by Dayton Ward
A wide, open expanse of dark polished tile ran the length of the room to a dais, upon which was placed a podium and six chairs. Illumination was provided by recessed lighting along the walls as well as from panels set into the room’s curved ceiling. The far wall was dominated by a large viewscreen that currently displayed the UFP seal. To either side of the open floor were five rows of tiered seating. The lower three rows on either side were reserved for council members, with the remaining rows allocated for visiting dignitaries and other distinguished guests. At the moment, those seats were empty. Doors to either side of the dais led from the chamber to council member offices, and at present, they were guarded by members of the Federation Security Agency.
On the dais, Ziy Cradiix, a female Bolian serving as Speaker of the Council, moved from the podium to one of the chairs, nodding in greeting at his approach. Traversing the room and stepping onto the raised platform, Ishan returned the greeting as he took his place behind the podium. He gestured for everyone to take their seats, and once the council members had settled, he smiled.
“Madam Speaker and members of the council,” he said, his voice amplified by microphones set into the podium and the dais as well as the room’s exceptional acoustical properties, “as always it is my honor and pleasure to meet with you today, for it is here in this most hallowed chamber that the voice and will of the people are heard, acknowledged, and served.” The opening remark elicited applause from the assembly, though to Ishan’s ear the reaction seemed subdued, even reserved. Undeterred, he continued, “Before we turn to the formal agenda, I would like to . . .”
“Mister President,” said Speaker Cradiix from behind him, and when she turned, he saw the Bolian had risen from her seat and had moved toward the front of the dais. “With all due respect, there is a matter that requires our immediate attention.”
At first irritated by the interruption, Ishan maintained his bearing as he studied her. “And what might that be?”
Rather than answer him, Cradiix turned and nodded to one of the guards posted near the exit to Ishan’s right, and he turned to see the man pressing a control to open the door. It slid aside, and a quartet of additional security officers entered the room, flanking a human woman Ishan recognized as the Federation’s attorney general. Carrying a padd in her left hand, she was dressed in a conservative gray ensemble that flattered her lithe figure and complemented her reddish brown hair, which was cut in a short feminine style. Ishan said nothing as she and her entourage moved to stand before him, taking a position before the dais with her back to the assembled council.
“Good afternoon, Mister President,” said Phillipa Louvois, her bright blue eyes fixed on him as she spoke. “By the power vested in me as the Federation’s attorney general, I bring to the council the following charges: That you have knowingly and willfully violated the office to which you were appointed, as well as the full faith and confidence entrusted to you by the citizens of this Federation.”
“You can’t be serious,” Ishan said, feeling his ire rising.
“Specifically,” Louvois continued, “that you have purposely misrepresented yourself. I have in my possession evidence that you are not Ishan Anjar.”
The words barely had left Louvois’s mouth before a collective roar of shock and confusion swept the council chamber. Ishan could only stare at her, feeling his jaw slacken as he fought to retain his composure, as Speaker Cradiix spent nearly a full minute regaining order. That accomplished, she leveled her own stern gaze at Louvois.
“These are serious charges, Madam Attorney General. I assume you are prepared to offer evidence to support your allegations?”
“Indeed I am, Madam Speaker,” Louvois replied. “The evidence I hold identifies this individual as a Bajoran national named Baras Rodirya. He assumed Ishan’s identity as a means of concealing his complicity in the mistreatment and murder of interred Bajoran citizens during Bajor’s Occupation by the Cardassian Union. Additionally, I also have in my possession evidence implicating the president pro tempore as having knowledge aforethought of the conspiracy to assassinate President Nanietta Bacco.”
“That is a lie!” Ishan screamed over the renewed pandemonium erupting in the council chamber. “How dare you speak to me this way?”
Waiting until Cradiix once more had restored order, Louvois regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “I assure you, Mister President, that it only gets worse.” Holding up her padd, she tapped its screen several times, and in response, the viewscreen behind Ishan and Cradiix activated, and when he turned to see what now was displayed upon it, he felt himself gripped by a sudden, ominous chill.
Four Cardassians stared out from the viewscreen, one of whom Ishan instantly recognized as Elim Garak, Castellan of the Cardassian Union. His companion, accompanied by two Cardassian soldiers, also was familiar. Very familiar.
No. It can’t be!
“Members of the Federation Council,” said Garak, his expression unreadable as the obviously recorded message played, “I bring you greetings from the people of the Cardassian Union. I understand that this communication is unusual and perhaps even unprecedented, but I assure you that I hold the best interests of all our people close to my heart.
“It was with great sorrow that I learned of the death of President Nanietta Bacco, as I believed her to be an inspiring leader possessed of great will and compassion, and a firm, unwavering desire to serve the Federation with distinction. Her death is a loss for all of us, but I am confident that you will find a way to move forward and to honor her legacy. Unfortunately, the person you have chosen to guide you on this journey is undeserving of the task.”
“Turn this off!” Ishan shouted. “I demand that you cease this transmission!”
On the screen, Garak continued, “Also troubling to me was learning that fellow Cardassians were responsible for President Bacco’s murder. No matter what your current president has told you, her assassins were not Tzenkethi or any other member of the Typhon Pact. Her murder was perpetrated by members of the True Way, an anti-Federation extremist group whose sole purpose is to undermine any attempts at peace and cooperation between the Federation and Cardassia. It was members of this sect who carried out this horrible crime, with the help of this individual.” He gestured to the Cardassian standing with him. “Rakan Urkar, a member of the True Way, has confessed to his involvement in the conspiracy, and he also has provided incontrovertible proof confirming your president’s identity as Baras Rodirya.”
As close as he was to the viewscreen, even Ishan was having trouble hearing the playback over the sounds of the council members expressing their unfettered disbelief. The recorded message was paused while Speaker Cradiix once more sought to regain control of the proceedings, admonishing everyone in the chamber to remain silent.
“This evidence corroborates a great deal more forensic data collected by two brave individuals, Doctor Ilona Daret and the late Raal Mosara, proving beyond doubt that your president is an impostor and a war criminal sought by the Bajoran government. Further, there is additional evidence in the form of communications transcripts linking the True Way to the assassins, to your president, and to the president’s former chief of staff. Indeed, it was Galif jav Velk who planned the entire affair, though he did so with your president’s blessing.”
“Lies!” Ishan snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at Louvois. “I had nothing to do with this, and neither did Velk. Even if he did, he’s dead!”
“I’m afraid not, Mister President.”
Hearing the door open on the room’s opposite side, Ishan felt his knees weaken, and he had to grip the podium for support as he beheld the sight of Galif jav Velk, escorted by a trio of Federation Security officers as well as the Starfleet Commander himself, Admiral Leonard James Akaar.
“No!” Ishan shouted. “That’s impossible!”
“Despite your best efforts, Mister President,” Louvois said, “Mister Velk is very much alive and healthy. He’s also been very forthcoming with details
describing his and your usurping of Starfleet Command’s proper authority, the misuse of Starfleet personnel and resources, and the murder or attempted murder of Starfleet officers and Federation citizens in order to cover up your complicity for President Bacco’s assassination.”
“I am the President of the United Federation of Planets!” Ishan barked. “I will not be addressed in this manner!” How was Velk still alive? And the evidence from Daret and Raal; how was that a factor? What in the name of the Prophets had happened on Jevalan?
No no no no . . .
Phillipa Louvois glared at him. “Baras Rodirya, you are not the president. You are a liar and a murderer, and you will be tried in a court of Federation law to answer for your crimes.” She paused, her eyebrow again rising in almost Vulcan-like fashion. “Of course, you could choose to face Bajoran justice?”
Though he considered attempting to resist, Ishan did not fight as two Federation Security officers placed restraints on his wrists. He would not give Louvois or the council any further satisfaction. Let them parade him through the halls and the streets. Yes, they would celebrate their victory here today, but once that was done, the real issues would remain. Should fate and the Prophets favor him, he would not survive to see the Federation’s inevitable end, brought about by its own hubris and failure to learn from the harsh lessons of the distant and recent past.
Fools, every last one of you.
Thirty-eight
Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth
“Tea, Earl Grey. Hot.”
Watching as Admiral Riker placed the order and retrieved the cup and saucer from the replicator in his office’s far corner, Picard could not help smiling. “I think I’ve become predictable in my advancing years.”
“I prefer the term ‘consistent,’ myself,” Riker replied, setting the tea in front of Picard before taking a seat next to Admiral Akaar on the opposite side of the circular conference table. From his own chair, Picard was afforded a spectacular view of the San Francisco skyline beyond the grounds of Starfleet Headquarters. At this point in the late morning, sunlight played across the polished metal and glass of the buildings towering into the radiant blue sky. It was a welcome break from the weather of the past few days, which had been dominated by clouds, fog, and rain. Picard could not help wondering if nature—or the planet’s weather modification network—might be offering him some signal as to what changes the new day might bring.
“I’ve seen the updated status reports from McKinley Station,” Akaar said. “The Enterprise repairs and upgrades should be completed by the end of next week, but I imagine you wouldn’t object to extended shore leave for your crew before we send you out again.”
“Not at all, sir.” Picard already had authorized shore leave for all off-duty and non-essential personnel, and his crew would welcome news that their stay at Earth was to be longer than expected.
“How’s Doctor Crusher?” asked Akaar. Even as he reclined in his chair, the Capellan’s large frame and hawkish features still looked imposing. “I trust she and the rest of your people are recovered from their ordeal on Jevalan?”
“Very much so, Admiral. Thank you for asking.” Picard paused, smiling. “Her mood was greatly improved after she was reunited with René.” He shrugged. “Of course, their time together was short-lived.” Beverly already had departed for Deep Space 9. The orders assigning her the station’s interim chief medical officer were real, and now that their primary purpose as a cover story for her mission to Jevalan had been served, she had agreed to complete the temporary duty until Julian Bashir or another permanent replacement was assigned. The separation, while necessary, had been the longest between mother and son since the boy’s birth. Indeed, it was the first time since his and Beverly’s marriage that Picard had endured such a lengthy parting from her.
Throughout his Starfleet career, he had observed the mixture of feelings displayed by uncounted friends and colleagues forced to deal with the realities of service life and the toll taken upon families and other personal relationships. It was one of the many reasons he had eschewed such troublesome entanglements for so many years, seeing it as unfair not only to himself but also those left behind as he carried out whatever assignment duty saw fit to give him. His marriage to Beverly and the birth of René had changed his outlook in so many ways, and never more so than during the past few days.
“What about Doctor Bashir?” he asked after taking a sip of his tea. “Captain Ro needs her chief medical officer back as much as I need mine, but something tells me he won’t be heading back to Deep Space Nine anytime soon.”
Akaar tapped the tabletop. “No. The charges against Bashir are very serious, Jean-Luc. While we understand the reasons he took the actions he did, the simple fact is that he accessed classified, highly sensitive information pertaining to Operation Vanguard and the Taurus Meta-Genome. Yes, using it helped the Andorians, but there’s no telling who else may now have this data or what other long-term consequences we might face in the future.”
“He may have saved the Andorian people from extinction,” Picard said. “Surely that will be considered?”
“If I have my way, it will,” Akaar replied. “The Parliament Andoria’s already issued its own award to him. I think they’re trying to offset some of the spectacle that will be coming from his court-martial.” He sighed, reaching up to wipe his brow. “I sympathize with Doctor Bashir, Captain, I truly do, but Operation Vanguard was compartmentalized and buried for very good reasons, only a few of which you know, and I’m ordering you to forget those as of five minutes ago.”
Without missing a beat, Picard asked, “Forget what, Admiral?”
Satisfied, Akaar nodded. “As for Captain Dax and the others, the new president pro tem has already authorized me to dismiss all charges against them. They will be reinstated to their former positions and issued commendations.” He smiled. “We’re also looking into another physician to fill Bashir’s billet at Deep Space Nine. You’ll have Doctor Crusher back in very short order; I promise you.”
Nodding in approval, Picard regarded his tea. “Excellent. What about President Ishan . . . I mean . . . Baras Rodirya?”
“He’s awaiting trial,” Riker said. “Attorney General Louvois is champing at the bit to get on with it.”
Akaar added, “The entire affair has been most distasteful.”
“How in the world did you find Velk?” Picard asked.
Riker smiled. “Thank Tuvok and Torvig for that. They spent days tracking down communications between the president and his contacts inside Federation Security. Once we pinned down Velk’s location, it was just a matter of being ready for when Baras made his move.” He paused. “That was a hairy couple of days, waiting for the right moment to get him out of there without alerting Ishan, but now we have Velk, and Admiral Schlosser, and the covert action team sent against Beverly on Jevalan. That should keep Louvois busy for the foreseeable future.”
“And this Cardassian from the Occupation?” Picard asked. “Urkar?”
“That was Velk,” Akaar replied. “He’s the one who made the initial contact with the True Way and used his knowledge of Baras’s secret past to forge a ‘relationship’ with Urkar and other True Way members. Once we had Velk in our custody and convinced him of what we already knew, he eventually came around.” The Capellan shrugged. “A life sentence at the Auckland Penal Facility is certainly preferable to being dead, or being sent to one of the penal colony planetoids.”
“Extraordinary,” Picard said, studying his tea. “It’s hard to imagine the lengths they were willing to go. The lives ruined, the damage to our political standing. All of that, and for what?” He sighed. “I’m just glad it’s over.”
“I know that look,” Riker said after a moment. “Just like I know you wouldn’t ask for a meeting with us if you didn’t have something important to discuss.” He shrugged. “So, what’s on your mind?”
Setting his cup on its saucer, Picard leaned back in his chair, resting
his hands in his lap. “The future.”
“Certainly a loaded topic,” replied Akaar. “Particularly these days. The council is scrambling to salvage whatever might remain of the election. The other candidates are working around the clock, campaigning for support to whoever they think will listen.”
“I can only imagine what the current president pro tem must be dealing with right now.” Picard’s knowledge of Sipak, the Vulcan who had served for several turns as a member of the Federation Council, was limited. Based on what he had read, Picard believed the elder politician possessed the ideal temperament to confront the challenges he would endure as he shouldered a very short, intense term until the election was complete. Sipak already had given a speech to the Council and the Federation at large, acknowledging the limited nature of his tenure and his desire to maintain stability until a properly elected president took office. Given recent and current events, Picard knew it was a tall order.
“I see little else for us to do,” he said. “We’ve done our part for truth and justice, and now it resides upon the will of the people for democracy to take its course.”
Akaar grunted. “You and your crew are the very reason the will—and the voice—of the people will be heard. You’ve done a great service to the Federation, Jean-Luc, and it’s a debt that likely can never be repaid.”
“You can repay me by keeping me away from political issues and their associated crises, Admiral,” Picard said. “I dare say I’ve had my fill of them.”
Leaning forward in his seat, Riker rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands before him. “There’s plenty to go around, that’s for sure. Bajor and Cardassia Prime are already trying to figure out how best to address Ishan and everything surrounding him. It’s opened a lot of old wounds that never completely healed, but both sides seemed determined to put the past behind them and keep moving forward. Only time will tell if that’s possible, of course. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”