Grand Designs

by Dayton Ward

  Gold shook his head. “Out of the question. We have no way of knowing how many innocent people are aboard, not to mention I have an away team over there right now.”

  “Captain,” he heard Ambassador Marshall say from behind him, “we may reach the point where choosing between a small number of people on that station and billions on the planet is our only option.”

  Ignoring the diplomat, Gold turned to the science station. “Gomez, Stevens. What have you got?”

  “If we can get close enough,” Stevens replied, “we might be able to target the exhaust ports for the purge system with phasers, but it’ll require pinpoint precision.”

  “What about disabling the station itself?” the captain asked. “Targeting its engines or locking on with a tractor beam and pulling it away from the planet?”

  Gomez stepped away from the science station. “It’s too big for our tractor beam, sir, and even if we knocked out its engines, its momentum would still carry it into the atmosphere.”

  “And if we disable the exhaust ports,” Stevens added, “they could still release the tanks manually, and there’s no way to be sure they’d burn up during reentry without releasing their contents.”

  From the viewscreen, Randa said, “Captain, if you do not try, the colonists are certain to unleash that poison upon us.”

  “Prefect,” Gold said, trying very hard to keep his emotions in check, “unless we have a solution with a reasonable chance of success, all we’ll do is help them put their plan into motion sooner. Sunset doesn’t fall on the capital city for two more hours. Let my people have that time to find another option.”

  Randa shook her head. “If you are unable to act, then you leave me with no other alternative.” The prefect then turned to someone offscreen. “Send the signal.”

  “What are you doing, Prefect?” Gold asked.

  Returning her attention to him, Randa replied, “I have dispatched orders to one of my military vessels, which has been maintaining a concealed position on the far side of the moon orbiting Rhaax V. It carries twenty-four ballistic missiles, which have been armed with a biological weapon of our own devising.”

  “You’re lying,” Gold countered. “All conventional weapons were accounted for weeks ago.”

  “Please, Captain, give my military advisers credit. They are long practiced in concealing information and matériel from the prying eyes of inspectors and accountants. Removing the missiles from the inventory databases was child’s play, though arming them with the biogenic agent was a bit more difficult.” Pausing, she smiled grimly. “Actually, I have you and your crew to thank for that. If not for the revelation provided by Commander Gomez, we would never have been able to complete our weapons research, to say nothing of employing it with such speed.”

  The Rhaaxans had been monitoring communications between the da Vinci and the inspection teams. It was the only logical explanation for the prefect’s comments. They had taken what Gomez and Stevens had found and run with it, developing some perverted weapon that would allow them to make good on the bluff that had started this entire mess in the first place.

  David Gold did not like being used, by anyone, and it was only with a physical effort that he forced his features to remain fixed. “Prefect,” he began, but got no farther before Randa interrupted him.

  “I have also sent my own message to Prefect Erokan,” she said. “The rebels on the space station must immediately surrender themselves and allow the platform to be boarded, or else the missiles will be launched. If they follow through with their attack, the missiles will still be launched.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Marshall said. “Prefect, surely you realize what you’re proposing?”

  “Indeed I do, Ambassador,” Randa replied. “I cannot stand by and allow my people to be threatened. Either we will all live through the day, or none of us will.”

  Silence engulfed the bridge as the communication was severed, with only the background sounds of the various consoles and the omnipresent hum of the da Vinci ’s engines to fill the void.

  “Mutually assured destruction,” Gold said after a few seconds, “otherwise known as an interplanetary game of chicken. I never thought I’d live long enough to see anyone engage in such insanity.”

  The question now was: Which side would flinch first?

  CHAPTER

  9

  “That lying witch!”

  Standing next to Pattie in one of the orbital platform’s cargo bays along with nearly fifty Rhaaxan workers and covered by a squad of at least twenty armed colonists, Tev watched as Tamaryst nearly lost control of his temper. The muscular Rhaaxan’s fists clenched so hard that they shook visibly, and the commander was sure he might lash out at one of his subordinates at any moment.

  Tamaryst turned to glare at Tev with unfettered rage. “This is the result of your Federation’s interference,” he said, pointing to the viewscreen mounted to the bulkhead of the cargo bay, where, only seconds before Prefect Randa had issued her response to the colony leader’s ultimatum. “All this time, they were looking for a way to crush us, and you provided them with the answer. None of this would be happening if you had simply left us alone.”

  Snorting in derision, Tev replied, “Are you saying we drove you to create whatever hellish brew you have stored in those tanks? Was it the Federation who put a weapon to your head and forced you to take up arms against your own people?”

  “Commander,” Pattie said, her voice low and her tone one of warning.

  Tev ignored her, instead pointing to the now inactive viewscreen. “And we didn’t give the Rhaaxans anything, either. If Randa and her people have a weapon to deploy against you, then it’s one of their own devising. They couldn’t have come this far this fast without having done a lot of the research for themselves.”

  “Research they would not have conducted if their minds had not been poisoned with thoughts of joining the Federation.” Clearly angry now, Tamaryst stepped closer. “Perhaps there is sufficient blame to share among all of us, Starfleet, but to deny that your presence here has been a disruption to our way of life is arrogant hypocrisy at best and criminal negligence at worst.”

  Suddenly he turned his attention to the rest of the people being held in the cargo bay, and Tev watched in admiration as the Rhaaxan’s features molded from angered and scowling to warm and inviting, almost as if he had tripped some sort of emotional switch.

  “I want to thank all of you for your cooperation,” Tamaryst said, holding his arms wide in a display of entreaty. “Rest assured that if you continue to behave as you have, you will not be harmed.”

  “Then what?” Tev heard a voice call out from behind him. “What about those of us trapped up here on the space stations?”

  “Yes,” another voice said, “once you’ve destroyed our home, what’s to prevent you from killing the rest of us?”

  “Enough!” the Rhaaxan snapped, making a chopping gesture with his right hand as he continued to pace. To Tev, it seemed that Tamaryst was beginning to doubt the orders he presumably was following, but could he also be starting to question his conviction for carrying out this heinous act in the first place?

  More to himself than anyone else, Tamaryst said, “It will do no good to order the Starfleet ship to destroy Randa’s missiles. The captain will refuse, and I cannot keep threatening to use the jurolon in order to command obedience. Sooner or later, they will force us to act or retreat.” He shook his head. “Why does Prefect Erokan not advise us?”

  As Tamaryst stopped his pacing and gazed thoughtfully at the deck plating for several seconds, Tev could see the rebel leader struggling with his own emotions and thoughts as he fought to reach a decision. The longer the Rhaaxan stayed in one place and said nothing, the larger the knot of anxiety in Tev’s stomach grew.

  “If we surrender now,” Tamaryst said after a few moments, “there will be nothing to stop Randa and the Assembly from ordering our destruction. Therefore, our only choice is to attack now, while we
have the advantage.”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Tev shouted, his voice laced with such fury that the Rhaaxan and even a few of the guards moved back a step. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Prefect Randa has already dispatched weapons of her own to destroy Numai, and her orders are to launch those missiles if you don’t surrender this station. If you attack, so will she, and everyone will lose everything. What’s the point of that?”

  Beginning to pace the open area in front of the prisoners, Tamaryst said, “It is better to die free than to live as slaves.”

  “How very dramatic of you,” Tev replied, making no attempt to hide his disdain, “and that’s fine if you’re making the decision for yourself. However, you don’t have the right to make that choice for billions of others. A good many people down on Rhaax support Numai’s position in all of this. Are you planning to kill them, too? Does that chemical of yours distinguish between friend and foe?”

  Seeing the momentary doubt on the Rhaaxan’s face, Tev pressed forward. “Tell me something, Tamaryst. Let’s say that everything works out today and you get to go home, with your freedom and whatever else you manage to coax out of the Rhaaxan people. What will you do then? Your supporters down on the planet won’t appreciate being used as pawns by you and your leaders, and you’ll have lost their backing for all time. From this point forward you’ll have to rely on threats and fear to get anything from the Rhaaxans, because they’ll never trust you enough to deal with you in good faith ever again.”

  For a fleeting moment, as Tamaryst said nothing, Tev thought he might be getting through to the rebel leader and imagined he saw the hesitation in the Rhaaxan’s eyes.

  Then, it was gone, replaced by a steely determination that made Tev’s blood run cold.

  “You are right,” Tamaryst said. “Our relationship with the Rhaaxans has been damaged forever. There seems to be no compelling reason to continue it any longer.”

  The blunt statement was punctuated by the Rhaaxan’s pivoting on his heel and walking away, leaving Tev, Pattie, and the rest of the prisoners to stare after him, many of them looking on with jaws slackened in horror.

  On the bridge of the da Vinci, David Gold was considering his options and not liking any of them.

  “Captain, you can’t just leave the Rhaaxans to face that monstrosity,” Marshall said, pointing at the main viewer and the image of the orbital platform, which was still lumbering through space and descending toward the atmosphere of Rhaax III.

  Sighing in mounting frustration, Gold nodded. “I’m aware of that, Ambassador.” Looking to Shabalala, he asked, “How long until those missiles reach Rhaax V?”

  “Six point three minutes, sir,” the lieutenant replied.

  “Can you locate the away team on the station?”

  After a moment, the tactical officer said, “I’ve located one Tellarite and one Nasat life sign in a cargo bay with forty-six Rhaaxans. Neither Tev nor Pattie are wearing their combadges.”

  “No Bynar readings?” Gomez asked. “Where’s Soloman?”

  Shabalala paused as he checked his sensor readings. “I found him, but he’s in what looks to be a service crawl space in another part of the station.”

  “It’s a safe bet Tev and Pattie are being held hostage in that cargo bay with the rest of the station workers,” Gold said. “Can you get a transporter lock on them?”

  “Once we get in range, sir,” Shabalala said. “Get me there and I can transport everyone out of that bay.” He looked to Gomez and smiled. “And Soloman, too.”

  Stepping down to the command well from where he had been standing at the rear of the bridge, Marshall asked, “What are you doing, Captain?”

  “I’m putting an end to this nonsense, Ambassador.” Gold knew that, despite the risk of engaging warp drive while still within the boundaries of the solar system, the da Vinci could easily beat the missiles to the colony planet. The rule against such practices had been broken more times than Gold could count, and though disaster had resulted on a few occasions when the maneuver was attempted by others, he trusted his people to handle the navigational demands should he give the order.

  The problem with such a rash action was that it left Rhaax III vulnerable to the threat still facing them. Unless he factored that into his plan, of course.

  “Stevens,” he said, “enter your targeting data to the computer. I want to do this in one pass.” Then he moved forward until he stood directly behind the conn and ops positions and placed his hand on the shoulder of the young lieutenant at conn. “Wong, lay in an intercept course to the station and stand by for my command. Coordinate with Stevens based on his target selections. Once we hit those marks, I want to be at Rhaax V thirty seconds after that.”

  “Aye, sir,” Wong acknowledged as he set to work.

  As he waited for his people to finish their preparations, Gold felt Marshall standing just behind him. Folding his arms across his chest and without turning around, the captain prompted, “Yes, Ambassador?”

  “Your plan would seem to hinge on disabling the space station’s ability to disperse that chemical, Captain.”

  Gold nodded. “Yes.”

  “But you said yourself that if we proceeded without a guarantee of success,” Marshall said, “it would only cause the Rhaaxans to jump the gun.”

  “What I said was that we’d need a reasonable chance of success,” Gold corrected. He turned to face the ambassador. “Under the circumstances, this is probably as good a chance as we’re going to get.”

  Shock washed over Marshall’s face. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “It’s the same result whether we fail or do nothing.” Gold looked over to the science station. “Stevens?”

  The tactical specialist turned from his console. “Ready to go, sir.”

  “Captain!” Shabalala called out. “Something’s happening over on the station.”

  All eyes on the bridge turned to the viewer, and at first Gold noted nothing different than what they had been seeing for the past several minutes. Then he saw it.

  The station was slowing down, and beginning to tilt on its axis.

  “It hasn’t entered the atmosphere yet, has it?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” Shabalala replied. “It was still descending when it started to slow down. The station’s braking thrusters are firing and its lateral movement indicates a possible direction change.”

  “Maybe Tev or somebody on board incited a takeover,” Gomez offered, “a counteraction to take back the station.”

  Behind her, Stevens said, “No. Sensors show Tev and the others still locked in the cargo bay.”

  What the hell was happening over there? Gold stared at the image of the orbital platform, now quite definitely moving in a direction away from the planet, apparently accelerating as it went. Had the rebels responsible for the hijacking gotten second thoughts?

  “Incoming hail, Captain,” Shabalala said. “It’s the station.”

  Gold nodded for him to put the hail through and once more the connection with the renegade Rhaaxan was established. The captain had no chance to say anything before the rebel leader exploded.

  “What have you done?” the Rhaaxan said, his face a mask of rage.

  Shrugging, Gold replied, “Nothing. I’ve been sitting here like you asked me to do.” He smiled warmly. “Is there a problem?”

  “We have lost control of the station! My people are reporting that they are trapped, unable to open any hatches or move out of whatever section they are in now. We have been locked out of the main computer and the navigational systems and we are hurtling into space!”

  “Can we confirm any of that?” Gold asked.

  Studying his sensor displays, Shabalala nodded. “All interior hatches have been sealed. Main computer access has been routed away from all interface terminals, except one.”

  “You don’t think…” Gomez began, and even without looking Gold could almost hear the grin wrapped around her words.

  A moment later, the image
of the Rhaaxan disappeared from the viewer, replaced by that of Soloman.

  To Gold, the Bynar appeared to be hunched over a computer terminal jutting from the side of a maintenance vent.

  “Captain Gold,” he said, “I have taken control of all onboard systems and redirected the station away from the planet. Lieutenant Commander Tev reports that they have seized control of the cargo bay where they were confined, and that everyone is safe. Awaiting your orders, sir.”

  Cheers and applause erupted on the bridge before a bark from Gold quieted everyone down. “Outstanding work, Soloman. First, jettison that sludge from the environmental systems. Next, coordinate with Tev and security to round up the rebels and detain them until Rhaaxan authorities arrive.”

  “Aye, sir,” the Bynar replied, nodding formally.

  To Shabalala, Gold said, “Notify Corsi to mobilize her security teams for transport. Alert sickbay, too, in case there are any injuries among the prisoners. Then get me Prefect Randa.”

  The bridge crew set about their various tasks as Gold turned back to Marshall. “Looks like we caught a break, Ambassador.”

  “It seems that way,” Marshall replied.

  A moment later, the leader of the Rhaaxan Assembly once again graced the main viewer, and Gold noted that she did not appear happy.

  “I have good news, Prefect,” Gold said. “My people have neutralized the threat on the orbiting station. Even as we speak, my security teams are preparing to transport over and secure it until you can send your own people up.”

  “We are most grateful for your quick resolution, Captain. I cannot thank you enough.” Her expression, though, remained unchanged.

  “Actually, you can,” Gold replied, not liking the sudden tingle at the back of his neck. He unleashed his most charming diplomatic smile, the one reserved for official Starfleet functions attended by high-ranking flag officers, members of the Federation Council, and other people he normally did his best to avoid. “You can recall the missiles launched against Rhaax V.”