by Dayton Ward
Marshall shook his head. “Perhaps not the home planet, but the colony has potential. Even after the threats leveled against them, they’ve handled this situation with remarkable poise and grace. There may be a bright side to this whole thing after all.”
“Starfleet wanting that base on their planet doesn’t hurt, either,” Gold countered.
To the captain’s surprise, Marshall did not refute the observation or even respond with his usual air of irritation. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a factor, Captain. Given what the Federation has been through, we need eyes, ears, and friends wherever we can find them.”
Before Gold could comment further, the whistle of the ship’s intercom filled the air.
“Bridge to Captain Gold,” called the voice of Lieutenant Commander Mor glasch Tev, the da Vinci ’s second officer. “Commander Gomez is hailing us from the surface and is requesting to speak with you and Ambassador Marshall.”
“Put her through, Tev,” Gold replied, directing his attention to the viewscreen on the conference lounge’s far wall. The image on the display shifted from a schematic of the da Vinci to the face of Sonya Gomez.
“What can we do for you, Gomez?” he asked. Though her appearance was as immaculate as always, Gold noted the shadows under his first officer’s eyes and her slightly paled complexion. Gomez and her teams had been working steadily for weeks on their current assignment and the strain was beginning to show around the edges, but Gomez herself had also been pulling double duty as she kept Marshall apprised of the current situation. The diplomat had deluged her with his various requests, demands, and whatnot for weeks now.
Gold had wanted to step in and say something, but this mission was one of those rare occasions where the S.C.E. team’s autonomy worked in Marshall’s favor. Gomez and her team had received their orders on this mission directly from Captain Montgomery Scott, head of the S.C.E. back at Starfleet Command. Scott’s superiors had directed full cooperation and support for Marshall’s mission to the Rhaaxan system, leaving Gold and the rest of the da Vinci crew as little more than interested bystanders.
Gomez had taken a small away team to investigate one of the prime target areas on Rhaax III’s southern-most continent, a scientific research laboratory that was one of several sites suspected of housing secret weapons development operations. Even before she replied, a twinge in his gut told Gold that for Gomez to want to talk to both him and Marshall, she must have found something noteworthy.
His instincts were confirmed as soon as he heard the commander’s voice.
“Hello, Captain,” Gomez said. “I’ve got good news and bad news. We’ve found evidence of advanced biogenics research. Advanced for them, anyway. Their level of technology is roughly equivalent to mid-twenty-second-century Earth.”
“So they do have biogenic weapons?” Gold asked.
On the screen, Gomez shook her head. “Not yet, sir, but they’ve been working hard to create just the type of weapon they threatened to use against the colonists. If they keep to the same track they’re currently on, they’ll be able to field a weapon in about eighteen months.”
Leaning forward in his chair, Marshall’s brow furrowed as he listened to Gomez’s report. “Commander, what do you mean by ‘keep to the same track’? I take it you haven’t given us the bad news yet.”
Gold noted not only a distinct pause after Marshall’s question, but also a fleeting look of unease on Gomez’s face. Was she hesitating for some reason?
Whatever was giving her doubts, she got control of it quickly before replying.
“We’ve scanned their computer records, Ambassador, and found a lot of data on numerous failed experiments they’ve conducted over the last several years. The thing is…”
Her voice trailed off and Gold again saw the uncertainty in her eyes. What was wrong with her? Was whatever she and her away team discovered that serious?
“Gomez?” he prompted after a few more seconds.
“Captain,” she continued, “even with the conclusions reached during some of these botched attempts, they got close to a solution a couple of times without even realizing it. Someone could actually stumble across a correct biogenic sequence by accident and have the makings of a superweapon in just a few months. Sooner, if they push it.”
Neither Gold nor Marshall said anything as the revelation sank in. Though the Rhaaxan government had been bluffing when they had threatened the colonists with a global weapon, they had been working to create just such a device. Had the means been at their disposal, would the assembly have actually authorized its use?
Anxiety clouding his features, Marshall looked to Gold. “What do you suggest we do about this?”
To Gomez, the captain said, “Gomez, impound any research data and material you feel relevant to your discovery. Have it transported back to the ship for further analysis.” Then he looked to Marshall. “Knowing just how close the Rhaaxans are might be good information to have at some point.”
“One more thing, Captain,” Marshall added. “I recommend that we refrain from discussing what the commander’s found with anyone, not even any of the other inspection teams, at least until we have the situation completely under control.”
Gold did not like the idea of keeping potentially vital information from the rest of the crew, particularly those involved in inspections around the planet, but he could see the ambassador’s point. “I’m going to have to agree with Mr. Marshall. Pass the word to the rest of your team, and let’s keep this under wraps for now.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll take care of it. Gomez out.”
As the communication ended and the viewscreen went dark, Marshall said, “Meanwhile, your people should finish out the inspections. There’s no telling what else they might find.”
Gold agreed, knowing that the ambassador would use the time to continue mediating discussions between the Rhaaxans and the colonists, working to find some common ground upon which to build a peaceful, lasting solution that would eventually allow the Federation to welcome new members.
Good luck, the captain mused.
CHAPTER
3
“…the makings of a superweapon in just a few months. Sooner, if they push it.”
Even as she reached out to silence the playback of the recorded message, the human female’s voice continued to ring in Randa Palakur’s ears.
Could it be true? Did mere months, possibly weeks, separate the people of Rhaax from unlocking power of a type unmatched in their history? The Starfleet engineers seemed to have confirmed it, apparently choosing to keep that information to themselves.
“Do you need to hear it again, Prefect?” A voice from the seat next to hers broke Randa’s thoughts, reminding her that she was still in the meeting that Shalowon, her director of security, had requested in her private chambers.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” she replied. “How did you come to have this transmission?”
Shalowon leaned closer to her, his features turning smug. Dressed as he was in the normal dark green uniform of the security service, impeccably tailored to his muscular physique, and contrasting sharply with his pale orange skin, the confident smile he affected made him seem even more dangerous than Randa knew him to be.
“My people have been monitoring the Federation teams’ communications since their arrival,” he said. “There was little of interest until we heard this exchange just today.”
“I suppose it was prudent to eavesdrop, Shalowon, given the circumstances,” Randa said, “but allow me to feel a little uncomfortable that we have reached such a point with the Federation.”
“I am starting to forget why we wanted them here in the first place, Prefect,” Shalowon replied, straightening in his seat. “I daresay our problems with the colony might be manageable without their interference.”
Randa allowed the security director his jaundiced view, despite the fact it was he who coordinated the ill-fated military action against the colony that had resulted only in a decima
tion of the Rhaaxan forces not equipped for such an engagement. Shalowon made no secret of his belief that Rhaaxan armies were hamstrung by the reluctance of the assembly to use all military options at their disposal, and his pronouncements of that view only served to turn a wave of popular sentiment against the leaders who authorized the attack. That led to the assembly’s attempt to threaten the colony with a nonexistent biogenic weapon, a threat that was defused by the very Federation officers invited by the assembly to help mediate the whole affair. Randa knew Shalowon remained convinced that the colonists’ fears of biological warfare would have led to the dissolution of the jurisdictional pact and paved the way for Federation admission.
“Prefect,” another voice said from across the table, “if I may?”
Randa smiled a bit as Malik leaned forward in his chair, noticing the cool look he directed toward Shalowon. Her aide had long been a supporter of the colony’s interests during discussions of the Rhaaxan Assembly. Of them all, Malik had spent the most time in person at the colony, making visits there as part of numerous official delegations. The content of his remarks would not likely come as a surprise, but Randa had grown to appreciate his perspective on Rhaaxan issues as they might relate to the colonists.
“You have been uncharacteristically silent, my friend,” she said. “Please, share your thoughts.”
“I think even Shalowon would agree that the objective eyes of the Federation delegation serve both Rhaaxans and the people of the settlement on Numai. It is a potentially volatile triangle of negotiation we find ourselves within, but no one side is pitted against any other.”
“If the Federation is poring over our databases and preventing our scientists from reaching research goals,” Shalowon countered, “that should be enough reason to believe they have sided with the colony and have lost interest in what we have to offer.”
Holding out his hands in a gesture of supplication, Malik said, “Or maybe they are just protecting us from ourselves.”
“Both of you, please,” Randa said, hoping she could separate the men from their personal agendas for the time being. “Shalowon, the Federation is not preventing us from accomplishing anything. They merely observed that we were closer than we realized in our research. Given the circumstances, their alarm is justified. But we know they will see many things we cannot, and that benefits us more than it harms us. Their resources and technology are much greater than ours, and that is but one reason we have petitioned for membership these past years.”
“Then why aren’t they offering to help?” Shalowon asked. “Surely they can…”
“Help create a weapon?” Malik laughed derisively. “The Federation is not in the business of giving a society the means to subjugate another people.”
Shalowon glowered at the political adviser. “We are one people, Malik, although I am sure you and the colonists think that we are some sort of oppressors waiting to strike.”
“We threatened to wipe them out with a weapon….”
Shalowon cut him off. “It was a bluff.”
“With a weapon,” Malik repeated, this time with an edge in his voice, “that we seem very close to be developing for real!”
“Enough!” Randa surprised herself with the force of her outburst. “I called you here to offer me clear counsel, so set your tempers aside. I recognize now that our rush to threaten the colony was wrong. Regardless of where our research on biogenic agents may be, we have agreed to halt it. This is not the issue at hand now.”
Shalowon spoke with a softened tone. “You heard the Starfleet woman as clearly as I did, Prefect. Do you not agree that the issue must be revisited? We must be on the verge of a discovery that will make the colonists seriously consider our intent to establish our authority there. Continuing our research and reviewing our studies allows us to have the option of force should we need it.”
Randa paused, searching her mind once again for a means through which she could convince the people of two worlds to share her vision. She felt so close to a solution that it seemed tangible: an alliance with the Federation that would benefit Rhaaxans as well as the Numai colony, and possibly provide a way for the colony to enjoy its independent state while securing enforceable trade agreements vital to life on Rhaax.
Have we come to this?
Turning to Malik, she said, “If only I could understand why the colony so strongly opposes the idea of joining the Federation.”
“You have answered part of your own question, Prefect, and you don’t even realize it,” Malik said and offered a smile. “Centuries have passed, yet we on Rhaax still refer to the Numai settlement as a colony; our colony. Look at how things have evolved there. Yes, we remain one people, as Shalowon said. Many on Numai want to honor the original pact and rejoin the fold under one jurisdiction. However, they want to do it as a union of two equals, not as one government exerting its authority over another. In a sense, a growing number of those on Numai see a Federation membership as trading one offworld ruler for another. Their world is thriving and expanding. In recent years, we on Rhaax have demonstrated only that we are growing in our dependence on them.”
“We do depend on them,” Randa admitted. “Their shipments of ores and energy sources have become necessary for our economy’s continued growth. But, Malik, surely the colo—well, the Numai settlement’s leaders recognize that we continue to offer them a great deal of support as well?”
“They certainly do recognize that, and are willing to lord it over us when the time is right,” Shalowon said. “Without adherence to the pact as written, the colony could simply abandon its trade with us. It would not surprise me if they secretly want to ally with the Federation on their own, without us.”
Malik said, “I can assure you, Prefect, that is not the case.”
“But you can see,” Shalowon said, “the Federation is courting us because it has its eye on the colony. From a strategic point of view, Rhaax offers nothing. Without something to tie us together, we have no unique appeal to a group of worlds as vast and as diverse as the United Federation of Planets. But the colonists might enjoy individual membership in a group that lets them avoid their obligations to Rhaax while we wither away and die.”
Randa felt a growing sense of alarm as Shalowon voiced precisely what she secretly feared. Rhaax might have bluffed about having a biogenic weapon to wield against the colony, but the colonists did not need to bluff about the potentially devastating weapon they themselves held, one born of dependence. All that was required was for the colonists to cease interplanetary trade with Rhaax. Should colony leaders ever wish to bend the wills of the Rhaaxan people, the merest threat of such action would carry the weight of a dozen attack fleets.
“Can’t the colonists see how Federation membership is best for us both, Malik?” She was unable to keep the sound of a plea from her voice. “Don’t they understand that benefits are afforded to us both?”
Her aide paused before answering. “I am getting the idea, Prefect, that Shalowon’s opinions of the Numai settlers’ motivations are starting to color yours. Do you think that they are plotting against Rhaax?”
I wish I knew.
Her failure to say anything after a moment seemed to be answer enough for Malik. Nodding in resigned acceptance, he rose from the table and bowed his head. “At this point, I have little to add to this conversation, so if you will excuse me, I will return to my duties.”
As she watched Malik leave the chamber, Randa hoped she might not hear any gloating words from Shalowon. It would make what she had to say that much more difficult. She turned to her remaining advisor but could not meet his gaze. Thankfully, he held his tongue.
“Please notify the science ministry of this new development,” she said softly. “It might be best if they reviewed their studies and pursued new courses with haste.”
“Say no more, Prefect,” Shalowon said, nearly springing to his feet. “I cannot help but think this is the best way to proceed.”
Randa kept her eyes on the t
able and slowly nodded.
But at what cost?
CHAPTER
4
Absently sipping from his glass, Fabian Stevens tried to clear his head of the day’s events while sitting in the fourth new eatery he had tried in a week.
His feet and lower back ached from hours of walking, scouring warehouses and industrial sites, scanning and rescanning areas that raised the concerns of security specialists, peering into storage containers of all types, and ultimately writing and submitting reports for everything that he saw and, more typically, did not see. He had lost track of the times this routine had been repeated. Now that he had finished this latest site inspection, he and his team would be transported to the next location fitting the profile for weapons manufacture or storage and begin the seemingly futile process all over again.
In the weapons department, as far as Stevens was concerned, Rhaax III was turning out to be a dud.
He politely held off his meal order for a third time from a passing server, a heavyset Rhaaxan woman whom Stevens could tell was losing her interest in him. He arched his spine against the unyielding wooden back of his seat, an uncomfortable bench in a cramped booth situated in what he hoped would be an inconspicuous area of the eatery.
Given the political climate of Rhaax III these days, he thought a low profile might be best for him and any fellow S.C.E. members, should they still join him for dinner as planned. A few weeks ago, Captain Gold had given permission for the crew to visit the planet during their off hours, and it had not taken long for Stevens to set his tastes on a small resort town in the planet’s temperate zone, one with a respectable pub in walking distance to a quiet beach.
That was before the Rhaaxan Assembly decided a few days ago to restrict the travels of Starfleet personnel to the limits of the capital city of Longon. The entire area was grimy and unappealing in Stevens’s eyes, nothing if not the polar opposite of a resort town, and he found his amusement factor for all of Rhaax III dropping several notches since the dictum. Now, he was weighing the relative merits of his current surroundings with that of the mess hall back on the da Vinci.
