STAR TREK: The Lost Era - 2298 - The Sundered

by Michael A. Martin

  Earth is already only a legend to these people, Sulu thought. Maybe it needs to stay that way. How well would the Neyel really fit in there anyway?

  Sulu felt a surge of shame at this last thought. Despite whatever horrors had shaped an entire branch of his own species into the battle-hardened race the Neyel had become, hadn’t they proven today that their hearts were as human as his? Hadn’t they transcended their environment and listened to the better angels of their natures? Maybe I could stand to learn a thing or two from the Neyel.

  Sulu put aside his musings when Joh’jym approached him. “Like those you call the Tholians, we, too have much work to do, Hikarusulu.”

  Sulu smiled. “Then let’s get you back aboard your ship and on your way.” Moments later, it was done.

  Afterward, Burgess sagged into one of the cockpit seats, evidently exhausted by the momentous events of the past [352] few minutes. Gazing through the forward windows, Sulu could see some of the Tholian warships were pulling back from their attack postures. He didn’t expect most of them to depart at once, however; as both Mosrene and Joh’jym had said, much work still needed to be done to forge a peace that both civilizations could live with.

  “Congratulations, Ambassador,” Sulu said, entering the cockpit and laying a hand on her seat’s headrest. “Though I can’t condone the way you did it, I have to admit that you may have just Saved three worlds from war.”

  Burgess shook her head wearily. “No, Captain. I merely started a conversation. You made the sale to the Tholians, and you did it while you were just as much a prisoner as they were. Whether or not they sue for peace, my usefulness among them is at an end.”

  “Why do you say that?” Sulu said, his brow furrowing.

  She glanced forward, her eyes lighting on the Neyel ship, which was beginning to get under way. Soon it would fly across the frayed edges of interspace and vanish from sight.

  “As alien as the Neyel appear to be,” Burgess said, “I think they resemble us far more than they do the Tholians. They’re human, after all, and the Tholians are anything but. The Neyel can understand the human frailty that can drive someone to break the rules for the greater good. The Tholians won’t be quite so understanding, even if they sign a peace treaty in the name of that same greater good. What I did today, I did in collaboration with people they considered enemies at the time.”

  Sulu understood her meaning. “Jerdahn and Joh’jym. You believe that by working with them you crossed the line in the Tholians’ eyes. Even though the outcome may well be a Tholian-Neyel peace accord.”

  “I understand how the Tholians think. You may have been right about my having thrown my career away.” She [353] turned in her seat and entered a series of commands into the helm console.

  “Maybe not,” Sulu said as he sat down in the other cockpit seat. “Maybe the worst of this is finally over. I’ll fly us back to Excelsior, Ambassador. Why don’t you relax and—”

  He felt the transporter’s confinement beam suddenly surround him, a sensation like ants crawling on his skin.

  “No, Captain,” she heard Burgess say as the dematerialization process began taking him apart. “I might not be of any use to the Tholians, but the Neyel need me.”

  Chapter 32

  Through the Genji’s forward windows, Burgess watched the Neyel cruiser, Oghen’s Flame, as it made its way toward the interspatial rift. She wondered if the vessel might have taken its name from the nimbus of blazing light that surrounded its aft section as it moved forward on impulse power. It looked a bit like the fires of reentry she had seen engulfing prewarp spacecraft as they descended ballistically through Earth’s atmosphere.

  Another quick flash of light made her see spots as the ship went to warp.

  Burgess reflected on the last few days, and on what she had accomplished ... and had failed to accomplish. The mission had largely been a mess, and although she knew that most of the blame could be placed at the crystalline feet of the Tholians, a fair portion of the responsibility also lay with her.

  Still, many of her decisions had been dictated by the actions of Captain Sulu. Even the decision to use kidnapping as a diplomatic tool.

  “This job is certainly not what it once was,” she said to herself with a chuckle. A line of verse came to her, from the nineteenth-century writer Isaac Goldberg: “Diplomacy is to do and say, The nastiest thing in the nicest way.” It seemed a lifetime ago that her second husband, Shinzei, had engraved [355] that snippet onto a piece of marble on Risa, where they’d vacationed after she had completed a particularly grueling assignment.

  These days, it seems I’ve dispensed with the “nicest” part entirely.

  As much as she had criticized Sulu for his own unorthodox tactics, she had proved herself at least as eccentric. She knew that what she was about to do would burn her last remaining bridges with the Federation.

  The Federation held nothing for her. She realized now that she’d felt that for quite a while, though she’d never been truly honest about it. She wondered how other diplomats dealt with burnout; she wished she’d taken the time to discuss the problem with Sarek, or Curzon Dax, or C’letta Rinz, during one of their past meetings.

  This was how she was dealing with her crisis of faith. But she looked on it less as an act of desertion—which is surely how the Federation Council would view it—and more as a rebirth. If her plan worked, she could create real, positive change for the Neyel.

  Burgess tapped several of the controls, readying the shuttlecraft. The shields were up, preventing anyone from beaming her off the ship, and she would soon be out of the reach of Sulu’s and Yilskene’s tractor beams. She didn’t expect pursuit from either Excelsior or the Tholians.

  The incessantly blinking light on the companel signaled an incoming message. She decided to cease ignoring it and toggled it on.

  “Captain Sulu,” she said coolly as the image of Excelsior’s bridge came up on a small monitor screen.

  “What are you playing at now, Ambassador?” Sulu asked.

  “I’m not the ambassador anymore,” she said. “My name is Aidan.”

  His eyebrows knotted as if he were perplexed. “Aidan, you need to return to Excelsior. We are preparing to depart.”

  [356] “I can’t do that, Captain,” she said. “I won’t do that.”

  “Then what exactly are you planning to do?”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “Captain, when I was a little girl, I met two people who spent their lives exploring. Not exploring in the way Starfleet does; they did it in the way that only one or two people can. Small stones creating a ripple in a larger pond.

  “They called me a ‘fellow traveler.’ I don’t know whether they knew the connotations of the phrase as it was used in the twentieth century, but I took it to mean they saw me as someone who was worthy of exploring on my own. For too long now, I have been a part of a larger force, an organized governmental unit. I’ve allowed rules and regulations and protocol to mold me, distort me, control me.”

  As she continued, she caressed the bracelet on her wrist. Some of the stones and shells had been worn smooth over time. “Captain, there is much work to be done here, and a new human culture to explore. The Neyel are prone to violence, and they will need help to mend their fences with the Tholians.

  “And you and I both know that it is only a matter of time before the Neyel come fully into contact with Earth. If they are to learn to coexist peacefully with their human cousins, they will need someone who can help them bridge the gap.”

  Sulu leaned forward in his chair. “I’m not so sure that the Tholians will let you go.”

  “Maybe, and maybe not. But I think the real question is this: will you let me go?” She touched another few buttons on the control panel, hoping that the automated programs she’d downloaded would make up for her lack of real piloting skills.

  “You won’t be able to negotiate the rift,” Sulu said. “You’ll be trapped inside it, like the Defiant.”

  “I don’
t think so,” she said, smiling again. “I can just follow the warp signature of the Oghen’s Flame like a trail of [357] bread crumbs. That should see me safely through to the other side.”

  Before Sulu could argue further, she held up her hand and continued. “Captain, I think this is what I was born to do.”

  She switched off the comm and moved her fingers onto the throttle control. The shuttle moved forward swiftly, and through the forward windows Burgess exulted as the auroral lights of the rift engulfed her.

  Yilskene watched on his flagship’s crystalline monitors as the Federation shuttlecraft moved toward the rift that led to the OtherVoid. He wondered if that unstable region of space had caused the vessel’s pilot to go mad. Or were the Starfleet people attempting to deceive him again? He once again considered destroying both the shuttle and Excelsior.

  The knowledge-caste officer working the sensors informed him that only one person remained aboard the shuttle—the human envoy, Ambassador Burgess. Additionally, Excelsior was not following the shuttle’s course. It was puzzling.

  Yilskene considered the human ambassador. He knew that even within the Lattice, there were certain individuals—especially those from the political castes—who would shut themselves off from the SubLink permanently to undertake a lifelong voyage of contemplation. It was alien to a warrior’s way of thinking, and probably to most of the other castes as well. But Yilskene’s best mate had done it, exiling herself to a lifetime of silence and solitude.

  Perhaps that is the path the ambassador is following, he thought, deciding to stay his hand. Or perhaps she is pursuing the departing invader ship for some reason. The Neyel. Will she continue to advocate peace among them?

  “What do you believe her motives to be?” Yilskene asked Mosrene, who squatted nearby, watching the image of the shuttle on the viewscreen.

  Mosrene’s eyespots flared for a moment. “She has been [358] erratic yet guileless. Of all the humans on Excelsior, she seemed most sympathetic to us. However, she also identified with the concerns of the Neyel. But I don’t believe that this is because the Neyel are humans. I think it is because she is able to see many sides at once.”

  Yilskene looked away from Mosrene and back to the viewer. The shuttlecraft was nearing the rift. “The other humans displayed multiple facets as well. Even while they were deceiving us, they protected our settlements from attack. And when Captain Sulu had the opportunity to kill me, he displayed mercy instead.”

  “Perhaps it is not just the ambassador who is multifaceted,” Yilskene continued. “Perhaps it is a characteristic shared generally by all of her kind.”

  Mosrene tilted his head, signifying agreement. “That may be so.”

  Yilskene looked over at Mosrene. “Then perhaps we and the humans are not so different from each other.” The notion struck the admiral as equal parts truth and heresy even as he gave it voice. Only the passage of time could determine the truth of it.

  On the screen, the shuttlecraft became a bright pinpoint, then disappeared over the invisible horizon of the OtherVoid.

  PART 10

  PRODIGALS

  Chapter 33

  Sitting with his two closest friends in Excelsior’s mess hall, Lojur found he wasn’t surprised by Tuvok’s announcement. It had been pretty clear to him that the Vulcan wasn’t entirely happy aboard Excelsior, if the word happy could even be used to describe a Vulcan.

  But he knew that he would miss the science officer’s calming influence and sharp intellect. He looked away from Tuvok and regarded Shandra’s conspicuously empty chair in grim silence.

  “When will you leave?” Akaar said as he idly moved his food around his plate with a fork. Though his Capellan stoicism concealed it, the security chief had to be feeling Tuvok’s imminent departure keenly as well. Lojur knew that the two young officers had worked closely together for more than three years now.

  “Excelsior is due to stop at Vulcan next month,” Tuvok said. “At that time, I intend to resign my commission, return to my betrothed, and then resume my Kolinahr training.”

  “Captain Sulu and Commander Chekov will no doubt try to talk you into remaining aboard Excelsior,” Akaar said.

  “They already have. As have my parents.”

  “They clearly were not successful,” Akaar said.

  “As I said, after the Praxis affair, I promised them I would [362] complete my assignment here rather than resign immediately. They were quite persistent. But that period has elapsed. My tour of duty is nearly over. The time has come for me to move on.”

  Lojur knew that Tuvok had never been comfortable serving among beings who lacked the emotional discipline of Vulcans. That preference probably accounted for the bonds of friendship that had grown among Tuvok, Lojur, and Akaar over the years. Yet, despite misgivings that had nearly come to a head shortly after the Praxis incident, Tuvok had continued serving aboard Excelsior for another five years.

  Lojur decided that Tuvok’s decision to leave Starfleet now must somehow have been precipitated by the Tholian-Neyel affair. But he knew better than to ask him to reveal more than he obviously wanted to.

  A heavy silence descended across the table.

  Perhaps a minute later, Akaar turned toward Lojur. “You have uttered fewer words than even I have so far tonight,” he said, speaking around a mouthful of meat of some sort. Lojur experienced an ingrained pacifist’s revulsion every time the Capellan took a bite.

  But he also knew that the taciturn security chief was right. Lojur usually spoke far more than he had so far this evening. Pushing his salad away, he leaned forward so that no one else in the mess hall would overhear him.

  “I am ... troubled,” Lojur said, then lapsed once again into an uncomfortable silence.

  “That much is evident,” said Lieutenant Tuvok, raising an eyebrow. He was seated beside Akaar, across the table from the Halkan navigator, an abstemiously portioned meal of bread and plomeek soup set out before him. Lojur noticed that the Vulcan science officer also seemed to be going out of his way not to look at Akaar’s food.

  It’s so strange that a Vulcan and I both regard this hulking [363] carnivore as a friend, Lojur thought. But he also knew that a kind, wise heart beat beneath within the Capellan warrior’s chest. Akaar understood the world in ways that Lojur doubted he himself ever could.

  “ ‘Troubled,’ ” Akaar repeated, then raised his fork to his lips to take a small bite of animal flesh. He washed the morsel down with something foamy that he drank out of a glass that looked absurdly small in his hand. “ ‘Troubled’ is a word that says little. It is like saying ‘Klingons are violent.’ It is self-evident.”

  Lojur’s need to unburden himself was finally beginning to overcome his sense of shame and betrayal. “May I tell you something in confidence, L.J.? And you, too, Tuvok?”

  Akaar stared across his cup into Lojur’s eyes for a moment before responding. “I will betray no confidences. Provided what you are about to divulge does not compromise the security of the ship.”

  Tuvok nodded, setting his fork down. “Lieutenant Akaar speaks for me as well, Commander.”

  “All right,” Lojur said, trying to decide where to begin. “I have a confession to make. It doesn’t pose any threat to the ship. At least, it doesn’t now.”

  “And what, specifically, do you wish to confess?” Tuvok said, prodding. Lojur knew that in addition to his scientific duties, Tuvok also maintained a keen interest in ship’s security.

  “I ... am the one responsible for the theft of the Shuttlecraft Genji,” Lojur said simply. He looked from Akaar to Tuvok and back again, waiting for their reactions. But neither face betrayed any hint of emotion.

  “I was under the impression,” Tuvok said at length, “that the Genji was stolen by Ambassador Burgess and our Neyel guest.”

  Akaar nodded. “But they had to have help to get away with it. Access codes. Prelaunch assistance. False messages [364] to divert the attention of key personnel at critical moments.”

&nb
sp; Then Tuvok displayed an uncustomary emotion: incredulity. “You are a navigator, Commander Lojur. Such specialties lie well outside your purview.”

  Lojur felt himself blushing. “I like to cross-train.”

  “It seems to me that you have but one ethical option open to you, Commander,” Akaar said.

  Lojur could only nod. His appetite now gone, he pushed his tray toward the center of the table and rose. He paused for a moment beside Shandra’s empty chair. “Please excuse me.”

  Commander Chekov sat behind the desk in his quarters, listening in silence as Lojur told him everything. His first reaction was one of anger.

  But he reminded himself that because of the navigator’s unauthorized actions, Ambassador Burgess had laid the groundwork for a rapprochement between the Tholian Assembly and the Neyel Hegemony. It brought to mind another young navigator’s lapse in discipline.

  “Captain” the young navigator said, “I wish first to apologize for my conduct during this time. I did not maintain myself under proper discipline. I endangered the ship and its personnel by my conduct. I respectfully submit myself for disciplinary action.”

  Captain James Kirk stood in silence briefly before replying. When he spoke, his tone was surprisingly gentle. “Thank you, Mr. Chekov. You did what you had to do, as did we all. Even your friends. You may go.”

  Chekov turned his chair away from his console, finally mustering the courage to face his captain. “Thank you, sir.” He rose from his station and headed for the turbolift.

  The doors opened as he approached them. His old flame Irina Galliulin stepped out onto the bridge, nearly melting him with her dark eyes.

  [365] “I was coming to say good-bye,” he said, nearly tripping over his tongue.

  “And I was coming to say good-bye to you,” she said. “Be incorrect ... occasionally.”