“So the government’s neglect actually makes things worse for them,” Shran interpreted. “You’d think they’d have the sense to see that they’re encouraging their enemy.”
“It’s hard to reason with people whose minds are closed,” Archer said. “The whole mission was pretty much a waste of time.” He took another deep breath. “At least it was nice to get out in space again for a while. Always is.”
“I know what you mean,” Shran said. “Well, enjoy it while you can.”
Archer stared. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
Shran’s antennae tilted rakishly as he offered a knowing smile. “You know Admiral Gardner’s retiring soon, right?”
“Yes.” Gardner, the chief of staff of the UESPA branch of Starfleet, had successfully seen the service through the Romulan War, but had recently come to the conclusion that an “old warhorse” like himself was not the best person to shape Starfleet into the peacekeeping organization it was now becoming.
“Well, I hear you’re the frontrunner to take his place.”
Archer stared. “What? Hear from who?”
“Oh, various people. Including me, when I recommended you to President al-Rashid.” At Archer’s stunned silence, Shran smirked. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Jonathan. It’s disingenuous. We all know what you’ve done for Earth—for all of us. Did you really imagine this wouldn’t happen someday?”
Archer residence, Sausalito
“Honestly,” Archer said, “I can’t say I ever really thought about it.”
Danica Erickson chuckled—which was pleasant for Archer, for her lanky, warm nude body was nestled against his as they lay together in his bed, propped up on the pillows. They had gone out for dinner on his first night back, discussing the Maluria mission, catching up on the latest news of their mutual friends on Endeavour’s crew and in the engineering firm where Dani worked, and so forth; but he had waited to broach the subject of his possible promotion until they were alone on his houseboat in Sausalito Harbor. And once privacy had been achieved, there had been other, more urgent catching up to do.
“You’re cute when you’re modest,” she told him, her mellow alto making it musical.
“I’m serious,” he told her, though he found himself laughing with her, provoked by the look in her compelling dark eyes. “I accepted flag rank because it was a chance to make a difference, and I’m satisfied with where I am. But you know me, Dani. I’ve never been ambitious to be anything but an explorer, a traveler.”
“Are you kidding? Jonathan, your actions have changed the galaxy. No, don’t give me that look. You’ve led whole worlds to do things they never would’ve considered before you came along. Big things, daring things. You’re the most ambitious man I’ve ever known. But you’re ambitious on behalf of everyone but yourself.” She leaned against him, kissed him. “Which is why, if I hadn’t taken the initiative in our relationship, you’d still be looking at me as the little girl you built toy spaceships with.”
His eyes roved up and down her frame. “Believe me, I’m looking at you very differently now.”
“Once you got your head out of the stars and saw what was around you in the here and now.”
He studied her. “Are you trying to make a point?”
Dani caught his meaning and sat up to face him more directly, crossing her arms. “Not about us. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not going to push you to take this job because it would keep you here with me more. I’m patient. I understand the demands on your time. And I have my own career too, my own ambitions that aren’t just about you. We’re both comfortable with where we are right now.
“So if I’m making a point,” she went on, “it’s about you, not me. Even after all you’ve achieved, I don’t think you’ve reached the limits of your potential. If Shran and T’Pol and people like them think you’re right for the job, then that should tell you they have good reason. You should think about that.”
Archer wrestled with the question well into the night, getting little sleep. There was certainly a lot of good he could do in such a position. He had ideas for improving Starfleet as an exploratory and diplomatic service, pushing forward new starship designs with hybrid technology from all the member worlds’ fleets, encouraging more integration among the services—ideas that had met resistance from Gardner, who was too accustomed to operating from within Earth Starfleet and too slow to broaden his horizons. But then, Gardner had been stuck behind a desk here in San Francisco ever since he’d lost out to Archer for Enterprise’s captaincy. If Archer let himself end up behind that same desk, would he be able to retain the breadth of thought he’d gained in his travels? Or would he end up just as hidebound?
More to the point, his opportunities to satisfy his wanderlust were already diminished in his current job. He had plenty of opportunities to travel on diplomatic assignments, and he got to participate actively in Starfleet’s exploratory efforts, if only vicariously through the reports of the starship crews he oversaw. But it was a more constrained, grounded existence than he found comfortable—which may be why he had chosen to buy a houseboat, a home where he could theoretically pull up anchor at any moment and sail off to parts unknown. Theoretically.
True, as chief of staff, he could still supervise exploratory efforts; the late, lamented Admiral Forrest had been very hands-on back when Archer had captained Enterprise. But the Federation Starfleet was a larger, more complex organism than Earth Starfleet had been, which might make it harder for a modern chief of staff to concentrate on exploration.
On the other hand, there was Dani’s warmth against him now, and the opportunity to experience it much more regularly—her own schedule permitting, of course—if he took the job. Maybe they could even move in together, or . . . perhaps more. It would be a hell of a compensation.
He hesitated to contemplate that “perhaps more,” though. He had a big enough decision to make about his future as it was.
March 20, 2165
U.S.S. Pioneer
Malcolm Reed was in command of a derelict.
By the time Tobin Dax had recovered sufficiently from his injuries to examine the engines, it was already abundantly clear that even his expertise could do nothing to restore warp capacity. The Menaik could lend no assistance; their warp technology was decades behind the Federation’s. The best they could do was to divert their sole armed vessel in the region toward Pioneer in case the crippled ship fell prey to raiders before Starfleet assistance could arrive. But the slow patrol vessel would reach Pioneer only a few days before Starfleet could.
Reed had tried not to contemplate the choice irony that he’d blown up the only suitable repair facility within range.
Finally, the U.S.S. Thelasa-vei, a Kumari-class vessel operated by the Andorian Guard, arrived to tow Pioneer back to Federation space. Reed shared the crew’s embarrassment at being unable to return under their own power, though fortunately he heard little of the speciesist sentiments that some of his crew had expressed two years before, when Tobin Dax’s multispecies team of engineering specialists had come aboard to upgrade the Earth ship’s systems. There was still a certain rivalry between the exploration-oriented UESPA branch of Starfleet and the defense-oriented AG branch, manifesting itself as a certain smugness among Thelasa-vei’s crew; but it came across more as friendly taunting than something more virulent. Pioneer’s crew had shed blood in defense of others, and the Andorians could respect that . . . even if the crew had failed to protect those it had sacrificed for.
That was the real ignominy that ate at Pioneer’s crew: the fact that their sacrifice had achieved so little. They had prevented one Ware station from claiming more victims, but clearly the Ware’s presence in the new sector was stronger than anticipated. And they had alerted the Menaik to the hazards of the Ware, but the fluorine-based quadrupeds had few allies as yet, so who knew whether their warnings would be heard or taken seriously
?
So it came as a further blow when Reed learned his crew would sustain another loss once they arrived in the Vulcan system for repairs. He heard the news from Dax when he visited the engineer in sickbay to check on the progress of his physical therapy. “But you can’t leave us, Doctor!” Reed protested. “We need you.”
“Don’t worry,” the small, balding Trill told the captain as Doctor Liao supervised the exercises that strengthened his injured right leg. His mottled temples gleamed with sweat that, atypically, was due to exertion rather than anxiety. “I’ll stay to supervise the repairs, make sure Pioneer is shipshape before I go.” He lowered his gaze. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I don’t just need you for repairs, Doctor. I need the best engineering advice I can get when we go after the Ware again.”
Dax gave him a skeptical look. “I was there before, and it didn’t help much.”
“It’ll be different this time.”
“That’s exactly the problem!” the Trill cried, then immediately shrank back. “Sir. Sorry.” Embarrassed by his outburst, he refocused on his exercises.
“Go on, Doctor. You know you can speak freely here.”
The engineer glanced over at Liao, who nodded encouragingly. Then he turned back to the captain. “This time you’ll be going out to fight. That’s not what I agreed to. Even just exploring has been . . . has been risky enough,” he finished softly. “Knowingly going out against an enemy that almost killed me . . . that almost killed Dax . . . Sir, I can’t be responsible for that.”
Reed pondered, unsure how to respond. Tobin Dax had briefed both Liao and Reed on his true nature as a symbiotic organism, a fusion of the personalities of the host Tobin Fendus and the vermiform symbiont called Dax, the latter gaining the size, mobility, and dexterity of a humanoid body in exchange for the intellect and experience of a symbiont that could live for millennia. But he had sworn them to secrecy and shared no more details than necessary, for other races might perceive Trill symbiosis as an obscenity or a threat. So Reed’s understanding of his position was limited. Still, the captain offered what he could. “I thought you told us that it was the responsibility of a Trill host to expose the symbiont to a wide range of life experience.”
“Well, that’s kind of the point, Captain. Life experience. As in the opposite of death, which would destroy all that accumulated learning.” He blushed. “Maybe my own contribution won’t count for much, but Lela Dax accomplished so much in her life. It’s a great responsibility to carry her memories. I can’t be reckless with them.”
Liao punched him in the shoulder, making him wince. “I still say you’re underestimating yourself, Tobin. You’ve accomplished a lot for Starfleet, for this ship.”
“But I’m not part of Starfleet. I’m a civilian. I only agreed to help out until you could find a replacement. Somehow it’s become two years.”
“Years in which you’ve made friends among the crew.”
“And helped us out of a lot of scrapes,” Reed added.
“And I will cherish those memories, Doctor. Captain. Both—all of you. I hope Dax’s future hosts will cherish them too. But . . . there are some more recent memories that are harder to live with. I . . . I sent Morrow over to check those injectors.”
“And the Ware fired the shot that caused the ceiling to collapse. The blame is theirs.”
“It’s not about blame, sir. It’s about . . . consequences. And things I don’t want to remember. I can’t go into that engine room without thinking about what happened there. I’ll spend as much time there as necessary to get your ship back up to spec, sir. But then I need to move on.”
Reed could offer no argument. He simply nodded in understanding. “Have you decided where you’ll go?” he asked.
“I have friends on Vulcan,” Dax told him. “Professor Skon and his wife T’Rama. They’re expecting a baby in a few months. I always wondered how Vulcans handle pregnancy. When I was carrying my first child—I mean, when Lela was—well, never mind.” He broke off, and Reed realized he’d been staring. Infinite diversity, he reminded himself, quoting the Vulcan maxim he’d learned from T’Pol.
“Well, we’ll all be sorry to see you go, Doctor Dax,” Reed told him. “Your contributions to our mission have been invaluable. And I wish you comparable success in your future endeavors.”
Dax flushed, and not from the exercise. “Thank you, Captain. It’s—it’s been a privilege.”
Reed didn’t let his displeasure show on his face until he was alone in the corridor. Perhaps a civilian like Dax was better off out of this business with the Ware—but it left Reed badly wanting for engineering expertise just when he needed it the most. Where could he find someone suitable to take Dax’s place?
Assuming, of course, that he could convince Starfleet to let him tackle the Ware—and give him the help he needed to do so. Reed returned to his quarters to work on the case he would present to the Starfleet brass. He knew Admiral Archer would be sympathetic . . . but Archer wasn’t the only one he’d have to convince.
4
March 31, 2165
Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
ADMIRAL ARCHER LEANED BACK in his seat, sobered by the accounts that Malcolm Reed and Valeria Williams had relayed. Of course he had gotten Pioneer’s report weeks ago, but it was important to hear his officers’ accounts firsthand. He’d already debriefed Travis Mayweather over subspace from Vulcan, where the younger officer had remained to supervise Pioneer’s repairs.
“It sounds like we got lucky back on Enterprise,” Archer finally said. “No robot ships came after us to reclaim Travis.”
“It seems the station we encountered was on the far fringes of the Ware’s reach,” Reed replied.
Williams leaned forward, her wiry frame taut with energy. “And the intervening space was under Romulan or Vertian control at the time, sirs. If any ships were sent, they were probably intercepted.”
Next to Archer, Admiral Shran gave a harumph of amusement. “Saved by the Romulans. There’s a twist.” Archer had asked the Andorian Guard chief to attend the debriefing because of its ramifications for border security.
“Believe me, sir, I’m not blind to the irony,” Reed said. “But it demonstrates that we’ve underestimated the threat posed by this technology. We had an isolated encounter at the edge of its influence, but now we’re expanding into territory where it holds far greater sway. And if they have trading posts and warships, who knows what else they might have?”
“Not to mention the overriding question of who ‘they’ are, sirs,” Williams added. “We need to find out who created and propagated this technology and what their ultimate goals for it are.”
Archer studied the Pioneer officers. “It sounds to me like you two are proposing a plan. Malcolm?”
“Yes, we are, sir,” Reed replied. “We need to go back in and investigate the Ware. Discover its capabilities, its spread, its origins, and the true purpose behind it.”
“Sounds like deliberately picking at an ice-bore warren,” Shran said. “If you’re not careful they’ll swarm you and burn their way right into your heart. And no offense to your ship and its crew, Captain, but you didn’t have much luck by yourself.”
“That’s why we need to return in greater force, Admiral. I was hoping you would assign a task force of Andorian Guard battleships to accompany Pioneer on a return mission to the Ware sector—with your approval, of course, sir,” he added to Archer. “That would give us the strength to defend ourselves against Ware battleships until we can find who’s behind this whole thing.”
The human admiral tilted his head. “And stop them?”
“Or at least find a way to defend against their actions. And warn the indigenous cultures of the threat so they can take measures of their own. I know how you feel about interfering in other cultures, sir, but the peoples in that sector are the ones most immedia
tely under threat from the Ware. I can’t believe they wouldn’t want to take the lead in defending themselves.”
“They’re also the ones most used to benefiting from the Ware stations,” Archer said. “It might be harder than you think to change their minds. Especially if you go in with a show of force.”
“Believe me, Admiral,” Williams said, “the last thing I want is to risk losing any more people if it can be avoided. But if a fight does start, we need to be strong enough to win this time. We need to discover the intentions behind the Ware, sir. What if the stations are just the first stage of an infiltration—gathering data about new races, getting them hooked on Ware technology to soften them up for conquest?”
Archer leaned forward, holding her intense hazel eyes. “I appreciate all those concerns, Lieutenant. But if we go in too forcefully, we could start a war rather than preventing one.” His eyes darted to Reed. “Remember the Xindi. We thought they were out to annihilate us, but it turned out they were being used, tricked. We need to understand what we’re up against before we decide to go in swinging.”
“But, sir,” Reed countered, “we also need to be strong enough to withstand the learning curve. There were times in the Expanse when Enterprise almost didn’t make it. Times we would’ve been stranded or destroyed if we hadn’t—taken drastic measures.”
Reed lowered his gaze, embarrassed at what he’d almost brought up. But if anything, Archer was the one who still blamed himself for his act of desperation in his darkest days in the Delphic Expanse, when he’d stolen a warp coil from an Illyrian science vessel and stranded them three years from their homeworld at sublight to ensure that Enterprise would reach a vital rendezvous. He’d seen no other choice, and he had intended to return the coil if possible—but circumstances had forced Archer to leave the Expanse in haste to defend Earth from the final attack of the Xindi hardliners. Later, once Archer and Starfleet had persuaded the Vulcan High Command to send a follow-up expedition to make diplomatic contact with the Xindi, Archer had requested that the Vulcan crew attempt to locate the Illyrian ship and provide aid and recompense if possible. But no sign of the vessel had ever been found. Archer could only hope that they had managed to contact a friendly warp-capable vessel and find their way home, with the worst damage being to Starfleet’s reputation. But he would probably never know for sure.
Star Trek: Enterprise - 017 - Rise of the Federation: Uncertain Logic Page 5
