The Art of the Deal

by Glenn Greenberg

  Chapter

  11

  That is one big, beautiful ship, Gold thought upon seeing the U.S.S. Enterprise on the bridge’s main viewscreen. The starship grew larger and larger on the screen as the da Vinci approached it over Vemlar.

  Gold turned to Shabalala and said, “Put the transmission on screen, Lieutenant.”

  The image of the Enterprise was replaced by the familiar, but now ultraserious, face of Captain Jean-Luc Picard, seated in his command chair. Gold had known the younger man since the Academy, when Gold was in his final year and Picard his first. They’d last seen each other about a year earlier.

  However, any trace of their friendship was noticeably absent from Picard’s demeanor.

  “Captain Gold,” Picard began flatly. “I have been ordered by Starfleet Command to take authority over this situation immediately, and to investigate the alleged illegal activities of you and your crew.”

  That charge took Gold by surprise. “Captain Picard,” he said, trying to maintain a pleasant, friendly tone. “I would say that’s a bit of an overreaction on the part of Starfleet Command.”

  “I’m afraid Admiral Adair doesn’t share your view, Captain. He asked me to come here, after being informed directly by Rod Portlyn that you and your crew had gone rogue and sided with the terrorists against Mr. Portlyn.”

  “Don’t tell me Adair actually believed that? Or that you believe it?”

  “I know what I’d like to believe, Captain, but that is in conflict with my orders—and what Admiral Adair and I have seen with our own eyes.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gold did not like the sound of this.

  “Mr. Portlyn has shown the admiral and myself recorded images of the da Vinci aiding terrorist ships over Phantas 61, against a group of independent merchant vessels trying to help stop the terrorists’ activities.”

  Gold had to give Portlyn credit for ingenuity, and for acting so quickly. Presenting visual recordings in a way that made a specific event seem like it happened differently—that was one of the oldest tricks in the book, and still very effective, obviously.

  “Captain Picard, I can explain all of this. If you and I can just talk privately—”

  “That won’t be possible, Captain Gold. I’m sorry.”

  Picard did seem sincere. Gold sighed, well aware that he had little choice in the matter. He was certainly not going to fire on the Enterprise, nor was he going to try to pull a fast escape.

  “Very well, Captain Picard. You can send over a boarding party at your convenience.”

  Within moments, six shimmering images appeared on the bridge of the da Vinci and solidified into humanoid figures both known and unknown. Captain Picard was front and center, as would be expected. He was backed by a short woman with round blue eyes and hair styled in a pageboy cut—Gold recognized her as Lieutenant Christine Vale, the Enterprise’s security chief, who had spent some time on the da Vinci during their investigation of the Beast. She had three male security guards with her, all armed with phasers.

  And bringing up the rear was none other than Rod Portlyn, looking around the da Vinci bridge with his hands clasped behind his back and a satisfied grin on his round, pale green face.

  “Mr. Portlyn, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Gold said to the tycoon, barely containing his contempt.

  “Oh, I insisted on coming,” Portlyn replied casually. “I won’t be kept on the sidelines any longer. Captain Picard understands that.”

  Gold looked over at Corsi to share a moment of mutual astonishment at the sheer chutzpah of the tycoon. But she was having a moment of her own, exchanging an uncomfortable glance with Vale. The two women had known each other a long time, Gold knew, and this was hardly the ideal circumstance for even a cordial reunion.

  Picard stepped to the center of the bridge and faced Gold. “I’ll start by saying that this investigation does not extend to Commander Gomez and her team on Vemlar. As far as Starfleet Command is concerned, they are in the clear, since they have been working on the construction project the whole time.”

  “Fair enough,” Gold replied. “But before your investigation begins, Captain, there’s something you should know. Before Mr. Portlyn bought up all the real estate on Vemlar, he secretly used a bioengineered viral agent to ruin the soil, in order to give the inhabitants no choice but to sell their land to him.”

  Portlyn let out a hearty laugh. “That is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll give you credit for originality, though, Gold. Very amusing.”

  Picard brushed off this exchange and said, “A formal inquiry will begin shortly. Until then, Captain Gold, I’ll have to ask you to confine yourself to your quarters.” There was no pleasure in Picard’s voice as he said it, and Gold did not bear any animosity toward the Enterprise captain. Still, the thought of being confined to quarters on his own ship galled him.

  Picard motioned to his security chief. “Lieutenant Vale will escort you,” he informed Gold. Vale and one of her security officers stepped forward toward Gold. If Vale was aware of the icy glare she was getting from Corsi, she did a good job of not letting on.

  “Captain, if you’d please come with us,” Vale said. She and her subordinate guided him to the turbolift. But then a strange beep sounded from the tactical station.

  “The main viewscreen is being overridden,” said Shabalala.

  Ignoring Vale and her guard, Gold whirled toward the screen, in time to see the image of Vemlar disappear and be replaced by a large block of running text set against a plain white background, with the distinctive Portlyn logo adorning the top of the screen.

  VEMLAR PROJECT, the text began. Gold didn’t have time to read the whole thing, but there was enough information that could be picked out through skimming that his heart started pounding with excitement. Sections of the text were broken down under headers such as SOIL TRANSMOGRIFICATION and BIO-AGENT “V,” with accompanying details, technical information, and scientific formulas. He also spotted terms such as INDUCED FAMINE, UNTRACEABLE, and, farther down, PURCHASE PLAN.

  Soloman, Faulwell…bless you both, Gold thought, feeling a wave of relief rush through him. He turned to Picard, who was also skimming the text on the screen. “Look at the date on that file, Captain,” he said to Picard. “If you check the records, you’ll find that’s a full year before Portlyn actually purchased Vemlar.”

  Picard nodded, but before he could say anything, the file on the viewscreen suddenly compressed in width and was pushed to the left half of the screen. On the right side, a series of sensor readings popped on, showing a schematic representation of a planet and the area of space around it, with a single blip identified as U.S.S. da Vinci. Gold didn’t know what to make of this. He wasn’t expecting it at all.

  “That’s Phantas 61,” Corsi said. “Those are the sensor readings we saw at the Taru Bolivar headquarters.”

  Sure enough, the readings showed ten blips surrounding the one identified as the da Vinci, and then opening fire without provocation. Then came yet another blip, this one identified as a freighter, which went on to launch a missile at the planet. Technical data on the missile popped up on the screen and showed that it was carrying a viral agent—and the specifications showed that it was the same viral agent detailed in the Vemlar file on the left side of the screen.

  Gold looked over at Portlyn, who gazed at the screen with his mouth hanging open and his scarlet eyes looking as if they were about to pop out of his head. Gold thought he heard the tycoon mutter under his breath, “How…how could they have gotten it open…?”

  “You no longer seem amused, Mr. Portlyn,” Picard said.

  Portlyn managed to pull his gaze away from the screen and faced Picard and Gold, who now stood side by side. Gold had to give Portlyn credit—he quickly recovered from his shock.

  “All right,” Portlyn said tightly. “So it’s out. I can’t do anything about that now. But you can’t touch me. I’m not a Federation citizen and, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re
in nonaligned space. You’re out of your jurisdiction.”

  “And you’re out of your mind if you think the Federation is going to stay in business with you after this,” Gold said with a great deal of satisfaction.

  Portlyn frowned and nodded, not even trying to conceal his great disappointment. “Yes…I’ll probably lose some other business too.” The tycoon then seemed to inflate himself with defiance as he continued. “But you know what? My empire still stands, and there are plenty of other species out there who’ll continue to deal with me, with no qualms—the Ferengi, for example. Not every civilization has the same air of moral superiority as the Federation. You people seem to view the pursuit of wealth, success, and power as something evil, something to be ashamed of.”

  Gold shook his head, deciding that the tycoon just didn’t get it. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting any of those things,” he told Portlyn. “It all comes down to how far you’re willing to go, what actions you’re capable of taking, to attain them.”

  Picard added, “And what you do with them once you’ve attained them.”

  “Sure, whatever,” Portlyn replied, waving off the two captains. “Look, I’m ready to return to Vemlar. Where’s the transporter room around here?” He headed toward the turbolift.

  Just then, Shabalala called out, “Captain!”

  “Yes?” replied Gold and Picard. They then looked at each other awkwardly.

  “Uh, I actually meant Captain Gold,” the tactical officer said, helping them out of the moment. “We’re receiving a transmission from a ship now entering this sector. It’s Patrice Bennett, sir.”

  Gold smiled, openly delighted. Here’s where the real fun begins. “On screen.”

  Patrice Bennett popped onto the main viewscreen. She had a very serious expression on her face, but Gold recognized the warmth in her eyes.

  “Hello, Captain Gold. Ah, I see Mr. Portlyn is with you. Good. That means I can announce right now that I’m taking control of a number of Portlyn-owned properties—including Vemlar and Phantas 61.”

  “Patrice, what are you babbling about?” Portlyn asked.

  Patrice smiled sweetly. “I just finished a subspace radio conference with your creditors, Roddy. You remember them, don’t you? They’re the ones you borrowed money from to build your ‘empire.’ I’m sure you’re well aware that you’re past due on paying off your debts to them. Well, they agreed to sell those debts to me. Which means I now have the right to take control of the properties you put up as collateral—and I’m exercising that right.”

  Portlyn’s face turned a darker shade of green. He started breathing faster and heavier. “This isn’t over. I’ll fight you, and I’ll win.”

  “You’re out in the cold, Roddy. After Captain Gold told me what you did to Vemlar, I contacted your creditors, partners, and investors, and let them know. The word of a distinguished Starfleet captain was enough to make them all decide to wash their hands of you—to be honest, they never really liked being involved with you in the first place. Now, I’d appreciate it if you would be gone from the system by the time I arrive. That’ll be within the next thirty minutes or so.”

  Picard turned to Vale. “Lieutenant, I’d like you and your team to escort Mr. Portlyn down to Vemlar and make sure he’s not delayed or distracted as he clears out his things.”

  “Oh, we’ll make sure he maintains his focus, Captain,” Vale replied. She and the guards surrounded the flabbergasted Portlyn, giving him no choice but to leave with them. As they entered the lift, Vale turned and gave a little salute to Corsi, who nodded back at her with a small smile.

  Picard turned to Gold and patted him on the shoulder. “Looks like you’ve gotten yourself out of a rough spot, David—and saved the day.”

  “I had a lot of help, Jean-Luc,” Gold replied with a relieved grin. “And believe me, only some of it was expected.”

  “And what will you do with all your new properties, Ms. Bennett?” Picard asked the image on the viewscreen.

  “Well, for starters, I plan to have the appropriate resources look for a way to counteract the effects of the viral agent. I want to restore Vemlar to its original state, if possible.”

  “I’m sure the Vemlarites will appreciate that, if it happens,” Corsi said, stepping forward to join the two captains. “But what will they do until then? They were counting on the jobs that Portlyn promised them.”

  Gold nodded. “That’s been taken into account. Patrice, you want to answer that?”

  “Certainly. I actually like the idea of a scientific research and development center, but I don’t see why it can’t be built on Phantas 61 instead. That’s a better use for the planet than turning it into a garbage dump. It would a big, long-term project, and if the Vemlarites and the Phantasians are willing, they can work together on building it. It’ll be steady work and good pay. And if we can restore Vemlar, the Vemlarites can return and take back their land.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Corsi replied.

  Gold added, “And if I have anything to say about it, Patrice, you can expect as much help from the Federation and Starfleet as you’ll need. Of course, that’s assuming I’m not getting drummed out of the fleet.”

  Picard chuckled. “I think it’s safe to say that won’t be happening. And I echo Captain Gold’s sentiments, Ms. Bennett. If you need anything, let either of us know.”

  “Thank you both. I’ll be seeing you shortly.” With that, Patrice Bennett signed off.

  “Very clever, bringing her into this,” Picard commented.

  Gold responded with a nonchalant shrug. “Just following a classic engineering maxim I picked up from Montgomery Scott: ‘The right tool for the right job.’”

  “Well, Captain Gold,” Picard said, tugging on the bottom of his uniform jacket. “Shall we contact Admiral Adair and update him on the situation? I have a feeling my investigation won’t be necessary after all.”

  “An excellent suggestion, Captain Picard. This is one conversation with the admiral that I’ll actually be looking forward to.”

  Epilogue

  Captain’s Log, Stardate 54156.2:

  Admiral Adair has rescinded his order for Captain Picard’s investigation. Having made sure that Rod Portlyn has cleared out of Vemlar and the Norvel system, Picard and the Enterprise have departed for their next assignment. With our responsibilities at Vemlar now at an end, the da Vinci is departing, as well.

  Captain Gold sat behind his desk in his ready room as the da Vinci prepared to leave orbit. Soloman, Faulwell, and Blue had just arrived, at his request, and stood in front of the desk at attention.

  “At ease,” he told them. “I asked you all here because I wanted to let you know how proud I am of you. You all did remarkable work, under very difficult conditions.”

  Gold then focused on Pattie. “Blue, your actions were nothing short of extraordinary.” The Nasat bowed her head gratefully.

  “As for Soloman and Faulwell—well, what can I say? Thank you both for the work you did getting that file open at just the right moment.”

  Faulwell and Soloman looked at each other sheepishly. Modesty, no doubt.

  “So tell me, how’d you two manage it? Last you told me, the situation was hopeless—there was no way to open that file.”

  Faulwell and Soloman glanced at each other again, unsure who should answer. Finally, Faulwell swallowed and looked up at the captain.

  “Well, sir, the file really was impossible to open. But as we got within range of Vemlar, I, uh, suggested to Soloman the idea of hacking into the main computer at the headquarters and navigating into Portlyn’s private system. I knew it wouldn’t be too difficult—we helped set up that system, after all. I was thinking that once we were in Portlyn’s computer, we’d be able to open the file and retrieve the information.”

  “I…see,” Gold replied, motioning for the linguist to continue.

  “Soloman got through, and we were able to open the file, so we downloaded the information onto our system, and sent
it to the bridge’s viewscreen. Then, I contacted Elless and had him transmit the Taru Bolivar’s sensor readings of the Orion attack and the missile launch. So there wouldn’t be any lingering doubts about Portlyn’s guilt. Sir.”

  Gold didn’t know what to say. Faulwell and Soloman shifted uncomfortably.

  “Our actions were not exactly aboveboard,” Soloman said.

  “That’s…one way of putting it,” Gold said.

  “We were worried that Portlyn would get away with what he’d done,” Faulwell said. “We couldn’t just do nothing, sir. We’ll gladly accept whatever disciplinary action you decide on for us.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you,” Gold replied wryly. He looked them over silently for a long moment before finally smirking. “I won’t tell the top brass if you don’t…but never do anything like that again.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Soloman.

  “Not without your say-so, sir,” said Faulwell, with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

  Gold pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smirk.

  “Dismissed,” he told them as he rose from his chair. He followed the trio out of the ready room and onto the bridge. Soloman, Faulwell, and Blue entered the turbolift to return to their duties as Gold sat down in his command chair.

  Gomez and Corsi took up positions on either side of the captain’s chair.

  “Wong, take us out of orbit,” Gold said.

  “Aye, sir,” the conn officer replied, working his fingers across his console.

  Settling back into his chair, Gold took a deep breath and was silent for a short time, until he glanced up at Gomez with a grin.

  “Sir?” she asked him quizzically.

  “I was just thinking about my meeting with Soloman, Faulwell, and Blue…quite a crew we have on this ship.”

  Gomez smiled. “Yes indeed, Captain.”

  As the da Vinci broke out of orbit, Corsi said, “I wonder if we’ve seen the last of Rod Portlyn.”

  “We can only hope,” Gomez replied.