Star Trek: Vanguard: What Judgments Come

by Dayton Ward

  Holding himself at attention, Jackson stood more than a head taller than Nogura, but rather than looking down, the muscular security chief’s gaze instead was focused on a spot somewhere on the office’s rear wall. Beads of perspiration had broken out on the man’s bald head, and one droplet already was working its way down the side of his face. Nogura watched him swallow whatever lump had formed in his throat before drawing a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry, Admiral,” Jackson said, and Nogura was certain that he heard a slight tremble in the lieutenant’s voice. “I was operating under direct orders from Admiral Komack not to discuss the operation with anyone, including you, sir. In fact, he specifically ordered me not to brief you.”

  Komack. Nogura felt his teeth beginning to grate. While he was acquainted with his fellow flag officer, he had never worked with James Komack. The admiral was a recent addition to the senior staff at Starfleet Headquarters on Earth after being transferred from his previous posting as the head of the command element overseeing Sector 9. There, Komack had built a solid reputation as a no-nonsense officer who got results, and tolerated little in the way of deviations from established or accepted policies and procedures. Nogura also recalled that Komack had, years earlier, served for a time at Starfleet Academy, overseeing the institution’s ethics review board, where he also was known as being unforgiving with regard to discipline, particularly if it involved cheating or other dishonorable behavior on the part of a cadet. In Nogura’s opinion, Komack was a “rules person” rather than a “people person,” meaning he was the sort of officer who preferred the letter of the law rather than its spirit and intentions. He seemed disposed to view the universe around him from a stark, black-and-white perspective, rather than learning to appreciate the myriad shades of gray to be found in the broad spectrum between those two extremes.

  Nogura had little patience for people like that, and that was before such individuals chose to interfere with him and his responsibilities.

  “Admiral Komack,” he said, considering this revelation and not liking any of the scenarios conjured by his imagination. “Did he happen to offer any particular reasoning for that directive?”

  Swallowing another lump, Jackson nodded. “Yes, sir. The admiral said he wanted to protect you and the station’s senior staff from any recriminations should the operation fail.”

  “And what if you’d succeeded?” Nogura asked, allowing some of his anger to seep into his voice. “Was I to receive all the credit for a job well done? A ticker-tape parade across Fontana Meadow? Would the Orions have presided over the festivities, offering me a medal or perhaps a nice selection of pastries?” Turning from Jackson, he resumed his pacing. “Do you have any idea what this idiotic scheme will do to our relations with the Orions? It’s bad enough we have to smile and nod our heads when we know their pirate ships are raiding our freighters and other civilian craft, even though we have no hard evidence to hold over their heads. Now, I have to find a way to kowtow to that jackass Ganz, in the hope he doesn’t flush Diego Reyes down a waste extraction vent, or grind him up and serve him to his pet … whatever the hell he has for pets over there.” His irritation continuing its slow boil, Nogura once again stopped before Jackson and eyed the security chief. “How long has this plan been in motion?”

  “Admiral Komack contacted me three days ago, sir,” the lieutenant replied. “We started making our preparations immediately upon receiving his orders.”

  “Three whole days?” Nogura asked, making no effort to contain his sarcasm. “Well, I can’t imagine why the mission wasn’t a resounding success, with that sort of in-depth advance planning.” Then, regretting his words, he forced himself to draw a deep, calming breath before shaking his head in irritation. If there was one thing he never had been able to stomach, it was waste, and above all, he loathed the notion of wasted lives.

  “This entire affair has been a mess from the beginning,” he said, turning from Jackson and moving to stand before his office’s main viewscreen. “Admiral Komack should have gotten my input for any such mission. I probably should have apprised him of our efforts to utilize Diego Reyes. You should have come to me, Lieutenant, but I can respect that you were given direct orders by a superior, which you had to obey.” Nogura held little regard for the practice of placing subordinates in positions where they were forced to lie to their commanding officers or otherwise keep information from them, and even less tolerance for officers who utilized the tactic. There would be a conversation with Admiral James Komack on this topic, Nogura decided, but for now it would have to wait.

  “None of that matters,” he continued. “All that matters is that two of my people are dead. No matter who takes the blame for this idiocy, that won’t change.” The best he could do now was to take steps to see that such an incident was not repeated. With a tired sigh, he turned his attention back to Jackson. “Lieutenant, please ensure that both Hetzlein’s and Gianetti’s families have been notified, and begin preparing their personal effects for transport to whatever destination they have listed in their records. I would also appreciate a personal letter to each of the families by you, to accompany the letters I’ll be sending.”

  Jackson nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Before Nogura could say anything else, the intercom on his desk beeped for attention, followed by the voice of his assistant, Ensign Toby Greenfield. “Admiral, Commander Moyer is here and wishes to see you, if you’re available.”

  “Send her in, Ensign,” Nogura replied, then nodded to Jackson. “That will be all, Lieutenant. Dismissed.” His office doors parted to allow the security chief’s exit, and Nogura watched as the burly man maneuvered his large frame to one side in order to make room for Lieutenant Commander Holly Moyer, who stood just outside the office, holding a data slate next to her right thigh. Her expression was one of uncertainty, and Nogura could see that she was taking steps to maintain her poise. Without acknowledging Jackson’s greeting, she waited until he was out of her way before proceeding into Nogura’s office, then paused as the doors slid shut behind her.

  “Commander,” Nogura said by way of greeting. “What can I do for you?”

  Moyer replied, “Good evening, Admiral. I’ve just been informed about the failed rescue mission aboard the Omari-Ekon. Sir, with all due respect, what the hell was Starfleet thinking, authorizing a covert operation onto an Orion ship? Do they want to start a war?”

  “Don’t get me started on Starfleet,” Nogura said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know about the rescue mission until after it failed. Starfleet Command is worried about how much damage Reyes can do if he’s interrogated and broken by the Orions or whoever else they hire to work on him.” He shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a real threat, because they have to know we’re watching, and if we catch wind of anything like that taking place, they also have to know that I won’t hesitate to flush every regulation down the toilet before sending an armed boarding party to that ship and running our flag up the mast.” He paused, offering a small, humorless smile. “Figuratively speaking, of course. Regardless, you can be sure I’ll be getting answers from Headquarters about all of this, and damned soon.”

  Appearing not to be comforted by that declaration, Moyer said, “This is just the latest addition to a very long list of things which have happened since we established a presence here. Diego Reyes sacrificed his career because he felt much of what was going on here was wrong. Not everything, but some things.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I agree with his choices, and we can argue all day about whether this action or that decision was necessary, but some things can’t be argued.”

  Struck by the passion behind her words, Nogura was forced to nod in agreement. “You’re right, Commander. Some things can’t be argued. History will have to judge whether the steps we took here were the right ones, but for now, all we can do is follow our orders, and our conscience. When those two are in conflict, then we simply must do the best we can, and hope that we’re guided by sound principles and
the best interests of everyone who stands to be affected by what we allow—or don’t allow—to happen here.”

  Moyer frowned. “I’ll be honest, Admiral; I don’t see that happening. Instead, I see a lot of sneaking around, trying to get the drop on the Orions or the Klingons or whoever stands in our way. I understand that we need to keep the Klingons from getting their hands on Shedai technology, but if we end up in a war against the Empire, then what have we saved? How many people have died since that first meta-genome sample was found? How many more have to die to preserve this secret?”

  “Hopefully none,” Nogura said, “but we both know how unlikely that is. Instead, all we can hope for is that those who die don’t do so in vain. I don’t believe that’s been the case, despite the best of intentions and efforts. Regardless, the stakes are simply too high to stop now. We have to keep pushing forward, and doing our best to make sure that everything that’s come before hasn’t been for nothing.”

  Shaking her head, Moyer released a long, slow sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this, sir. My world is the law, and when we sidestep or push aside the law for expediency, even if we believe it’s for a just cause, then we lose just a little bit more of what it is about us that’s supposed to make all of this effort worthwhile.”

  “And that’s precisely why I need you where you are, Commander,” Nogura replied, “doing exactly what you’re doing. I need someone to observe everything that goes on here through the very prism your position affords. I like to think I always know when I get close to stepping over some line, but I also like having someone else point it out to me when that’s necessary.”

  Moyer said, “And what if I disagree with something you decide to do, sir?”

  “I’ll give you every opportunity to set me straight,” Nogura answered. “If I still decide to go a certain way, you’ll be free to file any protest or report you deem appropriate. You’ll be able to carry out your duties with autonomy. On that, Commander, you have my word.”

  Appearing to be comforted by Nogura’s words, Moyer nodded. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence.”

  Nogura smiled. “Don’t worry, Commander. Considering everything we’ve faced to this point, and given what might still happen before it’s all over, I expect we’ll be having a lot of these conversations.”

  17

  His fist clenched and poised above his head, Ganz paused in mid-swing as he took notice of Neera entering his office. Dressed in a dark maroon shift that was cut high on the thigh and that left little to the imagination as she passed beneath the room’s recessed lighting, she regarded him with an expression of amused exasperation.

  “Don’t,” she said, making her way past his desk toward the bar. “It’s brand-new, and you’ve already gone through your ration of inanimate objects for this accounting cycle.”

  Ganz regarded the computer interface terminal on his desk, which was the intended target of his rage. It sat before him, defenseless, waiting for him to mete out a punishment it did not deserve. Though destroying the terminal would provide a fleeting moment’s consolation, it would do nothing to solve the actual problems still requiring his attention.

  “Well,” he said, relaxing his fist and lowering himself back into the chair behind his desk, “I need to hit something. Or someone.”

  Standing at the bar, Neera cast a knowing, amused glance over her shoulder as she fixed herself a drink. “There’s a vase in the bedroom I never liked. Feel free to hit that.”

  “Too easy. I prefer a challenge,” Ganz replied, though he was already feeling his initial anger beginning to ebb. When the mood struck her, Neera could be a very astute caregiver, knowing just what to say or do in order to calm him at times like these, when all he wanted was to vent his frustrations on anyone or anything within reach.

  He shook his head as he considered the report displayed on the computer terminal. Submitted by his head of security, Tonzak, it detailed the skirmish involving the two Starfleet officers who had come aboard the Omari-Ekon in a bid to extradite Diego Reyes. Though their attempt had not been successful, the true ramifications of the incident were yet to be felt, and it was this aspect of the unfortunate situation that unsettled him.

  “I didn’t think Starfleet had the naghs to send somebody to snatch Reyes,” he said.

  Neera turned from the bar, drink in hand, and eyed him with a quizzical expression. “Klingon slang?”

  “I like the way it rolls off the tongue,” Ganz replied without looking away from the screen. “Nogura must be out of his mind, authorizing something like this.”

  Pausing while she sipped from her glass, Neera said, “I don’t think it was Nogura. While I wouldn’t put it past him, he doesn’t strike me as someone who would have authorized such an ill-conceived and poorly executed plan.”

  Ganz considered the wisdom of his lover’s observation, nodding in agreement. “When you say it out loud, it makes sense. So, somebody ordered an extraction attempt over Nogura’s head?” He smiled at that thought as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m guessing he didn’t like that.” From his few dealings with the Starfleet admiral, Ganz had concluded that Nogura was a man who would not appreciate anyone undermining his authority. He would be angry at the events that had transpired without his knowledge, even more so for the resulting deaths. Ganz could understand how the admiral might feel, though he did so for different reasons.

  “Idiots,” he said, gritting his teeth as he once more reviewed the report. “If they’d stunned the humans, we could have used them as leverage against Nogura.” The prospect of holding two Starfleet officers, captured while in the midst of an illegal intrusion into Orion sovereign territory, might well have been all Ganz needed to extract some form of concession from the admiral as a means of avoiding an interstellar incident. Despite the attitude Nogura had shown toward Ganz from the moment he had arrived to take command of Starbase 47, he would not have been able to refuse such an offer. Even if to do so was his personal preference, the admiral still had to answer to his masters at Starfleet Command, who would want an expedient resolution to what still held the potential to become an embarrassment not just to Starfleet, but to Ganz and even Neera, as well. If Neera’s superiors within the Orion Syndicate were to learn of the problems being experienced aboard the Omari-Ekon, they might also decide that cutting their own losses was the prudent course of action in order to prevent the possibility of greater attention being cast in their direction. Such a decision likely would not be in favor of any continued breathing Neera, Ganz, or anyone in their employ might wish to do.

  “Have you disposed of the bodies?” Neera asked.

  Ganz nodded. “Tonzak took care of it.”

  “Well, at least he’s showing some promise.” Taking another sip from her glass, Neera swirled its remaining contents before adding, “Have you considered promoting him? You’ve been saying you need someone to replace Zett for months now.”

  Frowning, Ganz shook his head. “I may have had issues with some of Zett’s choices, and it was his own bad judgment that got him killed, but that doesn’t mean just anyone can replace him. He had skills, I’ll give him that.” Zett Nilric, his former “business manager,” had numbered covert assassination among his many formidable talents. The Nalori had taken care of several delicate tasks for Ganz in recent years, and the Orion had valued Zett’s ability to act quickly with precision and discretion. If he had possessed one failing, it was an overdeveloped sense of pride, and it was that pride, wounded by Cervantes Quinn, which led to his eventual death at Quinn’s hands. In the months that had passed since then, Ganz had been without someone in the position Zett had once occupied. He had considered several members of his staff, but found each of them wanting. Tonzak was the most promising from a rather shallow pool of uninspiring candidates.

  “I don’t think I’m ready to make that kind of commitment with Tonzak just yet,” Ganz said, “but for now, he’ll do, just so long as nothing truly delicate is required. He did well enough cleaning up
this mess. Now all we can do is wait to see what Nogura does.” Though the admiral had made no attempts at contact in the wake of the incident, Ganz figured some sort of Starfleet reprisal had to be in the offing. Indeed, some steps already appeared to be taking place. As he had expected would happen, the armed security presence near the docking port where the Omari-Ekon was moored had been increased, and Ganz did not doubt that every measure of covert sensor scan and communications monitoring available to the station was at this very moment trained on his ship, searching for any point of access or vulnerability that might be exploited. “Even if they don’t plan to storm the ship, they should have evicted us by now, at the very least.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew the lone reason why such actions had not yet been taken: Diego Reyes.

  As though reading his mind, Neera said, “They won’t do that, not so long as we have Reyes.” Making her way across the office, she perched atop one corner of Ganz’s desk. “At least your people didn’t kill him, too,”

  Ganz grunted. “That’s the only reason Tonzak’s still alive.” After the incident with Reyes and Lekkar on the gaming floor, the Omari-Ekon’s head of security had adopted a no-tolerance policy with respect to any severe harm or “accident” anyone aboard ship might wish to inflict upon the human. He saw to Reyes’s safety with the same dedication a mother watched over her children, no doubt worried about any repercussions that might fall to him should anything happen to the fugitive former commodore. That attitude had filtered down to his security officers, who had only incapacitated Reyes during the firefight with the two Starfleet officers. Rather than shoot him, the subordinate who had restrained Reyes—and possibly prevented him from being transported off the ship—had used a stun baton on him. Ganz smiled at the thought of the discomfort from such a weapon being inflicted on the human he so loathed. “At least Reyes will have a reminder of the affair, for the rest of the day, anyway.” Every time he moved, or ate, or even wanted to empty his bladder, Diego Reyes would feel the lingering effects of the baton, and that made Ganz happy. It still was not so satisfying as the notion of simply killing the man, but for now, it was sufficient.