The Dark Veil

by James Swallow

  “What do you think they have in there?” Captain Riker came up to peer over Keru’s shoulder. “The animals in two by two?”

  “Sir?” The Trill didn’t grasp the reference.

  “An ark, Ranul. These beings have uprooted their entire civilization and they’re moving it wholesale.” The captain looked up, taking in the size of the generation ship. “You’ve got to admire the scope of it.”

  “How many of them do you think there are?”

  “Hard to know,” admitted Riker. “The only population numbers we have for the Jazari are based on best guesses and what little census data they were willing to give the Federation Council. It’s not a lot. Enough people to fill a major planetside capital city, maybe.”

  “Another mystery about them,” offered Vale, from the cabin. “Why so few?”

  Keru nodded to himself. A population that small was one major disaster away from an extinction-level event, and putting all their kind aboard a single ship seemed like a needless risk.

  Riker gave Vale a frown. “Don’t ask about that,” he told the commander. “We’ve got our foot in the door with them, diplomatically speaking, and I don’t want to turn it into an interrogation.”

  “I’ll be the model of decorum,” Vale replied.

  “Maybe we just ask them what changed their minds about their privacy,” said Keru as he brought the shuttle into line with the open maw of an illuminated landing bay. “Did they suddenly realize what it is they’re going to miss?”

  “Federation membership isn’t for everyone,” said the captain. “The Jazari have the right to choose their own destiny. It doesn’t matter what we think about their decision.”

  An automated guidance signal locked on to the Armstrong, and with a shudder, twin tractor beams flashed out to snare the shuttle and draw it inside. They passed through the phase envelope of a force-field barrier and settled gently onto a wide landing pad.

  Through the canopy, Keru saw Counselor Troi, his former crewmate Zade, and another Jazari he didn’t recognize. “No sign of the Romulans,” he noted. “Could be they’re a no-show.”

  “They’ll be here,” said Vale as she stood. “They won’t pass up the chance to poke around inside this vessel, as long as they get to do it on their terms.”

  Keru was the last out of the Armstrong, securing the shuttle before following the captain and the XO. He felt oddly underdressed without a sidearm and tricorder, but it had been made clear that the away team could carry nothing larger than a combadge on the generation ship.

  He took in the landing bay as he walked. It was easily big enough to have comfortably accommodated a Galaxy-class starship, with the majority of the space given over to huge storage racks where medium-tonnage Jazari vessels hung from the overhead. Antigravity skiffs moved back and forth overhead, carrying octagonal container modules and sheets of repurposed hull metal. One whole quarter of the chamber was turned over to a ship-breaker platform like the one that had imploded, and as Keru watched, the construct began to fold in on itself like a giant origami sculpture, collapsing its structure for storage elsewhere in the great vessel.

  He found Troi introducing the other, older Jazari male. “May I present Yasil? He’s one of the key members of the Governing Sept.”

  “Good day.” Yasil bowed and Keru attempted to do the same, a little stiffly. “Welcome, Captain Riker, Commander Vale, Lieutenant Commander Keru. I have heard much that speaks well of you.” He inclined his head toward Zade.

  Keru idly wondered if that included details of the Friday-night tongo games, but didn’t mention it. Zade seemed different here among his own kind, still a little stiff and reserved, but in some way, more alive.

  “Sir,” began Riker, “your willingness to accommodate my crew shows a generosity that is, quite frankly, unexpected. But it is very gratefully received.”

  “Yes.” Yasil cocked his head and gave a half smile. “I imagine you must think it very out of character for us. I will tell you this, Captain, not every Jazari wishes to follow an isolationist path.” He glanced at Zade, sharing the thought. “But our people are a consensus, with all that entails.”

  “I am sorry that this meeting between us has come at this time, that it had to be a near tragedy that made it happen.” Riker met Yasil’s steady gaze. “But I’m glad we have the opportunity.”

  Yasil’s smile faded. “We deeply regret that members of your crew were lost in this terrible accident. A number of our kind were also ended in the loss of the Reclaim Platform.”

  “We coordinate, and they are recollected,” Zade said somberly. Yasil gave him a glare, as if he had spoken out of turn.

  From the corner of his eye, Keru saw a flicker of blue light from the atmospheric barrier across the landing-bay entrance. A jade-green shuttlecraft with a bow like an eagle’s skull floated into the chamber, pinned between the same tractor beams that had brought in the Armstrong.

  The Romulan shuttle dropped smoothly onto the pad next to the Starfleet craft and the beams snapped off. Presently, the jaw of the eagle-head cockpit module dropped open, becoming an embarkation ramp.

  Keru stiffened as he saw the flash of a Romulan uniform. As a tactical officer, he was trained to think of Romulans as adversaries, and he had to work to rein in the instinct.

  Commander Medaka led the way off the shuttle, followed by the red-headed female officer Keru had seen briefly during their communication with the Othrys. The last being to leave was a good head taller than Medaka, and he had to duck under the nose of the craft as he exited. While Medaka was of average build and the woman slight and athletic, the big guy was thickset and muscular, broad but well maintained. Under other circumstances, he seemed the type that Keru might have bought a drink for in a shore-leave bar, but then their eyes briefly met and the pitiless glitter there killed that notion stone dead.

  Yasil gave Medaka the same formal welcome he had to Riker, and the Romulan commander introduced himself and his cohorts. The woman was Major Helek, his executive officer; Keru was pretty sure he detected a sour note when Medaka described her as such, and filed that observation away for later consideration. Helek graced the Jazari with a haughty nod, but she didn’t spare a glance for the Starfleet contingent. The bigger man was a centurion by the name of Garn, and he was clearly the muscle. Garn’s eyes swept the landing bay like the nodes of a targeting scanner, evaluating everything in sight in terms of threat potential.

  For their part, the Jazari did not appear to notice. “Our people wish to express their deep and heartfelt gratitude toward the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire,” said Yasil. “As a duly designated representative of the Governing Sept, please know that your combined actions in containing the spatial fracture that threatened this ship saved countless Jazari from a premature ending. For that, we will forever hold the crews of the Starship Titan and the warbird Othrys in great esteem.”

  Medaka glanced at Riker, and then spoke. “I believe Captain Riker will agree with me when I say we did what any principled being would do. We may have our differences, but out here that does not matter.”

  “Well said.” Captain Riker gave a nod.

  Silence fell, and the moment stretched, becoming awkward. At length, Major Helek shifted her stance and eyed the Jazari. “Is that… all?”

  Once again, Yasil and Zade exchanged an unreadable glance, and the older man went on. “I would like to show you what you saved. Many of our kind have lived their entire existence believing that we should shut ourselves off from other races, but not I. If you will come with us, we will show you our vessel, and you will grasp the magnitude of what this exodus means for us.”

  * * *

  An antigrav craft came to gather them up, a slim cylinder with a clear canopy that reminded Riker of the air trams used on many Federation worlds.

  It rose and entered a tunnel in the walls of the landing bay, accelerating past a blur of blank walls that suddenly fell away to reveal a transparent tube around them. And beyond, th
ey saw into the terrain of one of the ecodomes.

  “The Ochre Dome,” explained Zade, gesturing toward a landscape of greenery and orange-red rocks. “As Counselor Troi is now familiar with. It is one of twenty such environment chambers of similar dimension.”

  “Reminds me of Colorado,” said Riker, recalling childhood visits with his father to that part of Earth’s North American continent. “Good spot for a vacation.”

  “It’s pretty close,” his wife told him. “I wish our visit came in better circumstances.” Then Troi leaned in close so that only he would hear her. “I take it you saw the sigils on Major Helek’s baldric? The placement sends a hidden message to anyone who knows how to read them.”

  He made an educated guess. “She’s Tal Shiar?”

  “Undoubtedly. And she wants us to know it.”

  Riker took that in. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The transport flashed through another connecting tube and into a different environment. This one resembled an arctic tundra, and he caught sight of a herd of furred, yak-like animals roaming the landscape.

  “Each dome contains a representative sample of plant life and other species from our planet and…” Yasil paused, reframing his words. “And other worlds.”

  “Two by two,” Keru muttered to Riker.

  “I understand the intent to preserve these beasts,” said Helek, “but why do you require live ones? Surely gene samples placed in stasis would be a more efficient method of storage.”

  “We have extensive gene banks,” said Zade. “But there is something to be said for a living example.”

  “Do you consume their flesh?” The heavyset centurion broke his silence for the first time, his voice a low rumble. He asked as if he was interested in sampling the meat himself.

  “No.” Yasil’s expression became unreadable. “Ours is a mission of preservation and observation, nothing more.”

  The tube-way took them through a dome holding a pocket ocean and then another that resembled a desert of black basaltic sand, before emerging along the top of the great ship’s central fuselage. They passed around the glowing orb of a massive tetryon power core, and the two Jazari deftly and politely deflected every query Riker and Medaka posed about it. Then the transport capsule flew out over open storage bays, where worker drones beneath them were busy placing reclaimed starship parts and the last few cargo pods, in preparation for the departure.

  Troi engaged Yasil and Zade in conversation, and Riker found himself studying the view with Commander Medaka at his side.

  “It is an impressive feat of engineering,” offered the Romulan. “My civilization grew from colonists who once forged their way through the stars on ships like this.”

  “Humans from Earth did the same in the early days of space exploration, before the discovery of warp drive,” said Riker. “But nothing on this scale.”

  “Yes, I am aware.” Medaka caught Riker’s curious expression and smiled briefly. “I’m familiar with Terran culture. You are quite open with your history, Captain. You make it freely available. Unlike our hosts, who seem to thrive on mystery.”

  Riker’s lip curled. “Some might say the same thing about Romulans.” Nearby, Centurion Garn gave him a cold stare that was almost menacing.

  Medaka’s smile became genuine mirth, a wry grin. “The Romulan people are an open book, Captain. You just need to know how to read it.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  The commander’s voice dropped. “I’m sure you notice that the Jazari are only showing us what we could have seen for ourselves with a cursory visual sweep. I confess, this sudden openness on their part feels like a token effort to me. A way to stop us asking too many questions. Do you agree?”

  “Well, it’s not about what they show us, Commander,” Riker replied, “it’s the fact that they’re doing it at all that matters.”

  “And yet only Yasil and Zade are here to conduct us on this tour. I think you wonder, as I do, how the Governing Sept feels about the presence of aliens aboard their craft.” Riker said nothing, but privately he had to admit that the Romulan’s thoughts echoed his own. “How have your people been treated by them?”

  “Politely,” he noted, “but distantly.”

  “Little change from before.” Medaka nodded at his own statement. “You know they made the offer to us as well? I declined, politely, of course. Major Helek was quite upset by that. She felt a vital avenue of exploitable intelligence was being overlooked.”

  Down at the far end of the capsule, Riker saw Helek was interrogating Zade. “She has her chance now.”

  Their transport slowed, before turning on its own axis. It halted, then began to move back in the direction it had come, back toward the middle of the great ship. They passed by a section of the hull that had been raked with energetic pulses from the chaotic singularity, and patches of bright, new tritanium plate were clearly visible where they had been welded over hull breaches.

  Both men studied the damage, both knowing full well what such scarring could cost a starship. “It could have been so much worse,” said Riker. “It’s fortunate the Othrys was close enough to render assistance.”

  Medaka eyed him. “You mean, fortunate that we were close enough to be spying on you.”

  “If you say so.”

  The Romulan gave that rueful half smile again. “I hope you won’t be insulted if I tell you that observing the activities of the Titan is not at the top of my mission priority list.”

  “But it is on that list, right?” Riker decided to change tack, working to get the measure of his opposite number. “It occurred to me that you could have just let it happen back there. Your warbird was cloaked. You could have sat out the situation and watched the accident unfold. No one would have known. And I imagine Romulus would not have shed a tear to see a Starfleet ship lost.”

  Medaka gave Riker a sharp, searching look. “If I did that… what kind of person would that make me?” he asked. For a moment, he seemed to be caught between emotions, unsure if Riker was testing him or if the Starfleet officer genuinely thought the commander was capable of such a thing. Then it passed, and Medaka lost himself in the view across the Jazari vessel. “I grew up dreaming of being an explorer, of venturing to uncharted places such as our friends here will see,” he said, taking a long breath. “But until very recently I have been a military man. Now, for my sins, it seems, I have been given the very thing I wished for in my youth.” He gestured up at the stars. “I have a fine ship and the best crew available, beings from planets all across the Empire and its allies. We search for new worlds for the Romulan people. Such a laudable goal, and one I would delight in, were it not for the shadow cast over my mission.”

  “The supernova,” said Riker quietly.

  Medaka sighed. “We call it the star-death.”

  * * *

  “Where are your people?” Troi noted that Major Helek was unable to voice any query in a way that didn’t make it sound like a demand. “Do they fear us? Do they hide from outsiders?”

  “No.” Yasil’s head bobbed. “The great majority of our people are in, or are in the process of entering, a state of suspension.”

  “For the journey,” Zade clarified. “So that we might conserve our resources.”

  Troi’s attention was split equally between the Romulans and the Jazari, so much so that had she not been watching carefully, she might have missed the split-second microexpressions on the faces of their hosts. She didn’t see the indicators that most beings showed when they were skirting a truth. She only saw blankness, a nonexpression so bereft of meaning she could not parse it.

  Helek, on the other hand, was quite readable, even if she believed she was not. Her manner was caustic and arrogant in equal measures, and Troi guessed that she wasn’t used to acting within the realms of diplomatic niceties. As the Romulan secret police, the Tal Shiar and its agents moved unopposed through the Empire, with few willing to stand in the way for fear of incurring their wrath. It was plai
n Helek did not enjoy playing the role of a line officer, forced to feign interest in the Jazari’s elliptical manners.

  “What is your destination?” Again, Helek almost barked her inquiry.

  “We have identified a number of viable star clusters deep in the Beta Quadrant,” said Yasil. “The M-Class worlds orbiting those suns would be adequate for our needs, if we were to make a home there.”

  “You eschew the protection of the Federation and put yourself at the mercy of open space.” Helek put acid emphasis on the word protection. “I wonder what they must have done to drive you away.”

  “The Jazari have never chosen to become members of the Federation,” corrected Troi. “But we have always considered them respected friends and interstellar neighbors.”

  “The question still stands,” Helek replied.

  “Our destiny is not here,” said Zade. “Our collective has decided to seek it elsewhere.”

  While the two Jazari remained empathically unreadable, Troi sensed the edges of the Romulan woman’s emotional aura, felt them change and move. Helek was growing disinterested with the Jazari’s gracious obstructionism and she sought her sport somewhere else. The major turned her attention fully to Deanna Troi, not even attempting to mask her thoughts.

  She has to know I am an empath, thought Troi, so she’s deliberately showing her confidence.

  “How does your vessel fare, Commander Troi?” Helek asked, but gave her no pause in which to insert an answer. “You have civilian families and children aboard the Titan, do you not? Were any of them killed in the accident? Does Starfleet not consider such a thing to be irresponsible? How can such a policy do anything but impair the concentration of your crew?”

  She took a breath and Troi could finally cut in, replying to everything with equal pace. “Titan fares well. Yes, we do. None of them. Starfleet does not, and we manage perfectly well.”

  “You have given that answer before, I think,” said the major. “Your reply is well worn.” Before Troi could challenge that, Helek switched gears again, back to the Jazari. “What is the maximum faster-than-light velocity of this great ship? Does it use a phased-array warp matrix or a standard field model?” The Romulan woman’s practice of hectoring and changing the subject every few moments was wearing.