Star Trek: Typhon Pact 04 - Paths of Disharmony

by Dayton Ward

  Picard nodded. “A noble effort, to be sure.” Shifting in his seat, he looked to Worf and Choudhury. “We can be certain the conference will attract a diverse range of viewpoints. Prudence demands we be prepared for every eventuality.”

  “Already on it, Captain,” Choudhury replied. “As you know, I’ve been in contact with the commanders of the Homeworld Security brigade as well as the Starfleet detachment stationed in the capital city. Enterprise security personnel will augment their people once the conference starts, as well as provide additional logistical support from the ship. That’s naturally going to ruffle some feathers among the more hard-line anti-Federation groups, but we’re stressing that it’s Homeworld Security who’s running the show on the ground.”

  “Besides the formal protests we can expect to see,” Picard said, “is there any indication that one or more of these activist groups might be trying to carry off some other sort of display? Perhaps even something violent?” It was a question that gnawed at the captain in the evenings while reading Choudhury’s continuous stream of updated security assessments as she worked to finalize preparations for her department.

  “A few such groups are worth keeping under observation,” Worf replied. “In particular is a group calling itself the Treishya. They describe themselves as an offshoot of the Visionist party, dedicated to bringing attention to the issues the elected politicians are afraid to address. They are specifically committed to denouncing the role of any ‘outsiders’ who would—as their propaganda states—pollute Andorian blood with alien genetic engineering or other artificial means of resolving the reproductive crisis.”

  Zh’Thiin said, “I’ve heard of the Treishya. The name is derived from ancient Andorii religious texts, and means ‘Children of the Light.’ They’re radicals, believing that if our people are to survive these trials, then they will do so by their own hands or die as a race, rather than accept the assistance of non-Andorians.”

  Chen nodded. “That’s them. They’re small yet vocal, but the reports we’re getting from Homeworld Security and our people on the ground suggest that the Treishya’s extreme viewpoints are starting to gain acceptance in some quarters.”

  “It’s not out of the question that they might be planning to take advantage of the attention the conference will receive,” Choudhury added. “With that in mind, anyone connected with the conference or on the attendance list is being screened for possible connection to the Treishya.”

  Frowning, Picard asked, “Has this group made any statements or announcements indicating they might attempt to use the conference as a platform to make some kind of statement?”

  “Nothing overt, sir,” Choudhury replied. “Though the security detail assigned to parliament has reported a handful of incidents with suspected Treishya members attempting to enter the grounds. So far they’ve been classified as little more than nuisances, but we’re not ruling out the possibility of them stepping up their efforts as we continue our preparations.”

  “Very well,” Picard said. “It’s obvious that these groups have grievances against the Andorian government, and that dissatisfaction will likely extend toward the increased Starfleet presence once the conference is under way. However, given the sensitive nature of this situation and the proliferation of anti-Federation sentiment, it’s important that our presence on Andor not be perceived as an attempt to quash dissenting views or opinions.”

  “The safety of the conference attendees is our primary focus, Captain,” Worf said. “I do not believe Lieutenant Choudhury’s efforts to this point have been motivated by any other concern.”

  Picard nodded. “I don’t mean to imply otherwise, but make no mistake: Our every action while on Andor will be scrutinized and—in some cases—conflated or distorted in order to further an agenda at odds with what the conference is trying to accomplish. We must avoid fueling such dissent, but so long as protesters observe the laws regarding peaceful assembly, we must not do anything that might be perceived as an infringement on their civil liberties as defined under Andorian law.”

  “And if these protest groups step beyond the law?” zh’Thiin asked.

  “Then we take the appropriate, measured actions, Professor,” Picard replied, “in order to keep the peace and ensure that the conference proceeds with minimal disruption.” Turning once again to Choudhury, he said, “I understand that you’re walking a fine line, Lieutenant, but it’s the price we pay for maintaining the ideals we hold dear. Be vigilant, certainly, but do not allow these preparations to devolve into a witch hunt. No doubt the Homeworld Security brigade commanders have some knowledge and experience in this area, so do continue to consult with them. They’ll know how best to deal with their people.”

  “According to the reports we’ve received so far,” Chen said, “they’ve already begun gathering information on conference attendees and possible affiliations with the Treishya.”

  Picard said, “That’s their prerogative, Lieutenant, but we are not in the business of investigating or harassing citizens on the basis of their legally protected associations. Besides, you’ll have enough to worry about once the conference is under way. Until then, I thank you all for your work to this point. Dismissed.” As Professor zh’Thiin and his officers rose from their seats to return to their duties, Picard remembered a point he had forgotten to address at the meeting. “Lieutenant Choudhury.”

  Walking behind Worf as he headed toward the bridge, the security chief turned back to face Picard. “Yes, Captain?” As she did so, Lieutenant Chen moved to stand near the bulkhead.

  “I’ve read your report about involving Commander La Forge and members of his engineering staff to augment security procedures at the conference venue. Given what we just discussed, are you confident you can employ these measures in a way that does not attract undue attention?”

  Choudhury replied, “Yes, sir, I think we can.” The lieutenant’s recommendations had included the use of transporter inhibitors as well as portable force-field generators—similar to systems already in place at the Federation embassy there as well as those deployed around the Parliament Andoria complex—in the event it became necessary to isolate or even protect conference attendees from some form of attack. At first, Picard had considered rejecting the suggestions as being too heavy-handed. After reading the more recent security briefings and now knowing what he did about the tumultuous situation on Andor and what they likely would encounter in the capital city once the conference got under way, he had been forced to reconsider his initial reaction.

  Nodding in approval, Picard said, “Very well, Lieutenant. Make it so.” He watched as Choudhury turned and exited the room, returning to the bridge and leaving him alone in the conference lounge with Lieutenant Chen. When she said nothing after a moment, he eyed her with a questioning look. “Was there something else, Lieutenant?”

  Her expression betraying nothing, Chen asked, “Sir, did you know you have a green stain on your pants?”

  14

  Ensign Maureen Granados made a dramatic show of studying the cluttered cargo bay. “You know what we’re missing here? More crates.”

  Geordi La Forge could not help the smile that escaped his lips in response to the junior engineer’s remark. Glancing around the cargo bay, he was impressed by the amount of matériel that had been assembled in such a short time. Each of the containers arrayed around the chamber was packed with tools, components, and other supplies to be utilized by him as well as the teams he would soon dispatch to the planet’s surface. There, they would assist Andorian technicians and other specialists in a variety of tasks for which Captain Picard had pledged the resources of the Enterprise and its crew.

  “We do have a way of over-preparing, don’t we?” La Forge said, chuckling as he consulted the inventory report displayed on his padd. Keying the device, he reviewed the listings of equipment being readied for transport to different locations around the planet.

  “Given the effort we will be expending,” said Lieutenant Commander T
aurik from where he stood on the far side of an antigravity pallet holding several smaller crates, “and the importance of returning these facilities to full operational capability, such preparation is a logical course of action.” Also holding a padd, the Vulcan engineer continued his inspection of the crates and the equipment they contained.

  La Forge nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” Each of the locations to which he would be sending people for their first assignments—a power plant, a water-reclamation facility, a hospital, and a new command-and-control center for Homeworld Security—had required extensive repairs, having suffered major damage during the Borg attack. Though Andorian engineers had completed most of the heavy renovations—or, in the case of the water-reclamation plant, a complete reconstruction—there still remained a long list of adjustments, fine-tuning, and other “settling in” modifications in order to bring the facilities online. Once operational, the plant would service the water-usage needs of more than three million residents of nearly twenty small villages and other prefectures along the Ka’Thela continent’s southern perimeter.

  Not bad for a day’s work, mused the chief engineer, if we can get it all done.

  Stepping back from the container she was inspecting, Granados reached up to run her free hand through her dark-red hair. Though she wore her hair in a bun, an occasional rebellious lock still managed to work its way free of whatever knot or accessory she employed, to drop across her eyes. “Well, with the stuff we have here, we could build a starship drydock, or three, down there.” She paused, her expression sobering. “Come to think of it, that might not be such a bad idea.”

  When she said nothing else, La Forge realized that the young woman’s off-the-cuff remark now was conjuring memories of friends and loved ones lost during the Borg invasion. Granados had told him one evening over a drink in the crew lounge that her fiancé had been a security officer serving aboard the Potemkin when that ship was destroyed during the Borg’s devastating attack on the now-dead planet Deneva. Her story was similar to uncounted others among the Enterprise crew. Like Maureen Granados, those who had endured the war were forced—almost from the moment tragedy struck them—to put aside their anguish in order to continue performing their duties under the most extreme of pressures and stress. Now those burdens were gone, replaced by all-new difficulties, and required those same survivors to weave in and around their continuing responsibilities the grief, mourning, and whatever other periods of reflection they might need. This was not the first time La Forge had seen one of his people, or some other member of the Enterprise crew, take a brief respite from their duties in order to engage in a moment of “emotional self-maintenance,” as Dr. Hegol had once called it. The ship’s counselor had explained this to the senior staff, encouraging them not to be overly concerned about the behavior—so long as it did not interfere with a critical task, of course.

  Seeing Granados’s attention appearing to wander away for the briefest of intervals, La Forge said nothing as the young engineer snapped back to the here and now, drew a breath, and composed herself before turning back to face him. Their eyes locked, and La Forge said nothing, opting instead to offer a simple, slight nod of understanding. Granados’s expression changed, and her mouth formed a silent reply. Thank you.

  Then, as though to reassure the chief engineer that she remained on point so far as her assignments were concerned, she said aloud, “According to my inventory, the shipments for the power plant are ready to go. We can transport them down anytime you’re ready, Commander.”

  “Outstanding,” La Forge said, refocusing his own attention to the matters at hand. “Looks like we’re almost ready with the shipment for the power plant. Taurik, what about the hospital and the brigade’s command center?”

  Looking up from his padd, the Vulcan replied, “We are requisitioning some final components for the brigade consignment, which, by my estimate, should arrive here in sixteen point three minutes. The containers assigned to the hospital are also nearly complete, though we are waiting for some items that are due to be delivered by Dr. Crusher’s medical staff.”

  “They’re here,” another voice said from behind La Forge, one the engineer recognized with no small amount of pleasant surprise. He turned to see Tamala Harstad walking toward him, an oversized medical bag slung from each shoulder while she cradled a third such parcel in her arms. The doctor smiled as their eyes met, an infectious smile of which La Forge had grown particularly fond during the past days.

  “Dr. Harstad,” he said, hoping as he spoke the words that his attempt at professional decorum sounded less hollow to Granados’s and Taurik’s ears than they did to his own. He stepped toward her, moving to assist with the bags she carried. “You could have had a couple of orderlies bring these down.”

  Harstad shrugged as she allowed La Forge to take the bag she carried in her hands. “Dr. Crusher wanted a final verification before we sent anything down to the hospital, and I was on my way to lunch, anyway, so here I am.”

  “Given that sickbay is on deck seven and the officer’s mess is on deck two,” Taurik said, his right eyebrow lifting as he regarded the doctor, “it would seem impractical for you to travel here to deck eleven on your way to consume your midday meal.”

  “Commander Taurik, sir?” said Granados, her tone such that La Forge turned to see her doing her best to suppress a smile as she held out her padd to the Vulcan. “If you could verify the inventory on this consignment, I’ll see that it’s ready for transport to the surface.” As Taurik took the device from her, she glanced toward La Forge and made a show of rolling her eyes in melodramatic fashion.

  Also seeing this, Harstad laughed. “News travels fast, I guess.”

  “On the Enterprise?” La Forge asked. “At warp ten.” He reached for the strap suspending the bag from her left shoulder, then turned and led the way to one of the cargo containers holding equipment for the hospital.

  “And about that,” Harstad said, her voice taking on a quieter tone, the kind La Forge had heard more than once over the years.

  Steeling himself for what he was sure was coming, he turned to look over his shoulder, keeping his expression neutral. “Yeah?”

  Harstad stepped closer, as though concerned that her words might carry across the open cargo bay, and reached out to lay a hand on his arm. “I just wanted to say I really did enjoy last night.”

  “You already told me that,” La Forge said, smiling in spite of himself. “This morning, remember? On your way out the door?”

  Her expression changing to one of regret, Harstad squeezed his arm. “I know, and I’m really sorry about that.” She waved toward the container. “It’s just that I knew today was going to be hectic, getting ready for all of this, and I needed an early start.” Then her smile widened. “Besides, I honestly hadn’t planned on what happened last night.” She punctuated the last word by bobbing her eyebrows at him.

  That made La Forge laugh. “Well, you’ve got me there. To be honest, I was a bit surprised by it, too.”

  “But not disappointed, right?” Harstad asked.

  La Forge shook his head. “Not for a nanosecond.” The previous evening had begun in similar fashion to their first encounter, unwinding over dinner and drinks in the crew lounge. It was a relaxing way to end what for the chief engineer had been a double shift spent making preparations for his staff’s tasks on Andor. The key difference on this second “date” was that the conversation had come far easier on this occasion, which in turn served to set the stage for what had come afterward.

  “I’m sure that’ll make its way through the ship’s rumor mill at top speed, too,” Harstad said, smiling again.

  Holding up a hand as though swearing an oath, La Forge replied, “Not from me.”

  She patted him once more on the arm before taking away her hand. “So, there are still a few gentlemen left wandering the galaxy, after all? Lucky me.” Reaching for the strap over her right shoulder, she lifted the bag from her arm and placed it in the lone remaining
space within the cargo container.

  “When are you beaming down?” La Forge asked. He knew that Harstad, like Dr. Tropp and other members of the ship’s medical staff, would be transporting to the hospital in shifts to assist with the installation and calibration of new patient-care equipment provided by Andorian manufacturers as well as items and components delivered by the Enterprise.

  “Not until tomorrow,” Harstad replied. Brushing some of her hair away from her face, she eyed him with a playful expression. “You?”

  Nodding back over his shoulder, he said, “I’m taking the first team down later this afternoon, to get a look at the power plant before we go to work. The Andorian engineers already on-site are pretty good at what they do, so I’m hoping this is more formality than actual heavy labor on our parts.” The initial reports from the facility were promising, but La Forge, a creature of habit particularly when it came to his work, wanted a firsthand inspection to satisfy his own curiosity.

  “Well,” Harstad said, “if you make it back in time for dinner, call me. I might be in sickbay tending to some last-minute stuff, so the break will be nice.”

  La Forge shrugged. “What if I’m too late for dinner?”

  “Call me anyway,” Harstad said, poking him in the chest before turning and heading for the cargo bay’s exit, leaving the chief engineer standing alone, watching her leave and making no effort to hide the satisfied grin he now sported.

  The grin faded as he turned around and saw Ensign Granados studying her padd with an uncommon intensity, and Commander Taurik studying him with a passive, unreadable expression.

  “What?” La Forge asked.

  Without looking up from her padd, Granados replied, “Nothing, sir. Not a thing.”