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

by Dayton Ward

  “We have our own problems with the Cardassians,” Akaar added. “The True Way’s involvement in President Bacco’s assassination—even if it is just rogue operatives within that organization—has still damaged our alliance. It’ll take time to sort through all of that. Diplomats are already hard at work, but they’ll likely be at it for weeks.” He fixed Picard with his customary piercing gaze. “A seasoned negotiator like you would be of enormous assistance, Captain.”

  “With respect, sir,” Picard replied, “I would prefer another assignment; something more in keeping with my rank and position.”

  Riker smiled. “You’re one of the most gifted diplomats we have, with or without a uniform. It’s just one of the reasons you were given so much latitude after the Borg invasion and during the rebuilding.”

  “Those were extraordinary circumstances,” Picard countered, “calling for uncommon measures.” He always had preferred the defined separation between Starfleet and the Federation’s elected government, with Starfleet acting as the instrument of political policy and security, rather than the author. “Things are different now. Starfleet and the Federation are far more stable than they were even a year ago. We’ve put the worst of the aftermath behind us, and I believe it’s time to return to the customary divisions between Starfleet and the Federation it serves. Starship captains are more than capable of acting as diplomatic envoys in first-contact situations and other scenarios far from home, but within our borders? Such actions and decisions are best left to elected officials—civilian officials—while we in Starfleet carry out the duties for which we are more aptly suited.”

  Akaar said, “I admire your dedication not simply to the letter of regulations, Captain, but also to its spirit. Would that everyone who wore a Starfleet uniform held themselves to the same standards to which you subscribe.”

  It required effort for Picard to maintain his passive expression, and he willed himself not to shift in his seat as he met the admiral’s gaze. Far too many haunted memories prevented him from accepting Akaar’s praise. “I’ve not always met that standard, sir, and there are decisions I will regret to the end of my days, but my desire has always been to uphold the oath I’ve sworn. I’d like to believe that even those most . . . unfortunate . . . of acts were in service to the greater good.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I suppose history will be the final judge in that regard.”

  Both Riker and Akaar said nothing for a moment, though Picard noted them exchanging glances as though each hoped the other might have some particular insight into any hidden or special meaning behind his words. It was Riker who broke the silence.

  “There’s no one I trust more, and for whatever my opinion’s worth, I agree with you about Starfleet’s role.” He sighed. “As it happens, we’ve got plenty to keep us busy on that front as well. We already talked about the alliance between the Cardassians and Bajor, which might require some smoothing of ruffled feathers before all’s said and done. The Klingons also are upset about the loss of their strike team while searching for President Bacco’s assassins. However, as you say, both of those are more diplomatic problems than issues for Starfleet. At least, for now.”

  “And let’s not forget the Typhon Pact,” said Akaar. “They’ve been rather quiet since President Bacco’s death, but I don’t expect that to last. While the consensus seems to be that the Pact is not looking for a fight from the Federation, I think it’s safe to say they’re going to be a thorn in our side for a while yet. We have no insight as to their long-term plans and goals, so for now we can only remain vigilant.”

  Picard said, “That has always been the case, Admiral, but may I ask when, precisely, did we allow our need for vigilance to define our existence?” The question had its desired effect, eliciting matching looks of surprise and confusion from Riker and Akaar. Both men exchanged another glance, though Picard sensed there was something more at work here than simple astonishment at the question’s blunt nature. Had they been expecting him to broach this topic today?

  “Starfleet’s mission has always been to see to the safety and security of the Federation,” Akaar said, returning his stern gaze to Picard. “That has been the case for more than two hundred years.”

  “Agreed,” Picard said. “That is one of its missions, but Starfleet’s charter also sets out for us another mandate: one of exploration and the expansion of knowledge. For two centuries, we were able to balance the need for security against our desire to push outward, to see what unknowns await us. When did that change? When did we allow it to change?”

  “Starfleet’s exploration efforts continue, Jean-Luc,” Riker said.

  “To a degree,” Picard countered, “only now the emphasis is on finding new allies. We examine star systems for their strategic importance or the resources they can provide. Those things are important, yes, but if we allow such priorities to define us, then are we really so different from other space-faring races we’ve challenged on those very points? Where does one draw the line that separates acquiring an ally and conquering a subject, and how do we prevent that line from being moved too far in either direction?”

  Akaar’s eyes narrowed. “That seems a bit far-fetched, Captain.”

  “As far-fetched as a community of worlds dedicated to the philosophy of individual freedom and mutual cooperation allowing its very moral fabric to be unwoven by the likes of Ishan and those who agreed with him?” Picard shook his head. “There are those who still believe in his ideas even now, after he’s been exposed. How long before we were at war with the Typhon Pact, Admiral, if Ishan had been allowed to remain in office?”

  “But Ishan’s gone,” Akaar said, his tone hardening, “thanks to you and others like you, who upheld the very principles you’re espousing.”

  “Yes,” Picard said, “and now it’s time for all of us to champion those principles, not simply because it’s required to deal with one crisis, but because it’s who we are. I believe that our defenses must be strong to answer whatever threats we may one day face, but we cannot sacrifice that which has defined us from the beginning. When I travel to another world and meet for the first time the leader of another species, I want to present myself, and the Federation, as someone who wishes to be their friend, rather than someone who needs them to be our ally against some other foe.”

  “Some would argue there’s little distinction between the two,” Riker said.

  “And we know what kind of people they are,” Picard retorted. “They don’t speak for me, and I refuse to believe we would allow them to speak for all of us.”

  Once again, Akaar tapped the table with his fingers. “Yours is exactly the mindset and conviction that’s needed right now, Captain, but forgive me when I say what I hear from you comes across as some sort of ultimatum.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “It’s not my intention to present demands, Admiral,” Picard replied. “I’ve made plain my loyalty to Starfleet. I have no desire to retire and become a diplomat or an ambassador, and neither will I be pressured into accepting such a posting. Fighting wars, or acting to prevent them, is not what drew me to Starfleet. I understand that there will be times when such actions are necessary, and so long as I wear this uniform, I will obey the lawful orders of my superiors, but if Starfleet is to lose or push aside one of its core tenets, then it’s no longer the organization I pledged to serve. If my superiors—our superiors—feel this is necessary, then so be it, but it will have to happen without me.”

  Riker’s eyes widened. “You’d leave it all behind? Just like that?”

  “Oh, I’m not saying there won’t be adjustments,” Picard said, offering a small smile, “but it’s not as though I haven’t given this the occasional thought in recent years.”

  “I would think less of you if you hadn’t.” For the first time, Akaar allowed his own expression to soften. “The demands of family can be as unforgiving as those of the service, though they also carry with them their own rewards.”

  “Something I�
�m finally learning, Admiral.” Picard leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “I have no wish to leave Starfleet, but Beverly and I do have an obligation to our son to show him everything it and the Federation have to offer. If we’re not able to do that while still serving, then we’ll simply have to look elsewhere for such opportunities.”

  “You’re not going to quote Jim Kirk again, are you?” Akaar asked.

  Despite himself, Picard smiled at the memory of his last lengthy discussion with the admiral regarding his career options. On that occasion, he had invoked the small yet invaluable bit of wisdom given to him by the late Captain James T. Kirk, during their rather odd meeting nearly fifteen years earlier.

  Don’t let them promote you. Don’t let them transfer you. Don’t let them do anything that takes you off the bridge of that ship, because while you’re there, you can make a difference.

  Since that day—which had seen the tragic loss of the Starfleet legend—Picard always had remembered and done his best to heed Kirk’s advice. He had declined promotion offers and other opportunities that, while advantageous to his career, would have removed him from the bridge of the Enterprise. So far, Starfleet had seen fit to accommodate his wishes. Would it do so again?

  As Riker and Akaar studied him, Picard said, “I simply think that I’d be of better use to you out there, instead of acting as some sort of errand boy or manning a desk here on Earth or at some starbase. If circumstances require it, you know I will always answer the call of duty.”

  “To be honest,” Riker said, “we figured you’d be coming here to tell us something like this, sooner or later. Hell, I’ve been asking myself for weeks what took you so long. The truth is that we have a new president, and a new beginning for the Federation now that Andor is back in the fold, and we’ve been given a new mandate.” Reaching into a pocket of his uniform, the admiral extracted an isolinear optical data chip and placed it on the table. With one finger, he pushed it across the table toward Picard. “If you want to go searching for something interesting, we’re hoping you might consider looking here.”

  Eyeing the data chip, Picard asked, “What is it?”

  “New orders,” Akaar replied. “Starfleet has been planning this for some time now, but something always seemed to come along and derail us. Our new president has decided that has to stop.” He chuckled. “You’re not the only one who feels the way you do, Captain; you’re just the first person to come in here and say it to my face.”

  Riker added, “Starfleet’s launching a new exploration initiative—the most comprehensive program of its type in more than a decade. We’re talking multi-year missions, pushing the boundaries of explored space, the works. Everything we were excited about, oh . . . say twenty years or so ago. You know, the good old days.”

  Feeling a small yet unmistakable rush of excitement, Picard nodded. “Indeed.”

  Akaar said, “Yours is also one of the first ships we’re sending out. Captain Sisko and the Robinson will be heading for the Gamma Quadrant, and we’ll be sending other ships out there. That’s been overdue for a long time. As for the Enterprise? You’re going to a whole new sector. Only unmanned probes have charted some of these areas. Where you’re going, none have gone before.”

  “And I’m as envious as hell,” Riker said.

  Reaching across the table, Picard retrieved the isolinear chip. It was an inanimate object, possessing no power source of its own but instead only stored information, and yet he imagined he sensed the energy radiating from it. “Well, this certainly puts a different spin on things, doesn’t it?” What would Beverly have to say about this? He rather looked forward to that conversation. Despite their earlier discussions regarding René’s upbringing and whether that was better served by one or both of them leaving Starfleet, he and Beverly knew that they were not yet ready to “settle down” in the conventional sense. If the Borg invasion and its aftermath had shown them anything, it was that no place could ever be absolutely safe, and there was never anything to be gained by living in fear of what might happen.

  So, we move forward.

  “Thank you both,” Picard said. He knew they would not be heading out just yet, of course. Undertaking a mission of such duration would require various system upgrades and refits for the Enterprise, as well as personnel transfers in the event members of his crew might not want to commit to such a lengthy assignment far from home. But, once all that was complete? Picard already sensed the anticipation building within him, rivaling the excitement he had felt upon being given command of the Enterprise-D more than two decades earlier. What awaited him and his crew in that vast unknown?

  “Good luck, Captain,” Akaar said, rising from his chair and extending his hand.

  Picard stood and accepted the handshake. “Thank you, Admiral.” He then turned his attention to the man who had become his most trusted friend. “Admiral Riker. I only wish you could be going with us.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Riker replied. “In fact, you should probably get out of here before I change my mind.” The men shook hands, and the admiral was unable to suppress a wide grin. Picard saw in his eyes that all-too-familiar twinkle he remembered from uncounted occasions where the younger man had stood at his side as the Enterprise set course for some new assignment or adventure.

  “Go, Jean-Luc. Go see what’s out there.”

  Epilogue

  Paris, Earth—November 1, 2385

  How am I expected to accomplish anything, sitting here with a view like this?

  Standing before the large curved window forming the rear wall of the office she now called her own, President Kellessar zh’Tarash regarded the breathtaking vista that was the city of Paris. The morning sky was a brilliant blue, accented only by a few small clouds. Sunlight glinted off the glass of nearby buildings, further emphasizing the bright new day that had greeted her. With a smile, zh’Tarash decided this could be a message—a hint of what lay before her as she set about the journey she had been asked to take.

  “I’m told that a variety of drapes and other decorative tapestries are available, should you find the view a distraction, Zha President.”

  Unable to suppress a small laugh, zh’Tarash turned from the window to regard her chief of staff, Rasanis th’Priil. He stood before the expansive desk, dressed in a conservative ensemble of pants and jacket that seemed to enhance his position as the president’s closest advisor and trusted confidant. He held a padd in one hand, and his expression was one of mild amusement. Zh’Tarash had not even heard him enter the office. How long had he been standing there?

  “I trust that you won’t be employing such stealth on a regular basis?” she asked.

  His expression unchanging, th’Priil replied, “Only when I’m attempting to avoid meetings I find unnecessary. For the record, I find almost all meetings unnecessary.”

  “You should have stayed out of politics,” zh’Tarash countered, “or any form of government employment. Or private enterprise, for that matter.” She paused, enjoying the light banter as she always did with th’Priil. In the days to come, she imagined relying on the momentary diversions as a way of mitigating the pressures of her elected office. “Indeed, the more I consider your present situation, I wonder if you might not have been better served by taking that retirement you once mentioned.”

  “It is a thought that will haunt me every day of your term, Zha President.” Then, in an obvious attempt to regain some semblance of control over the conversation, th’Priil made a show of raising his padd and scrutinizing its display screen. “As you have a full schedule for the day, I would suggest we get started.”

  “Yes,” zh’Tarash said, “it’s time to ‘hit the ground running,’ as some of our human friends say.”

  She already had seen the agenda prepared by her executive assistant and left for her on her personal computer station. Whereas the previous day only had allowed limited time for precious few pro forma tasks in between the inauguration ceremonies and the celebratory ball that evening, th
e first actual working day of her term would give her little opportunity to settle into her new role. Her schedule for the rest of the week would be dominated by meetings with key advisors and members of her senior staff, candidates for appointment to other prominent positions within the administration, and ambassadors and other diplomatic envoys from various Federation worlds. There also would be security briefings from Starfleet in the form of Admiral Akaar and members of his staff. Indeed, she already had reviewed several memos and other documentation from Akaar that had piqued her interest.

  “Move up the meetings with the security advisor and Admiral Akaar,” she said, “and tell the admiral that I’ll want to discuss the Typhon Pact in particular.”

  In most uncharacteristic fashion and aside from that entire abortive affair with them trying to forge a trade deal with the Ferengi Alliance, the Pact had remained quiet in the months since Nanietta Bacco’s assassination. The rival coalition apparently had been content to sit silent and watch how the Federation reacted to the loss of its beloved leader. That in itself seemed odd to zh’Tarash, given the Pact’s efforts—spearheaded by the Tholians—to unsettle Andor to the point that its government had voted to secede from the Federation. The Pact had taken great pleasure in that unprecedented event and its immediate repercussions, but there was very little known about their reactions to the news that her world and its people had returned to the fold. What Pact leaders might be thinking and planning had occupied her thoughts for weeks, with an even greater focus now that she found herself sitting in this office.

  “Ask Akaar to bring Admiral Riker along with him,” zh’Tarash said after a moment. “I’d like to hear his perspective on this and a few other issues as well.”

  Th’Priil eyed her with a quizzical expression. “Riker? He’s a fairly new addition to the Starfleet command hierarchy.”