coordinator at your end contacted her to say that a bomb had been found on Outpost V-4. What’s going on? Is Heldon lying?”
That explained the coded transmission to Venette, Dax thought. “No, Heldon’s not a liar.”
“So you think they really have found a bomb on the base? Well, whether or not they have, the situation here has become critical. The only reason we haven’t been banished from Venette immediately is that the Ferengi negotiator has agreed to speak to the Venetans for us. That, and they happen to like Glinn Dygan . . . Dax, what is happening over there? Is this another Tzenkethi sideshow? Or is there something in it?”
Dax had hardly heard a word he’d said. Her head was spinning and the blood was thumping furiously in her ears. Susan warned me, she thought. Preemptive action, she said . . .
“Dax?”
Quickly, Dax gathered herself. She cleared her throat. “Have they said where this bomb was found exactly?”
“In the medical facility.” Picard’s eyes sharpened. “Captain, is that particular detail significant in some way?”
Slowly, Dax rubbed a fingertip beneath one eye and then tugged at the lid. Surely this had to be a Tzenkethi ploy? Surely he wouldn’t have . . . Or would he? Hyatt had warned her. And Heldon had seen it too.
“Dax?”
She leaned forward in her chair. “Captain, we need to make sure this channel is very secure.”
They carried out the usual precautions, and then Picard, his face grim, said, “I think you’d better speak freely, Captain Dax. What exactly do you think is going on?”
Dax took a deep, shuddering breath. “Before I tell you that, you need to know that the night before last we mounted a covert operation to Outpost V-4. I sent my security chief, Kedair, and Commander Peter Alden of Starfleet Intelligence over to get ahold of samples of the P96 solvents that are being stored there.”
Picard closed his eyes, very briefly, then opened them. “Your reasoning, presumably,” he said very tightly, “was that you needed a sample in order to ascertain whether the solvents are indeed needed for navithium resin, or to stabilize another substance entirely.”
“That was my reasoning.”
“Then I admire your audacity, Captain, while reserving judgment about the wisdom of such a potentially provocative move.”
Provocative? Explosive, more like.
Picard’s voice went very dry. “Let us not dwell for the moment upon its legality. Did you at least learn something useful?”
“We learned enough to be able to offer to supply the Tzenkethi with a number of alternatives to the resins they are bringing on those ships. Human-friendly alternatives.”
“I see. I assume that Alden and Kedair acquired these samples from the sickbay of Outpost V-4?”
“That’s right.”
There was a pause before Picard spoke again. “Captain Dax, in my wildest dreams, I never imagined having to put a question like this to a fellow Starfleet officer. Did Starfleet Intelligence issue you orders to sabotage the medical facility on Outpost V-4?”
“No,” Dax said promptly. “But I don’t know if they issued orders to anyone else.”
“Explain.”
“Commander Alden may have a different agenda.”
“Ah.”
“I know he’s received communications through . . . separate channels. I can’t shake the feeling that he might be under orders. But there’s another question mark in my mind, Captain.”
“Go ahead.”
“He might have been acting on his own initiative.”
“What? Planting a bomb?”
“I told you what my senior counselor said—”
“Yes, stress, exhaustion, and the possibility of a deeper malaise . . .” Picard’s eyes widened. “You sent him on this mission without being certain of his mental state?”
“I did,” said Dax. “He was the only one with the expertise to get through any Tzenkethi security systems that were in place. I made a judgment call, and I sent him. My senior counselor, to her credit, nearly hit the roof when I told her.”
“I can imagine.” Picard pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. “So. We are left with the possibility that a Starfleet officer is indeed responsible for this attempted sabotage. But we do not know if this was under orders, or whether he was acting on his own initiative.”
“Naturally, Starfleet Intelligence will deny all knowledge.”
Picard grunted his agreement. “Dax, you know Alden.”
“I knew him a long time ago. He’s not the man he was.”
“Still . . . Do you think he did this?”
Dax sighed. “I think it’s possible, but I think it’s possible that the Tzenkethi are planning to put bioweapons within strike range of our borders. Senseless and irrational, but possible. I just don’t know for sure. For what it’s worth, I’ll also point out that this didn’t happen until I offered the Venetans an alternative to the navithium resin. I make that offer and, lo and behold, a bomb’s discovered on the base.”
“You think the Tzenkethi might be behind this? That Commander Alden, whether acting alone or under instructions, has nothing to do with it?”
Dax threw up her hands. “Yes. The problem is that I can’t know for sure. But this is how they seem to operate, isn’t it? One shock revelation after another. First the Federation spy on their homeworld, now this. So that we’re always left reeling, always kept off balance. Alden might have planted a bomb on Outpost V-4. But the Tzenkethi there might well have done it themselves. I just don’t know for certain either way. That’s been our problem all along, hasn’t it? We don’t know anything for sure, and when we make accusations, they sound like delusions.”
“Quite.” Picard rubbed his brow. “You describe my difficulty as well. There is practically no form of words I could use to say any of this to the Venetans. Even if they were willing to speak to us. They’re already indignant we’ve implied their Tzenkethi friends intend to arm the base with bioweapons. Now I have to hint that the Tzenkethi have planted a bomb on a Venetan base and have been attempting to make Starfleet officers look like the perpetrato
rs.”
“I don’t envy you that conversation.”
“And I don’t envy the conversation that you will soon be having with Commander Alden.”
No, that wasn’t the kind of conversation anyone would look forward to. Dax pushed aside her raktajino, her taste for it gone.
“I suggest you try to find out whether indeed Alden did do something unwise while on that base. I also suggest that you put him under lock and key. And . . .” Picard sighed, deeply. “I shall attempt to communicate with Rusht and Vitig through whatever channels remain open to me. Ideally without Tzenkethi oversight. I’ll leave you with this less-than-consoling thought, Dax—all that’s standing between us and war right now are the Ferengi.”
• • •
The glittering coral caverns surrounding the travelers had been forgotten. Instead, they had turned inward to their own affairs. The whole boat was humming with the news that the Rets Mayazan and Corazame had begged permission to speak to the enforcers. Conjecture was rife, but almost everyone agreed that it must have something to do with the Ter Hertome and the unusual nature of his interest in the Ret Mayazan.
Apart from this single point of agreement, there was a great deal of dissension among the other Ata-Es on the boat about Mayazan’s decision to approach the enforcers. Efheny told herself that as a xenoanthropologist she had a unique opportunity to observe such a social minefield, but she was uncomfortable being at the center of it. True, some of the other Atas were on her side, many of them having quietly suffered at the hands of bullying superiors. But many more dismissed her as an attention seeker. There was always a Ret, they said, who thought she was better than the rest. Some even thought a little reconditioning wouldn’t do the Ret Mayazan any harm and might remind her of her purpose. A couple went out of their way to signal their displeasure; one even spat at Efheny as she walked past.
“Ignore them,” Corazame said boldly. This whole business had given Corazame a new air of confidence. “They think you’ve broken rank, reporting an Ata to a higher grade. But if they’re not careful, they’ll be summoned before the enforcers too.”
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Brinkmanship Page 14