Hearts and Minds

by Dayton Ward

  “I was obeying the orders of a superior officer,” said Taurik. “I regret that this has placed me in a position of conflict with the captain. That was not my intention, and I have proceeded as I considered appropriate with respect to the safety and security of the ship. My skills would be useful in resolving this issue, and it is therefore logical that I render assistance and deal with any ramifications once the situation has been alleviated.”

  If it were anyone else, La Forge might think the person was looking to shift blame from themselves, but from a Vulcan it was a simple statement of fact, one with which La Forge was uncertain he could argue. The engineer wondered what he might do if he found himself in a similar predicament, caught between two respected officers issuing conflicting orders. Regulations provided clear, concise answers to such questions, and in this case the rules favored Admiral Akaar.

  On the other hand, there was something to be said for simple respect, which in this instance La Forge was unsure the admiral had extended to Captain Picard. By giving Taurik orders to follow and establishing a chain of command that carried with it the possibility of bypassing Picard, Akaar might well have damaged the captain’s relationship with Taurik, compromising the Vulcan engineer. It was also, in La Forge’s mind, disrespectful to Picard and his ability to command the Enterprise. If anyone had earned the benefit of any doubt, it had to be Jean-Luc Picard.

  I’d side with the captain, every time.

  “Taurik, I understand and appreciate where you’re coming from, and the fact that you’re here shows you’re looking to do the right thing. I’ll talk to Worf about getting you back to work, but for now the best way to demonstrate loyalty to the captain is to obey the last order he gave you. I promise you we’ll work this out somehow.”

  The Vulcan appeared to ponder this for a moment, and his right eyebrow lifted. “I will respect your wishes and Captain Picard’s orders.” He turned as though to exit the engineering area, but Taurik paused and returned his gaze to La Forge. “May I at least study the problem from the computer terminal in my quarters? I may be able to provide assistance, but my access to the ship’s engineering and technical databases was suspended when I was relieved of duty.”

  La Forge grimaced. Such action, while benign and perhaps ultimately helpful to his efforts, would still violate the spirit if not the letter of Picard’s order. However, that was a hazard he was willing to negotiate. The captain, though stern, remained a fair and principled officer, and he would judge the situation on its merits before making any decision.

  “If you can’t ask permission, you can at least ask forgiveness.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  Only then realizing he had spoken aloud, La Forge cleared his throat. “Never mind. I’ll see what I can do, Taurik. We can use all the help we can get.”

  “Thank you, Commander. I will begin my research immediately.” Pivoting on his heel with his hands still behind his back, Taurik left the room, leaving La Forge alone at the systems display table with only his thoughts for company.

  Can this day get any weirder?

  Sralanya

  The fruit, whatever one was supposed to call it, tasted pretty good.

  Reaching up with her free hand to wipe juice from her chin after taking a bite of the greenish, pulpy sphere, T’Ryssa Chen regarded her repast, such as it was. The selection of provided fruits was plentiful and varied in addition to having a pleasing taste, but Chen had no idea if what the away team had been given to eat possessed any nutritional value for humans, or human-Vulcan hybrids, or Cardassians in the case of Ravel Dygan.

  On the other hand, it’s not poisonous. I guess that’s something.

  “What are these things called again?” she asked.

  Sitting on the bench next to Chen and peeling her own piece of the green fruit, Dina Elfiki replied, “The guard called them kervala. Please don’t ask me to spell it.” She gestured toward the large bowl sitting on the floor in the center of the holding cell, which contained several kervala as well as other fruits of different shapes and colors. “Or any of those, either.”

  The Tevent Coalition soldiers overseeing them, in particular their leader, Janotra, had taken steps to ensure the food provided for the away team was compatible with their digestive systems. With little to no recent information to go on, Janotra provided Lieutenant Elfiki with one of the team’s tricorders so that she could scan the fruits and other foodstuffs and make proper determinations. Once she was satisfied that the selection would not harm or even kill her or her shipmates, the tricorder was taken away, stored along with the rest of their equipment at some unknown location. Only when the Eizand soldier had come and gone during that exercise did Chen think about the oddity of that interaction.

  “Even without the universal translators in our communicators, we could understand them,” she said, around a mouthful of kervala. “They must be wearing some type of similar technology, but I didn’t see anything obvious.”

  Elfiki replied, “They are. It’s part of the chronometer they wear on their wrists.”

  “When did you determine that?” asked Glinn Dygan.

  “When we were doing our tour of the city.” She shrugged. “It makes sense. If they were sending probes and ships into deep space three hundred years ago, they would’ve developed some kind of language facilitation or translation technology, in order to understand communications broadcasts from any planets they found.”

  “Like Earth,” said Chen.

  The science officer pointed at her. “Exactly.”

  From where he sat on the bench opposite Chen, Austin Braddock held up his own piece of fruit. “Can we use that to ask them to send down something else to eat?” The security officer had taken three of the kervala from the bowl and eaten them with haste, and now was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Those taste good, and all, but a steak would be better.”

  Chuckling, Elfiki replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Further conversation was muted by the sound of the holding cell’s door being unlocked, and the four Enterprise officers stood as one to face the entrance as the heavy metal hatch swung away. Four Eizand soldiers entered the room, followed by Janotra, who remained near the door as his companions stepped deeper into the cell.

  “What’s going on?” asked Elfiki.

  Janotra replied, “You are being moved.”

  “To where?” Braddock remained still as he posed the question, though Chen noticed him tensing as one of the guards moved toward him while holding a pair of wrist restraints.

  “You have been treated well to this point,” said Janotra, his expression unreadable. “However, do not mistake our benevolence with weakness or a tolerance for disrespect. Do as you are instructed, and you will not be mistreated.”

  “Everybody take it easy,” said Elfiki.

  Chen saw her lock eyes with Braddock for an extra second, as though trying to convey to him not to do anything rash. The security officer seemed to get the message and offered a subtle nod as the guard secured his wrists in front of him with the thin metal restraint band. For her part, she caught a glance from Glinn Dygan, who appeared as though he might be ready to take a chance on disabling one of the guards and perhaps getting his hands on a weapon. She shook her head just enough to communicate that he also should not do anything that might cause more trouble for the team.

  “The transport is waiting,” said Janotra, once his charges were secured.

  At the lead guard’s direction, the soldiers indicated for Chen and the others to move from the cell into the corridor, which looked just as dreary and poorly lit as she recalled from her transit from the surface after being taken into custody. However, she remembered coming from the direction opposite the one Janotra now indicated for them to go.

  Hope this doesn’t mean they’re about to make us disappear. Forever.

  Under the watchful eye of their guards, Chen and the others made their way down the passage. Their every footfall echoed in the dim cor
ridor, pressing home the point that they were traversing an underground tunnel. Eyeing every door and wall panel they passed, she looked for anything that presented itself as a potential avenue of escape, but nothing looked promising. The passage made a turn, and the group found themselves approaching a large door, with two more Eizand soldiers standing behind a console.

  “Janotra?” asked one of the guards, his expression one of puzzlement as he stepped around the console. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Gesturing to Chen and her companions, Janotra replied, “I have been instructed to move these prisoners to a more secure holding facility until their captain’s trial gets under way.”

  “I was not aware of any such transfer.” The other guard’s features continued to cloud as his apparent confusion deepened. “Do you have an authorization order?”

  “Yes.” Janotra reached for a pocket of his uniform, but then Chen saw his hand moving instead for the sidearm in its holster.

  Oh, holy hell.

  “Wait!” The other Eizand guard, still standing behind the console, was reaching for his own weapon even as he shouted the command, but by then the sound of the first shot was howling in the contained space.

  Chen flinched as the bolts of bright red energy streaked past her to strike the guard in the chest, driving him backward into the stone wall. His companion had drawn his weapon and was aiming in the direction of Janotra, and Chen had only an instant to realize she was standing between the guard and his target before she felt something slam into her from behind.

  “Get down!”

  It was Braddock, grabbing her and pushing her out of the way just as the guard fired. Chen felt the impact of the energy bolt striking the security officer as they both fell to the ground, then everything exploded into chaos as more weapons fire and shouts of alarm filled the corridor. The air forced from her lungs from her impact with the unyielding stone floor, it took Chen an extra second to realize that Braddock, who had landed partially atop her, was not moving.

  “Braddock? Austin?”

  The lieutenant’s body was limp, all but pinning her to the ground. Shifting her position, Chen managed to work her way out from under him. That was when she saw the ghastly wound in Braddock’s left side, just below his armpit.

  “Braddock!” Kneeling beside him, Chen rolled him onto his back. His eyes were closed, and she pressed her fingers to the side of his throat, searching for a pulse. She found nothing. “Damn it, Austin!”

  “Your friend is dead,” said a voice behind her, and Chen whirled to see Janotra and one of his guards, weapons in hand and standing over the fallen forms of their companions. The two soldiers who had been stationed at the massive door were also down.

  “We must leave,” Janotra said before walking up to Elfiki and undoing her wrist restraints. His fellow guard repeated the same action with Glinn Dygan.

  “What the hell is going on!?” asked Elfiki. The science officer had moved to kneel on the other side of Braddock’s body, confirming that he was dead.

  Stepping closer to Chen, Janotra reached for her hands and removed the band around her wrists. “We need to move quickly. Central Control will send someone to check on this station when the guards fail to make their next scheduled report. We must be gone from here before then, or we will all die.”

  Uncertain what to make of this bizarre development and still reeling from the loss of Braddock, Chen scowled as she rubbed her wrists. “What are you babbling about? Who are you people?”

  “There is no time for this.” Janotra was growing more agitated by the moment. “If they capture us, we will all be executed. We have to get you away from here. Only then can you help us.”

  His tone one of open accusation, Dygan asked, “Help you?” The Cardassian fixed Janotra with a stern, menacing glare. “Help you to do what?”

  “To find the truth,” replied the Eizand soldier. “Find the truth and reveal it to all our people. For generations we have been living a lie.”

  21

  The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.

  August 27, 2039

  It was like watching a nightmare come to life.

  Standing with arms crossed before the large monitor that dominated his office’s front wall, Gerald Markham watched the scene being broadcast to him from the other side of the world. Figures in oversized protective suits walked around a hellish landscape, as though moving about on some distant planet. Background radiation was interfering even with the shielded, secure communications link connecting him to his people at the scene, resulting in a distorted, static-filled picture. In the screen’s lower left corner, a digital readout told him how long this operation had been active.

  “They’ve only been on site for twenty minutes,” he said aloud. “Why does it feel like a month?”

  Sitting in a nearby chair, her ubiquitous computer tablet resting in her lap, his assistant director, Heather Burden, replied, “With the radiation at those levels, they can last another forty to forty-five minutes before they’ll have to move to a safe location.”

  Markham snorted. “They’re in China. ‘Safe location’ is something of a relative term, don’t you think?” Rubbing his forehead, he asked, “What are they saying on the news channels?”

  “Pretty much variations on what they’ve been saying all night.” Burden studied the scroll of data streaming across her tablet. “The fires are still too intense for anyone to get too close, and the radiation threat makes the entire area a hot zone. At the rate things are going, that entire complex is going to melt before this is all over. The probe is a total loss, and there are still about a dozen people who’ve gone missing. That’s just the immediate problem, though. The explosion and resulting fire are releasing all sorts of toxic shit. That whole area’s going to be a quarantined zone for at least a decade.”

  “A damned shame, if we’re being honest. The Chinese were really starting to put together a comprehensive program. They were set to send a manned mission to Mars next year. There’s no telling how long something like this will set them back.”

  And it’s all our fault.

  “Any indications that anybody knows about our people?”

  Still looking at her tablet, Burden replied, “Not from anything being broadcast. Our liaison team in China made sure our people were covered going in, and they’ll make sure no traces are left behind when they pull out. Nobody else has the kind of gear needed to get that far into the affected area, so our team should be okay. It’s getting them in and out that’s the tricky part.”

  “No kidding.” Markham drew a deep breath. “The last thing we need right now is an international incident. We’ll have a hard enough time as it is, convincing the Chinese we didn’t sabotage their launch.”

  Markham began the previous day with a mixture of enthusiasm and anticipation that was tempered by the grim realities of his job. Arriving early at his office to watch the video footage being streamed from the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center in China, he beheld yet again the thing of beauty that was the Xuanzang probe. China’s first unmanned survey craft designed for travel beyond the solar system was readying for its epic journey to the stars. Markham had followed the craft’s development for years, watching both as a space enthusiast as well as with the critical eye of someone in his chosen if unsung profession. Whereas efforts by the United States to expand its own space exploration programs had stagnated in the wake of the ill-fated Ares IV mission, other nations around the world were continuing to make progress.

  Chief among those making rapid advances were India and China, who had been partnering for space-based projects for years. That relationship was an outgrowth of the two countries already being members of the Eastern Coalition, which had come together nearly twenty years earlier and counted among its signatory nations Kazakhstan, Pakistan, Russia, Singapore, and Vietnam. China and India had been at the forefront of a combined space effort, making several exchanges of technology and personnel in order to assist each other’s programs. Such cooperation
had seen to it that it was an ECON-based mission that was the first manned effort to return to the Moon, nearly fifty years after America’s last landings in the early 1970s. The shared scientific effort was just one aspect of the thawing of relations between the two countries, which had been strained for decades but now were strengthened by mutual ties to the Coalition. Rivalry between the ECON and the United States was also on the upswing, on par with the tensions that stressed American interactions with Russia as well as China and North Korea in the early twenty-first century. Military and foreign policy experts within the current presidential administration were forecasting continued deterioration in relations between the U.S. and the ECON in the coming decade as the world continued to undergo a shift in global economic power as well as control and consumption of natural resources.

  However, none of that had mattered to Markham yesterday morning. For a few brief, precious moments, he was able to forget the reality of the world in which he lived and focus instead on a flight of pure science and fantasy. He was even hopeful that a successful Xuanzang might somehow motivate the world’s most powerful nations to come together and work toward a common goal.

  Then reality had reasserted itself, as Markham gave the order to see the probe destroyed on its launch pad. With his single command, disaster had been visited upon the Xuanzang rocket, with the world watching as years of work was consumed by flame.

  For the good of humanity, he reminded himself.

  “Director Markham,” said a female voice over a speaker hidden in his office ceiling. “The ground team leader is asking to speak with you.”

  Glancing to Burden, who only shrugged, Markham said, “Put her through.”