Star Trek: Typhon Pact 04 - Paths of Disharmony

by Dayton Ward

  Ch’Lhren cocked his head as he returned her critical gaze. “I have no idea what Eklanir was thinking, but I do not doubt he would have ordered your ship’s destruction if he felt it was warranted, just as he would have killed your captain and anyone else if it served his purpose.”

  “To what end?” th’Hadik asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “You would make an enemy of the Federation, now, when they’ve extended the hand of friendship to us yet again?”

  “Is that what they’ve done?” ch’Lhren asked, though his tone and the way he looked away from the commander suggested he was not truly seeking an answer.

  “Do you really think we’re your enemy?” Choudhury asked, aghast. How could someone harbor such sentiments? Did Andor’s long, shared history with the Federation mean nothing to people such as this?

  Pausing as though to ponder that question, ch’Lhren pursed his lips. “Whatever else you may be, I am certain you’re not my friend.”

  “Nor am I,” th’Hadik said, “and neither is Eklanir th’Gahryn, as he isn’t here to come to your aid. That’s unfortunate for you, as you’ll be the one standing trial for treason, conspiracy, and whatever other charges Presider sh’Thalis and the parliament see fit to bring against you.”

  For the first time, ch’Lhren smiled. “I suspect Presider sh’Thalis will be dealing with other issues in short order, which will certainly deflect her attention from someone such as myself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Choudhury asked. “What are you talking about? Another threat? Another attack?” She stepped forward, stopping herself before she could take things too far. “What’s left? We found you, and we’ll find th’Gahryn. It’s over. Soon, the entire planet will know what you tried to do, and what you were willing to do. They’ll see you for the renegade gang of lawless thugs and terrorists that’s all the Treishya really is. That’s what you’re celebrating and defending?” What had they missed? What was this bastard hiding?

  Ch’Lhren’s only reply was to stand in silence, smiling.

  41

  A chime sounded, echoing across the parliament chamber, and the gentle murmurings permeating the ornate hall faded.

  “Please be seated,” said a disembodied voice through the intercom system. “These proceedings will now come to order.”

  Standing at the rear of the Enclave chamber, Picard watched as the members of the Parliament Andoria moved to their designated places in the expansive meeting hall. Civilians and other members of the government who had been invited to observe the proceedings took seats around the chamber’s upper tiers. In accordance with the customs and traditions pertaining to formal gatherings of the esteemed governmental body, each of the parliament members wore formal, brightly colored robes. Picard knew that this hall, a substitute for the original Enclave chamber once located in Laibok and another casualty of the attack that had destroyed that city, lacked much of the grandeur of that revered meeting place. The assembled parliament members seemed not at all foiled by the missing splendor of their former meeting place, carrying on as best they could in their new surroundings. The gathering was still one of solemnity, with the members sitting in a circle on the main floor of the chamber’s lowest level. At the center of the assemblage, dressed in an alluring red robe that covered her from neck to feet, was Presider sh’Thalis.

  She looks tired, Picard thought, studying the presider as she watched the group before her. Sh’Thalis had spoken to no one since entering the chamber, skipping all pretense of geniality and instead moving directly to her station. Picard had watched as her security escorts, chief among them Commander th’Hadik, rebuffed the attempts of various representatives to approach her. For her part, the presider had busied herself with some manner of report or other work on the data reader she had brought with her, though Picard suspected her interest in whatever she might be reading was minimal, if it existed at all.

  “Jean-Luc.”

  Picard felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Beverly smiling at him. Without a word, he followed her to where Professor zh’Thiin and Thirishar ch’Thane stood near one of the chamber’s exits. The captain had not seen ch’Thane since the end of the Treishya raid on the parliament complex two nights earlier. While Picard and Beverly donned their Starfleet dress uniforms, ch’Thane and zh’Thiin wore formal black robes.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” ch’Thane said as the captain and the chief medical officer approached.

  Nodding, Picard replied in a soft tone, “Mr. ch’Thane,” before offering a greeting to zh’Thiin. Both Andorians looked none the worse for wear after their experience, which according to ch’Thane had primarily consisted of moving from one stand of shrubs to another, making their way from the building that housed the professor’s office to the Enclave chamber and the command post manned by members of Lieutenant Choudhury’s security detail. Their greatest challenge, according to zh’Thiin, had been avoiding the bushes with thorns and the occasional nest of bothersome insects.

  “I was startled to see that you had tendered your resignation from Starfleet,” Picard said, eyeing the young Andorian.

  Ch’Thane nodded. “I considered the matter at length before making my decision, Captain. I thought it was best so far as my continued working with Professor zh’Thiin. With everything that’s happened and the way public sentiment has shifted in its opinions of Starfleet and the Federation, I did not want to be an additional burden on the professor, not when we’re so close to being able to demonstrate to the world that her ideas will work.”

  Not exactly her work, Picard mused, though he kept the thought to himself. However Professor zh’Thiin had come into possession of the knowledge that ultimately had helped guide her research, and whatever judgment she may have lacked, her motives had been pure.

  “I understand,” Picard said, “and I respect your choice. Even though Starfleet has lost a talented and valuable officer, I cannot disagree with the desire to help your people. I wish you the best of luck, Thirishar.”

  Offering a slight, formal bow of respect, ch’Thane said, “Thank you, sir.” Then, he turned to regard the parliament members. “Do you know what’s going to happen?”

  “I honestly have no idea,” Picard replied. The Treishya’s assault on the compound and its attack on the Enterprise had fueled no shortage of activity within the parliament as well as regional governments at every level around the planet. In only the first few hours after the incident, reports of civil unrest were on the rise, with citizens massing in support as well as protest of the continuing Federation and Starfleet presence on Andor. Large, vocal groups had gathered outside the grounds of the Federation embassy as well as the headquarters of the Starfleet liaison in Lor’Vela. The on-site commander had already been in contact with the Enterprise, working with Lieutenant Choudhury to prepare in the event an evacuation of the embassy or the Starfleet installation became necessary.

  A hush fell over the chamber and Picard watched as Ledanyi ch’Foruta, the parliament’s deputy presider, rose to his feet. He took a moment to study the audience assembled before him, offering an occasional nod to a colleague. Picard’s gaze shifted to Presider sh’Thalis, and he saw that she was looking back at him. The captain felt an abrupt chill as he beheld the sadness in her eyes.

  “Greetings, representatives and honored guests,” ch’Foruta said, his voice carrying throughout the cavernous Enclave chamber. “I also welcome those of you watching us from points across our planet, as these proceedings are being broadcast live via all newsnet outlets. We are gathered here today to discuss matters of grave concern not only to the people of Andor, but also to those we would call friends and who, like the citizens of this world, desire only peace and security when they come to us in the spirit of inclusion and mutual cooperation.” His opening statement had an immediate effect on the representatives, many of whom turned to one another, speaking in tones far too low for Picard to hear from his perch.

  “The incidents of discord that have plagued us in recent d
ays trouble me, my friends,” the deputy presider continued, “just as I know they trouble you. There are many who view the incident that took place on these grounds to be an act of dissatisfied citizens yearning for their government to recognize them and to hear their pleas. While that may be true of some of those who feel disenfranchised or simply forgotten altogether, what took place here two nights ago was nothing less than a criminal act; an act of aggression, intended to sow the seeds of fear not only into our society, but also into those sworn to lead it. It was, quite simply, terrorism. And we allowed it to happen right before our very eyes.”

  Now Picard saw several more animated responses from the audience, including both the nodding and shaking of heads, mild applause, and even a few fists shaken in the air. All of this, despite whatever rules of etiquette likely existed in this place.

  “I know that there are many among us in this room who agree with at least some of the ideals the Treishya claims to espouse,” ch’Foruta said, “just as I know that these same supporters have denounced that group’s violent tactics. Many of you represent segments of the population who also support the views of such groups, who wish to be heard, but we must entertain divergent viewpoints in civilized fashion. An agenda or ideal cannot be forced upon a citizenry through fear and threats. If we allow that, then we risk descending into chaos.

  “However, what we also cannot afford, what can simply not be allowed, is failure to act. We have been entrusted with a sacred responsibility, and it is our duty to take those actions we feel are necessary to preserve order, and to ensure the safety of those to whom we have pledged our service. Our actions must be swift, they must be bold, and they must be decisive. We must demonstrate that we, and not groups like the Treishya, are in control.” This generated raucous applause from the assembled representatives, their reaction cascading around the chamber. Picard, Beverly, and ch’Thane sat motionless, but the captain was certain he heard zh’Thiin emit a snort of derision.

  “He supports the Treishya,” she said, shaking her head in obvious disdain. “This is all theater; chest thumping to stir up the masses.”

  Ch’Foruta waited for the applause to dwindle before saying, “There is also the matter of the controversial research into altering Andorian physiology in order to resolve our procreation crisis. Whatever your view on this sensitive topic, arguing from a position of ignorance is not constructive. Gifted individuals like Marthrossi zh’Thiin have devoted great time and effort to solving this problem, and we must be open-minded in the spirit of helping our people through these dark times. And while it’s worth noting that their work was assisted in large part by a former enemy, this is offset by the knowledge that this one-time adversary may well have delivered to us our salvation.” There was renewed applause, but ch’Foruta held up a hand, ushering everyone once more to silence. “The larger issue is the very lack of assistance from our friends, who have by their own admission been in possession of the same knowledge given to us by the Tholians.”

  This is it, Picard thought. This is why we’re here.

  “Our friends,” ch’Foruta said, pointing to where Picard and Beverly stood, “have held this knowledge in secret for more than a century.” Nearly everyone in the chamber looked to Picard, and it took all of the captain’s self-control not to react to the hundreds of eyes now focused upon him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Beverly remaining equally still, and there was no mistaking the escalating tension that had just filled the room.

  “They kept it cloaked in shadow,” ch’Foruta said, “all while watching as our civilization dwindled. Were they simply ignorant, or was this a deliberate choice? We do not know. We may never know, not that it matters. The damage has been done.”

  Picard watched as the deputy now directed an accusatory finger at sh’Thalis. “And even as we come to terms with the deception, the indecisiveness, or the simple cowardice exhibited by our supposed partners in peace, there are those among us who continue to court the Federation’s good graces. Why? Our world has suffered calamitous destruction on a scale never before seen in its history. Many of our largest cities have been wiped from the face of our planet, because the Federation squandered every opportunity to prepare for an enemy of which they’ve been aware for decades. When the time came to defend against that threat, they were not ready, and now dozens of worlds and billions of people have been lost. Our planet might well have been counted among those casualties if not for the wildest stroke of good fortune.”

  Not giving the audience time to react, ch’Foruta’s voice rose until it echoed off the chamber walls. “Honored representatives, we cannot lead while hoping for fate to smile upon us, just as we cannot govern in the face of the chaos these grievous failures have inflicted upon our people. Presider sh’Thalis would have us believe that we cannot proceed until we discuss the matter—amongst ourselves and with our Federation partners. Meanwhile, our streets are filled with those looking to us for guidance, and we must show it to them now, without hesitation or evasion, or we will be showing them nothing more than the dishonesty and betrayal they already have suffered at the hands of our alleged friends. None of that is possible, so long as our leaders fail to act, or take action believed by our people to be detrimental to their best interests.”

  Leaning closer to Beverly, Picard asked in a low voice, “Where is all this going?” The question burned in his mind even as he looked once more to Presider sh’Thalis. While she sat ramrod straight in her chair, a look of defeat clouded her features, and Picard realized at that moment what ch’Foruta was about to do.

  No.

  “For the sake of returning stability to this government,” the deputy presider said, “so that we can proceed with leading in a responsible manner for the safety and security of all our people, I now move for a vote from the floor, to determine Presider sh’Thalis’s fitness to retain her office.”

  42

  Nanietta Bacco did not so much recline into her chair as collapse into it. She felt drained. No, that was not at all right. She felt numb. It was as though every iota of energy had been siphoned from her body, leaving behind a spent shell.

  And this shell needs to pull itself together, and get back to work.

  Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, drawing what she wished could be a deep, calming breath. The events of the past few hours still weighed on her, and Bacco knew that the sensation washing over her was but the beginning of what she would feel in the hours, days, and weeks to come. All she wanted at this moment was to run from this place as fast as her legs would carry her, and find some private beach on which to lose herself. Better yet, she wanted a dark hole, in which she could hide until the present madness faded, assuming it ever did.

  “Madam President.”

  Bacco opened her eyes with a start, blinking in rapid succession and turning in her chair to see Admiral Akaar standing just inside the entrance to her office. Behind the tall, imposing Capellan, Sivak regarded her with the Vulcan equivalent of embarrassment. Obviously, Akaar had barged past her personal assistant’s desk, determined to see her without the pomp and circumstance—to say nothing of simple courtesy—involved in a proper announcement or introduction.

  “If you’re not here to tell me I’ve been imagining the past couple of days,” she said, eyeing Akaar, “then get out.”

  The admiral shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Madam President.”

  Bacco said, “Fine. You can stay. In fact, why not take my job? I’m apparently not very good at it, anyway.”

  Akaar stepped farther into the office, allowing the doors to close behind him, and regarded her with an almost paternal air. “Madam President,” he began, but stopped when she held up her hand.

  “No, Leonard, I mean it. What the hell happened? How did we let things get this far? After everything the Federation has endured, it’s come down to this? Petty squabbling among ourselves?” The news of Presider sh’Thalis’s removal from office by the Parliament Andoria had begun rocketing through Federation Ne
ws Service broadcasts within moments of the official announcement. During the ensuing four days, the FNS and other news media outlets had been forced to fill air time and space in their various publications with speculation as to the current political situation on Andor, owing to a planetwide blackout for news and communications ordered by the parliament for all data traffic going off world. No one, it seemed, knew anything, and speculation was running rampant.

  As shocking as this development was, Bacco had suspected something like it might happen from the moment the parliament locked themselves in their meeting chamber for days of intense debate. Bacco had been kept apprised of the situation by the presider’s aides as well as sh’Thalis herself, as the parliament members argued over how best to proceed in the wake of the Tholian ambassador’s contentious message to the Andorian people. According to the updates the president had received, the parliament was sharply divided on the issue. Less than half of the representatives supported sh’Thalis as she sought to move away from the desire to cast blame on the Federation and instead focus on what she considered to be the topics of primary importance. Pursuing Andor’s ongoing reconstruction efforts and resolving the reproductive crisis were her agenda, neither of which—sh’Thalis believed—could be accomplished without continuing Federation support and assistance.

  The majority saw things differently.

  “Unbelievable,” Bacco said, reaching up to massage the bridge of her nose. “It’s been four days since they ousted her. We should have been able to do something. I should’ve done more.”

  “I doubt there was anything you could’ve done, Madam President,” Akaar said. “Presider sh’Thalis and her allies in the parliament were simply outnumbered by their enemies. We knew when she was elected by such a narrow margin that she would never have an easy time of it.”