Star Trek: Enterprise - 015 - Rise of the Federation: A Choice of Futures

by Christopher L. Bennett

  D’Nesh gave her curly hair a skeptical shake. “Maybe. It’s now I’m worried about. Penap disappearing so soon after Archer was digging around. What if they get to Devna?”

  “Devna has done her work well,” Navaar said. “I was going to recall her anyway. We’re already in the endgame; in a few hours there’ll be nothing more they can do.”

  The first slave approached, holding the largest shards up to her in his bloody, badly sliced hands. She cradled them tenderly. “Ohh, did you do that for me?” She smiled at her sisters. “Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?”

  Maras grinned excitedly. “Make him do it again!”

  Navaar was happy to oblige. She could use the cheering up.

  Rigel V

  Devna emerged from the shower to find her chambers occupied by a slender, sandy-haired human male in a black suit. She continued drying herself casually, not making any particular attempt at concealment, and began to will herself to release her pheromones. “Hello,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  The man held out a robe for her. “I think you’ll be wanting this.”

  Devna smiled. “A gentleman,” she said, strolling toward him. “How quaint.” She accepted the robe and pulled it on, but she only loosely fastened it. “And unusual, for someone in that uniform.”

  He studied her. “You’re familiar with my employers?”

  “I know the competition.”

  The man in black nodded. “No games. That’s refreshing.”

  The truth was, she had no time or inclination to play games. She was getting ready to leave, her mission completed; right now her only priority was to ensure her safe extraction. So she moved in closer, letting the motion pull open the robe a bit more. “I’m trained to give a man what he wants,” she breathed. “I sense you’re less fond of playing games than others in your agency.”

  He stepped back, surprisingly unaffected by her proximity. “Ah-ah, then you can stop playing that one. I’m immune to Orion pheromones.”

  Devna raised her sculpted brows. “A handy trait. No wonder they sent you.” She turned and glided away, slowly making her way toward the bedside table. “Are you here to kill me?”

  “No, so you won’t need this.” He held up the knife she normally kept in the table. She was starting to be impressed.

  “Then what?”

  “I want information. Why the Orion Syndicate wants to push the Federation into a war.”

  “You think I’m privy to that kind of information?”

  “I think you’re the key to their whole operation. So yeah, you know what to say to Commissioner Noar to get him to do what you want.”

  “If I’m as important as you say, what makes you think I’d tell you what you want to know? If you plan to torture me, it won’t work.” She smiled. “I’m very popular as a submissive. I’ve been conditioned to enjoy pain.”

  He fidgeted visibly—quite a surprise from a member of his organization. The idea of torture made him uneasy. Fascinating. “No one should have to live like that,” he told her. “I could threaten you if I wanted. You can’t seduce me or outfight me—you’re not getting out of here unless I let you. And my people have drugs that could make you talk—and you wouldn’t like the side effects.” He looked away, failing to conceal a shaky breath. Then he met her eyes squarely. “But I’d rather not do things that way. You’re a victim here, a slave of the real bad guys. You don’t have a choice. But I can offer you one.”

  She stared at him, intrigued by his approach. “You think so?”

  “Devna, I can be your friend, not your enemy. I can offer you freedom. We can take you somewhere safe, somewhere even the Syndicate can’t reach. You won’t have to do what they tell you anymore.”

  Freedom. The wistful thought echoed in her mind. But she shook it off. “You think you’ll impress me by setting the lies and tricks aside, by telling me the truth.”

  “I thought it was worth a try.”

  “But you’re still lying, to me and to yourself. Freedom is a lie. It doesn’t exist. We all live within one set of walls or another. You’re no less trapped than I am. Trapped by that uniform, by the things you’ve had to do to earn it, and serve it.” She draped herself across the bed. “How can you offer me freedom when you’re as much a slave as I am?”

  He took a step closer to her. “You’re wrong. I chose this life to protect the people I love.”

  “But you had to walk away from them to do it. I know how your agency works. Officially you don’t exist. You can’t love, can’t be loved. You’re nobody, nothing.” She smiled, gazing up at him enticingly. “The only people you can really be honest with are people like yourself—like me. It’s refreshing, isn’t it?”

  He examined her a few moments more, then sat on the bed beside her—not to make love, but in a sociable, brotherly fashion. “I know there’s no turning back from this life. I figured that out at the end of the Romulan War.”

  Curious, she moved into a matching position at his side. “What happened then?”

  “Something I’ve never told anyone,” he said, meeting her eyes. She saw much struggle within his. “But maybe you’re right,” he went on after a time. “Maybe you’re the one person I can tell.”

  “I’m a very good listener.”

  “I just bet you are.” Still, after a moment, he began to speak. “Another agent—someone working on the same side, but for a different power—was undercover on an enemy ship. She’d been ordered by the ship’s captain to kill me. But instead she put me in an escape pod and gave me a beacon so her allies could beam me off.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “But after everything I’d been through, all the lies, the betrayals, the constant fear of dyin’ . . . I couldn’t believe it was finally over. So when I turned on the beacon and it started beepin’ . . . for a moment I hallucinated it was a bomb countin’ down. When I felt the transporter take me, I thought I was bein’ blown up.

  “I mean, how stupid is that?” he asked her. “If she’d decided to kill me, she woulda just shot me like she’d already been ordered to! No point wastin’ a whole escape pod just to mess with my mind. How crazy paranoid did I have to be not to realize that? And it was weeks before I was convinced the people who saved me weren’t more enemy spies. . . .”

  Devna waited patiently for him to continue. “That was when I realized—this was my life now. I couldn’t be the man I was, not anymore. What this life does to us—I wouldn’t inflict that knowledge on the people I care about.”

  She stroked his shoulder. “You do understand. We’re both enslaved.”

  He met her eyes intently. “But I’m not,” he said. “There’s one person . . . who knows me more intimately than I ever thought was possible. Who knows my secrets, sees me as I really am . . . and accepts me. Loves me, against all odds. And as long as I have that—have her—then I am free.

  “That’s why I’m doing this. Because what you’re doing is endangering the one source of true freedom in my life. Because I’ll do anything I can to save her—and help her save others.” He held her gaze. “And I’d like to do that in a way she’d be proud of. Because that will keep me free.”

  Devna contemplated this odd, beautiful man for a long moment. “You’re the strangest spy I’ve ever met, I think.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You intrigue me enough that I’ll offer you a trade: Let me go, and I’ll tell you some things you’ll find useful.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’ll let me go?”

  “You tell me. Will I?”

  She looked into his eyes a moment longer, then spoke. She told him of the joint Syndicate/Malurian operation using Orion women, masked Malurians, or outright bribery to cajole Federation and unaligned officials into pushing events in a more aggressive direction.

  “But why?” the man in black asked. “What do they get out of it? If Starfleet gets more aggressive, how does that make things any better for them?”

&nbs
p; “As long as you’re fighting the big targets, you’ll be distracted from the smaller ones,” Devna said. “Like the Syndicate operatives planning a major raid in the Deneb system in thirteen days. That Denobulan convoy delivering medical supplies to treat the epidemic? Turns out the drugs they’re bringing not only save Denebian lives, they have a powerful addictive effect on Nalori, Boslic, and various other species. Those drugs would be worth a fortune to the Syndicate—and now they’ll be largely unprotected.”

  He took it in. “That can’t be the whole reason.”

  “It’s enough for your purposes, isn’t it? I never offered you the whole truth.”

  “So why give me this much? Why should I even trust any of it?”

  Devna spoke softly. “Because if you’d been forced to get it out of me another way—a way your true love wouldn’t approve—then you would’ve become more trapped. And for no gain, since I would’ve killed myself before revealing anything to you. That seemed . . . pointless to me. This way, at least,” she continued, with deeper feeling than she let on, “maybe you can hold on a little longer to what freedom you have.

  “Then at least one of us would have some freedom.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. “Devna . . . you don’t . . .”

  She shook off her moment of melancholy, restored her professional armor, and snuggled up against him. “Besides . . .” She gave him a long, deep kiss, then rose to begin packing her few possessions. “I like the idea of you owing me a favor.”

  15

  Rigel V

  SHRAN’S ANTENNAE TWITCHED as he watched the feed from the task force. The Mute prisoners on each of the ships had been loaded into shuttles, every step of the procedure captured on camera and broadcast to the Mute ships in the infrared band so they would know not to fire on the shuttles that now flew toward them—all on remote pilot save for the one from Endeavour, which Lieutenant Commander Hoshi Sato piloted herself. Indeed, soon enough the ominous black ships opened their hangar ports and drew the shuttles into their bays.

  “This is a mistake,” Commissioner Noar grumbled from behind him. “Now we’ve lost our leverage and given them a hostage. If they open fire, Admiral—”

  “I know, Commissioner, I know.” Noar had certainly been loud enough in announcing that he had the ministers’ support to relieve Shran if he defied them again. “I’ll do what has to be done.”

  “We’re aboard now,” came Sato’s voice, transmitted to Endeavour by her EV suit radio. “They’re opening the doors. They’re coming in—coming for me!” There was a tense silence.

  “Admiral,” Noar rumbled.

  “Wait!”

  “I’m okay,” Sato’s voice finally announced. “Our ‘friends’ interceded with the others—talked to them. They’ve escorted me to . . . I think it’s like our own decon chamber. Turnabout is fair play, I guess.” A pause. “Now they’ve closed me in. I can’t tell what’s going on outside. I’ll try to keep you posted.”

  Commodore th’Menchal’s visage was on one of the screens. “Why aren’t they cutting off her signal?”

  “Probably they wish to study our communication,” T’Pol replied. “Remember, they see us as creatures of scientific interest, not a military adversary.”

  “So you believe,” Garos replied from Rivgor’s bridge.

  “Commodore!” called th’Menchal’s communications officer. “New transmission coming in.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Despite what the comm officer had said, the “new” transmission had a disturbingly familiar ring. “You cannot escape. Surrender—all—crew—without further violence. You cannot escape. . . .” It was the same message as before, stitched together from T’Pol’s and the late Captain Shelav’s voices.

  “I knew it!” Garos cried. “T’Pol, you were wrong. It is a demand to surrender our ships!”

  “He’s right,” Noar said. “These monsters won’t be satisfied until they take every last one of our people! Admiral, our reinforcements are minutes away. The time has come to fight!”

  “Commissioner,” T’Pol said from Endeavour, “need I remind you that Commander Sato—”

  “I’m well aware of her situation, Captain! Let me remind you that it was your decision to send her into danger in the first place! The cost of that miscalculation is on your head.” He turned to Shran. “Admiral, a clear threat has been leveled against Starfleet ships and their crews. I order you to open fire!”

  “You might want to reconsider that, Commissioner!”

  It was Archer, storming into the room and coming to rest in front of Noar and Shran. The Tellarite commissioner faced him sternly. “Admiral, you have no authority in this matter.”

  “But I have evidence, Commissioner. Evidence that your judgment has been compromised by an Orion spy.”

  Noar bristled. “Whaat?! That is an outrageous accusation, Admiral!”

  “You might want to lower your voice,” Archer told him. “The spy is a certain . . . friend you’ve been visiting at night.”

  That shut Noar up effectively. Archer drew him aside, nodding to Shran to follow. “It turns out Devna’s not as free of pheromones as you were led to believe, Commissioner. She’s been influencing you, pushing you to support a more aggressive stance toward the Mutes.”

  “Absurd! No one makes me do anything I don’t choose to do, pheromones or no. Devna is a free citizen of Rigel. Her choices are her own, just as mine are.”

  “Then why did she disappear as soon as we found out about her?” Noar stared. “That’s right. She’s gone. And so is her . . . employer, Penap. He’s accepted a deal for protection against his bosses in the Orion Syndicate.”

  Noar looked bewildered. “But . . . this is ridiculous. Why would the Syndicate want Starfleet to go to war with the Mutes?”

  “As a distraction,” Shran realized. “To keep our attention elsewhere so they were free to go about their criminal enterprises.”

  “That’s right,” Archer said, “particularly a major attack they’re planning to make on the medical shipment going to Deneb Kaitos.”

  “Where we drew our ships from for the task force!”

  “There’s more,” Archer said to Shran. “I need to talk to T’Pol and the commodore on a private channel. Make sure Garos is out of the loop.”

  U.S.S. Endeavour

  Thanien listened with dismay as Archer spoke of the intelligence he’d somehow acquired linking Garos’s Raldul alignment with the Orion Syndicate in this matter. “Garos has been playing us all along. He helped organize the unaligned worlds to come to us in the first place, and he’s been doing what he could to stir up this conflict.”

  “That would explain much,” T’Pol said. “Lieutenant Cutler found numerous anomalies when we examined the scene of Thejal’s destruction. The evidence was not entirely consistent with Garos’s account of events. It now seems likely that Garos was responsible for the destruction of both ships.”

  Kanshent! Thanien’s head spun with renewed grief and rage—and guilt at having allowed himself to be so easily misled by his cousin’s true murderer. He barely heard what T’Pol said next, but he realized it even as she said it: The Malurian had made it look like the Mutes had destroyed Thejal in order to fire up the task force to violence against them. And Thanien had fallen for it completely.

  “Even if all this is the case,” th’Menchal asked, “how do we explain their continued demands for our surrender?”

  “Perhaps it is not our surrender they demand. Our initial conclusion may still have been correct.”

  “But we saw the Malurians load their prisoners onto the shuttle and launch it!”

  “Hold on,” Cutler said, working her console. “I thought I noticed an odd power surge between Rivgor and their shuttle just after it left their ship. I thought it was just a fluctuation in the remote control signal. . . .” After another moment reviewing the sensor logs, she said, “Uh-huh. At that short range, it could’ve been weak enough to miss if we weren’t lookin
g for it.”

  “Looking for what?” Archer asked.

  “A transporter beam,” T’Pol realized, and Cutler nodded. “Garos beamed the prisoners back aboard his ship as soon as the shuttle launched.”

  “And now he’s holding on to them so the Mutes will keep making their demands, and we’d be forced to open fire! Commodore, you need to find those prisoners and get them turned over, quickly!”

  “Understood.”

  T’Pol moved to the comm station, manned by Sato’s backup. “Hail the alien vessels, using the protocols Commander Sato devised.” At the ensign’s nod, she spoke: “Attention. We are aware that one of our vessels has failed to release its prisoners. The cause of the error has been identified and we are working to secure the return of your fellows. Please stand by.”

  Thanien came up to her, half listening while Commodore th’Menchal hailed the Malurian ship and ordered its crew to submit to inspection. “Do you think they’ll listen?”

  “Clearly they have some capability to interpret our language. We can only hope it is sufficient to buy us time.”

  “Commander Sato,” Thanien called, “are you monitoring?”

  “I’m here, sir. But I’m stuck in here, alone. They won’t talk to me. And they took away my infrared gear when I tried to use it. Maybe they thought it posed a threat. I don’t know if I can do anything to help convince them now.”

  “Signal coming in,” the ensign said. But it was just the same surrender demand as before.

  “Sir!” Kimura called. “Rivgor is moving. They’re charging weapons!”

  Thanien turned to the screen. The massive Malurian warship was pulling away from the closing Vinakthen, bringing its bow to bear on the nearest Mute vessel. Garos didn’t waste any time—the ship unleashed a massive weapons barrage against the alien ship. “Captain, Hoshi’s on that ship!” Kimura said, barely maintaining his discipline.

  “I’m aware of that,” T’Pol said. “Intercept Rivgor. Target their weapons and propulsion.”