Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Brinkmanship

by Una McCormack

  • • •

  Picard, Worf, and Crusher gathered in the captain’s ready room to hear the admiral’s response to Alizome’s offer.

  “Tzenkethi scientists on a Federation starbase? Captain, have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “Then let us arrange a different location,” Picard urged. “Outpost V-4, perhaps, if Rusht can be persuaded to step back from her statement that Starfleet will not be allowed there again. It may at least delay the arrival of those ships—”

  Akaar shook his head. “No. Not good enough. The ships have to stop first. We’ve always been clear about this. What exactly is this offer when you look at it closely? They’ll come to Starbase 261, have a good look around, and then say, ‘Thank you for the offer of the supplies, but no, thanks.’ Dax’s solution will have been rejected, and the Tzenkethi ships will still be on their way. No.”

  Crusher leaned forward. “Sir, I must stress the significance of this offer—”

  “I don’t care about Tzenkethi body issues, Doctor. What about our issue with bioweapons on our borders? No, they stop those ships and then we’ll talk about the Tzenkethi inspecting the supplies we’re offering. I want you to speak to Alizome. This will be better coming from you—”

  “Admiral,” Crusher said in alarm, “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

  “Nonsense, Crusher. You’re a fine officer and you’ve obviously impressed Alizome. So go back in there and emphasize once more that we’re serious about those ships. Tell her that either she stops them, or we stop them.” He gave Crusher a fierce smile. “I knew I was right to send you on this mission, Crusher. Akaar out.”

  The screen went blank. Worf growled softly under his breath. “I have never heard the admiral speak so stridently,” he said. “Am I alone in sensing some deeper purpose at work here?”

  Picard slowly shook his head. “You are not alone, Commander. But ours not to reason why . . . Beverly, are you ready to speak to Alizome again?”

  “Oh, I’m ready, Captain. But I don’t agree with what I have to say to her.”

  And in her mind’s eye, Crusher saw Madame Ilka smile at her.

  Welcome to my world, Beverly.

  16

  1 DAY TO WAR . . .

  FROM:

  A syndic formed to consider the effects of fear

  TO:

  The people gathered under the Venette Convention

  MESSAGE:

  Do not let fear make you forget what is most important in life.

  Love your nearest neighbors. Love their fear, love their foibles, love them as they are. They will do the same for you.

  Keep heart. Stay strong. A life led in fear is a half life. Trust that this will end.

  LT. COMMANDER SUSAN HYATT

  SHIP’S COUNSELOR’S LOG

  It’s the little things that have the biggest effects. Cumulatively, I mean. Oh yes, Peter Alden is thriving right now—he’s back in the thick of things and he’s loving every moment that he’s causing trouble for the Tzenkethi. But what will the cost be? Because I’ll bet my commission that Peter Alden is storing up more trouble for himself. And that one day, something very small will cause him to crack. That’s all it takes. Something very small. And what I can’t understand is why he’s here. If I can see it, then so can the people who are giving him orders. So why have they sent him here? What do they think they’re doing? They’re supposed to be responsible for him. They’re supposed to care. But he’s here, and he’s damaged, and he’s panicked once already, and that’s not going to be the end. Living only to outwit your enemies is not enough. Not for a full life. And unless Peter Alden sees this lack for what it is, and fills it with something more meaningful, he will never be a well man.

  Crusher sat before the viewscreen in her office and prepared to speak again to Alizome.

  “I’m sorry that you’ve found yourself in this position,” Picard said. “We have to trust that Akaar knows what he’s doing—but can’t as yet share his reasons with us.”

  Crusher gave her husband a dry look. “A higher authority, Jean-Luc? I wonder what Dygan would say if he could hear you.”

  “I hope he would understand that sometimes we have to take people on trust.” The comm chimed. Picard moved out of sight. “Remember that you’ve beaten her once already. But she’s still ahead. Even the score, Beverly.”

  Alizome appeared on-screen and Crusher relayed the news that they would not accept the Autarch’s kind offer of inspectors on Starbase 261, and that further discussions were dependent on the ships that were now approaching the Venetan border stopping and turning back.

  Alizome pondered this reply for a while. “That . . . is a matter of some regret, Doctor,” she said slowly. “I must ask, did you understand the full nature of our offer? Did you convey that full understanding to your superiors? We have said that we are willing to accept medical supplies from you. Medical supplies.”

  “We do understand the full nature of your offer.”

  “Then how can you—”

  “How can I? Because I am serious!” Crusher said. “I don’t know how we look to you, Alizome. I don’t know what stories you tell yourselves about us. I imagine that from a certain angle we look dangerous—unbalanced, even. Constantly bringing worlds under our banner, integrating them into our Federation. We’re chaotic, disorganized in your eyes, we don’t police ourselves properly and, worst of all, we’re right on your borders. Well,” Crusher continued, “we’re not monsters, any more than you are. I know that when the threat of bioweapons is being used, I react with revulsion. You keep asking me whether we understand the full nature of your offer. But do you understand the full nature of our refusal? Stop your ships before they enter Venetan space. You threaten our lives, the lives of our children. We will never allow that to happen ever again. Stop your attempts to militarize the Venetan border.”

  She cut the comm and fell back into her chair.

  Well, that certainly felt convincing. But I hope our superiors know what they’re doing.

  • • •

  Efheny was woken in the dead of night by Hertome shaking her.

  “What?” she mumbled. “Are they here? Have they found us?”

  “No, they haven’t found us,” he hissed. He dragged her out of the hollow, ignoring Corazame’s pleas. “There’s nothing to find, is there?” he said, pulling her around the hill. “You’ve lied to me, Mayazan! I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve searched this whole damn hill. There’s no transporter, is there? You’re going without me, aren’t you? You’re going without me!”

  “Hertome,” she whispered, “calm down. There are enforcers everywhere. Of course I haven’t lied to you—”

  “You’re lying even now. I’m not staying. I’m not staying here for them to take me.”

  You don’t have much choice in the matter, Efheny thought, but then he pulled her to her feet and started searching her.

  “Get your hands off me!”

  “Where is it? Your implant? I’ll tear the damn thing out of you with my bare hands if I have to.”

  They fought. Corazame, huddled in the hollow with her arms wrapped around her cold body, begged them to stop, but they didn’t. They couldn’t. Only one person was going to get away, and neither of them could allow it to be the other.

  Kicking Hertome’s legs from under him, Efheny brought him to the ground. He pulled her down after him, and she fell, heavily, on top of him. She slammed one arm into his chest, winding him, and, with the brief window of opportunity that this gave her, picked up a nearby stone and smashed it repeatedly against his head. He screamed for a little while, but very soon all Efheny could hear were her own grunts of exertion. So she stopped beating him, and there was nothing to hear from Hertome. There was only her own breathing, Corazame’s weeping, and the faint chik of an air car.

  Corazame scrabbled out of the hollow on hands and knees and came toward them. Reaching out one finger, she touched Hertome on the cheek. She began to wail.

 
“Oh, Maymi, what have you done? You’ve killed him, an Ap-Rej!”

  Efheny leaned over Hertome’s body and grabbed Corazame by both shoulders. “Be quiet! He wasn’t an Ap-Rej. You know that. He was an alien. A human, they’re called. He lost his nerve and nearly got both of us killed!”

  Cory’s wailing, thankfully, subsided at the shock of what she was hearing.

  “Now listen to me, Cory,” Efheny said quickly, “because this is important. You’re about to go on a long journey, and there are some things I need to tell you before you go.”

  Corazame stared at her uncomprehendingly. Efheny shook her, hard.

  “Cory, listen! This is important, much more important than you or me. You’re about to meet a man with ridges on his face. Do you understand?”

  Cory, mesmerized, whispered back, “Ridges. Ridges on his face.”

  “That’s it. Ridges. Believe me, you’ll know who he is when you see him. You’re to give him this.” Carefully, Efheny reached above her eye. Digging her fingernail deep, she dislodged the tiny implant embedded just below her skin. She pressed it into Corazame’s palm. “Hold on to that, Cory. Hold tight.”

  Corazame gripped her hand around it.

  “Give it to the man with ridges on his face. Nobody else. Do you understand?”

  Corazame was bewildered, but she nodded. “The man with ridges on his face.”

  All of a sudden, Efheny felt completely free. She burst out laughing.

  “Good-bye, Cory! Good-bye! You don’t know how wonderful it’s going to be. You’re going away. You’re going to be free. It’ll all be beautiful, and different, and dazzling. Oh, Cory, you’re in for the time of your life!”

  The homing beacon activated, Corazame was transported away, and Efheny was left alone on the cold hillside.

  She reached over to Hertome and searched his rapidly cooling body. When she found his heat shielding, she turned it off. She did the same for herself. It was no more than a few heartbeats before the chik-chik-chik of the enforcer air car turned her way.

  • • •

  “Wait!” said Inzegil. “I’m getting two readings! Two life signs. No, wait, one of them’s very faint and getting fainter. Artamer, hurry. In the name of the Autarch, hurry! I think those two girls are about to run out of time.”

  • • •

  “Captain, this is Spon. She’s aboard.”

  “Thank you, Chief,” Dax said calmly.

  She turned to address her flight controller. “Lieutenant Tharp, you heard that. Get us out of here, warp nine point six. Back to the Venetan border. I think we have a war to stop.”

  • • •

  There was a man with ridges on his face bending over her. His face was gray. Gray and ridged.

  “Neta?” he said uncertainly.

  His lips were gray too, but his tongue was pink, as pink as the pearl of the Autarch’s palace.

  Oh, my beloved Autarch!

  He was saying over and over again a name that she didn’t recognize.

  “Neta? Neta? Are you all right?” He blinked. He had bright blue eyes, wide open, as terrifying as an open sky.

  “Neta,” he said again, “you’re back now. Don’t worry if you feel disoriented. Coming back suddenly can be like that. Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me. Everything’s going to be fine. Have they hurt you?” He reached out a gray hand to touch her face. “Neta?”

  Corazame, she thought. This one is Corazame.

  “You,” she whispered. Her voice sounded weak and lost. She was weak and lost. “You. She said I’d see you. The man with ridges on his face.” She looked around the room. There were other people there too, and they all looked different: different from her and different from each other. That one had blue bulges across his forehead and chin, with one hand on a weapon. That one had three arms. And this one, standing close by, had dark hair, pale skin, and was staring down at her with steely enforcer eyes. She was terrified, looking at those eyes.

  “Oh, please!” Corazame cried out, not knowing to whom she was making her plea. “Help me! Please!” She rolled her arms and legs around herself. “Please. Take me away from here.” Where did she mean? Surely she did not mean her home, beneath the Royal Moon, under the Rej’s protection? So did she mean this place, this little gray room where the air smelled like metal and there were all these different people with their different faces and everything was so different and not everything was kind?

  “Please,” she cried. “Somebody help me. Oh, my most beloved and exalted Rej, help me!”

  The man with ridges made a hissing noise. “It’s not her!” he said. “It’s not Efheny!” He leaned in. The blue of his eyes was very cold now. He put his alien hand upon her shoulder and grasped hard. “Where is she? Where’s Efheny? What have you done with her?” Turning his head to address the dark-haired man, the enforcer, he said, “We’ve got to go back for her—”

  “You,” Corazame whispered. “She said I’d meet you. She said I’d meet a man with ridges on his face.” She lifted her clenched hand and brushed her knuckle across the indent on his forehead. “Here.” She opened her palm to show him the small black device that Maymi had entrusted to her. “She said to give this to the man with the ridges on his face.” She laughed a little, teetering on the edge of hysteria. “I think she meant you.”

  The man with ridges on his face looked down at her palm. He took the device and stood up.

  “This is it,” he said. “The last of the data. This is what we need.”

  The one with three arms looked at him uncertainly. Its arms were hovering over a display of flashing lights. “What about your operative?”

  “Too late,” said the ridged man. “We have to go. We can’t wait. Besides, she’s probably dead already. Why else would she have given it to this one?”

  “Mayazan!” Corazame cried. “Maymi! She gave it to me. She said to give it to the man with the ridges. She let me go. She saved me from the enforcers.” She looked wildly around the room. “You’re aliens, aren’t you? You’re all aliens. You all come from different worlds.” Suddenly everything became too much, and a great empty fear washed over her. Her hands began to gesticulate, as if they would somehow instinctively know the right moves to make, the right signals to send. The colors of her skin began to flare out of control. “Oh, help me! This one begs for help. This one assures you of her gratitude, her loyalty, her devotion. Oh, please, do not hurt her. Do not send her back!”

  Her fear turned to terror when the enforcer kneeled down beside her. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw the same kindness that Inzegil had shown when she had placed her hand upon her head. He took hold of her hands, but she didn’t feel the same charge. I will never feel that again. I will never feel the fullest touch from a friend . . .

  “Ret,” the enforcer said, “everything’s fine. Look at me. Look right into my eyes. Everything’s fine.”

  He touched her chin and gently lifted her head up so that she could not help looking at him. He reminded her of Hertome. Hertome, who had been good to serve.

  “My name’s Peter. Do you hear that? Can you say it? Peter?”

  “Peteh.”

  “Good! Well done! Now tell me your name. Your full name.”

  She stared deep into his unblinking eyes and obeyed what she saw there. “This one is called Corazame. Corazame Ret Ata-E.”

  “Corazame,” he said. “Cory. It’s okay. You’ll be fine. I’ll look after you, Cory. You don’t have to be afraid.” He kept his eyes steadily upon her. She thought that he looked very kind. He said, “Trust me.”

  I do, she thought, grasping his hand as if it was the only link left to life. I always will. I must.

  Week 3

  Blink

  FROM:

  Civilian Freighter Inzitran, flagship, Merchant Fleet 9

  TO:

  Ementar Vik Tov-A, senior designated speaker, Active Affairs, Department of the Outside

  STATUS:

  Estimated time to border: 0.2
5 skyturn

  Estimated time to destination: 4.5 skyturns

  We are monitoring high levels of activity on the border. Cardassian and Starfleet vessels are present. What are your instructions? Repeat: What are your instructions?

  Detrek, joining Picard, Jeyn, and Crusher in the observation lounge on the Enterprise, was a new woman. There was almost a spring in her step. Crusher didn’t blame her. She was feeling pretty pleased with herself too.

  “Negotiator Detrek,” said Picard. “I assume explanations are forthcoming?”

  “Indeed they are,” Detrek said. “The agent that the Aventine was sent to collect has, for the past two years, been in deep cover at the Tzenkethi Department of the Outside—their foreign affairs office. Through the information collected by her, our intelligence bureau became aware of irregular relationships between officials at that department and several attachés at our own embassy on Ab-Tzenketh. You know how it is,” she said. “People go native. They start to see the possibility of friendship—”

  “That’s no bad thing,” Crusher said.

  “No,” acknowledged Detrek, “except when they begin to lose sight of why they were sent to a world in the first place. They are there to look after the interests of their own people rather than the people of the world with which they are enamored.”

  “So some of your embassy staff on Ab-Tzenketh had become overly friendly with Tzenkethi officials?” said Jeyn. “Doctor Crusher’s right, Negotiator. This happens. This is the risk we run when we send embassies to other worlds. To some extent it’s what we hope will happen—that these links will turn into friendships, and these friendships will give us pause before we go to war.”

  “These friendships went farther than the usual sparring and bonhomie at diplomatic functions, Ambassador. Two of our attachés were discovered to have links to a splinter group unhappy with our alliance with you and keen to forge closer links with the Typhon Pact. These same two have a great deal of influence over a number of rising politicians.”