Star Trek: Typhon Pact 04 - Paths of Disharmony

by Dayton Ward

  “I can’t believe that,” Bacco said, waving away Akaar’s sentiment with a gesture. “That’s the sort of thinking fascists and demagogues use to burn books or justify the suppression of contrary points of view. All knowledge is for good; only the use to which it’s put can be for good or evil.” Pausing, she chuckled. “Wow, did that sound Vulcan. I’ve been hanging around Sivak too long.”

  “Madam President,” Akaar began.

  Again, she waved him off. “I know. We’re arguing semantics, and I see your point, anyway. We definitely have to tread softly here.” Clearing her throat, she reached once again for her coffee, bringing the cup to her lips and taking a long sip. “So, what are your chief concerns?”

  “That someone,” Akaar replied, “either by accident or design, has accessed top-secret and potentially damaging information. These records were classified under multiple levels of security, including several layers of calculated distraction and disinformation. They were deliberately withheld from the materials provided to the various parties and organizations that requested genetic-engineering data in order to research the problem on Andor. The records are archived using compartmentalization within compartmentalization, with every component requiring separate authorization protocols submitted by you and me in order for anyone to review them, and even then such an approval only grants access to whatever subsection of data directly conforms to the request being submitted. The three archival containers flagged by Dr. Crusher’s request represent twenty-eight such capsules, all filled with records pertaining to Operation Vanguard, and all protected with the same multiple security schemes.”

  “What’s your point, Leonard?” Bacco asked.

  Akaar replied, “That this information was buried for a reason, Madam President. If someone’s trying to dig it up again I’d like to know why. My concerns are whether such attempts to access that data are confined to here, or are also taking place elsewhere.”

  Regarding him, Bacco pursed her lips. “By ‘elsewhere,’ you mean the Klingons, or the Tholians?”

  “So far as we know, the Klingons possess no information of real, lasting value with respect to Shedai technology in general or the meta-genome in particular. However, the Tholians, with their genetic ties to the Shedai, are another matter. Given what Ambassador Tezrene told you while standing in this very office, they haven’t forgotten what happened out in the Taurus Reach a hundred years ago, and they certainly haven’t forgiven it.”

  Bacco nodded. “Add to that how I managed to screw up things with them during the Borg invasion, and you have to start wondering what they might be doing behind those silken cloaks of theirs.” Looking up, she asked, “Leonard, you don’t think they’d share Shedai information or technology with the rest of their friends in the Typhon Pact, do you?”

  “Based on what we know of Tholian methods and their general xenophobia,” Akaar replied, “that just doesn’t seem likely, Madam President. Besides, everything we do know about what happened in the Taurus Reach indicates that even the Tholians don’t possess detailed knowledge of Shedai technology. In fact, from the reports I’ve read so far, the Tholians lived in fear of everything the Shedai represented, owing to how their ancestors were treated. They were terrified at the very notion of us venturing into that area of space a hundred years ago, and it’s why they never expanded into that region themselves. Hell, it’s a century later and they still haven’t branched out there.”

  “Yeah,” Bacco countered, “but that wouldn’t stop them from at least digging into whatever information they managed to collect, either from us or from other sources, and they’ve had a century to do that, just like we have. The question is whether they buried everything in a box somewhere like we did. Want to lay odds on that?”

  Stepping around the desk, Akaar said, “We need to isolate any data that might have some connection to the research Professor zh’Thiin and Dr. Crusher are conducting, separating it from the files flagged in the search and returning the rest to Archives. For now, that’s the safest place for that information.” He had already informed the president of his intention for a full, thorough review of all records surrounding Operation Vanguard at his earliest possible opportunity, to be carried out in secret and with the assistance of one or two trusted members of his staff—once he granted them the proper security clearances, of course. “Next,” he continued, “we start probing, trying to figure out how zh’Thiin and Crusher might have come across information that led them this way. I’m still not convinced we don’t have a breach somewhere, but given the coincidental timing of the Tholians being mad at us and forming the Typhon Pact, I’m not ruling anything out at this point.”

  Bacco released an audible breath, shaking her head. “Not even noon, and already the day feels like it’s eighteen hours old.” Turning from the window, she replaced the coffee cup in its saucer. “You know, Leonard, there are times when I really can’t wait for the next person to come in here and boot me out so I can go home.”

  “I take it from that, Madam President, that your security detail continues to thwart your efforts at constructing an escape tunnel beneath the Palais?”

  “Every night,” Bacco replied, laughing. As she rose from her chair, she offered Akaar a small smile. “By the way, Leonard, when it’s just the two of us, you know you can call me Nan, right?”

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am?” Akaar said, maintaining a neutral expression, as he always did whenever Bacco ventured down this path. Alone in her private sanctuary save for Akaar, with no aides or other staff members offering her information or waiting on her to issue instructions, she seemed to welcome the opportunity to relax and—for a few precious moments, at least—shrug off the weight and responsibilities of her office.

  Reaching up to rub her temples, Bacco released a tired sigh before laughing again. “You’re one of my most trusted advisors and closest friends, Leonard. I feel more comfortable talking to you than just about anyone else, and that includes the people who’ve served with me for years. I like that you and I come from such disparate backgrounds. You give me a perspective I don’t or can’t have, and I like that you don’t mince words and will tell me what I need to hear, no matter how badly I might not want to hear it. I think for all the value you provide as my counsel and perhaps even my conscience on occasion, you should call me Nan when we’re alone.”

  “As you wish, Madam President,” Akaar replied.

  Unable to contain a chuckle, Bacco said, “Never mind.” She waved him toward the door. “Go away.”

  “Thank you for your time, Madam President,” Akaar said, satisfied that he had done his part to help Bacco relieve some small amount of the stresses she carried along with her duties. Moving away from her desk, the admiral strode across the carpet toward the door.

  “Leonard,” he heard Bacco call out from behind him, and when he turned to face her, Akaar saw that the humor had faded from her features, her expression once again that of the dignified, committed Federation president.

  “Yes, ma’am?” he prompted.

  Gesturing toward the viewscreen, which still depicted the star chart highlighting the Gariman Sector—the Taurus Reach—she said, “Keep me informed.”

  Akaar nodded. “Understood, Madam President.”

  As he exited the presidential suite, the admiral’s mind continued to process the just-ended conversation, as well as the information he had absorbed during the previous night’s marathon reading of the unsealed records.

  Something about all of this definitely did not feel right, and though Leonard James Akaar had no idea what might be wrong, he knew that when he finally discovered what troubled him, he most definitely would not like it.

  No, he decided. I do not think I will like it at all.

  29

  “And that, my friends, is where baby Andorians come from.”

  Picard allowed himself a smile as Professor zh’Thiin’s comment drew the expected chorus of good-natured chuckles from the audience. The atmosphere in the Enclave ch
amber had been relaxed throughout the professor’s remarks, owing not only to her sense of humor but also the way she had presented what many might consider complex scientific principles in a straightforward, easily understood manner. Further, she had done so without talking down to her audience, responding to questions, comments, and criticisms with respect and enthusiasm. Even queries from those more interested in driving the discussion away from the science and toward the touchier social or political concerns were fielded with grace and aplomb.

  “She’s a very engaging speaker,” Picard said, keeping his voice low as he spoke to Lieutenant ch’Thane, who was seated to his left at the curved table facing the audience. The low table had replaced the podium on the dais, affecting an ambiance somewhat less formal than that which had characterized the previous day’s proceedings.

  Ch’Thane nodded. “She’s very passionate about her work.”

  That much was obvious to Picard. Zh’Thiin’s devotion to helping Andor was matched only by her desire to engage in honest dialogue with the very people who would benefit from what she was trying to accomplish.

  “All she wanted was an opportunity to speak,” said Presider sh’Thalis from where she sat to Picard’s right.

  The captain nodded. “I’d say she’s seized that opportunity.” Zh’Thiin’s approach was proving successful, if audience reaction was any indication. Even those who took exception to the professor’s work had managed to do so in a civil manner. Most of the vitriol Picard had witnessed on the previous day had come from a small handful of spectators, who at first had been given every opportunity to comport themselves in a more appropriate manner before finally being escorted from the chamber by members of the parliament’s security detail. Picard had instructed Lieutenant Choudhury and her people to let their Andorian counterparts assume responsibility for quelling such disturbances, not wishing to present even the merest hint of Federation or Starfleet influence on the proceedings. So far, that strategy appeared to be working, as those interactions he had witnessed between audience members and Enterprise personnel had been peaceful.

  Picard caught sight of several raised hands, and zh’Thiin pointed to a female Andorian seated near the center of the room. Standing, she bowed her head in greeting, and the captain saw that she was an older woman, by his estimate long past childbearing age.

  “Professor,” the woman said, “you’ve been quite candid about your work and the possibilities it holds for us, and I appreciate that you’ve not tried to marginalize the processes involved; but there are those of us who worry about the possible, unforeseen long-term effects of introducing a new, artificial genetic sequence into Andorian DNA. Are you not risking some unintended complication that may cause even greater damage in the future?”

  Zh’Thiin clasped her hands together as she regarded the woman. “That is an excellent question, and one that also poses several more questions. It would be dishonest of me to tell you that any attempt to manipulate genetic code is risk-free. There may well be unintended side effects to anything we attempt to do. That is the nature of biology, which as we all know does not remain static but instead adapts over time to be at harmony with its ever-changing environment. In fact, I believe that the problems we face are born from an apparent inability of Andorian physiology to evolve in accordance with a basic necessity for survival. Whether that is a natural phenomenon or perhaps the result of something artificial that has impacted us is an exploration for those with greater intellects than I possess.

  “What I have attempted to do is to minimize what you might label the inherent risks of introducing non-Andorian genomes.” Reaching into the folds of the multicolored robe she wore as part of the protocol for speaking in the Enclave chamber, she extracted a small device and pressed a control. A holographic projection appeared in the air before her, large enough to be seen throughout the chamber and displaying a computer-generated representation of what Picard recognized as a strand of Andorian DNA. “The new sequences I have developed are based on our own unique genetic code, though several components are composed of what I have come to call ‘dynamic interlinks,’ which are encoded into the chromosomes of a zygote taken after fertilization from the chan.” Pressing another key on her handheld controller, zh’Thiin caused the projection to rotate, and a section of the DNA strand expanded outward, enlarging and taking on much more detail.

  “This intermediary process takes place in a laboratory setting,” she continued, “during which the interlinking genetic code essentially examines its new environment and ‘rewrites’ itself in order to conform to whatever genetic gaps exist within the chromosomes. Once those changes take hold, the modified gamete is then introduced to the bondgroup’s host zhavey so that the remainder of the pregnancy can proceed normally.” Zh’Thiin paused, then offered another smile to her audience. “This is all a very sophisticated way of saying that the genetic code I have introduced is not that of an alien, but in fact an improved, adaptable form of our own, designed to accomplish in an artificial manner what I believe should have been a natural evolution of our physiology.”

  “There are those who would call that a usurping of Uzaveh’s will!”

  Shouted from somewhere near the back of the chamber, the comment had the immediate effect of causing everyone to turn in their seats, looking for the speaker. Picard’s eyes narrowed as he saw a male Andorian standing up and shaking a fist in the air. He scowled at zh’Thiin, his eyes burning with such hatred that the Enterprise captain immediately looked to where two members of the parliamentary security cadre stood at the back wall, their attention focused on the outspoken spectator.

  Zh’Thiin regarded the Andorian for a moment before asking, “Would Uzaveh go to such lengths to create something so unique as our species, only to see it wither and die? Why has Uzaveh given us the intellect and drive to seek knowledge, if the intention is not for us to employ what we learn as a means of surviving the tests nature sets out for us? Is Uzaveh’s will not that we take the gifts bestowed upon us and use them to better ourselves not only as individuals but also as a society?”

  The Andorian remained where he stood, shouting invective at zh’Thiin. “Perhaps this is a test, and we have failed! We lack the will to trust that Uzaveh will see us through these trials, and instead we choose to meddle with what we have been given. We are being punished for our arrogance!”

  Picard glanced toward the chamber’s upper tier and saw Lieutenant Choudhury standing near the ramp, tapping her combadge and pointing toward the main floor. At the back of the room, the two Andorian security officers moved from their positions and began heading toward the dissenter. Everyone around him moved aside in order to allow the security officers access, but the angry spectator stood his ground. Around the chamber, several animated conversations were breaking out, with audience members turning to one another, their expressions dark and their words heated. Both Andorian and Enterprise security personnel were on full alert now, watching the evolving situation and waiting for instructions.

  “Choudhury to Captain Picard!”

  Startled by the anxiety in his security chief’s voice, the captain tapped his combadge. “Picard here. What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “Sir, we’ve got a situation developing outside. Our security perimeter has been breached, and we have protesters on the grounds. I’ve put all forces on alert.”

  As if to accentuate Choudhury’s point, a trio of security officers from sh’Thalis’s protection detail emerged from behind the curtain at the left side of the stage, brandishing sidearms as they closed on the presider. Within seconds sh’Thalis was out of her chair and surrounded by her bodyguards.

  “Presider,” said one of the Andorians who obviously was in charge of the detail. “Please come with us.”

  Picard felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Lieutenant Peter Davila and Ensign Ereshtarri sh’Anbi standing behind him, both wearing their Starfleet dress uniforms. A glance to their waists told the captain that—for the moment, at least—their phasers
remained in their holsters.

  “Sir,” Davila said, “I’ve been instructed to take you, the professor, and Lieutenant ch’Thane to a secure area.”

  At least three dozen Enterprise security personnel and Homeworld Security soldiers had now entered the chamber, most of them dispersing among the crowd while others took up station at each of the exits. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Lieutenant,” he said, shaking his head.

  Davila frowned. “Sir, with all due respect, Commander Worf gave me explicit instructions to remove you from any perceived danger, and he also told me you’d say something like that.” His expression remaining deadpan, he added, “He also said that if I allowed you to overrule him, he’d kill me.”

  Despite the growing tension permeating the room, Picard managed a wry grin. “And we wouldn’t want that to happen, now, would we? Very well, Lieutenant. Make it so.”

  Rennan Konya hated technology. At least, he did at this particular moment.

  “Get that damned thing back up!” he shouted over his shoulder at Lieutenant Robert Mars, who bent over the portable computer workstation, his fingers tapping a frantic sequence of keys as he shook his head in frustration.

  “It’s not responding!” Mars called out. “My screen shows the entire force-field grid is off-line! It’s reading like a power failure, but I’m checking the relays and everything else is functioning normally.”

  Frowning, Konya asked, “No power interruptions? What about communications and the rest of the security grid?”

  A moment passed as Mars fed the necessary queries to the computer interface. “Everything else is up, including transporter and weapons inhibitors. It’s just the force fields.”