by Peter David
Considering the slightly satanic look to the Vulcan demeanor, Picard couldn’t help but feel that some mild irony was attached to the comment. Seizing the momentary silence, Picard said, “At the very least, let us be seated and discuss the situation like civilized individuals.”
“I heartily concur, Captain,” Nechayev said. They moved quickly to seats around the large, polished conference table. The only one who seemed to be moving with slow deliberation was Si Cwan, who took a chair as far from Ryjaan as was possible. Nechayev turned to Jellico and said, “Admiral . . . it’s your show. Walk us through.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” Jellico surveyed those gathered around the table. “Staying with what we know and what is beyond dispute: The Thallonian Empire has effectively collapsed. The royal family has been for the most part executed . . .” He paused to see if the harsh word had any effect on Si Cwan, but the Thallonian’s expression was utterly deadpan. Jellico continued. “ . . . as have local governors. Reports are muddled, however, as to any new government which may have taken the place of the royals.”
“There is none.” Si Cwan spoke up with authority. “I assure you of that.”
“How do you know?” demanded Nechayev.
“There were factions,” Si Cwan told her. “Many of them, united only in their hatred for the status quo. Hatred which had its origins . . .” He turned and fixed his gaze on Ryjaan, but then said simply, “God knows where. In any event . . . I know their type. The alliance will hold only as long as it took them to complete their bloody business. But when it comes time to work together, that will be beyond their abilities. They will tear each other to bits. The chaos and confusion which currently grips the Thai-Ionian Empire is as nothing compared to what will ensue in the time to come.”
“Lord Cwan’s assessment would appear shared by the refugees,” Picard now said. “For several weeks now, as you all know, refugees have been streaming out of the Thallonian Empire. At least half of them were sick, injured, barely alive, and many were dead or dying. The Enterprise was one of several ships assigned to escort them and lend humanitarian aid wherever we could. My ship’s counselor, Deanna Troi, has been speaking extensively with some of the more . . . traumatized . . . individuals. They share stories of disarray, of internecine squabbling. It is not limited to the Thallonian homeworld, unfortunately. Various races, indeed entire worlds, whose antipathies had been held in check by Thallonian rule, are beginning to lapse into old and bitter disputes. Unfortunately our understanding of all that is occurring in the breakdown of the empire is limited by the fact that we know so little of the empire overall. Even the refugees themselves know or understand little beyond what was directly involved in their own day-to-day affairs.”
“They had never needed to,” Si Cwan said, and Riker actually detected a touch of genuine sadness in his voice. “We took care of them. We told them exactly what they needed to know, and no more. They were happy.”
“They lived in ignorance,” Ryjaan snapped back. “You did them no favor keeping them in that state.”
“There . . . was . . . order,” Si Cwan told him, every word a bullet of ice. “That was what was needed. That was what we provided.”
“Lord Cwan,” Spock now said, “as you well know . . . I have been in Thallonian territory. I have been to your homeworld.”
“Yes. I remember,” Si Cwan said. Surprisingly, the edges of his mouth seemed to turn upward ever so slightly.
“My time there was far too brief to garner a full understanding of your empire’s parameters, and the Thallonian desire for secrecy bordered on the xenophobic. It would be most helpful to these proceedings if you provided us with a more clear picture of what the Thallonian Empire consisted of. The number of systems, the more prominent races.”
“The ambassador is correct,” said Jellico.
“Of course I am,” Spock informed Jellico, saying so with what sounded ever so slightly like amazement that Jellico would feel the need to point that out. As if Spock would ever be incorrect. Picard fought down a smile at Jellico’s slightly flustered reaction, and in order to cover his amusement, the Enterprise captain said, “Such information would serve to guide us in our decisions. A course of action must be chosen . . .”
“Even if that course is to do nothing,” Nechayev said.
“Nothing?” Both Si Cwan and Ryjaan had said the same word at the same time.
’That is certainly an option,” Nechayev told them. “I must remind you gentlemen that we have the Prime Directive to consider. As disconcerting, as distressing as the current upheavals must be . . . it is not within our mandate to interfere.”
“So you’ll just stand around and watch all the star systems within the empire slide into oblivion,” asked Si Cwan.
Ryjaan seemed no happier at the notion. “And you will let a member of the Federation—namely ourselves—deal alone with the security threat that the fallen Thallonian Empire represents?”
“You should have thought of that earlier,” Si Cwan snapped at him.
Ryjaan was about to fire back a retort, but Jellico quickly cut him off. “We have not made any decision yet, gentlemen. As noted, that is the purpose of this meeting. Lord Cwan . . . will you tell us everything you know about the Thallonian Empire?”
Si Cwan looked slowly around the room. It seemed as if he were judging every single person in the room individually, trying to determine what he could expect from each and every one of them. Finally he said, “There were, at last count, thirty-seven systems within the empire. Each system has at least one inhabited planet; some as many as four.”
“Would you be willing to work with Starfleet cartographers to give us a more detailed picture?” Jellico asked.
“Under certain conditions,” Cwan said after another moment’s thought.
“What sort of ’conditions’?” asked Nechayev.
“Let us save that discussion for another time. We must stay on topic.”
“I’m curious, Lord Cwan,” Picard said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “What, precisely, do you feel is the ’topic’ under discussion?”
Si Cwan spread his hands wide. “Is that not obvious?”
“Not necessarily,” replied Picard.
“Gentlemen and lady,” Si Cwan said, looking around the table and pointedly ignoring Ryjaan. “My escape from Thallonian space was aided by dedicated supporters, many of whom died in aiding me in my flight.” Clearly the thought that he had, indeed, fled, was anathema to him, but he pressed on. “They felt that I was the last, best hope to restore the Thallonian Empire to its former greatness. And that I would do so by seeking your aid.”
“If by ’your,’ you are referring to the United Federation of Planets,” Jellico noted, “need I point out that the Thallonian Empire is not a member of the Federation.”
Si Cwan raised a scolding finger. “Do not confuse isolationism with ignorance. I point out to you that the Klingon Empire, some seventy years ago, also had not joined the Federation at the point that they found themselves in disarray. They were, in point of fact, mortal enemies. Yet the Federation welcomed them with open arms.” His face darkened. “Perhaps we Thallonians should have sought conflict with you. Intruded into your territories, fought you for domination of worlds. Made ourselves a threat, rather than simply desire to be left alone. Had we done so, you might be as quick to cooperate with us as you were with the Klingons.”
“Your description of the chain of events regarding the fall of the Klingon Empire,” Ambassador Spock said with quiet authority, “is somewhat simplistic.”
“How do you know?”
“I was there.” He paused a moment. “Were you?”
Si Cwan met his gaze and then, to Picard’s mild surprise, looked down at the tabletop. “No,” he said softly. “I was not.”
“For the sake of argument,” Riker asked, “how would you have the Federation aid you?”
He looked at Riker as if the answer were self-evident. “Why, provide us with enough force of a
rms that the royal family can be restored to power. I know the power your fleet possesses. You have it within your power to right this great injustice.”
The Starfleet officers looked at each other. Then Nechayev leaned forward and said, “Perhaps you didn’t hear what I said earlier. Our Prime Directive forbids our interfering in other societies. . . .”
Si Cwan smacked an open hand on the table with such force that the table shook. “There is no society! There is disorder! Anarchy! I’m not asking you to change anything; merely restore the insanity which currently reigns into the order that previously existed. In exchange for your aid,” he continued, “I guarantee you that the Thallonian Empire will be willing to join your Federation.”
“It’s . . . a bit more complicated than that,” Nechayev told him. “There is an extensive approvals process through which any candidate must go. You don’t simply snap your fingers and announce that you’re in. Furthermore, you are not in a position to make any promises on behalf of the Thallonian Empire . . .”
“We were the Thallonian Empire, damn you!” Si Cwan shouted with such force that it shocked everyone into silence. For a long moment no one spoke, and then Si Cwan rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking a decade or so older than he had moments ago. “Pardon the outburst,” he said softly. “I have not slept in some time. Being royalty does not make one immune from certain . . . pressures.” He lowered his hand and then, with new urgency, he continued, “Let me put it to you this way: It is in the best interest of all concerned to restore the royal family to power. None of you knows what Sector 221-G used to be like. My kinsmen have ruled for two and a half centuries; an unbroken line of ancestors, keeping the peace, keeping order. There are some who might argue with the methods, but none can dispute the fact that for hundreds of your years, the Thallonian Empire thrived. I have many supporters still in place, but they are scattered and afraid. With the armed might of Starfleet behind us, however, it will rally support behind the true line of succession. Believe me, you would not want to see it return to the state that existed before my ancestors forged it into one of the mightiest empires in the history of our galaxy. If it did backslide in the anarchy that once existed, the number of dead and dying to which you referred earlier, Captain, would be as nothing compared to what’s to come.”
And now Ryjaan’s voice turned deadly. “That would not be advisable.”
This tone did not sit well with the Starfleet officers. As much as he was trying to maintain his impartiality, Picard’s tone was icy as he said, “Why not?”
“Because we Danteri have our own security to consider. In point of fact, we were intending to send our own vessels into Thallonian space . . .”
“I knew it,” Si Cwan said angrily.
Ignoring Si Cwan’s outburst, Ryjaan said, “To be completely blunt, several systems within Thallonian space have already contacted us. There is discussion of new alliances being formed. They want protection, and we are prepared to provide it for them. If a fleet of UFP ships enters Thallonian space with hostile intentions, it is entirely possible that they may find themselves in conflict with Danterian ships.”
“You think to pick over our bones,” Si Cwan said, and he started to rise from his chair. “You are premature, Danterian. We are not as dead as you would desire us to be. And if you come into conflict with us . . .”
“If by ’us’ you mean your beloved royal family, need I remind you there is no ’us.’ Your time is past, Cwan, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you can stop wasting our time.”
“Sit down, Lord Cwan,” Jellico said sharply, and Si Cwan reined in his anger before it could overwhelm him. Slowly he sat once more.
Ambassador Spock, speaking in his slow, deliberate manner, said, “I believe we can all agree that avoiding violence and an exacerbation of an already difficult situation is of paramount importance?” There were nods from all around. “Very well. With that in mind . . . Ryjaan, you are authorized to speak on behalf of your government, I take it?”
“Of course. And you are for yours?”
Spock glanced at Jellico and Nechayev and said, “We have not come into this situation unprepared. I have made a thorough study and report of the likely reactions of both the Danteri and the Thallonians. Thus far they have remained in line with the projected probability curve.”
Ryjaan made no effort to disguise his confusion upon hearing this pronouncement. Remarkably, he looked to Si Cwan for clarification. “He’s saying we’re predictable,” Si Cwan explained.
“Quite so,” affirmed Spock. “With that in mind . . . I have already made recommendations to the Federation which, if I am not mistaken, Admiral Nechayev is prepared to discuss,”
“Thank you, Ambassador,” she said. She drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Ryjaan . . . since the Danteri are members of the UFP, I am informing you that the Federation would consider it contrary to its best interests to have Danterian ships entering Thai-Ionian space in any great numbers, inflaming an already inflammatory situation and stirring up hostilities. I am telling you this informally. If you desire, a formal resolution can be delivered by the Council.”
“I see,” said Ryjaan dryly. “And you anticipate that the Danteri will simply sit back and take no action, allowing the Federation to enter Thallonian space in force and shift the balance of power in a direction they find more appealing. Is that it?”
“No. That is not it at all. Provided that the Danteri do not, by force of arms, attempt to affect the situation, the Federation has no intention of attempting similar tactics, simply for,” and she afforded Si Cwan a quick glance, “the personal benefit of a handful of people.”
Si Cwan stiffened. “You do not understand,” he said. “This has nothing to do with personal aggrandizement. I didn’t ask for my station in life. To be relieved of responsibility . . . to be normal . . .” He took a deep sigh, and there was the slightest tremble to his words. “It would almost be a blessing.” Then he seemed to shake it off and, more firmly, he continued, “It is not for myself that I seek your help. It is for the good of the entire Thallonian Empire.”
“You,” Ryjaan said coolly, “are not in a position to decide the welfare of the Thallonian Empire.”
Before Si Cwan could shoot back a response, Jellico quickly stepped in. “It’s irrelevant to discuss the option. Starfleet is not going to send in armed forces to restore you or any surviving members of the royal family to power, Lord Cwan. It simply isn’t our way.”
“I see. Instead your way is to allow billions of people to be swallowed by a spiral of chaos.”
Spock replied, “That, sir, is overstated. It is also inaccurate.”
“We are discussing,” Jellico continued, “sending in observers. A neutral vessel with a small crew to observe and report back to the Federation, so that appropriate action can be taken at the appropriate time.”
With utter contempt, Si Cwan said, “What a disappointment the present human race would be to its ancestors. As opposed to the pioneers and warriors of a bygone day, you are now all tentative and hesitant. When a time calls for the strides of a giant, you take small, mincing steps.”
“Considering you came to us for help, Lord Cwan,” Jellico said in exasperation, “I can’t say I appreciate your attitude.”
And then Commander Riker said something completely unexpected.
“Cwan is right.”
If Riker had sprouted a third eye he could not have gotten any more of an astounded reaction from Jellico, Nechayev, and Ryjaan. Spock, as was his custom, remained impassive, and Picard was poker-faced.
“Are you saying we should go in there with guns blazing, Commander?” Nechayev said with ill-disguised incredulity.
“No,” Riker replied flatly. “Difficult times do not call for extreme measures. But by the same token,” and he leaned forward, arms on the table, fingers interlaced tightly, “we are talking about the collapse of an empire. We are, as Lord Cwan said, considering
the fate of billions of people. For the Federation response to simply be that of passive observation . . .”
“The Prime Directive . . .” began Jellico.
“The Prime Directive, Admiral, last time I checked, did not first appear on the wall of Starfleet Headquarters in flaming letters accompanied by a sepulchral voice intoning, Thou Shalt Not Butt In,’ “Riker said flatly. “It’s a guide for day-to-day interaction with developing races so that we don’t have umpty-ump Starfleet officers running around playing god by their own rules. But this is not day-today, Admiral. And we’re not talking about playing god. We’re talking about showing compassion for fellow living beings. Tell me, Admiral, while you were sitting on Deep Space Five waiting for us to show up, did you actually walk around and interact with the refugees? Did you see the misery in their faces, the fear in their eyes? Did you help patch up the wounded, stand by the bedside of the dying, say a prayer for the dead? Or did you sit isolated in your quarters grumbling over the inconvenience?”
“That is quite enough, Commander!” Admiral Nechayev said sharply.
Jellico smiled grimly. “You’ll have to forgive the commander. He and I have some . . . history . . . together. The kind of history that prompts him to throw caution to the wind, even in the face of potentially gross insubordination.”
If Riker seemed at all intimidated, he didn’t show it. “The Prime Directive was created by men and women, no better or worse than any of us, and I respectfully submit that if our hands are so completely tied by it that we sit around impotently, then we have to seriously reconsider what the hell it is we’re all about.”
Jellico’s anger seemed to be growing exponentially, but the supernaturally calm voice of Ambassador Spock cut in before Jellico could say anything. “I once knew a man,” he said quietly, “who would have agreed with you.” There was a pause as Spock’s words sank in, and then he continued, “What would you suggest, Commander?”
