Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Brinkmanship

by Una McCormack

  “What do you intend to do with him?”

  “For now, he’s confined to the brig. But I guess I’ll be handing him over to Starfleet Command, as soon as—”

  Picard gave a wry smile. “As soon as all this is over, do you mean? That could be some time, Dax.”

  “Then he’d better get comfortable,” she said bitterly. Wearily she contemplated the paperwork piling up on her desk: new shift rosters, crew rotations, all the necessary rearrangement to put the ship back on high alert. This was just the lull before the storm. “What happened? What went wrong?”

  “On Venette? Simple enough. The Cardassians came spoiling for a fight, and the Tzenkethi were willing to give it to them.”

  “But you’ve been in situations like this before. Why has this one spiraled so badly out of control? Surely nobody really wants a war? Not now, not after so much death . . .”

  “One would hope not.”

  “So why were people so ready to let it happen? Where were all the good guys when we needed them?”

  “The best lacked all conviction,” suggested Picard.

  “Yes, yes, and the worst were full of passionate intensity. But that’s not true, is it? I don’t lack conviction. And neither do you. What I lack is any real sense of who my allies are, and I don’t mean people with whom my government has signed an agreement. I don’t even necessarily mean people wearing the same uniform. Look at Peter Alden!”

  “Who do you mean, then?”

  “I mean . . . people who share the same values as us. People who are prepared to risk trusting each other. People who greet strangers with an open mind and an open hand, hoping for friendship. People who, when faced with something new, something different, are curious rather than mistrustful. I remember when . . .” Dax trailed off.

  “We’ll get there again,” Picard said.

  “Will we? Rushing from crisis to crisis, we’re changing. And what will we become? Will there be any room for those of us who want to understand other civilizations? Am I overreacting?”

  Picard sighed deeply. “Do I think we are losing sight of one of our primary purposes? Yes, I do. But what else is there to be done? A child . . .” He frowned, and she wondered if he was thinking of his own son now. “A child needs security in order to be able to explore in safety.”

  “There’s only one problem with that analogy.”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re not children.”

  “So we fondly imagine.” He smiled. “Get some sleep, Dax. We’ll speak again tomorrow in person.”

  They cut the comm, but Dax remained at her desk for a little while longer and ran through the events of the past week, trying to see the steps that had led them here. What was it they said about the road to hell?

  • • •

  Velentur Island was remote, and the pier stuck out some way into the open water of the lagoon, so Inzegil went up to meet her colleagues from the city, while Artamer went to get Hertome. Inzegil was no more comfortable outside than most Tzenkethi, but her desire to perform her function effectively generally overrode this.

  The enforcer air car lowered itself almost soundlessly onto the water, slipping into position next to the pier. The Atas were temporarily confined to their decks on the other side of the boat and would not hear or be troubled by Hertome’s removal. Seeing the familiar face of her colleagues Getiger and Zedenzik, Inzegil waved. They raised their hands in greeting in their turn.

  “Arty shivering downstairs, is he?” Zedenzik said, once they were aboard.

  “Performing his function to the best of his capabilities,” Inzegil said, mock-virtuously. Her colleagues laughed.

  “So we have an Ata-C who thinks too much of himself,” said Getiger. “What about the Rets? Are we taking them too?”

  Inzegil shook her head. “I think they’ve learned their lesson.”

  Getiger whistled. “Hope you didn’t come on too strong with them, Inz. We want them still functional.”

  “Let’s say they’re unlikely to forget the encounter, which I think is all to the good. Artamer and I are going to travel back with them and make sure they return safely to their tasks. Has the Department of the Outside reopened yet?”

  “As closed as an A-bulletin,” Getiger said. “Whatever’s happening up there, these ones might get a few more days’ restoration out of it yet.”

  “I’m sure we can arrange redeployment for them,” Inzegil said thoughtfully. “Too much restoration time can make Atas fretful and unsettled. It’s not good for them. I’ll get onto it once we’re under way. Some new tenements are about to open near mine, and the building work’s nearing completion. The place is a mess. A few freshly restored maintenance units would come in useful.”

  “You’re a tough one, Inzy,” Zedenzik said with a smile.

  “It’s in their best interests,” she said. “And it would be irresponsible of us to give them the opportunity to be unhappy.”

  Zedenzik nodded around the boat. “Are you really planning to travel all the way back on this thing?” His skin glittered. “Poor Art. What’s he done to deserve you?”

  “He’s honored to perform his function to the best of his capabilities,” Inzegil said, getting another laugh. She checked the time. “Where is he? It shouldn’t take this long to bring an Ata-C up from his cabin.”

  She turned back to the boat and was met by one of the Ata-EE servers, who gestured to her that she was wanted down below by the other Ap-Rej. Leaving her colleagues, Inzegil went quickly down to the Ata section. Artamer was standing by Hertome’s cabin, a grim expression on his face. Inzegil knew what she would see before she looked.

  Hertome Ter Ata-C’s cabin was empty.

  “He’s gone,” said Artamer tersely. “Don’t know when and don’t know how. That door was sealed tight.”

  “Have you checked on the Rets?”

  “Sent a server. Didn’t want to go marching in there.”

  Inzegil nodded her agreement with his decision. This case had caused enough disruption to this voyage already. Now that there had been a serious new development, it was imperative that none of the Atas got wind of it.

  The server soon returned. With the quick hand signals that her kind were trained to offer their superiors (efficiency being more important from them than obeisance, which was taken for granted), she reported that Corazame and Mayazan were not to be found in their cabin, or anywhere in the Ata section, or anywhere beyond. Inzegil’s heart sank. This was exactly what she feared might happen: that Hertome would run away and take the Rets with him. But whether they had gone willingly, or whether Hertome had forced them, Inzegil did not yet know.

  • • •

  Nan Bacco checked the mirror. She looked sharp, despite forty hours without sleep, thanks to an ocean of coffee, a cold shower, and a stylist-on-call. She needed to be sharp. Sharp as a scalpel. The Cardassian Ambassador to the United Federation of Planets was about to pay her a call.

  The door swung open. Garak entered, polished as a much-used weapon. At Bacco’s signal, he took the seat opposite. “Well, Madame President,” he said, with a smile. “The best laid schemes of mice and men—and allies—gang aft agley.”

  Garak’s knowledge of human literature would put a professor to shame. Usually Bacco enjoyed batting epigrams his way, but she wasn’t in the mood for literary banter this morning. Instead, she got down to business. “Don’t make me order Starfleet to fire on your ships, Ambassador.”

  Garak’s smile broadened. “You won’t do that.”

  “You want to bet?”

  “You need us as much as we need you.”

  “I’ll send ships to defend that base—”

  Garak opened his palm. “By all means, do. But try to remember that we are your ally. Not your enemy—and certainly not your satellite.”

  Bacco leaned forward in her chair. “Damn it, Garak! What’s Garan playing at?”

  Garak pursed his lips. “Believe me when I say that I too find the castellan very tiresome on oc
casion. But it plays well in public.”

  She looked at him. He looked unblinkingly back. Then he turned and looked out of the window. Ah, thought Bacco. So that’s it. A little posturing from the castellan to make sure we don’t take her for granted. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Garak, still absorbed in whatever the hell was going on outside. Suddenly, he turned to look at her directly. He was smiling, as if to say: Have you caught up yet?

  I wonder, Bacco thought, what exactly Garan asked him to say.

  “Sometimes,” said the Cardassian Ambassador to the United Federation of Planets, “I think I’ve spent too much time among humans. Too long away from Cardassia.” His smile slipped. “As yet, the question of our attacking the unhappy Venetans is, I am glad to say, for the future. In the meantime we should, I believe, maintain a united front.” His eyes went icy. “Still, it won’t do the Venetans any harm to believe that they’re in danger.”

  You cold-blooded, coldhearted bastard.

  “Madame President, before we move on I simply must say—that particular shade of emerald is a triumph on you. Now—what’s next on our agenda?”

  FROM:

  Nanietta Bacco, President, United Federation of Planets

  Rakena Garan, Castellan, Cardassian Union

  TO:

  The people gathered under the Venette Convention Alizome Vik Tov-A, designated speaker for Korzenten Rej Tov-AA, Autarch of the Tzenkethi Coalition

  We repeat our request that the twelve ships en route to the Venetan System halt in their approach. We restate the warnings given by our representatives on Venette: none of these ships will be allowed to enter Venetan space. We urge you to seek a peaceful settlement to this crisis.

  FROM:

  Inzegil Ter Mak-B, Senior Enforcer, Area 9, Subsection 56

  TO:

  Her most excellent Ap-Rej Mertikor Ter-Mak-A[?], acting head of Unit 9, Department of Behavioral Supervision

  MESSAGE:

  One certified and two potential Ata runaways at loose on Velentur Island (within jurisdiction Subsection 72). Possibility of hostage situation. Requesting immediate air support from Subsection 72.

  In the name of our most beloved and exalted Autarch Korzenten Rej Tov-AA, and in defense of the integrity of his order, I serve and salute you!

  FROM:

  Admiral Leonard Akaar, Starfleet Command

  TO:

  Captain Ezri Dax, U.S.S. Aventine

  PRIORITY MESSAGE, SECURITY CODE ALPHA-2:

  Do not proceed on your rendezvous with the force currently deployed on the Venetan border. New coordinates to follow.

  In addition, Commander Peter Alden is to be restored immediately to active duty. Be aware that this order comes directly from the office of the president of the Federation.

  Week 3

  Resolutions

  13

  4 DAYS TO WAR . . .

  FROM:

  A syndic formed to consider evacuation procedures

  TO:

  The people gathered under the Venette Convention

  MESSAGE:

  Do you need to evacuate your dwelling? These guidelines will help you decide and help you to evacuate.

  You do not need to evacuate if you live in a 60+% green area. Any attack will be targeted on so-called “urban areas.” So-called “rural areas” should be safe. You may wish to consider whether you can help with evacuees. Consult the syndic formed to consider evacuee care.

  You are advised not to evacuate if you cannot easily reach transport. This may be because your transportation is unreliable, or because you are too young, old, or unwell. Consult the syndic formed to create shelters. A sub-syndic will exist in your area that can assist in building shelters.

  You are asked to consider not evacuating if you have expertise that can be drawn on: medical, firefighting, communications. Sub-syndics are being formed in your area to coordinate your skills.

  All others: consider evacuating. This syndic has created a checklist of what you should take with you and the steps you should follow. This checklist follows . . .

  CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD

  CAPTAIN’S LOG

  The twelve Tzenkethi ships remain en route for Outpost V-4 and our listening posts along the border report fleet activity. The Cardassians too are building up their fleet along their border with the Venette Convention near Outpost V-15 and there remains the possibility that they might not only fire on Venetan ships but also go on the offensive. This would of course put a strain on our relations with the Cardassians and I can only hope that we do not find ourselves in the impossible position of trying to protect the Venetans on one border while blockading them on another.

  One last ship had been permitted entry into the Venetan system. Reaching the bridge of the Enterprise just in time, Crusher watched as the Ferengi vessel Zek, bearing Madame Ilka and the staff from the Ferengi embassy on Venette, crossed out of Venetan space and went into warp. As far as the Federation and Starfleet were concerned, the border was now closed.

  “That’s the last,” Worf said.

  “Thank you, Commander Worf,” Picard said. Leaving the bridge to his first officer, he went into his ready room. Crusher followed.

  They listened for a while to transmissions coming from the Venetan broadcasters, as they offered advice to the people of the three systems on how to organize themselves in the event of a Cardassian attack and any subsequent Tzenkethi reprisals. Crusher nearly cried to hear their dogged bravery. She listened to instructions for evacuation procedures, how to build quick shelters, how to give emergency medical aid. Eventually, Picard cut the comm. “It won’t come to that, Beverly. I promise.”

  “Isn’t there some kind of pressure you could be putting on Detrek?”

  “I’m pressing as hard as I dare. You’ll recall the admiral’s instructions to keep the Cardassians sweet.”

  “But that was before this threat to Outpost V-15. The Venetans have no military to speak of. The Cardassians would be firing on civilians. Can’t you speak to Detrek again?”

  “Beverly, there’ll be back-channel discussions going on that we know nothing about. I can’t simply blunder in and demand that Detrek does something. What can she do? She’s as powerless as I am.”

  “So we do nothing?”

  “We do what we can. We carry out our orders to maintain the blockade—and we await new orders.”

  “And if the Cardassians open fire on civilians?”

  The lines on his face hardened. “Then we’ll do what we must.”

  • • •

  The enforcers from Subsection 72 greeted Inzegil and Artamer cautiously but with some quiet excitement. They were junior to them both, hence the rural rather than the urban beat, and trouble rarely came this far out.

  “We have one confirmed runaway and two potentials,” Inzegil explained. “I’m concerned about the welfare of those two. The confirmed runaway may be unbalanced and may become desperate.”

  Trekitor Ter Mak-C said, “Whatever you need, Ter Inzegil. We can put air cars at your disposal, heat detectors—”

  “All of it,” Inzegil said. She glanced at her colleague, standing by. “Well, Arty? Do you want to go back with the others to the city? Getiger said he’d stay if you preferred.”

  Artamer sighed. “I’ll stay to the bitter end, Inz. But wait till I get my hands on Hertome Ter Ata-C. He’ll be begging for Re-Co by the time I’ve finished with him.”

  • • •

  After a skyturn, Efheny abandoned her attempts to shake off her pursuer. She was having no success, and the meandering path forced on her as a result was in danger of making her late for the pickup. There would be only a small window of opportunity for the ship sent to collect her to come this deep into Tzenkethi space and make a safe exit. She would have to force her pursuer into the open.

  She stopped to take stock of her surroundings. The keteki trees provided her with cover, but they did the same for him. Still, she was fairly sure which direction he was coming from. Scour
ing the immediate area, she picked up a thick branch that had fallen from one of the upper boughs. She tested its weight. Good. Solid. Hardly a disruptor, but it would do. Sitting down with her back against the twin trunk of one of the trees, she held up her makeshift weapon so that it was clearly visible and waited for her shadow to reveal himself.

  She assumed it was Hertome. It was certainly someone who knew what he was doing, but enforcers would have air cars and trackers at their disposal, and would surely have made swifter progress. This was somebody who wanted to follow rather than capture her. No doubt he’d been watching to see when she left the boat and then sneaked out of his cabin and trailed her ever since. But he would be missed as soon as the enforcers arrived from the city to collect him.

  Efheny cursed him under her breath. It would be just her luck if the enforcers sent to track the runaway Hertome stumbled over her instead. She gripped her branch. As long as he was following, he would be bringing enforcers after her.

  She heard a crack of twigs nearby. She knew he could have prevented her from hearing that, so he must want her to know that he was close. She rolled her weapon around in her hands.

  “Hey, Hertome! Weren’t you meant to be going for reconditioning? Your escort will be here by now. You’ll be missed. You’ll be bringing people after us.” You crazy liability of a human, she added to herself.

  “One more reason for you to take me with you, Mayazan!” he called back. Now she knew exactly where he was. “Tell you what, why don’t we just hurry to your pickup point? Then nobody gets caught and everybody’s happy.”

  “Are you armed, Hertome?”

  “Alex,” he called. “My name is Alex.”

  “I don’t want to know your name!”

  “Easier to kill someone then, isn’t it? I know all the tricks of the trade, remember? You’re not getting away with my murder that easily, Mayazan. I’m Alex Gardner, I’m twenty-seven years old, and my old mother thinks I’m on a humanitarian mission to one of your worlds. You know, on account of us being allies? Remember that? Allies? I’m Alex Gardner, your ally, and you’re going to know the name of the man you’re killing.”