by Dayton Ward
“Then I’ll need you to supply us both with the necessary access permissions,” Nogura said. “For a one-time use, of course. Also, I need you and your staff to leave Admiral Kirk and myself alone in this room until one of us fetches you.”
Shock now replaced puzzlement on Czerwinski’s face, though she was able to maintain her bearing. “I’m . . . sorry, Admiral, but I don’t understand. Typically, access to the central database is strictly controlled, particularly when we’re talking about information on anything of a classified nature.”
Kirk said, “We appreciate that this is unusual and not normal procedure, Captain.” He retrieved a data card from a pocket of his uniform and handed it to her. “This should explain everything. We’re operating under orders from the Starfleet commander and the Federation president. This matter is very sensitive, requiring an extraordinary set of security measures that are ‘eyes only’ and ‘need to know’ and every other security cliché in the book.”
Czerwinski regarded the card with uncertainty. “Not to be disrespectful, Admiral, but I’d need to verify these orders before I could let you proceed.”
“And I’d have to shred your stripes if you did anything less, Captain,” Nogura replied. “However, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like not to die here of old age.”
Despite her evident anxiety, Czerwinski recovered and made short work of inspecting the data card’s contents. After only a few moments, she looked up from the workstation where she had reviewed the orders the card contained. “Everything looks to be in order, Admiral.” Moving to the dedicated library computer station, she entered a string of commands, then returned her attention to Nogura and Kirk. “I’ve authorized temporary access for both of you, sir, with credentials matching my own. They will expire in fifteen minutes, or when you log out of the system, whichever comes first.”
Nodding in approval, Kirk replied, “That should be sufficient, Captain. Thank you for your assistance.” He said nothing more, and both he and Nogura waited as Czerwinski ordered the other personnel to follow her from the archive’s operations center.
When the heavy door slid shut behind her and both men heard the tone signaling that the door now was locked, Nogura said, “Good officer. I like people who stick to their guns and don’t back down just because someone decides to pull rank.”
“Then you ought to love me, sir,” Kirk countered, forcing himself not to smile.
Rather than replying to the comment, Nogura produced from a pocket a data card of his own. Inserting the card into a reader slot on the workstation, the admiral keyed a control, and one of the console’s displays flared to life.
“Are you sure this new protocol of yours will work?” Kirk asked. Updating a database in the manner Nogura had proposed was tricky business, he knew, something left only to those with the proper skills and specialist ratings. Kirk was not that person, and he doubted Nogura was, either.
“As sure as I can be,” the older man replied. Then, with a small grin, he added, “I enlisted Commander Spock for this. It was the last thing he did before departing for Vulcan. I think you’ll agree that if anyone can do what I need done, it’s him.”
Kirk offered an appreciative nod. “Indeed I do, sir.” To his knowledge, Spock had left for his home planet weeks ago. He had no idea that his former first officer had remained on Earth, much less while working on a project for Nogura. Not for the first time, Kirk realized that he missed his friend, whose announcement of his intention to return to Vulcan had come as a surprise. Kirk had been under the impression that Spock would want to oversee the installation of the new state-of-the-art computer hardware and software that would control the upgraded Enterprise’s onboard systems. Operating under that assumption, Kirk even had recommended Spock for promotion and reassignment as captain of the starship. With the Vulcan gone, Kirk, in his role as chief of Starfleet Operations, now was considering other officers for that prized billet.
“All right.” Nogura motioned toward the workstation. “I didn’t bring you along to carry my bags. Let’s get this over with.” Reaching for the console’s manual interface, he tapped a sequence of keys. “Computer, this is Admiral Heihachiro Nogura, Starfleet Command. Voice authentication.”
Speaking with the familiar female voice characterizing all Starfleet information systems, the computer responded, “Voice authentication complete. Admiral Heihachiro Nogura: Identity verified.”
After the authentication process was completed for Kirk, Nogura ordered, “Computer, execute program package Nogura One.”
“Dual authorization required,” the computer responded.
His attention focused on the workstation’s display monitor, Nogura said, “Authorization Nogura, Alpha Three Nine Five Five Omega. Enable.”
Kirk added, “Authorization Kirk, Epsilon One Three Seven One Gamma. Enable.” In truth, he had thought Nogura would keep this entire affair to himself, rather than including anyone else. However, the elder admiral’s new security protocol was dependent upon a two-party endorsement, as was his intention, and Kirk was the only other current member of the admiralty with any real firsthand knowledge of Operation Vanguard.
In response to his order, the screen began to fill with lines of text, scrolling almost too fast for Kirk to read. He was able to catch snippets of information—file numbers, dates, authorization codes—though nothing of any real use to the untrained eye. Even with the knowledge he possessed as to what Nogura was doing, most of the data Kirk was seeing was little more than gibberish.
“Program complete,” the computer reported after several moments.
When no other information seemed to be forthcoming, Kirk frowned. “And that’s it?” he asked, making no effort to mask his skepticism.
“If Mister Spock did what I asked him to do,” Nogura replied. “Computer, search all memory banks for any instances of the following terms: Taurus Meta-Genome, Shedai, Operation Vanguard.”
There was a pause as the artificial intelligence processed the request, then the female voice answered, “No records found matching any of the provided search arguments. Please enter new search parameters.” Meanwhile, on the display screen, an additional block of text data appeared.
Reading aloud, Nogura recited, “ ‘Warning: Unauthorized access attempt; eyes-only compartmented data. Access requires ultrasecret clearance. Notify Starfleet commander immediately.’” Pointing to the screen, the admiral said, “The protocol Mister Spock wrote covers a list of search arguments and accompanying context that’s about as long as my service record. The new procedure will allow innocent searches that just happen to use certain key terms, though when such requests are processed, any lateral references to Vanguard will be omitted. So far as the data banks are concerned, the materials we just stored here don’t exist.”
“And if the person making the request is really trying to dig where he or she shouldn’t?” Kirk prompted.
Nogura nodded. “Then he or she gets the ‘no records found’ message returned from the computer. Meanwhile, the computer executes a containment protocol ensuring that no project-related data or materials are released. At the same time, this other warning is transmitted to the facility’s commanding officer. The CO, in turn, will contact Starfleet Command for further instructions.” Shaking his head, he added, “I don’t want to be around if and when that happens.”
“I guess it’s over, then,” Kirk said. “For good.” His eyes lingered on the display monitor as Nogura purged all record of his interaction with the archive facility’s computer system before retrieving the data card from the reader slot. After months of debriefings in the wake of Starbase 47’s destruction, along with an endless procession of reviews, hearings, and boards of inquiry—not to mention mountains of accompanying reports and documentation—the only thing left to do was to forget all of it.
“Operation Vanguard—officially, at least—is a closed subject,” replied Nogura as he examined the data card. “The typical dormancy period for materials carrying an ult
rasecret classification is a century. However, I’ve decided that might not be enough of a cooling-off period. This new protocol effectively buries any record or mention of the project under so many layers of compartmentalization and obfuscation that only someone who knows precisely where to look has even a chance of retrieving anything. Right now, you and I are the only two people who can access the information without triggering any alerts, and we have to do it together.” He held up the data card. “But we’ll need this. The protocol for retrieving the information is encoded here, and it’ll be stored in the files of the Starfleet commander.” Shrugging, he added. “For all I know, Admiral Comsol may decide to flush it down the nearest head.”
“I suppose one could argue that might be for the best,” Kirk said. Starfleet higher-ups had reacted with something less than restraint when faced with the possibility of harnessing the power represented by the Shedai. When considering that turn of events, the notion of containing and obscuring the truth behind Vanguard seemed at least to have some merit. On the other hand, and given the terrible costs that had been incurred, the losses suffered and the damage done—noble intentions notwithstanding—Kirk found it impossible to believe that Starfleet and the Federation Council would allow the data, artifacts, and other material collected by Nogura and his people to be forever relegated to obscurity. To Kirk, that seemed a waste of great potential and something of an insult to those who had paid the ultimate price in pursuit of the project’s goals.
“Despite everything that’s happened,” he said, “surely we’ll find a way to do some good with at least some of what we learned.”
Nogura replied, “In a manner of speaking. One or two new research and development projects are already in motion, but you can bet they’re on a tight leash and always will be.” The admiral seemed to ponder the possibilities for a moment before adding, “Even if those efforts bear fruit, any connection to the project will be disavowed.” He sighed as he placed the data card in his pocket, and Kirk saw the unease in the older man’s eyes. “I still worry that someone in Starfleet will want to take what we already know and try to do the same sort of stupid thing that ended up costing us the station and the entire project.”
“While I understand the need for security, sir,” Kirk said, “this just seems wrong. Deliberately destroying or simply suppressing knowledge isn’t what we’re supposed to be about, Admiral.”
“On any other day,” Nogura replied, “I’d agree with you. Actually, I agree with you today, too. However, what we’ve got under our thumb here is just trouble waiting to be unleashed. I’d almost call it evil, though that’s probably taking things a bit too far.”
Recalling similar conversations he had enjoyed with his former first officer over late-night chess games, Kirk said, “If Mister Spock were here, he’d tell us that all knowledge is for good; only the use to which it’s put can be for good or evil.”
“And he’d be right,” Nogura countered. “In an ideal universe, at least. Hell, we’ve already proved your former first officer quite correct in that regard, which is why we’re going to all this trouble. All we can hope is that if and when it’s finally dug up again, it’ll be by someone smart enough not to repeat all our mistakes.”
The pair made their way to the exit, leaving Captain Czerwinski and her staff to their duties. Neither man looked back as the door closed behind them, signifying the final shrouds of secrecy cast over the efforts and sacrifices of so many people. How long would the fruits of such labor lie dormant here, locked within the bowels of this place and waiting for someone to find them? Was it truly possible for Operation Vanguard, as well as everyone and everything associated with it, to remain a mostly ignored and perhaps forgotten part of Federation and Starfleet history?
Maybe, Kirk mused. At least, until we need to remember it again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks very much to the folks at Pocket Books, who asked me to take on this story. To be honest, I thought my tenure with Star Trek: Vanguard had ended with What Judgments Come, the series’ penultimate novel, so it was both a surprise and a privilege to provide this “coda” to the entire Vanguard story. The last thing I wanted was for this novella to dilute any of what the four of us—David Mack, Marco Palmieri, Kevin Dilmore, and myself—had accomplished over the course of seven novels and four novellas. So my intention with In Tempest’s Wake was to provide something of a capstone to the series without taking away from anything you might already have read. Whether I succeeded in that regard is up to you.
Speaking of David, Marco, and Kevin, I once again tip my hat to these friends and colleagues with whom I’ve had the pleasure of taking this journey for the better part of eight years. Bringing Star Trek: Vanguard to what we hope was a satisfying conclusion was a task we all took very seriously, and responses to this point have largely been very positive. Writing for this series is some of the most fun I’ve had writing Star Trek fiction for Pocket, due in very large part to their friendship.
What amounts to “additional scenes” for the third-season Star Trek episode “The Tholian Web” are contained in these pages, and I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that episode’s writers, Judy Burns and Chet Richards, for their inspiration. Thanks to you both for crafting one of my all-time favorite episodes.
And one final thanks to the readers and fans of Star Trek: Vanguard: we couldn’t have done it without you, and I hope you enjoyed the ride at least as much as I did.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DAYTON WARD. Author. Trekkie. Writing his goofy little stories and searching for a way to tap into the hidden nerdity that all humans have. Then, an accidental overdose of Mountain Dew altered his body chemistry. Now, when Dayton Ward grows excited or just downright geeky, a startling metamorphosis occurs.
Driven by outlandish ideas and a pronounced lack of sleep, he is pursued by fans and editors as well as funny men in bright uniforms wielding stun guns, straitjackets, and medication. In addition to the numerous credits he shares with friend and cowriter Kevin Dilmore, Dayton is the author of the science fiction novels The Last World War, Counterstrike: The Last World War—Book II, and The Genesis Protocol; the Star Trek novels In the Name of Honor, Open Secrets, Paths of Disharmony, and That Which Divides; as well as short stories in various anthologies and Web-based publications. For Flying Pen Press, he was the editor of the science-fiction anthology Full-Throttle Space Tales #3: Space Grunts.
Dayton is believed to be working on his next novel, and he must let the world think that he is working on it, until he can find a way to earn back the advance check he blew on strippers and booze. Though he lives in Kansas City with his wife and daughters, Dayton is a Florida native and maintains a torrid long-distance romance with his beloved Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Visit him at www.daytonward.com.
We hope you enjoyed reading this Pocket Star Books eBook.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Pocket Star Books eBook edition October 2012
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ISBN 978-1-4516-9589-2
Table of Contents
Cover
Historian’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright