by Dayton Ward
“Given what has already been learned,” Vanik said, “and presuming the Dokaalan scientists were correct in their original predictions, it would seem the time to provide assistance has long passed.” It was an unfortunate determination to reach, he knew, but the facts currently available to them seemed to support no other conclusion.
“Captain,” T’Lih said, “we could deploy a reconnaissance probe back along the drone’s original course. It will take several months to reach that area of space at the probe’s maximum speed, but it will be able to ascertain what ultimately happened to the Dokaalan homeworld.”
It was a logical suggestion, and one Vanik at first supported. However, as this matter involved a species never before encountered, it was an issue that would have to be decided upon by the Vulcan Science Directorate. Only that august body possessed the authority to permit any interaction with a new race, a precaution intended to prevent the accidental introduction of technology, science, or even ideas that might prove too advanced for a culture not yet ready to possess such knowledge.
Besides, the Ti’Mur had other priorities. High Command had instructed Vanik to deviate from its current patrol in order to observe the latest activities of Enterprise, the deep-space exploration vessel recently launched by the humans from Earth. Though the humans themselves held little interest for him, Vanik nevertheless had kept abreast of their progress, especially regarding their efforts to perfect warp travel and push farther away from the confines of their own star system.
It had long been the opinion of High Command that the humans bore watching. Though they had proven to be somewhat innovative in their own way, they had also demonstrated that their inexperience in dealing with a larger celestial community, to say nothing of their own arrogance and overconfidence, likely would be their undoing.
Since Enterprise had left Earth, its crew and particularly its captain had managed to make quite a nuisance of themselves. That much was amply demonstrated when the vessel departed Earth on its inaugural voyage, deep into the heart of the Klingon Empire of all places. Only fortunate happenstance had prevented their initial contact with the Klingons from dissolving into an unmitigated disaster, and Vanik believed that the ultimate ramifications of the haphazard encounter were yet to be realized.
Then there was the recent debacle that had unfolded at the monastery on P’Jem. The Enterprise captain, Archer, had revealed the presence of the top-secret observation facility hidden beneath the monastery to Andorian operatives. Now that station and the vital data it provided about ship movements and other activities within Andorian space was gone, and the damage Archer had inflicted on Vulcan’s intelligence-gathering operations would take a long time to repair.
Given all of that, Vanik could understand High Command’s wishes that the Earth ship be monitored. He simply did not agree with the dispatching of a Surak-class vessel to do it. He hoped that Enterprise would be able to avoid trouble for the few days until the Ti’Mur was relieved by another vessel.
“Sub-commander T’Lih,” he said, “prepare all of the information you have for transmission to High Command. In the interim, divert from our present course long enough to retrieve the drone, then adjust our course and speed to make our appointment on schedule.”
“Yes, Captain,” T’Lih replied, and set about relaying the necessary orders. As Vanik paced back to his command chair, he watched and listened as his bridge crew turned to their various tasks, satisfied that they would carry out their duties with their usual impeccable efficiency.
Settling into his seat, the captain realized he was actually looking forward to what a full examination of the alien object might reveal. If nothing else, the effort would pass the time until the rendezvous with the Earth ship.
It would be up to High Command and the Science Directorate as to whether a vessel was sent to discover the origin of the alien drone and perhaps to learn what had happened to those who had dispatched it, but Vanik for one hoped the attempt was made. Given the calamity they had apparently suffered, it would be unfortunate if the mystery of the Dokaalan were to remain unsolved.
Chapter Two
AT ONE TIME, Admiral Forrest could differentiate among the various types of headaches that had always plagued him. There were those caused by stress or muscle tension or too little sleep, for example. Then there was the newer variety of discomfort he experienced on increasingly frequent occasions, invoked whenever he read one of Jonathan Archer’s more colorful status reports from the Enterprise.
These days, however, Forrest divided his headaches into only two categories: those caused by Ambassador Soval, and the rest of them; and Soval’s score was growing at an exponential rate. Though he didn’t have a headache at the moment, Forrest nevertheless mentally added another mark to the list as he walked into his office and saw the Vulcan waiting for him.
The beginning of another wonderful day.
“Good morning, Ambassador,” Forrest offered in what he knew to be a vain attempt at pleasantries. “How may I help you today?”
Dressed in his normal ensemble of flowing, earthtoned robes, Soval stood before the admiral’s desk with his hands clasped in front of him. Forrest could not be sure, but he thought he saw the Vulcan’s jaw clench. Something was definitely annoying the ambassador this morning.
“I understand that Captain Archer has managed to get himself into trouble again,” Soval said, “and this time he required the assistance of one of our vessels to extricate himself from his predicament.”
Movement outside his window caught Forrest’s attention, and he looked up to see a Starfleet shuttlepod flying past. It was ascending into the sky, doubtless on its way to one of the space stations or drydock facilities orbiting Earth. The spaceframe of a new long-range space vessel was being assembled up there right now, he knew, and hundreds of engineers and other specialists were currently hard at work constructing the hundreds of components that would combine to create the next NX-class ship. He was looking forward to tomorrow, when his schedule would permit him the opportunity to go up there and see the status of the formidable project for himself. It certainly was a more appealing prospect than anything listed on his agenda for today.
Is it too late for those guys to come back and pick me up?
There was no way he would retreat from his current guest, of course. A man not easily intimidated, Forrest had long ago learned to handle personalities even haughtier than Soval’s. “And Starfleet is extremely grateful, Ambassador. Please pass on my thanks to Captain Vanik and his crew. I also intend to submit a letter of commendation to the Vulcan High Command for their actions.” Shrugging, he smiled and added, “I guess it was just good luck that the Ti’Mur was nearby.” It was an effort to keep from smiling as he heard Soval exhale, an action on par with a heavy sigh of frustration from a human.
Of course, Forrest knew it was anything but coincidence that the Vulcan vessel had been in the vicinity when two Enterprise officers were trapped on the surface of the comet they had discovered. According to Archer’s report, they had been under scrutiny by Vulcan ships for weeks. Though no explanations had been offered, Forrest was certain the directive had come because of Archer’s actions on P’Jem.
His exposure of their secret surveillance facility hidden beneath the monastery there had not sat well with the High Command. They had been against the Enterprise’s launch and its subsequent long-range exploration mission to begin with, feeling that humanity was not yet ready to venture into the cosmos on its own. That Archer and his crew already had logged a handful of notable mishaps since leaving Earth had only exacerbated the Vulcans’ unease. Undoubtedly, they would want to take steps to insure that Archer could not do anything else to interfere in their affairs.
“I have been in the company of humans long enough to recognize sarcasm when I hear it, Admiral,” Soval said. “It is one quality of your people I have not yet come to appreciate.”
Despite his best effort to remain composed, Forrest could not resist the opening. With a
smile he asked, “Ah, so we have other qualities that you do admire?”
There was a moment of silence as Soval appeared to consider the words, and Forrest was sure he saw the ambassador’s jaw tighten yet again. I think Archer’s right, and Soval has been spending too much time among us lowly humans.
Finally, the Vulcan said, “I do admire your tenacity and desire to expand your horizons, Admiral, as these are commendable goals. My concern, however, and it is one shared by many of my people, is that you refuse to temper such determination with patience. Surely you can admit that your ignorance of the galaxy you inhabit already has been a source of great disruption?”
The compliment, wrapped as it was within the criticism, was still high praise indeed. Forrest knew that the ambassador had spent a great deal of time on Earth in the decades following first contact. He also had been one of the many voices of Vulcan dissent when Zefram Cochrane and Henry Archer had begun work on the Warp 5 project, all while Forrest himself was little more than a wide-eyed teenager contemplating a four-year stint in the navy in order to earn money for college. As Cochrane, along with the elder Archer and hundreds of others, labored to expand the limited warp capabilities of his original Phoenix spacecraft and those efforts began to bear fruit, Soval had been there, always warning that the “humans were too brash and were moving too fast for their own good.”
And now this, a grudging accolade for humans from one of their most vocal detractors?
Could Soval actually be mellowing in his middle age?
Wishful thinking, Admiral.
Deploying his best diplomatic charm, Forrest said, “Ambassador, it’s true that Jonathan Archer is not the experienced commander one might like to have in charge of the Enterprise. No human possesses such experience, and the only way we’re ever going to acquire it is by going out there. Will we make mistakes? I don’t doubt it, but in the end I trust Archer’s judgment.”
“I hope your confidence is not misplaced, Admiral,” Soval replied, “and that Captain Archer obtains the experience he seeks before he commits a transgression that does real, lasting damage.”
That’s the Soval I know and love, Forrest mused.
Attempting to change the subject, the admiral held up the padd his aide had given him. “Since you’re here, there is another matter I was hoping we could discuss. Starfleet received word yesterday that the Vulcan Science Directorate has updated its databases, and one item in particular caught my interest.”
Though tight-lipped when it came to sharing technology, the Vulcans had been very forthcoming with other information, such as interstellar cartography and navigation. Despite their misgivings about Enterprise’s mission, that information exchange had become much more frequent and detailed following the ship’s launch.
“This probe that the Ti’Mur discovered,” Forrest continued. “Is there a final decision on what to do about it?”
Soval’s eyebrow rose in response. Clearly, he had not anticipated this new question. “The Directorate is still examining data collected from the device. Why do you ask?”
Forrest paused, taking a moment to ponder the Golden Gate Bridge, visible across San Francisco Bay. Fog enshrouded most of it, but the view was still clear enough that he could see a lone sailboat navigating the bay as it headed out to sea. A wistful smile curled the corners of the admiral’s mouth, and not for the first time he wished it could be him at the wheel of such a tiny vessel.
“It’s a fascinating discovery,” he said. “I was thinking of sending Enterprise to investigate.”
His position at Starfleet naturally precluded Forrest from undertaking any of the long-range missions planned for Enterprise and future NX ships, the next of which would be ready for launch nearly two years from now. The delays and setbacks encountered during the development of the advanced warp program had seen to it that he and his contemporaries would live vicariously through the experiences of younger men like Jonathan Archer, A. G. Robinson, and those who followed such promising leaders into that vast, unknown frontier.
With that in mind, the idea of sending Archer and his crew to learn the fate of the Dokaalan appealed to the admiral. It also seemed to present an opportunity to give the Enterprise a mission unlikely to further irk the Vulcans.
Judging by Soval’s reaction, however, that was not an opinion the ambassador shared.
“According to our calculations,” Soval replied, “it would take your vessel months to reach the probe’s point of origin, even traveling at its maximum speed. Besides, there would be nothing to investigate when they arrived.”
Forrest replied, “I know that whatever happened to the Dokaalan was a long time ago. Still, they had the means to launch that probe. What else might they have left behind? Don’t you wonder about that, or what finally became of them?” The Vulcan’s position seemed a bit simplistic, the admiral decided. There was no telling what kind of artifacts of their civilization the Dokaalan might have left behind. The possibilities were endless.
“Scientists on Vulcan examined all of the information transported within the craft’s limited computer storage facility,” Soval said. “Using that information to extrapolate a series of computer models, they determined that seismic forces eventually tore the planet apart. Given that conclusion and the Dokaalan’s limited technology, it is logical to assume that their civilization was destroyed by whatever cataclysm befell their planet. There would be little use sending your ship, Admiral. That part of the galaxy is still uncharted, and it will be some time before we ourselves undertake any exploration of the region.”
Forrest shrugged. “Seems like the perfect reason to go.” Speaking the words, he was unable to ignore the various photographs, paintings, and sculptures adorning his office, each of them representing key vessels and moments in naval and Starfleet history. He almost wanted to append the obvious question to what he had already said: Was “going there” not the reason for constructing ships like Enterprise in the first place?
“As we have already discussed,” Soval countered, “Captain Archer and his crew seem to have enough difficulty staying out of trouble in this part of the galaxy. There is no point in compounding their work by sending them on a long and arduous mission with nothing to gain.”
If he had not known Soval better, Forrest would have sworn he detected the slightest hint of amusement in the ambassador’s voice.
Not likely.
Still, the admiral felt compelled to agree with his counterpart. There were countless things for Enterprise to discover right here in their own neck of the woods. Perhaps, one day, when Starfleet had many ships at its disposal, some lucky captain and his or her crew would be able to seek out the ultimate fate of the Dokaalan.
One day….
2378
Chapter Three
“I AM ZAHANZEI, first minister to the people of the planet Dokaal. I speak to you as the leader of a people in desperate need of assistance from anyone who might hear this message.”
Though he had watched the recording twice already, Jean-Luc Picard once again found himself drawn by Zahanzei’s appeal as if seeing it for the first time.
“Catastrophic seismic forces are tearing our world apart, and our most experienced scientists believe that total destruction is inevitable. Our planet is the only one in our solar system capable of sustaining life, and we do not possess the resources to evacuate our people to a suitable world in another system. We have only just recently discovered a means of propulsion that would allow us to complete an interstellar journey, but our level of technology is limited. Our calculations tell us that there is insufficient time to build vessels capable of carrying a sufficient number of our people to safety in order to insure the preservation of our race.”
Standing before a window offering a picturesque view of a thriving city, the Dokaalan leader’s visage was noble and thoughtful, as would befit a person in his position. Tall and thin, he was humanoid in appearance. His skin, possessing a light blue tinge, was free of any blemishes that Picard
could see. Deep maroon eyes peered out from beneath a prominent brow, while only small holes represented where the ears and nose might be on a human’s head. Completely devoid of hair, his skull tapered to an almost arrow-shaped chin. Despite his stately bearing, Zahanzei still seemed to possess a vulnerability held only barely in check by the need to carry out the duties of his office for the benefit of those he governed.
“Therefore, I ordered the creation of these three small probes, one of which has traveled to you and carries with it my plea on behalf of my people and my world: Please help us.”
As the recording completed and the Enterprise’s senior staff turned back to the conference table and each other, Picard knew that already their minds had set to work. He could almost see them ordering their individual lists of responsibilities to support a rescue operation on the scale they believed was coming.
“How soon do we get under way, sir?” asked Commander William Riker from where he sat to Picard’s right, giving voice to the concern and determination that was evident on the faces of the others.
As he regarded those faces, however, he felt a twinge of regret, knowing that it fell to him to dash those plans and remind them of the reality of their current lot in life.
“Three weeks ago,” Picard said, “the U.S.S. Crazy Horse discovered a small probe of unfamiliar design adrift near the Jeluryn Sector. It had suffered massive damage during its rather lengthy voyage, and engineers aboard the Crazy Horse weren’t able to retrieve anything of value from its onboard computer system. What they did discover, however, was that this was not the first object encountered from these people. According to Federation data banks, another such device was encountered by a Vulcan ship more than two centuries ago.”
“Two centuries?” said Deanna Troi, seated next to Riker and sporting a confused expression. “We’re just now learning about it?”