Star Trek: Enterprise - 017 - Rise of the Federation: Uncertain Logic

by Christopher L. Bennett

  “Sir?”

  “Our friend Mister Collier. You can’t forgive Trip for what you feel he’s done to you, to Hoshi, and you can’t stand being on the same ship with him.”

  “That’s not why I want to go to the planet, sir.”

  “Are you sure, Travis? I seem to recall another time when you chose to deal with a conflict aboard ship by leaving.”

  Mayweather winced. His decision to transfer off Enterprise following the destruction of his parents’ ship was not one of his fonder memories. “Sir—all due respect, that’s kind of a low blow. I’d just lost my family.”

  “And you blamed Admiral Archer for abandoning them.”

  “At the time. But that was a long time ago.”

  Reed held his gaze. “So was Trip’s decision to fake his death. A decision I helped talk him into, let me remind you.”

  Mayweather wanted to be angry at Reed’s line of questioning, but he couldn’t. Whatever limited supply of anger he possessed was already in use elsewhere. And he couldn’t escape the recognition that Reed might be on to something. So he was silent for a long while as he thought it over. “You’re right, Captain,” he finally said. “I do have . . . issues . . . with Commander—with Trip that I inappropriately brought into the briefing, and I’m sorry about that.” Reed nodded in acceptance. “But there’s a lot more going on here than him and me. I’m not a strategic thinker like you, Malcolm. I can’t look at the Ware and see patterns of expansion or technological challenges or sociopolitical transformations. All I see are the people who are suffering as a result of it. People like Nimthu, who I promised to help but couldn’t. I don’t want to fail anyone else I might be in a position to save.”

  After another moment, Reed nodded. “Very well. I’ll authorize a small fact-finding mission. Lead a team of your choosing down to the planet. But: Get Doctor Liao to disguise you as natives. They’re humanoid enough that it shouldn’t be difficult.”

  “You’re sending us in undercover? We can’t tell them what we know?”

  “I want you to get a feel for the situation down there, learn about the culture and attitudes, before you decide whether to reveal yourselves openly. And I advise caution on that front. You know we can’t stay to back you up.”

  “I didn’t expect you could.”

  The captain let out a breath. “I can assign one of the Andorian couriers to monitor your party from space while Pioneer continues the mission. But with those Ware satellites in orbit, they’ll have to keep their distance unless you really need them. So choose your team—and your actions—wisely, Commander.”

  “I appreciate it, Captain. I won’t let you down.”

  Reed clasped his arm and told him the thing he most wanted to hear. “Don’t let them down, Travis.”

  9

  May 22, 2165

  Administration Tower, Central ShiKahr

  KUVAK WAS LOOKING NERVOUS AGAIN. Although the first minister greeted Archer, Captain T’Pol, and Commissioner Soval politely enough, expressing his confidence in the admiral’s ability to fend off the questions of the reactionary factions in the Vulcan Council, Archer still sensed a touch of irritation that it had been this human who’d had the poor taste to discover the Kir’Shara, when leaving it to the Vulcans would have made things so much easier.

  So it was fortunate that there were friendlier faces to greet him—or at least more neutral ones. Kuvak’s predecessor, First Minister T’Pau, was present, for she had also been called to testify about her involvement in the Kir’Shara’s recovery. The diminutive Syrannite leader acknowledged Archer and T’Pol’s greetings placidly while a younger Vulcan male approached Archer and held up his hand in the split-fingered Vulcan salute. “I am Surel, security director to the First Minister. It is a privilege to work with you, Admiral,” he went on with thinly veiled intensity. “Your discovery of the Kir’Shara was a profound service to all of Vulcan, and I trust that together we can stymie those who would undermine that achievement.”

  “I . . . appreciate your vote of confidence,” Archer replied, wondering if this face was a little too friendly. He was uneasy with true believers, even ones on his own side.

  But the very pregnant woman accompanying T’Pau was a more welcome sight. “T’Rama,” Archer greeted her with pleasure, offering his carefully practiced approximation of the salute. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Indeed, his acquaintance with the serene former security officer was one of his few pleasant memories of the turbulent Babel Conference they had attended nearly a year before.

  “It is agreeable that circumstances have permitted us to renew our acquaintance, Admiral,” T’Rama acknowledged, “even though the circumstances themselves are disagreeable.”

  “And . . . you look lovely,” he said, gesturing toward her belly and not knowing what to do with his hands. He was sure Vulcan women would be uncomfortable with humans gushing over their pregnancies.

  “I look considerably more rotund, Admiral,” was her dry reply.

  “Well . . . yes. But that’s . . . because you’re bringing new life into the world. We humans find that beautiful.”

  “Ah. I understand. So it is not merely a polite fiction to reassure females who are insecure about their appearance. This is gratifying to know.” Archer could swear she was teasing him, but he wouldn’t embarrass her by saying so in a room full of Vulcans.

  Luckily, T’Pol changed the subject. “What is the nature of your participation here, if I may ask, Lady T’Rama?”

  It was T’Pau who answered (and not for the first time, Archer found himself wishing Vulcan feminine names were easier to tell apart). “I have asked the Lady T’Rama to consult with Director Surel on the investigation. As his predecessor, she oversaw the design and installation of the Kir’Shara study vault at the Academy Museum.”

  “And he who is my husband, Professor Skon, was one of those who discovered the theft and substitution of the artifact,” T’Rama went on. “I believe his expertise in the textual study of the Kir’Shara could be of further value in this investigation.”

  “In that case,” T’Pol said, “I would suggest that you coordinate with Lieutenant Commander Kimura, who will be leading our own investigation. Our communications officer, Lieutenant Commander Sato, is also an accomplished linguist and cryptographer whose skills could complement those of your mate.”

  “I would value their insights, Captain.”

  “Perhaps, then,” Kuvak suggested to T’Rama, “you should adjourn to Endeavour with the captain while the admiral remains to discuss matters with us.” T’Pol glanced to Archer, who nodded his consent. “As for the rest of us,” Kuvak continued once the two women had made their farewells and left, “there is much we must discuss to prepare you for the questions you will face in the upcoming hearings.”

  “I’d appreciate that, First Minister,” Archer said as they took seats around an antique oval conference table, its edges and legs inscribed in intricate calligraphy. “Because, to be honest, I’m surprised at the intensity of the backlash this . . . incident has provoked. I knew about the Anti-revisionists, of course, but it seemed to me that they were a minority, that most Vulcans welcomed the Syrannite reforms. How else would they have spread so quickly?”

  “This is very true, Admiral,” Surel told him. “Those of us in the younger generation proved particularly receptive to the new, more spiritual and peaceful interpretation of cthia to which the Kir’Shara exposed us.” Archer nodded, recognizing the Vulcan word for the complex philosophy that humans translated as “logic.” “Our interaction with humans, Lorillians, Trill, and others had made us more tolerant, more receptive to new ideas and perspectives. And many of us thus became uneasy with the practices of the High Command and the harm they had inflicted upon races such as Andorians, humans, and Agarons.”

  T’Pau looked at him sidelong. “But our primary concern was for the Vulcan spirit itself.
The High Command’s disruptive treatment of other societies undermined our own integrity and dignity—much as the consuming of animals for meat would do. It threatened to reawaken the violence that Surak taught us to restrain for our own salvation.”

  “Surak also taught us to revere diversity,” Surel reminded her. “The High Command sought to suppress those views it did not share—including your own Syrannite philosophies, my lady.” Archer was impressed to see T’Pau concede the point to the director. The admiral was well acquainted with T’Pau’s considerable ego and her benign contempt for offworlders. Anyone who could get her to back down was worth getting to know.

  “But you must remember,” Commissioner Soval added, “that Vulcans are a long-lived people. There remains an entrenched clique of older individuals who hold positions of prominence and authority and thus have much invested in the status quo.” The gray-haired commissioner hesitated. “I admit to having been one of these individuals myself, until my convictions compelled me to rethink my stance—with no small assistance from the wisdom of the late Admiral Forrest.” Archer accepted his words with a grateful nod. Soval had once been one of the most entrenched Vulcans of all, parroting the will of the High Command in its efforts to restrict humanity’s spread into space. But after Maxwell Forrest had died saving Soval’s life in the opening salvo of the civil war provoked by V’Las, Soval had faced a crisis of conscience and gone on to take several incredibly brave actions that had cemented him as a trusted ally in Archer’s mind. “These entrenched interests are the audience to which the Anti-revisionists and other traditionalist factions have pandered.”

  “And while they are small in number,” Kuvak added, “they hold disproportionate influence in society, for they include the heads of many influential clans, leaders of industry, respected elder scholars and philosophers like Professor T’Nol, and the like. This is why they are able to exert such influence on policy.” Kuvak wrung his hands before him. “They hope to capitalize on this crisis to win support for a vote of no confidence in the Syrannite government, enabling their return to power.”

  “But T’Nol was discredited, humiliated,” Archer replied. “This whole thing sounds like just the sort of trick she’d pull to try to rehabilitate her image.”

  “That was the first angle I investigated, Admiral,” Surel replied. “But to my surprise, I found no evidence that the Anti-revisionists are involved, or even that they still exist as an organized group.”

  T’Pau elaborated. “T’Nol’s faction was merely the most prominent of a coalition of traditionalist groups. They went dormant once she was shamed and marginalized, but the new charges concerning the Kir’Shara have provoked many of them to renewed activity.”

  “One of the leading protest factions,” Surel said, “is a clique of High Command loyalists, former military personnel led by a man named Zadok—who, under V’Las’s regime, commanded one of the lead ships in the Battle of Andoria. There was never any evidence of his direct involvement in V’Las’s criminal actions, but he and many of his fellow officers were dismissed from service when T’Pau dissolved our combat fleet.”

  “Provisions were made, of course, to provide them with new training and career opportunities,” T’Pau added. “No Vulcan wishes to let the mind sit idle. But Zadok and others like him have found difficulty adjusting to non-military pursuits—in part because they do not agree with my decision to disband the fleet. They are still convinced that the old ways were correct.”

  “Don’t tell me they think V’Las was in the right!” Archer replied, startled.

  Soval took up the thread. “Most of the loyalists acknowledge V’Las’s corruption, but consider it an aberration in an otherwise necessary system that should have been reformed rather than dissolved.”

  Surel set his jaw. “Most, but not all. I have had occasion to debate with Zadok, and I am convinced that he and his associates not only consider V’Las to have been in the right, but that the charges against him were—forgive me, Admiral—a political ploy instigated by you and Starfleet Command.”

  Archer shook his head and gave a curt laugh. “I hope you’ll all forgive me for the observation, but isn’t all this exactly the sort of thing that Vulcan logic is supposed to raise you above?”

  “The very nature and practice of logic have been called into question by the Kir’Shara,” T’Pau replied. “All of Vulcan has been reexamining the meaning and methodology of cthia. Much of what we have always believed to be Surak’s true wisdom has been supplanted by a new text that reinterprets and even contradicts many deeply held convictions. In particular, the Kir’Shara’s revelations about the essential role that the melding of minds plays in the Vulcan psyche were extremely disruptive to that majority who had been raised to believe that melding was an aberrant practice of a small fringe community.”

  “One of the principal protest factions,” Kuvak put in, “is the Mental Integrity Coalition, a group that has continued to denounce melding despite the words of the Kir’Shara. They are one of the groups most receptive to the idea that the text is a Syrannite fraud.”

  “But surely the majority of the Vulcan people have seen that the new, more peaceful system works,” Archer said. “The Syrannites haven’t torn down the social order. The planet hasn’t been conquered by aliens. Vulcans are even less emotional and more logical than they were fifteen years ago—or so it seems to me.”

  “Why, thank you,” Soval said, with Kuvak not far behind.

  “As for the majority of the Vulcan people,” Director Surel told the admiral, “they strive simply to live up to Surak’s teachings as they understand them. If they can be persuaded that the Kir’Shara is fraudulent, they would likely switch their allegiance back to the traditional interpretations of Surak’s word. In which case the Syrannite government would be shamed and removed from power, just as V’Las was.”

  “And that,” said Soval, “could lead to the restoration of a High Command willing to withdraw Vulcan from the Federation—or at least to attempt to dominate it politically and culturally.”

  “Which would be sure to drive the Andorians out,” Archer said. “And I doubt the human worlds would be very happy about it either.”

  “This is why you must present a convincing case before the Council, Admiral,” Kuvak said. “There is more at stake than Vulcan’s future. For as Vulcan goes, so goes the Federation.”

  * * *

  After the meeting, Soval told Archer, “You did well. I believe you will be able to bring a number of convincing arguments to bear against the protest factions—so long as you remember to restrain your tendency toward emotional expressiveness.”

  “I’ll do my best, Commissioner,” Archer replied with an irritated glare. At Soval’s raised eyebrow, he sighed. “Sorry. It’s just . . . All this political maneuvering and debating feels like a waste of time to me. Personally I put more trust in T’Pol and her people to find the Kir’Shara thieves and expose this fraud—the real fraud.”

  “I would have thought you understood Vulcans better by now, Admiral. We thrive on debate and discussion.” He paused. “True, rhetoric has not always been your strongest suit. I seem to recall a rather clumsy metaphor involving an ungulate called a gazelle.”

  Archer glared at the reminder. “It got the point across, didn’t it?”

  “It did,” Soval conceded. “Barely. But since then you have gained much experience in persuasive rhetoric—and in debating with Vulcans. You have long practice dealing with us as both adversaries and allies, and your time carrying Surak’s katra brought you insights into our people that no other human has ever shared. President al-Rashid chose wisely, Admiral: There is no one better suited to this task than you.”

  Archer found Soval’s compliment damning, for it merely trapped him further in the political arena that was increasingly starting to look like his destiny. But maybe, he began to realize, it was time to accept that reality and start working
to make the best of it. If this was what everyone expected of him, maybe there was a way he could use that for positive ends.

  After all, the future of the Federation was what really mattered. If swallowing his pride and becoming a politician was what the Federation needed of him, then so help him, he would become the best politician he could.

  May 23, 2165

  U.S.S. Endeavour

  Takashi Kimura listened patiently as Professor Skon summarized the imperfections he had found in the replica Kir’Shara. His presentation, delivered to Captain T’Pol, Hoshi Sato, and Kimura as they stood around the bridge situation table with Lady T’Rama, was methodical and meticulous, supplemented by a comprehensive set of image files projected on the table’s surface and the surrounding wall screens. But once Skon completed his exhaustive—and slightly exhausting—review, it was left to his wife to sum up the whole thing far more elegantly. “The cleverness of this forgery lies in its very imperfection,” T’Rama said. “The errors are subtle enough to elude routine observation, so that the artifact appears as though it were meant to be convincing; yet they are noticeable enough to make it inevitable that the forgery would be discovered.”

  “What is more,” Skon added, “the errors are of a sort that would tend to elude offworlders yet be evident to Vulcan experts—for instance, the use of a calligraphic stroke that only a lifelong student of ancient Vulcan texts would know to be anachronistic. Thus, they create the impression that the forgery was created by offworlders.”

  “And it will be difficult to prove otherwise,” T’Rama said. “The deviousness of this fraud is that the discovery of its fraudulent nature actually works in the plotters’ favor. The question then becomes one of the identity and purpose of the forgers, and it is difficult to win a case based on motive when the evidence is not in dispute.”

  “Our best option,” Captain T’Pol said, “would be to recover the real Kir’Shara.”