Star Trek: Typhon Pact - 13 - The Fall: Peaceable Kingdoms

by Dayton Ward

  From where she leaned against the master control console overseeing the unit’s operation, Captain Sonya Gomez added, “Colonies and remote Starfleet outposts, too. Just about anybody can fix them, given time and the right tools.”

  “Even me,” Wilmer said, “and you have no idea how much of a blessing that is.”

  Gomez replied, “Not the first time I’ve heard a version of that story, and not the first time I’ve seen one of these. We’ve definitely run into our share of them over the years.”

  “I’ll bet you have,” La Forge said, reaching for the control pad and pressing the key to close the cooling unit’s maintenance hatch. “I’ve seen a few here and there, myself.” As the cover slid back into place, there was a notable reduction in the noise. “Well, despite what my ears are telling me, my eyes and my tricorder say this beast is functioning within the guidelines.” In addition to the scans provided by his tricorder, the chief engineer also had brought his ocular implants to bear, surveying every centimeter of the cooling unit’s power systems using the full visual range afforded by his artificial eyes, and he found nothing out of the ordinary.

  Wilmer said, “It may not be pretty, but it’s liable to outlive us all.”

  “I think I’ve read stats to support that,” Gomez added.

  “Tell me about it.” Upon the Enterprise’s arrival at Acheron and after getting his first look at the array of agricultural and other equipment the colonists had brought with them to establish the initial settlement, La Forge had taken the time to refresh his memory on some of the older, non-standard machines and other devices he had found. The cooling unit for the colony’s central power generator was the latest iteration of a model introduced more than five decades earlier, descending from a design first developed by another group of Federation settlers on Tau Cygni V. La Forge and his engineering staff aboard the Enterprise-D—which, at the time, had included a bright young ensign named Sonya Gomez—first became acquainted with the design during the relocation of that colony nearly twenty years ago. He had recalled that earlier encounter during his review of the Acheron colony’s equipment, noting that the model in use here was somewhat newer—less than twenty years old—yet still possessed many of the same internal components.

  “Well, Chief,” he said, “everything checks out here. We’ll set you up with some extra components, just in case, but I can’t find a thing wrong with it.”

  Wilmer extended his hand. “Thanks for taking the time to give it the once-over. It never hurts to get a second opinion, particularly out here, where we don’t get too many of them to begin with.”

  “No problem at all,” La Forge said as they shook hands. “Get with my assistant, Commander Taurik, before we leave, and he’ll make sure you have any other parts or tools you think you might want.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” the mechanic replied, “and don’t think I won’t take you up on it. I know a good deal when I hear one.” Something beeped in one of his jumpsuit’s chest pockets, and he retrieved a small rectangular device that La Forge recognized as a civilian communicator. Wilmer studied its compact display and frowned. “I forgot that I promised to take a look at one of the water pumping stations at the other end of town.” Looking up from the communicator, he smiled. “I need to head that way. Need me to guide you out?”

  “Don’t worry about us. We can find our way.”

  “Thanks again for your time and help.” Wilmer smiled. “Feel free to pop over there if you get a chance.”

  La Forge shook his hand again. “We might just do that. Take care, Chief.”

  “You, too.” Turning to Gomez, he said, “And you, Captain.”

  Waiting until Wilmer had left, La Forge stood for another moment, listening to the cooling unit’s labored chugging. “Hearing something like this on the Enterprise would drive me nuts.”

  Gomez laughed again. “That’s the trouble with you chief engineers and your spit-and-polish starships. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to roll up your sleeves and do some real work.”

  Grinning, La Forge reached for the satchel he had brought with him from the Enterprise, and he returned his tricorder to it. “Spit and polish? Ouch. Are you really the same ensign who used to work for me?”

  “A lifetime ago,” Gomez replied. Then, she frowned. “Well, half a lifetime ago, anyway. Wow. Has it really been that long?” Unlike the bright, young officer who first had come to the Enterprise-D, Captain Sonya Gomez was a confident, mature woman, with her impeccable captain’s uniform and its accompanying rank insignia, a shorter hairstyle that revealed her neck, and the lines around her eyes that seemed to carry within them uncounted memories and stories both uplifting and tragic. She had begun her career toiling in relative obscurity, only to emerge as one of Starfleet’s finest officers.

  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” La Forge said, slinging the satchel over his shoulder. “Or, saving the galaxy three or four dozen times, or rebuilding after a Borg invasion.” He blew out his breath. “Sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve taken up another line of work.”

  “You and me both.”

  La Forge said, “Then I think about how I’d probably have ended up being bored. You can call life on the Enterprise a lot of things, but boring sure isn’t one of them.”

  “Same with the da Vinci.” Gomez made a show of rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve even used the word ‘boring’ since I first stepped aboard that ship.”

  Sonya Gomez had been a freshly minted officer, newly graduated from Starfleet Academy and her follow-on engineering school, when La Forge had welcomed her to the Enterprise-D’s engineering team twenty years ago. As it was for many cadets, her assignment to the Federation flagship had been a dream realized, though La Forge remembered fearing that she might not be prepared for the responsibilities that came with such a posting.

  Her trial by fire had come very soon after her arrival aboard ship, when the Enterprise found itself flung across the galaxy by the omnipotent being who called himself “Q” and into the first of what was to be several fateful encounters with the Borg. Eighteen crewmembers were lost during that initial meeting, and La Forge recalled how rattled young Ensign Gomez had been as she fought to compartmentalize her emotions and concentrate on her duties. Her own ability to adapt to the chaotic, even terrifying situation, along with a gentle mentoring nudge from him, had allowed her to carry out necessary tasks as the engineering staff fought to repair damage inflicted on the ship by that first Borg cube.

  After that harrowing initiation to the dangers that were accepted aspects of starship life, Gomez had continued to distinguish herself aboard the Enterprise before heading off to new assignments, eventually receiving a promotion to commander and a transfer to the U.S.S. da Vinci, a Saber-class vessel supporting a detachment from the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. In addition to leading that team, she also had served as the ship’s first officer. Five years ago, she was given command of the da Vinci after its captain, David Gold, had elected to retire following his own rather lengthy and distinguished Starfleet career.

  “From what I’ve read from the da Vinci’s mission reports,” La Forge said, moving to the control room’s main console, “I don’t see how you even had time for boredom, or anything else, for that matter. Come to think of it, how did you even have time to write those reports?”

  “I bribed one of the enlisted personnel to write them for me.” Gomez watched as he studied the control panel, giving each of its displays and rows of status indicators one final look. “You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

  La Forge chuckled. “I can’t help this nagging feeling that the second we leave, that thing is going to blow up or something.”

  “Well, if that’s how confident you are in your own maintenance work, then may I suggest that we make a hasty retreat out of here?”

  “Right behind you.” He followed Gomez to the exit, and they navigated their way through the building that housed the colony’s main power systems. Th
ey traversed cramped corridors and across a pair of narrow catwalks until La Forge spotted the door he remembered entering an hour or so earlier, and he and Gomez emerged into the fresh air and bright sunlight of early afternoon in this region of Acheron.

  “Well,” Gomez said as they began walking in the direction of the colony’s administration offices, “now that we’ve delivered all those supplies and equipment and given proper, Starfleet-certified inspections, what are we to do?”

  “Captain Picard asked me to give the colony’s main computer systems a look before we go,” La Forge replied. He gestured toward the path they were following and to the administration building, where the rest of the teams from the Enterprise and the da Vinci were coordinating their various efforts. “To be honest, that’s really something better suited to your people.”

  Gomez shrugged. “Well, like Chief Wilmer said, it can’t hurt to have another pair of eyes.” Then, with a wry grin, she added, “Especially if they’re yours.”

  “They are rather dashing, aren’t they?”

  Giggling, the da Vinci captain offered him a playful punch on his arm. After a moment, she asked, “So, the rumor mill says you’re seeing somebody these days.”

  La Forge felt himself blushing, if only a bit, in response to the question. “Rumor mill, huh? You never can stay ahead of that, can you? As a matter of fact, I’ve been dating someone. Tamala Harstad, one of Doctor Crusher’s assistant medical officers. Been with her for a while now, actually.” Just thinking of Tamala brought a smile to his face, one that Gomez did not fail to notice.

  “Good for you, Geordi. You deserve to be happy.”

  “What about you? Anybody taking up any of your precious little free time?”

  “There was someone for a while, about a year ago,” Gomez replied. “It went bad, and we were both hurt, so I’ve sort of sworn off the whole romantic thing for a while.” They walked without speaking to each other for a moment or two, acknowledging greetings from the handful of colonists they passed, before she cleared her throat and drew a deep breath.

  “Okay, topic change: Where are you and the Enterprise heading after this?”

  “Starfleet’s sending us to the border to relieve the Sutherland. I don’t know exactly how long we’re supposed to be there. A month, maybe.” The orders as conveyed by Captain Picard had offered no clue, and he had admitted that the estimate was his own. Given the current state of affairs, La Forge figured they might be out on patrol duty for much longer than Picard’s guess.

  Gomez shook her head. “I can’t believe they’re wasting you on something like that.” When La Forge said nothing, she eyed him. “Come on, Geordi. You know how fast scuttlebutt travels. Word is that somebody in Starfleet—Admiral Akaar, maybe—has been told to keep the Enterprise on a tight leash. Sitting on your butts for weeks while the Ferengi and the Typhon Pact dance around each other, and everybody knowing there’s no way any sort of trade deal was going to happen? Milk runs to colony planets? Border patrol? Something weird’s going on there.” She frowned. “Something weird’s going on in a lot of places.”

  That got La Forge’s attention. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been getting odd orders and assignments, right? So have we.” She paused as they passed a pair of colonists, each wearing light, comfortable-looking clothing, as they worked on a piece of equipment positioned outside one of the smaller structures along the settlement’s perimeter. When she resumed speaking, it was in a lower voice. “A few days ago, we’re on our way to Starbase Seventy-five because we’re due for a baryon sweep, but we get rerouted by a new set of orders. All classified, all hush-hush, ‘captain’s eyes only’ and everything. We’re directed to rendezvous with a civilian colony transport so that we can take on passengers and carry them to another rendezvous where we hand them off to another long-haul civilian transport.” She released a long, slow breath. “I’ve never been asked to do anything like that before.”

  “If all this is classified,” La Forge said, “then why are you telling me? We can both land in a brig somewhere if anybody finds out we’re talking about this.” Despite his warning, he could not help but be curious, as this sounded exactly like the sort of thing Captain Picard had briefed his senior staff on regarding any interaction they might have with members of the da Vinci crew or even the colony’s leadership and administrative staff. In particular, Picard had asked La Forge to be mindful of his conversations with Gomez, hoping that their long friendship might provide an opening to the discussion of any sensitive topics.

  Like this one?

  “Because all this sneaking around for no apparent reason bothers me,” Gomez said. “I heard the reports about the special-operations team that was sent to find the people who assassinated President Bacco. That mission was ordered and authorized by Ishan’s chief of staff, and they supposedly were successful, right? This group we picked up from the freighter? My orders said they were civilian engineers heading out to some remote Starfleet outpost.” She scowled. “No way.”

  “No way what?”

  As he posed the question, La Forge became aware that they were beginning to encounter more people as they continued their route through an area of the colony’s commercial district on their way to the colony’s administration center. Touching Gomez on her arm, he motioned for her to follow him to a patio outside a small tavern. The sign next to the door advertised that the establishment would not be open for a few more hours. On the patio seven sets of tables and chairs were arranged, and La Forge selected a seat that allowed him to place his back to the café’s storefront.

  “Okay,” he said, placing his satchel on the table as Gomez took the chair across from him, “you think you were giving some spec ops guys a ride?”

  “Had to be. For one thing, I had a check run on both ships, and the flight plans they’d filed didn’t match up with their respective course trajectories to and from the rendezvous points. I can see a mistake for one ship, but both?”

  “What about the people? The engineers?”

  “They weren’t like any engineers I’ve ever run into, and you know I’ve run into a lot of them, including some pretty eccentric characters.” Rolling her eyes, Gomez added, “Hell, I’ve got a whole shipload of those. These guys were nothing like that. They carried themselves like soldiers. I don’t think they were Starfleet, or maybe they used to be, but at some point, they wore somebody’s uniform.”

  La Forge considered what he was hearing. “Some special ops personnel don’t follow the standard uniform regs. They’re authorized to modify their clothing, hair, and whatever so that they can pass as civilians, which comes in handy in certain situations.” In his experience, it was the rare special-operations officer who successfully could modify his or her demeanor so as to conceal all “giveaways” or “tells” that might reveal them to be something other than a simple pilot, mechanic, or other civilian working on a freighter. The sort of elite training that produced such effective operators often did not lend itself to fostering humility or a lack of self-confidence.

  “I thought about that,” Gomez replied, casting a casual glance over her shoulder as they heard a colonist walking past the tavern’s patio. “But there was something else about these guys; something I couldn’t put my finger on. They were . . . I don’t know . . . unpolished? Rough around the edges, somehow? One of them even had a scar down the left side of his face. Who does that?” She held up her hands as though trying to wave away her words. “I know. It sounds weird, right?”

  La Forge shrugged. “It’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.” Still, he shared his friend’s curiosity as to why a special-operations team—similar to the one dispatched to apprehend President Bacco’s killers—might be deployed in such a covert manner. Who had deployed them, and for what purpose? Was this yet another aspect of President Ishan’s secretive scheming? “I can ask Captain Picard to make a few discreet inquiries.” If anyone could get Admiral Riker to do some digging about this, it was the captain. />
  “Discreet is probably the key word here,” Gomez said.

  “You’re not kidding.” Picard’s briefing on what Admiral Riker had asked of him and a small cadre of close, trusted colleagues still rang in La Forge’s ears. The idea that the Federation’s interim president might be involved in Nanietta Bacco’s murder was still hard to believe, but it already had been demonstrated that Ishan was willing to circumvent the truth and the law in pursuit of his goals, some of which remained known only to him.

  His combadge beeped, the indicator tone followed by the sound of Commander Worf. “Enterprise to Commander La Forge.”

  “La Forge here,” the chief engineer answered after tapping the communicator.

  “We have received new orders from Starbase Two Eleven,” the first officer said. “They picked up a distress call from a civilian freighter and have requested the Enterprise to investigate. All away teams are being recalled, and we are to depart immediately.”

  “Mysterious new orders,” Gomez said, keeping her voice low so as to avoid being picked up by the open frequency. “That’s certainly odd, isn’t it?”

  Trying not to be distracted by her suspicions, La Forge replied to Worf, “On my way. La Forge out.” As the communication ended, he rose from his seat, adjusting his satchel.

  “Well, what do you think about that?” Gomez asked.

  “I think it’s a distress call,” the engineer said. “But I also think it’s a bit odd that a starbase would call us to go check it out. Starbase Two Eleven has five starships assigned to it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Or, you could just be paranoid,” La Forge countered.

  “Maybe,” Gomez said. “Maybe you should be, too.” She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him. “Good luck, Geordi, and be careful.”