Rise of the Federation: Live by the Code

by Christopher L. Bennett

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Vaneel said. Turning to Archer and the others, she said, “I apologize for the outburst. I think the rain is clearing up now—perhaps we could all use a bit more space.” Taking Pehle’s arm, she led him out from under the pavilion.

  “Wow,” Dani Erickson said as she, Archer, and the Endeavour party emerged into the waning daylight. “Family.”

  “It has its complexities,” T’Pol noted. “It is only logical that they would be compounded in families as large as the Denobulans’. I begin to have some insight, Phlox, into why you are content to spend so much time apart from one another.”

  Phlox waved it off. “Oh, this was a minor tiff. Nothing you should allow to trouble you. Oh, look!” he said, pointing off into the distance. “The sun is about to set behind the Tregnig Towers. If we can find just the right viewing angle from this roof, the refractions between the building edges can be quite spectacular.”

  Sato exchanged a look with T’Pol. They had both known Phlox long enough to recognize that he was more concerned than he let on.

  • • •

  After the party had broken up and the offworlders had gone off to sleep, Phlox tracked Vaneel down in her favorite hallucinatorium, where she often went to rest and work off her anxieties. Phlox had never been able to hallucinate as easily as Vaneel, instead tending to dream during his occasional brief naps—which was less satisfying, since he rarely remembered the experience. He envied his daughter’s ability to confront and cleanse her subconscious more openly.

  But tonight he found her restless and frustrated, pacing the empty, padded chamber without even talking to herself. “Am I intruding?” he asked.

  She looked at him hopefully for a moment, then slumped. “Oh. You’re real.”

  He declined to take it personally. “I take it you’re having difficulty hallucinating?”

  “Nothing seems to be coming tonight. I don’t know why. I certainly have plenty to be tense about.”

  “Rempal only wants what’s best for you, you know that.”

  “I know, but I just resent it that she doesn’t think I know my own mind, my own motives. Why does she think I come here so often? I always listen to myself.”

  He considered her. “Unless you don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

  “Oh, not you too, Dad.” She turned away and resumed her long-legged pacing.

  “Of course not, Vaneel. You know I’m on your side.”

  Looking embarrassed, she slumped against a cushioned wall. “I know, Dad, sorry. You’re the one who understands better than anyone. You always raised us not to listen to Great-grandmother Palbak’s stories, not to believe the old prejudices. And it was you who first made the effort to get to know an Antaran in person, who paved the way for everything since. I would never have met Pehle if not for you.”

  He smiled. “I just convinced one injured Antaran to let me save his life. You were the one who chose to expand on that small opening, to travel to Antar and build bridges. To share Denobulan scientific knowledge to help repair Antar’s ecosystem.”

  She pursed her lips. “I suppose I was rather spectacular.”

  “As always.”

  He came over to the wall and lowered himself to sit beside her, grunting a bit and lamenting his aging joints. He may have been in prime health for a Denobulan in his early eighties, but that was still middle age, and even Denobulan medicine couldn’t work miracles. “But it occurs to me,” Phlox went on, “that given how much of an activist you’ve been these past several years, it’s understandable that others might see your relationship with Pehle as an extension of the same. It certainly is a striking statement of defiance toward . . . the old ways.”

  “That’s a bonus, to be sure,” Vaneel admitted. “There are certain types of people whose disgust and condemnation for your actions is profound reassurance that you’re on the right path in life.”

  “True,” her father said. “But the question is, does Rempal or Vesena deserve to be put in the same category as those people?”

  Vaneel sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. “Of course not. They mean well.” A loaded pause. “They aren’t Mettus.”

  The pause before Phlox spoke was longer. “I try to convince myself that Mettus believes he means well, in his way. That he believes he’s defending something positive about Denobulans.”

  “He belongs to a hate group, Dad. A group that’s issued death threats against my fiancé.”

  “You don’t believe Mettus had anything to do with that?”

  “He hasn’t been a part of this family for over two decades. He’s a stranger to us.”

  Phlox grew thoughtful. “He was always very passionate about what he believed in. Very stubborn. And contrary, relishing a good argument. Much like you, in fact. Oh, you and he had some barn-burners in your youth.”

  She stared. “ ‘Barn-burners’?”

  “A colorful idiom I picked up from an old shipmate back on Enterprise. I’m honestly not sure I’m using it correctly.”

  “But I see what you’re saying,” Vaneel replied. “You’re wondering if this marriage is part of some extended argument with Mettus. If I’m doing this to make a point of defying his hatred. Of countering his voice.”

  “You did agree it would have that effect. And that’s hardly a bad thing. But your sister has a point that your personal happiness is important as well.”

  Vaneel thought it over for a while. “All right . . . I admit, maybe I was too defensive with Rempal. Too quick to assume that she might have some lingering prejudice. I’ll apologize to her later.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t need an apology. She just wants to know you’ll be happy.”

  Vaneel clambered easily to her feet, evoking a touch of envy from Phlox. She slowly paced the confines of the room as she spoke. “Of course, I knew this marriage would be seen as symbolic. It is a very important statement. There’s no denying that.”

  “Agreed.”

  She turned to face him. “But that’s exactly why I knew it wouldn’t be enough to marry Pehle for that reason alone. If it were just a symbol—if the essence, the connection, weren’t there—then it would likely fail, and that would’ve harmed the cause Pehle and I both believe in. That’s why we waited so long to commit. We both wanted to be absolutely sure that it was what we needed, just the two of us. That we couldn’t possibly be happy without each other.”

  Her gaze shifted to the empty air beside Phlox, and she smiled. “And I know that’s true, Dad. Because I see him. He’s with me now.”

  Phlox smiled back. If her hallucinations were finally kicking in, then he knew she would be fine. “Does he look happy?” he asked.

  She frowned. “Actually, he’s riding a purple flegnar beast. They’re usually orange. He’s having trouble taming it. I should probably help.”

  “Ah.” Phlox tried not to grunt too much as he levered himself to his feet. “I’ll leave the both of you to it, then.”

  5

  August 7, 2165

  U.S.S. Vol’Rala

  “WARP NEUTRALIZED,” Ramnaf Breg reported from her helm console. “On course for orbital insertion in two-point-four milliphases.”

  “Acknowledged,” said Captain sh’Prenni. “Good job.”

  Breg smiled. The Arkenite prided herself on the precision of the maneuver. Strictly speaking, a ship emerging from a spacetime warp should retain the real-space momentum it had possessed upon entering warp—but it was possible to finesse the collapse of the warp bubble to impart a selective torque and acceleration to the ship within, allowing fine course adjustments at the moment of warp egress without the expenditure of extra thruster fuel. It wasn’t easy to gauge the effect to just the right degree, but this time, she’d pulled it off to perfection. She hoped that augured further success in the confrontation ahead.

  “Oh, the long-range scans
were right, Captain,” Hari Banerji announced. “This planet is just covered in Ware. Numerous Ware stations and ships in orbit, too.”

  “Hail them.”

  Banerji made the attempt. “No reply.”

  “Keep trying. Broadcast our intentions and our information about the Ware.”

  “Understood.”

  In the lull that followed, Breg turned to her right to resume her ongoing conversation with Kitazoanra zh’Vethris. “Anyway, far be it from me to say an assassination attempt is a good thing. But the Keepers’ attempt on Lecheb’s life was the worst possible move for them. All they did—besides putting her in the hospital—was guarantee that she’d remove her objection to Starfleet intervention.”

  “And would you feel any differently if they’d succeeded in killing her?” zh’Vethris asked from the adjacent navigator’s seat, her lips and antennae twisting in that wry, observational way that Breg found so attractive. “It would’ve achieved the same result.”

  “Not necessarily,” Breg told her. “Whoever had succeeded her as acting governor might have been too afraid to endorse intervention openly and free the Council’s hand.” She shook her head. “I just wish Vol’Rala weren’t stuck out here, unable to join the fight.”

  “Eager to dish out some payback?”

  “Well . . . a little,” she admitted. “But mainly I’m concerned for my sia lenthar. My bond-group. They’ll be better off once the Keepers are subdued, no question, but the fighting itself may grow intense, if the Keepers are as stubborn as I expect. I feel I could do something to protect my sia lenthar if I were there.”

  “More likely you’d feel even more guilty about any harm you couldn’t prevent,” Tavrithinn th’Cheen observed from the tactical station on Breg’s left. “There or here, the answer is the same: Trust the Guard. Your colleagues are as well-trained as you. They’ll keep your kinfolk safe.” Breg smiled at th’Cheen, appreciating the support. The tactical officer tended to be aloof and arrogant, a property of his upbringing in one of the oldest, most prestigious Andorian clans, but sometimes he could display unexpected solicitude toward his shipmates.

  Th’Cheen’s antennae angled forward as he spotted a readout on his console. “Captain! A drone fleet is deploying from the nearest orbital station. Reading five drones.”

  “No preliminaries this time,” sh’Prenni said. “The Ware must recognize us from our previous encounter.”

  “We are getting a hail about returning their stolen ‘components,’ ” Banerji affirmed.

  “Mmm, I don’t think we’ll comply. Vrith, is there a control ship?”

  “No, Captain. Drones only,” th’Cheen confirmed.

  “I doubt they need one,” Banerji replied, “with a home station close at hand.”

  “Then we target the station.”

  “We’ll need to get past the drones first,” Giered Charas reminded her.

  “Oh,” zh’Vethris said. “And here I was hoping for a challenge.”

  “Never take a fight lightly, Zoanra,” the captain told her. “Not even the dull ones.”

  “Of course not, Captain.” Breg chuckled as the navigator’s antennae drooped in embarrassment.

  Still, the young zhen had a point. Ware drones may have had a powerful computer intelligence directing them, but it lacked flexibility and imagination. From what the task force’s crews had discerned in prior battles, they were driven by a finite set of protocols. In this case, not only were they attempting to retrieve the live “components” Vol’Rala had taken (no longer aboard, but the Ware had no way of knowing that), but since the ship was a known offender, they were also trying to defend the planet’s Ware from further sabotage. That posed a challenge in getting close enough to the controlling station to attempt a shutdown. Not only were three of the drones maintaining a blockade, defining a plane in space between Vol’Rala and the station no matter how the battlecruiser maneuvered, but the remaining two were free to harry Vol’Rala and blast at its engines and weapons. Irritatingly, the Ware’s skills at starship diagnostics and repair made it extremely good at calculating an enemy’s vulnerable spots.

  Still, the bridge crew had experience with the drones’ tactics and had studied the other task force members’ encounters with similar craft. As soon as Breg saw a drone maneuver toward Vol’Rala, she immediately knew how to move the ship to evade its fire. Th’Cheen could just as easily anticipate how to redirect the shielding energy for point defense, and between them they left Charas free to direct return fire, leading the drones’ predictable maneuvers and landing the majority of his hits successfully. Only the drones’ swift repair capabilities kept them in the fight. But Charas had studied Banerji’s scans carefully enough to let him target his attacks to sever pieces of the drones, eroding them until there was not enough left with which to rebuild.

  It all went so routinely that, despite her assurances to the captain, zh’Vethris couldn’t resist carrying on her gossipy exchange with Breg. “At least your news from home promises to be good in the long run,” she said with a sigh. “For me, I foresee no end in sight to my family’s nagging. Incoming, fifth octant.”

  “Acknowledged.” Breg veered the ship to evade the fire.

  “At least until my fertility window runs out,” the navigator went on, “and it’s too late to pressure me into a shelthreth. I wish I could get them to accept that I’m just not the maternal type.”

  Breg chuckled, aware of how truthful that was. Zh’Vethris was a striking beauty and enjoyed the attention of the other three sexes—four if you counted Arkenite females, since Breg and zh’Vethris were currently in a friendly but intensifying sexual relationship. Breg knew that starship captains often discouraged romance among their crews; she counted herself fortunate that sh’Prenni was a believer in following one’s passions. Zh’Vethris seemed relaxed and soft-spoken, but underneath it, she was as fiery as any Andorian. Her adventurous spirit had led her to seduce Breg out of curiosity, and that spirit had proven infectious enough to persuade Breg to experiment for the first time with a lover who was not Arkenite—an experiment that was still producing remarkable benefits. At first, Breg had thought zh’Vethris was merely taking an alien lover as an excuse to avoid the pressure to commit to a shelthreth group. She couldn’t imagine that the zhen’s lively spirit could tolerate being anchored to a single set of partners. Yet in the moons since their involvement had begun, the two of them had only grown closer. Physical passion aside, it still felt more like a deep, relaxed friendship to Breg than a fiery romance—but then, maybe that was the kind of relationship that had real staying power.

  “Damage to particle cannon five,” th’Cheen reported. “Rerouting power to compensate.” As he worked his console, he went on: “It’s not just you at stake, though, Zoanra. Fertility is not something Andorians today can afford to waste.”

  The navigator rolled her wide, dark eyes. “Oh, not you too, Vrith. I get enough doomsday warnings from my zhavey. Seriously, it would take centuries before our population sank to an unviable level. Surely it won’t take that long to find the answer.”

  “Even so, why take chances?”

  “If every Andorian in their prime went home to procreate and parent, then who would run the Guard? We’d have to cede Starfleet almost entirely to humans and Vulcans. Can you imagine? Heads up, opening in the blockade, third octant!”

  “Got it,” Breg said. “Course laid in.”

  “Firing,” said Charas. “Target destroyed!”

  “If you’re done gossiping,” sh’Prenni said, “take us in and prepare to deploy probes.”

  Three points defined a plane, but two only made a line. With one of the blockading drones destroyed along with one of the attacking drones, and with the remaining attack drone on the wrong side of Vol’Rala, the battlecruiser now had a clear path to the controlling station. Charas released a spread of four probes toward the station, and though
a drone managed to take out one probe with its particle beam, Vol’Rala’s cover fire allowed the other three to reach the station.

  This time, thanks to the work done by Banerji and Philip Collier’s team on Pioneer, the wake-up protocol had something extra added. The engineering teams had studied the telemetry from the original reawakening event, identifying the specific commands that Travis Mayweather and the other captives had sent into their life-support systems to override their sedation and restore themselves to full wakefulness, deactivating the Ware in the process. This way, the reawakening should work even on captives who had been duped into wanting to stay under. At least, that was the hope. This was the first time it was actually being attempted.

  For a few moments, Breg feared the theory was a bust, for the drones continued their harassment of Vol’Rala and further drones were incoming from around the curve of the planet. But finally, the drones lost attitude control and began to drift, and Banerji reported that the repetitive warnings from the station had stopped. “Rendezvous with the station,” sh’Prenni ordered. “Ready a boarding party to assist the reawakened captives.”

  “What’s the extent of the shutdown?” Charas asked. “Is it planetwide?”

  After examining his readouts, Banerji shook his head. “The orbital facilities only. I’m still reading active Ware systems on the surface.”

  The first officer grunted. “I knew it. Your latest trick is only a partial measure.”

  “Always rushing to judgment, eh, Giered? In fact, I anticipated this. Before, we had the cooperation of the sleepers. They woke themselves up, once we gave them the initial nudge. So all that needed to be transmitted was the basic revival signal. The actual shutdown procedures were initiated locally.”

  “Then this is practically useless, if we can only do it to one facility at a time!”

  “I’m getting to that. Now that this station is under our control, I should be able to employ its own communication systems to push the shutdown codes through to the rest of the Ware in this system.”