“But I hoped that the loss of his commission and the subsequent loss of his freedom served their purpose. My son’s service record aboard the Starship Voyager seemed to show that rehabilitation is possible where an individual is willing to acknowledge his mistakes and work diligently to avoid making them in the future.
“That said, I first began to question his and his wife’s choices when Miral was only a few weeks old. Tom told us that B’Elanna had decided to undertake an archaic Klingon ritual to honor her mother who, I was told, was presumed dead at the time.”
Paris was pleased Shaw had already raised this issue. It kept him from flying across the table and attempting to shake some sense into his mother. He looked to his counsel, who was already staring at him. Shaw’s face betrayed nothing, but Paris still read the clear warning to say nothing he would later regret.
“The first days and weeks of a child’s life are so incredibly important. The bonding that goes on lays the foundation for all of the challenges to follow. My son rose to the occasion admirably. I saw him and Miral a few times during those weeks and could see how clearly he doted on her. He did the best he could. What troubled me then, and now, was the fact that he was put in this position at all.
“At the time . . .” Julia continued, but her eyes began to glisten and she paused to collect herself.
Paris suspected that his mother might have taken acting lessons since they’d last met. A bucket of onions couldn’t break her under normal circumstances.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” she went on, “but that night is still so vivid in my memory. Miral was all of two weeks old and crying that infant cry that only means one thing—I need my mother. My son told us that B’Elanna had chosen to perform something called the Challenge of the Spirit. It was a Klingon ritual that often as not resulted in the death of the participant. I looked it up,” she noted, with a sad shake of her head.
“But that was a lie. B’Elanna had found a note among her mother’s personal effects that indicated that Miral Torres was somewhere out in the wilds of Boreth waiting for her. Ms. Torres apparently made this choice after she shared some sort of vision or dream with B’Elanna. She wanted her daughter to embrace her Klingon heritage and, like a dutiful daughter, B’Elanna wanted to oblige her.
“Tom didn’t tell his father or me about this at the time.”
“My wife asked me not to,” Paris interjected coldly. He couldn’t help himself, but a meandering glance in his direction from Shaw calculated to appear casual silenced him.
“Of course she did,” Julia continued. “She knew that even the most basic scrutiny would reveal the lunacy and selfishness of her choice.”
Paris clenched his hands into fists, focusing on the tension there rather than the words trying to force their way out of his windpipe.
“Let us accept the notion that B’Elanna’s mother actually experienced this vision. Miral Torres left the safety of the monastery on Boreth and journeyed alone into a wilderness known for its extreme climate and filled with deadly animals, almost two years before Voyager returned home and, frankly, dozens of years before even the optimists among us expected Voyager to return. She intended to wait all that time for B’Elanna to come after her. Was this the choice of a rational person? And did B’Elanna, by all accounts a brilliant engineer, not consider the statistical probability that her mother was no longer alive two years later before abandoning her infant daughter and embarking on a quest she was not likely to survive?
“Who does this? If Miral Torres wanted so badly for her daughter to embrace her heritage, why did she not simply wait until B’Elanna returned home and then invite her to Boreth and discuss it? Or take the challenge with her? Why the secrecy? Why the lies? And why did B’Elanna risk her life and her daughter’s future by agreeing to such a thing? If she believed her mother was alive, any Starfleet vessel could have performed rudimentary scans that located her mother, a lone Klingon life sign in a vast wilderness, and she could have simply transported down to have this crucial conversation.
“Were she not married and a mother, B’Elanna would have been free to follow her heart. But her choices to marry and to bear that child placed responsibilities on her. They eliminated the right she had to put her own needs, or her mother’s, before those of her child.
“This was the truth B’Elanna did not want to hear. So she lied and demanded you do the same. It seems any time she is faced with a difficult decision, her default choice is to lie to avoid confrontation and to simply beg forgiveness and understanding later.
“Would you condemn your daughter to a lifetime of such lies? This is not an isolated incident. It is now an established pattern of unacceptable behavior.”
Ozimat’s and Shaw’s eyes fell upon Paris. He knew what was expected of him, and for the love of his wife and children, he did his best to rise to the occasion.
“It is inappropriate for you to level accusations at my wife based entirely upon your own cultural ignorance,” Paris began. “B’Elanna has lived most of her life divided between the demands of her human and Klingon heritages. It is a chasm even the Federation has yet to fully bridge. The Klingons are our allies, but how often do we still question one another’s motives and choices? How close are we, even today, to an incident that could shatter the fragile peace that exists between us?
“B’Elanna has lived that war internally. To be the mother that Miral needs, she had to make peace within herself. Her mother’s actions provided B’Elanna the opportunity to do that. It was too important for her to pass up. She returned from that experience more centered, and more at peace with herself, than in all the time I have ever known her. It was worth it. And since then, she has done nothing but sacrifice her own needs for Miral’s. She has loved her, protected her, educated her, and provided her with a solid foundation and security, even while the galaxy has been tearing itself apart all around her.”
“Begging your pardon, Commander Paris,” Ozimat said, “but was not your wife Miral’s sole caretaker when she was kidnapped?”
Paris had tried. He really had. It was a victory of sorts that his response was limited to “We’re done here for the day,” before he rose from his chair, toppling it backwards onto the floor. He ignored it as he stalked from the room, allowing the chamber door to slam behind him.
Chapter Seven
VESTA
Despite the sleep sacrificed on the altar of diplomacy the previous evening, everyone assembled in the Vesta’s conference room the following morning appeared eager and ready to face the new day.
Admiral Janeway sat at the largest table’s head. To her right was her aide, Lieutenant Decan. To her left sat Voyager’s officers: Captain Chakotay, Fleet Chief Torres, acting first officer Lieutenant Harry Kim, Counselor Cambridge, and Lieutenant Lasren. Both Commanders O’Donnell and Fife had come from Demeter. Commander Glenn was the sole representative of the Galen. Captain Farkas closed the circle, sitting to Decan’s right.
“I would like to commend all of you for your work last night,” the admiral said. “Each and every one of you made me proud, which was no less than I expected. I am sure that many of you have already begun to form opinions of a potential alliance between the Federation and the Confederacy based on your experiences with them, but I encourage you to keep an open mind over the coming days.
“I have read all of the brief reports each of you submitted last night. I found your experience, Lieutenant Kim, particularly troubling.”
“What happened?” Chakotay asked.
“The woman I was seated next to at dinner last night tried to steal my combadge,” Kim said.
“How?” Cambridge asked.
“She put her arm around me. She had an accomplice who tried to distract me. But you have to get up pretty early in the morning to get something like that past a security chief,” Kim added. “She actually damaged it in the attempt. I had to replicate a new one.”
“Who was she?” Chakotay asked, biting back his amusement.
&nb
sp; “We don’t know,” Janeway replied for Kim. “I made a request of the first consul an hour ago to identify her and her affiliation. Apparently no one named Ligah was on the official guest list.”
“Then how did she end up at one of the reserved tables?” Kim asked.
“The first consul is lying, Lieutenant,” Cambridge said.
“Obviously,” Janeway agreed. “Two things to file away for future reference: No one with whom you will be interacting over the next few days can be trusted completely, and it is possible that high-ranking members of the Confederacy government assume we are quite stupid.”
“We should correct that assumption sooner rather than later, Admiral,” Commander Fife piped up.
“I think that problem will take care of itself in due time,” Janeway said.
“Until then, it gives us a potential advantage,” Chakotay noted.
“It does,” Janeway agreed.
“How?” Fife asked.
“The dumber they think we are, the more likely they will be to relax their own security. We’ll learn a lot more by keeping our mouths shut than we will by getting into a pissing contest with them,” Cambridge explained.
“Admiral?” Torres interjected.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Did you note the comments in my report regarding the status and advancement of Confederacy women?”
“I did,” the admiral replied. “And while I too found it disturbing, it’s important to remember that every culture develops its priorities based upon their past. While the treatment of the Confederacy’s women during their fertile years is difficult for us to accept, it’s also worth noting that their current presider is a woman.”
A flush of anger tinged Torres’s cheeks. “So, they’re fine? Nothing to worry about?” Torres asked.
“Commander,” Chakotay chastised her gently.
“You don’t believe this cultural difference significant enough to warrant abandoning the negotiations?” Torres demanded of Janeway.
“At this stage, they warrant further investigation. Should we learn that the vast majority of women within the Confederacy chafe under the burdens their society places upon them, that would be one thing. If they accept it as part of their cultural identity . . .” The admiral shrugged.
Torres did not appear mollified, but she did not protest further.
Janeway continued: “I have received a number of proposals from the Confederacy diplomatic liaison. Based on these proposals, I have your next assignments.”
Turning to Chakotay first, she said, “Voyager will depart this afternoon and accompany the Twelfth Lamont to a planet called Lecahn.”
“The manufacturing center?” Chakotay guessed.
Janeway nodded. “I need you to get the best sense you can of the Confederacy’s current technological capabilities. We already know they don’t have universal translators or transporters other than the protectors. I’m guessing they don’t have replicators, but that’s just a guess. The liaison was vague about what exactly Lecahn produces, and I’m assuming it isn’t military, but the journey will take a few days and any readings you can get on Lamont will be helpful.”
“I’ve been toying with some modulated scanning frequencies. They’d be passive, and not as accurate as we’d like, but they’re also less likely to be detected,” Kim said.
“Good. I will be depriving Voyager for the duration of her counselor and operations officer,” Janeway went on. As soon as she said this, Lieutenant Lasren’s large black eyes widened visibly. “I understand you had a rough time of it last night, Lieutenant,” Janeway said to Lasren. “I want you to work closely with Counselor Cambridge. Both of you will attend all of my meetings to help me read the participants, but I won’t have you putting yourself at unnecessary risk. Just do what you can, understood?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Lasren replied.
“General Mattings suggested an officer exchange during this trip,” Chakotay said.
“I saw that proposal,” Janeway said, and she was inclined to agree, as it opened up all sorts of possibilities for intelligence gathering.
“It’s not one I want to accept at the moment,” Chakotay said.
“Why not?”
“There’s a lot we aren’t telling them yet about our capabilities, and those things will be harder to hide from anyone aboard Voyager,” Chakotay replied.
“You’re right,” Janeway said. “But still . . .”
“Mattings tentatively agreed to a one-sided beginning,” Chakotay went on. “I think he’d let me place an officer with him without demanding that I take one of his in exchange.”
“Who did you have in mind?”
“Lieutenant Kim,” Chakotay said.
“He’s your first officer and chief of security,” Janeway said.
“Who has trained his security staff exceptionally well. And Lieutenant Patel is coming along nicely as a potential second officer. We can make it work for a few days.”
“Then do it,” Janeway said. Turning to O’Donnell, she continued: “The Demeter will be accompanied by the Fourth Jroone to a place called Femra.”
“One of their more recent success stories,” O’Donnell said.
“You’ve heard of it?” the admiral asked.
“I spent two weeks with Overseer Bralt before you returned, Admiral,” O’Donnell said. “When it comes to his department’s achievements, he does not suffer from an overabundance of humility.”
“Obviously, we have no idea yet if an alliance will be possible,” Janeway said. “I want you to look at what they have, with an eye toward improving it, should we come to some agreement. Enhanced productivity seems to be their greatest concern.”
“And the greatest example of their shortsightedness,” O’Donnell said. “They don’t need more. They need to diversify what they have. Their lack of regular crop rotation rapidly depletes their soil’s nutrients. There are, of course, many synthetic means of correcting the imbalances, but, over time, continued use of those chemicals builds resistance and ultimately you are left with a mess, at which point all of that productivity will quickly become a fond memory.”
“I assume you have developed safer methods of reinvigorating depleted soil?” Janeway asked.
“One or two,” O’Donnell replied, clearly estimating on the low side.
“Go, see if anything surprises you,” the admiral ordered.
“I look forward to being surprised, Admiral,” O’Donnell said flatly.
“Commander Glenn, for the next few days, Galen will be the only fleet vessel in orbit of the First World. You have been invited to tour several of the capital city’s medical facilities. My staff will also require accommodations on your ship for the duration.”
“I’ll see to it at once, Admiral,” Glenn said.
“Where are we going?” Farkas asked.
“Another Confederacy vessel—the Sixteenth Hadden, I believe—will escort the Vesta to an area near the entrance to the Gateway. They recon the ships that have begun to make noise out there,” Janeway replied. “I want you to train every sensor we have on any ships you find. I want to know what they’re having for dinner.”
“You want to know what could possibly bring together the Turei, the Vaadwaur, and the Devore,” Farkas clarified.
Janeway nodded. “I also want you to become as close as you are comfortable with your counterpart on the Hadden. I want to know what they really think of these attacks and what they are prepared to do about them.”
“Understood, Admiral, but . . .” Farkas began.
“Aren’t you leaving yourself vulnerable, Admiral?” Chakotay finished the sentence for her.
“The Galen has a full security detail in the event she was to be boarded,” Janeway said.
“Eighty percent of them are holograms who haven’t seen a great deal of use,” Glenn noted.
“Which is why I will ask Captain Farkas to provide me with an extra detachment from the Vesta to accompany my team to and from the First World
,” Janeway said.
“I’m going to wake Lieutenant Psilakis up and ask him to lead that detachment,” Farkas said. “And I would suggest that, as an additional precaution and cover, we assign Lieutenant Lasren temporarily to security.”
Lasren appeared confused. “I’ve had all the standard training, Captain,” he said, “but I don’t know how much help I’d really be in that position. Obviously I will do my best, but . . .”
“If the admiral takes two special assistants plus Lieutenant Decan with her to every meeting, it’s going to raise suspicions,” Farkas said. “It will be clear that at least one of you is more than an advisor. A ship’s counselor makes sense. An operations officer is harder to justify, as you have nothing to operate down there.”
Lasren nodded as the light dawned.
“An excellent suggestion. Thank you, Captain,” Janeway said. “Anything else?” she asked.
“We’re working now under a complete transporter blackout,” Chakotay said. “Every communications transmission we send is being monitored. Once we separate, that might become more than inconvenient.”
“Agreed,” Janeway said. “Obviously you are permitted to use transporters in an emergency situation. I will rely on your discretion. Is there anything we can do to secure a channel they won’t be able to detect?”
“Not really,” B’Elanna said. “We can encrypt whatever we want, but just knowing we’re speaking privately is going to breed distrust.”
The admiral nodded thoughtfully. Finally she said, “I’m going to institute a special emergency protocol for all fleet vessels. Before we separate, we will establish a rendezvous point far beyond Confederacy space and within range of our communication relays. Should any vessel come under attack by the Confederacy, or anyone else while we are here, you are to disengage as safely as possible, engage your slipstream drives, and report to the rendezvous coordinates. Should any ship fail to report in as scheduled, and you cannot verify their status, the same rule applies. Transmit a full report to Admiral Montgomery at Starfleet Command and await further orders before taking any actions, beyond ensuring your own safety.”
Star Trek: Voyager - 043 - Acts of Contrition Page 11