Star Trek: Enterprise: The Romulan War: Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Star Trek : Enterprise)

by Michael A. Martin

  An explosive peal of thunder sounded behind him then, followed by a gale-force wind that sent him tumbling backward into a fathomless, inky void.

  TEN

  Monday, July 28, 2155

  Coalition of Planets Headquarters, San Francisco

  ERIKA HERNANDEZ HAD FOUND it humiliating to have to allow the Vulcans to tow Columbia home from Alpha Centauri. But after she’d heard Administrator T’Pau and Minister Soval present their “alternative strategic plan” in a classified closed-door meeting with the senior civilian and military leadership of the United Earth government, as well as the diplomatic delegations of Alpha Centauri, Andoria, and Tellar, Hernandez felt as though the Vulcans had intentionally rubbed salt into her wounds. And Administrator T’Pau’s swift and unapologetic beam-up to her orbiting diplomatic vessel immediately after the initial presentation’s conclusion had done little to improve Hernandez’s opinion of what she had just heard.

  Once T’Pau had vanished from the council chamber’s central rostrum, Minister Soval stood alone, facing the unsympathetic mass of Vulcan’s allies, who sat in the room’s semicircular ranks of plushly upholstered chairs. As Soval braced himself against the rising tide of understandably dour glares and disappointed mutterings of some of the most august personages of Coalition space and beyond—Earth’s Prime Minister Nathan Samuels and Interior Minister Haroun alRashid, the Martian Colonies’ special representative Qaletaqu, Ambassador Jie Cong Li of Centauri III, Draylax’s observer Grethe Zhor, Starfleet’s Admirals Samuel William Gardner and Gregory Logan Black, and MACO General George Casey numbered among them— Hernandez almost felt sorry for the Vulcan foreign minister.

  But only almost, she decided as she rose from her seat in the rear ranks and became one of the first of the assembled participants and observers to give full-throated voice to her initial reaction.

  “So that’s your ‘alternative’ plan, Minister Soval?” Hernandez said loudly. “Your plan to assist Earth against Romulan invasion amounts to helping us install a colossal, interplanetary burglar alarm?”

  Prime Minister Samuels scowled in her direction as he rose to speak, and neither of the admirals looked particularly happy with her when they turned their gazes in her direction. Hernandez sat, chastened at having spoken out of turn despite the grin she received from the MACO general. The chamber had already fallen silent except for the frantic whisperings being exchanged between the diplomats and their aides.

  But instead of answering her with a reprimand of his own, Soval surprised her by tackling her question head on. “It is a warp-field detection grid, Captain,” he said, correcting her in tones that radiated an unexpectedly high patience-to-condescension ratio. “As Administrator T’Pau and I have already indicated, our technicians will begin assisting immediately with the installation and testing of all the essential components—here and at Alpha Centauri. Once the networks are completed and active, no unauthorized vessels should be able to enter either system without tripping the in-system subspace early warning alarms.”

  His expression hard, Admiral Gardner rose and addressed the Vulcan. “Speaking on behalf of Starfleet Command, I appreciate Administrator T’Pau’s decision to lend Earth and Alpha Centauri your turnkey warp-detection technologies, along with the advisers we’ll need to run and maintain them.”

  Vulcan advisers who will watch us like birds of prey to keep us from ripping apart and reverse engineering their precious high-tech gear, Hernandez thought.

  Soval nodded toward the admiral as he clasped his hands contemplatively before him. “On behalf of all of Vulcan, Admiral, you are quite welcome.”

  General Casey stood up, facing Soval. “Now that you’ve both satisfied the social niceties here, let’s discuss what’s wrong with your plan. Namely, the fact that this alarm system of yours isn’t likely to give us more than a few minutes’ advance warning of any given Romulan attack, assuming they approach the inner systems at warp five or faster.”

  “Even a single minute can be critical, General,” Soval said, unperturbed by the general’s barely constrained frustration. “And I suspect that the survivors of the Romulan attacks on Calder II and Tarod IX would be inclined to agree with me.”

  “That’s true enough, Minister Soval,” said Admiral Black, who had not deigned to rise from his chair. “I won’t turn away any extra nanosecond of heads-up I can get. But even assuming your detection grids really do succeed in preventing the Romulans from catching us with our pants completely down around our ankles, Starfleet will still be on its own in repelling the invasion fleets that are coming, sure as gravity. For years now, Starfleet’s capabilities have been slowly expanding.”

  Damned slowly, Hernandez thought, fighting down a surge of bitterness. Mostly because the Vulcans have always seemed so bent on “protecting” us. Until now, that is.

  “But we’re still limited in the amount of territory we can patrol and protect,” Black continued. “Compared to Vulcan, Starfleet has only a handful of starships at its disposal, and even Tellar and Andoria can’t make up for Vulcan’s absence while defending their own home systems. So what you’re telling us is that we have us to protect two entire systems with next to nothing.”

  “The systems in question are at least adjacent ones, Admiral,” Soval said coolly.

  “That’s pretty cold comfort,” Casey growled. He banged a clenched fist hard against the back of his chair, rattling it.

  Thoris of Andoria and Gral of Tellar rose almost as one from their seats on opposite sides of the cluster of Starfleet and MACO brass.

  “Admiral Black and General Casey’s analysis is correct,” Thoris said, glowering at Soval. “My government will find Vulcan’s position no more palatable than they do.”

  “I must concur,” Gral said, which made Hernandez realize in a rush that she had never expected to hear that particular phrase pass the Tellarite’s lips. “My government cannot undertake Vulcan’s military obligations in addition to its own.”

  Thoris nodded. “Nor can mine.”

  Gral’s voice rose to a near shout. “Tellar will expect the Vulcan government to honor its Coalition defense commitments fully and completely.”

  “As will Andoria,” Thoris said, his tone rapier sharp.

  Soval responded with calm surety. “And Vulcan shall do so. As fully and completely as is practical for us.”

  “Sounds like a lot of logic-chopping and plain old-fashioned bullshit to me,” Casey said, his lips curling into a snarl.

  “General!” The prime minister’s hard glare matched the sharpness of his reprimand.

  Casey stood silently in the suddenly becalmed room as he strove to master his anger. “My apologies, Minister,” he said at length, nodding brusquely in Soval’s direction before retaking his seat.

  Soval remained standing at the podium, apparently at a loss for words. Although the Vulcan’s expression remained as impassive as ever, Hernandez thought a tiny fracture was finally beginning to appear in the minister’s heretofore impregnable wall of equanimity. But whether that was really the case or not, she knew Soval had to be aware that his government’s capriciousness had all but swept away whatever goodwill might have existed between him and his colleagues—even, or perhaps especially, Gral and Thoris.

  Whatever passed between those three last night obviously didn’t help matters any, she thought, recalling the scuttlebutt that Ensign Valerian had shared with her during the morning bridge shift.

  But as Soval stepped aside on the dais, relinquishing the podium to a dour-faced Nathan Samuels, Hernandez realized that the United Earth’s prime minister had to be in the least enviable position of anybody in the room. He’s the guy who has to make the hardest decision of all, she thought, noticing for the first time how much the man seemed to have aged over the past few months. And on behalf of the entire human race, no less.

  After all, the only leverage Samuels had over the Vulcans was to threaten to dissolve the Coalition for which he had already worked so hard and sacrifice
d so much.

  His eyes bordered by dry, fatigue-laden arroyos of orange-peel skin, Samuels said, “Earth has no choice other than to accept Vulcan’s help on Vulcan’s own terms.”

  And with that, the meeting swiftly adjourned amid a furiously rising gabble of mutters, shouted complaints, and repeated gavel-slams. Hernandez wasted no time maneuvering herself toward one of the chamber’s rear doors, navigating past the tables and chairs through a gathering haze of unreality.

  Had she just witnessed the beginning of the final unraveling of the Coalition of Planets? Had Vulcan’s effective withdrawal sundered the allies in a way that even the virtual destruction of Coridan Prime had not?

  Just as she reached the doorway that led to the outer vestibule, she noticed a large figure standing in her way.

  “Captain,” Admiral Gardner said. “You and Columbia will take the point for Starfleet in getting this Vulcan burglar alarm system up and running. Do you think you and your crew are up to the task?”

  Do bears poop in the woods? she thought, even as she realized that the only reason Gardner had assigned this job to Columbia was the fact that Enterprise was still several months away from Earth.

  “We’re all over it, Admiral,” Hernandez said with a grin, grateful for an opportunity to focus on something other than the grim, demoralizing future that almost certainly lay ahead.

  ELEVEN

  San Francisco, Earth

  KEISHA NAQUASE ROLLED OVER IN BED, gathering the sheets around her. “So the Vulcans plan to patrol two whole solar systems with some sort of... burglar alarm system?”

  “I shouldn’t have told you any of this,” the man said, rolling over beside her and propping himself up on one elbow. “Just forget I said anything about it, okay?”

  Naquase got out of bed and began searching the floor for her garments, which were strewn about along with the components of the man’s blue Starfleet uniform, coverall here, boots and undergarments there. The lights weren’t on, but the morning sunlight that filtered through the gauzy drapes made them unnecessary.

  “Uh-uh. Sorry,” she said, dressing hastily as she began mentally composing the story she was going to file. “I’m more than happy to oblige you in a lot of other ways, dear heart, but I’m afraid that silence simply isn’t among them.”

  Gannet Brooks marched right past the intern’s cubicle and straight into Nash McEvoy’s office. Standing over her editor’s cluttered desk, she cleared her throat loudly when he didn’t look up immediately from the writing padd on which he was working.

  “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the spaceport already?” McEvoy said a few heartbeats later, blinking at her in surprise over the top of his thin transparent aluminum glasses. “You’re risking letting your next interview victim escape all the way to Mars.”

  “I don’t have to leave for another hour. The spaceport’s in New Mexico, not New Berlin,” Brooks said impatiently, then tossed her own padd onto the small piles of printout flimsies that adorned McEvoy’s desk. “Looks like Keisha Naquase has scooped me yet again. Nash, why didn’t you warn me you were going to run this?”

  She jabbed a finger toward the padd that sat between them on the desktop, where it mutely displayed the headline VULCAN DEFENSE PLAN FALLS FAR SHORT.

  “I guess I’m just not in the habit of reporting to my reporters, Gannet,” McEvoy said in a faintly scolding tone. “The question you ought to be asking is why you seem so surprised to learn that Vulcan’s only contribution to the defense of the entire human species is a pair of interplanetary burglar alarms.”

  “They’re actually fairly complex networks of long-range sensors, if you want to get technical,” Brooks said. “It might even work.”

  “So why didn’t I see a piece from you about that?” McEvoy asked, spreading his hands in a gesture that looked like a calculated display of helplessness.

  “Because unlike some correspondents I could name, I like to confirm my facts before I run with a piece. I couldn’t get anything solid about exactly what went on during that closed-door Coalition delegate meeting yesterday, only hearsay.”

  “I suppose that’s why they call things like that ‘closed door meetings,’” McEvoy deadpanned, scratching the bridge of his long nose. “Looks like Naquase found a way through the shroud of official secrecy that you somehow missed.”

  “Or maybe she just decided that running with the hearsay was good enough,” Brooks said, trying and failing to keep the disdain she felt out of her voice. “It wouldn’t be the first time, you know. Like that completely unfair hatchet piece she did last week about Captain Archer.”

  McEvoy scowled and held up a hand, either to call for silence or to ward off a blow he feared might be coming. “Hey, I approved that piece, remember?”

  “Nobody’s judgment is perfect, Nash,” she said, hoping to cushion her words somewhat by affecting an I’m-joking-but-not-really grin. “Not even yours.”

  “Rubber and glue, kiddo. Besides, Naquase’s perspective on Archer was entirely fair. Did he or did he not order Enterprise to flee from the Gamma Hydra sector, leaving a civilian freighter crew to die?”

  “We still don’t know what actually happened, Nash,” she said. “I’d bet my life that the real truth is a little bit more complicated than the raw red meat Naquase served up.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But certainly not in the eyes of the public. You ought to understand that by now.”

  She paused for the space of time it took to count slowly to five. “I understand that it’s a reporter’s job to try to get the public eye focused somewhere above crotch-level. You ought to understand that by now.”

  He leaned back in his chair, which creaked loudly in protest. “Oh, please, Gannet. Is this a harangue about journalistic ethics now? I thought you were pissed off about being scooped.”

  “I am pissed off about being scooped!”

  “Look, you’ve scooped Naquase at least as often as she’s scooped you. You know how these things work. Sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes the bear gets you.”

  “I’m trying to enjoy a nice, steaming mad-on here, Nash. Please don’t wreck that by trying to be encouraging.”

  He shrugged again. “All right. Then let’s get back to the journalistic ethics thing. Don’t you suppose that Vulcan’s local diplomatic service would have already issued an official denial by now if Naquase’s reporting was really as sloppy as you think it is?”

  Brooks nodded, though only grudgingly. “She’d just better have one hell of a holovid prepared for tonight at eleven to back this up. Especially if she expects to keep her audience focused on the lemons instead of how to make ’em into lemonade.”

  McEvoy’s brow crinkled in a show of confusion. “So you’re a food writer now, too? What are you talking about?”

  She counted slowly to five once again before replying. “I’m talking about how you and Naquase both always seem to advocate retreat.”

  He blinked at her uncomprehendingly. “Retreat?”

  All right, Nash, she thought. You asked for it.

  Aloud, she said. “Yes, retreat. Naquase has never been the same since the Xindi attack, and I think you’ve let it affect you a hell of a lot more than you’re willing to admit.”

  He glanced down at his wrist chronometer. “Don’t you have a jump-pod to catch?”

  “Don’t try to distract me. Naquase’s pieces always say in a thousand subtle and not-so-subtle ways that humanity had better keep its collective head down in order to avoid bringing still more wrath down from the heavens. Now, I’m not going to try to convince anybody that the Vulcans have covered themselves in glory so far during this Romulan crisis, because they haven’t. But I’ve spent enough time reporting from the final frontier to know that trying to run away from what’s out there is no solution.”

  “Even when what’s out there absolutely scares the crap out of you?” McEvoy said. “Even when the big brother you thought had your back ditches you when the school bully comes looking for a fight
?”

  She grinned again, but this time it felt a little more genuine. “Especially then.”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then straightened in his chair. But instead of going from there straight into a defensive rant, he surprised her.

  “You’re right,” he said quietly, looking down at the padd on his desk. “I am scared. Damned scared. Maybe more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I probably felt that way even before the Xindi attack, which might be why I never left Earth, even for a vacation trip.”