But Beverly Crusher couldn’t answer. Long hands had grabbed her from behind, and thin fingers, snakelike and terribly supple, were covering her mouth and inching their way up toward her nose to smother her. She struggled, desperately, but her assailant was strong, the fingers relentless. Gagging and choking, she again tried to push back—and then, distantly, she heard her office door burst open and Blackmer’s voice, yelling out: “Stop! Let her go! I’ll shoot!”
Then, suddenly, the hands and the fingers were no longer there. They were gone as quickly as they had come. Crusher caught a whiff of something burning in the air. She fell to the floor, gasping, her own hands coming up protectively to her throat. Dimly, she realized that Ro was beside her, hand upon her back. “It’s all right,” Ro was saying. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”
“The bastard’s gone,” she heard O’Brien say from across the room. “And who knows what the range of that transporter could be?”
* * *
“When you’ve eliminated the impossible . . .” said O’Brien.
“I know,” said Crusher wearily. “I’ve played the same holodeck programs. Whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. But how can one person be on DS9, the Athene Donald, and the Chain ship all at the same time?”
“Transwarp beaming,” said O’Brien promptly.
“Is that even possible?” said Crusher.
“We don’t know much about what the Chain can do,” O’Brien pointed out. “But if they do have transwarp beaming, that explains how somebody could commit a theft and a murder on DS9, and an assault on the Athene Donald star systems away.”
“I suppose it would also explain how somebody could enter Ioile’s quarters without being seen,” Crusher said slowly. “I guess our usual methods of tracing transporters wouldn’t be any use?”
“Not entirely true,” O’Brien said, “although you have to know what you’re looking for. I had a quick look at those samples Doctor Pulaski sent over. One of them showed some cellular damage that suggested transwarp beaming. I bet if we checked, it would turn out to be Ailoi’s. Anyway, I was curious, so I rigged up a detector to alert me if anything like that was used on the station again. That’s how we knew Ailoi had been transported into your office.”
“And that’s how you were all there exactly when I needed you.” Crusher touched her throat. “I dread to think what would have happened if you’d been much later. Thank you, Miles.”
“All part of the service.”
“Do we have any idea where Ailoi might be now?”
O’Brien shook his head. “Not a clue. Back on the Chain ship, probably. But it doesn’t have to be that far. No reason why Ailoi couldn’t still be here on DS9.”
Crusher shuddered. “I hope not.”
“Still, Blackmer’s looking.”
“Hope springs eternal,” Crusher said. Gently, she rubbed her throat and neck.
“Doesn’t still hurt, does it?” said O’Brien
“No, it’s fine.” She sighed. “But now I have to go and explain all this to Oioli.”
* * *
Oioli met the news that Ailoi was a crew member of the Chain ship with dismay. “I knew they had a hand in this but not how far their reach was!”
“Did you have no idea at all?” said Crusher. “When did Ailoi come on board? Not at the start of your journey?”
“No, not then, but later on,” Oioli said. “Our fame had gone before us. Ailoi came from our homeworld to travel with the People.” The marks around Oioli’s throat were very dark. Crusher, who was starting to be able to read these signs, recognized anger. “But not to live with us, it seems,” Oioli continued. “To watch, to spy, to listen. I know this kind. They are the rot that will destroy our people.”
“Whatever the reason for traveling with you, Blackmer has not been able to find any trace of Ailoi on DS9. And given what we know now about the range of the Chain’s transporter, Ailoi could be anywhere—on DS9, on the Chain ship—”
“Ailoi could be farther now—back upon our homeworld.”
“That’s an even greater range than we guessed.” Crusher frowned. “Did you know that the Chain had transwarp beaming at their disposal? I understand if it’s a technology you take for granted, but it would have made life a lot easier if you’d mentioned it sooner.”
Oioli’s head was shaking. “I did not know of such a thing. I did know it was wanted. I left my world because of this—this and other reasons. New gadgetry, new toys, new tools—and yet no end to misery. This is not how I want to live. I do not want such trinkets. I want a life that values life. I did not know they had this.”
Oioli sat brooding for a while and, as Crusher watched, the markings, which had turned jet-black, slowly returned to something close to their usual olive green. “I think perhaps that Aoi and I should take the time to speak now,” Oioli said slowly. “There are questions that I have that Aoi must answer.”
Crusher nodded. “I’ll speak to Captain Ro. She’ll get it done.”
Ro arranged for the conversation with Aoi to happen under the pretext of having come to a decision about returning the People. When Aoi appeared on the view screen, Crusher was struck by the resemblance to Oioli. Yes, members of their species were very similar in general, more so than Crusher felt comfortable admitting, but this likeness was particularly close.
“Well now, Tey Aoi,” Oioli said, voice quiet, “do you remember Oioli? I’ve kept my peace on your account, but this has gone too far now. Did you know spies were on our ship? Is this how far you’ve fallen?”
Crusher caught one quick glance of Aoi’s expression, furious and stormy. Then the comm was cut.
Eleven
Captain’s Log, Personal.
What constitutes a successful outcome to a first-contact mission? To diplomacy? To exploration?
Perhaps it is easiest first to say what constitutes failure. It surely goes without saying that the outbreak of war must constitute the greatest and most grievous of failures. But any historian worth his or her salt would say that it is hardly conceivable that a single encounter would cause such a deleterious outcome. We may wish for history to be straightforward—to be able to find single chains of cause and effect—but in truth the universe is complex. War arises as a result of multiple factors over a long period of time. We should not fall into the trap of pride, assuming that our actions have such great significance.
There are moments when a captain must face up to the truth that a mission has been a failure—with the loss of a crew member, or any loss of life. It is some small consolation here to bear in mind that even the most unsuccessful mission may hold within it some promise of future success. One day, the knowledge acquired might be of use, of value—perhaps when least expected . . .
Metiger had been an impressive sight, Pulaski said, but Tey Aoi, appearing suddenly in Tanj’s office, certainly gave her a run for her money. Tanj attempted a formal greeting, but Aoi turned at once to Pulaski and Alden. “Explain again to me why you came over. You did not wish to learn—”
“No,” said Pulaski, shaking her head. “We would like to learn from you, although I doubt you would have been willing to teach. We came on board because we believed one of your people was responsible for the assault on the Athene Donald, and that there was a connection with the murder committed on Deep Space 9. We wanted evidence. And what do you know? We were right to want it!”
“You both came over under false pretenses. You lied to get yourselves on board our ship—”
“We lied?” Pulaski gave a hoot of laughter. “You’ve got some nerve! Accusing us of bad faith, when there’s been an undercover agent on a Federation space station this whole time?”
“This was unknown to us—unknown to me,” Aoi said.
“And yet Ailoi has been on Deep Space 9 throughout,” said Alden. He was in full Starfleet Intelligence mode now, and Pulaski found it strangely satisfying. “Whatever you may claim about your ignorance, Ailoi surely wasn’t acting
independently. Somebody must have known that there was an operation under way. The Athene Donald is a Federation ship, Aoi, but there are representatives from five different powers on board. I doubt that any of our governments would be happy to discover that your government—or some agency empowered by your government—has been so cavalier about our territorial integrity.” Alden raised his right hand and spread out his fingers. “Five different powers.”
The markings around Aoi’s throat were very dark, Pulaski noticed. What did it mean? Strain? Anger? Certainly Alden’s meaning was plain enough.
“You cannot make a threat that would alarm us,” Aoi said. “You know our capabilities are vast compared to yours. You are no threat.”
“Your technological capabilities might well be superior to ours,” said Pulaski, “but your ethics certainly aren’t. You’ve made no secret that we bore you, that you’ve seen everything we can do before. But where has all this experience brought you? One of you has tried to steal from us, has committed an assault on one of our ships—has murdered on Federation soil! And now you threaten us with greater firepower!” Pulaski shook her head. “Is this superiority?”
“Was this the introduction to the Alpha Quadrant that you wanted?” Alden said. “Was this the kind of first contact that you wanted to make? You know, the powers on this ship have been struggling to find grounds for peace and friendship between us. Do you want to be the enemy that unites us?”
There was a pause. Aoi had gone very quiet. Pulaski shot Alden a quick look: Have we gone too far? He shrugged in response. I’ve no idea.
“You make some valid points that must be answered,” Aoi said at last. “I did not know that Ailoi was empowered to act this way. I shall get answers.” And with a shimmer, Aoi was gone.
* * *
“It seems,” Pulaski explained to Ro and Crusher, “that Ailoi was traveling on board the People’s ships without the knowledge of Aoi and those higher up the chain of command. Ailoi seems to be from some kind of covert organization . . .” She looked at Alden. “You’ll know more about this kind of thing than I do.”
Alden seemed to choose his words carefully. “There are intelligence agencies, and then there are . . . Then there are little groups within groups, sections within sections, organizations within organizations. They don’t have official status, and they operate on the quiet. Everyone has them, although nobody admits to them. The Chain is no different. This is who Ailoi represents. Aoi would not have been told about Ailoi’s dual purpose, even when Ailoi was assigned to the ship.”
Ro frowned. “You believe that? That Aoi knew nothing?”
Alden nodded. “Absolutely. These kinds of organizations thrive on secrecy.”
“If Alden can believe it, so can I,” said Pulaski. “Give the man credit for knowing his job, dirty though it is.”
“Thank you for that vote of confidence, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome, Commander.”
“I can see why they might place someone within the People,” Crusher said. “But what was their interest in DS9?”
“Easy,” said Alden promptly. “Aoi all but admitted that the Chain has been observing events in the Alpha Quadrant for some time—since well before the outbreak of the Dominion War. I’d guess there’s been some anxiety about preventing the Chain from becoming embroiled in our very messy affairs.”
“Who wants to wander into the middle of a cold war between us and the Typhon Pact?” said Pulaski.
“More than that,” Alden said. “They’d want to prevent any of their technological advantage being lost.”
“Another reason to have someone traveling with the People,” said Crusher slowly. “To prevent them from giving away anything that the Chain might prefer to keep under wraps.”
“As the People drew closer to the Alpha Quadrant, this became more of a worry,” Pulaski said. “That’s when Ailoi was assigned to the nearest Chain ship—Aoi’s ship—and also placed among the People.”
“And used the transwarp beaming to switch between ships,” Ro said.
“It’s not a way of life that anyone could sustain for long,” Alden said, “but the first encounters were the key ones.”
“Poor Ioile must have realized that Ailoi was not really one of them,” Crusher said.
“And being able to transport such a great distance would have made access to Ioile’s room easy,” said Ro. “Presumably Ailoi was able to beam from the Chain ship onto DS9, kill Ioile, and then transport back. And we weren’t on the lookout for a transporter as powerful as that.” She pondered the situation for a while. “Where does this leave us? Do we have any chance of finding Ailoi?”
“Aoi has promised that the agent will be found and punished,” Pulaski said. “But whether that will actually happen . . .”
“If you’ll take my advice, Captain,” said Alden, “you’ll say that’s not acceptable. Ailoi, once found, should be handed over to you. Ailoi has committed crimes on Federation territory.” Alden gave a wry smile. “Aoi won’t agree to hand over Ailoi, of course.”
Ro frowned. “So why would I go to all the trouble of making that demand?”
“To argue for the release of the Athene Donald,” said Pulaski.
“You might be able to secure the unconditional release of the People too,” Alden added.
“I can see how this might save the Athene Donald,” Ro said. “As for the rest, I have a feeling that this is something that Oioli and Aoi will have to work out for themselves.”
* * *
Yes, thought Ro, when Oioli at last sat down in her office to speak to Aoi, her hunch had been correct. There was a history here, a personal history that went well beyond this immediate crisis. Oioli sat quietly in a chair, but Aoi looked stiff and formal.
“You must submit yourself to my authority,” said Aoi. “When you left home, you broke your oath to serve—”
Oioli looked at Aoi in sorrow. “Aoi! Aoi! Can you hear yourself now? The oath I took was one to serve all of our people! And yet we broke it every day. We served the rich and chained the poor. We hurt the lost and lonely. Have you forgotten who we were? Can you not remember? The life we led a long time back? Those lost and lonely children?”
With a flash, Ro understood. Aoi was now the captain of a great ship, but that had not always been the case. Aoi and Oioli had been children once—and from what Oioli said, they had not been members of the Chain’s highest castes. The story was not hard to imagine: it was, after all, a story much like hers. A poor child, a homeless child, had found a way out of desperate circumstances by joining up. Aoi, it seemed, had been able to continue serving. But not Oioli. Oioli had left to find a different life. A better life? Better for Oioli, certainly.
“How do you serve these masters, Aoi? How can you continue?”
Aoi replied in a rough voice. “The point remains that you are still a citizen and subject. You had responsibilities—as I have—to those children. How can I leave them traveling without care and schooling?”
“Without care? Without care? Remember who you speak to! And would you truly care for them? They were like us—uncared for! I found them dying on the streets. I saved their lives. I saved them. Where were our masters then, Aoi? As ever, they were uncaring.” Oioli pressed a long hand against the view screen. “We want to journey on in peace. Will you now prevent us?”
Carefully, Ro intervened. “I know that you are genuinely concerned about the well-being of the children traveling with the People, Tey Aoi. But the Federation can replicate medical supplies for them. I’m even prepared to supply a replicator for this purpose. If this is your only reason for preventing the People from continuing on their journey, you no longer need to worry. Unless you have other, more specific reasons to keep Oioli here?” Taking a risk, she continued. “But I think that this would mean your crew learning more about your past than perhaps you would like them to know.”
Aoi’s head bent. Ro smiled sadly to herself. Her guess had been right. Aoi’s insalubrious backgroun
d would not play well with the crew of the Chain ship.
“There is no shame in what we were or in the world we came from,” Oioli said. “There is no shame beyond the shame of those who seek to shame us.”
Aoi’s head shot up. “And yet you left, Oioli! You ran away from it, no? If there truly was no shame, you could have just ignored it!”
“I left because I could not bear to stay and watch injustice. I went and found a better life. I will not be returning. I will not come to you, Aoi—but you could still come to me?”
Ro held her breath. She was not clear on the relationship between these two—whether they were siblings or merely children who had found each other and saved each other when they were small—but would it persuade Aoi? Was that tie enough, or had other ties replaced it?
“I wish I could. I wish I might. But I have my duties—”
“The time has long since passed since they were duties worth fulfilling!”
“But here I might still make some change. Make a little difference—”
“You cannot save the Chain alone. The Chain is long past saving.”
Aoi became formal again but not hostile. “I thank you for your offer, Oioli. I cannot travel with you. Do not ask.”
Oioli sighed. “Then go your way. But don’t forget what we once were and what we hoped we would be.”
Aoi’s long hand reached up to the screen, and the fingers met Oioli’s, rising to meet them. “Never. Never.”
Then Tey Aoi was gone, and a few moments later a message came through from the Athene Donald informing the commander of Deep Space 9 that the great black ship was moving away.
Meanwhile, Oioli sat deep in thought and, stirring at last, said, “Old friends. Old times. Sometimes they wait to meet you on your journey. Past and future are the same. The end is the beginning . . .” Turning to Ro, and speaking unusually sharply, Oioli said, “You will find Ailoi here on the station. Transwarp beaming is by no means stable. If Ailoi uses it again, the risk is great that damage will occur beyond repair.”
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