May 24, 2165
U.S.S. Endeavour
“Much has been said about the crimes Administrator V’Las is said to have committed,” said the stern, middle-aged man on T’Pol’s desk monitor. “Allegations that the administrator is no longer present to defend himself against. But too little is said these days about the wise decisions V’Las made during his decades as a minister and administrator within the High Command.”
The speaker was Commander Zadok, the leader of the High Command loyalists, whose partisans within the Vulcan Council had called him to testify and essentially handed him the floor as a platform for his militaristic rhetoric. As one of the witnesses, T’Pol should optimally have been present in the Council chamber, as Admiral Archer and Commissioner Soval were. But she had duties as Endeavour’s captain that were not being fulfilled while she sat idly in the Council gallery, so she had disdained protocol and shuttled back to the ship. After all, factions like Zadok’s were already long since convinced that she was undisciplined, mercurial, and overly contaminated by her long association with humans, so she need not fear doing any further harm to her reputation in their eyes, even if their opinion had mattered to her in the slightest.
Still, she kept the hearings playing in the background while she studied the reports that her first officer, Aranthanien ch’Revash, had brought to her ready room for her review. The veteran Andorian officer now sat in the corner seat, watching Zadok’s speech on her desk monitor. “From the start, V’Las recognized the potential danger that humanity’s Warp Five Program created for the galaxy. It was through his urging that the High Command acted to put a check on the humans’ rapid technological advancement, delaying their expansion into space long enough to cool their aggressive fervor to expand. It was at his insistence that a Vulcan monitor was placed aboard the first human Warp Five vessel, Enterprise—although he could not have known that the assigned monitor, Subcommander T’Pol, would prove so susceptible to human influence. Let us note that it was then-Ambassador Soval who selected the monitor.”
“Coward,” Thanien growled softly. “Doesn’t have the courtesy to insult you to your face.”
T’Pol didn’t bother to look up from her reports. “I have yet to register an insulting statement.”
“Hm, yes, point taken.”
Zadok had continued under their exchange. “. . . Soval should have known better, given his own respectable experience on the Andorian front. Many living Vulcans still remember how the Andorians first swarmed across space two centuries ago, their aggression driving an expansionistic haste, exacerbated by the technologies they had stolen from the first Vulcan emissaries to their world decades earlier.”
“Hardly ‘stolen,’ ” Thanien said. “Those initial Vulcan missionaries were happy to let us study their science. Part of their effort to condition us to logic. Though it simply enhanced our existing theories.” He smirked, antennae twisting wryly. “I imagine your people were quite surprised to meet us in space less than a century after we . . . advised them to leave our world.”
“Mistakes were made,” T’Pol acknowledged, “on both sides.”
“. . . And it should come as no surprise that Earth and Andoria, such similarly aggressive cultures, fell so readily into alliance. It should come as no surprise that Jonathan Archer’s first action upon establishing contact with the Imperial Guard was to assist it in exposing our listening post at P’Jem—the first in a string of events that undermined Vulcan security and intelligence along the Andorian border and escalated affairs to the brink of war.”
“Well, at least he didn’t blame you this time,” said Thanien.
“I take it as implicit.”
But Zadok did not dwell on that point, so as not to give rival councillors a chance to challenge the logical flaws in his thesis. “In the years that followed, Earth and Andoria often colluded to undermine the peacekeeping efforts of the High Command. In nearly every such case, Jonathan Archer was at the heart of events. And who was it that happened to ‘discover’ the alleged Kir’Shara and enable the Syrannites to depose V’Las just in time to allow the Andorians victory against our pacification fleet? None other than Jonathan Archer. To the logical mind, does that not appear exceedingly . . . contrived?”
“Do you propose, then,” asked one of the councillors, “that the Kir’Shara is part of a plot by Earth and Andoria to undermine Vulcan power?”
“Consider the events that have occurred since. The High Command was dissolved. The Syrannite government hobbled Vulcan’s fleet and ultimately dismantled most of it. And Vulcan was absorbed into an alliance whose military consists overwhelmingly of Earth and Andorian starships. I submit, Councillor, that Vulcan has already been conquered, a bloodless occupation made possible by collaborators within the government.”
“There has been no subjugation. No attempt to undermine the Vulcan way of life.”
“There have been abundant such attempts, rooted in the propaganda of the mythical Kir’Shara. The normalization of melding, an invasive and neurologically harmful practice that undermines Vulcan logic and discipline and violates the personal privacy we hold so dear. The new pacifist teachings, undermining the Vulcan people’s ability to defend themselves from threats the Syrannite government leaves unchecked.”
Thanien’s antennae perked up. “Captain . . . did Commander Zadok just imply that his followers should engage in armed rebellion against the Federation?”
T’Pol had looked up at that as well, and now she met her first officer’s gaze. “He is sensible enough to avoid saying it outright. But he is evidently seeking to plant the idea.”
“Is there any chance that enough Vulcans are convinced by his lies to act on that idea? We both know your people are more than capable of violence if they believe it is logically justified.”
The captain was slow to answer. “I expect that most Vulcans will consider the evidence fairly. But there are always those who begin with what they wish to be true and selectively interpret the evidence to fit it. Zadok is such a one, and he would not have become the leader of the loyalists were there not a fair number of others—fellow soldiers with combat training—who agreed with that mentality.”
T’Pol rose from her seat. “I will contact Commanders Sato and Kimura and advise them to redouble their efforts. The urgency of discovering the true Kir’Shara’s fate may be greater than we have realized.”
12
May 24, 2165
Ware trading post
“I GOTTA ADMIT,” Charles Tucker said as he studied the product menu of the trading post’s matter replication system, “I can see the appeal of these stations.”
Next to him, reflected in the glossy surface of the display screen, he saw Olivia Akomo’s saturnine features shifting into a sour expression. “If you ignore the cost, of course.”
“I meant to people who don’t know better. It’s a hell of a lure these folks have set up. I mean, just look at all these gadgets.” In hopes of gathering intelligence on the Ware, Reed had decided to dock at one of their trading posts and pretend that Pioneer’s personnel were normal customers. Captain Rethne had told them that upon the completion of a routine visit, the stations would broadcast advertisements for additional Ware trading, repair, and recreation facilities in the region; Reed hoped that such information would help them assemble a map of Ware territory and help them track the technology’s origins. Fortunately the stations in this region were evidently not in communication with more distant ones, for this trading post had not recognized Pioneer or its crew, allowing them to carry out the deception. Still, even with all of Reed’s precautions to prevent any of his crew from being taken—declining any offer of shipboard repairs, requiring that all personnel remain in groups of two or more at all times—it made even Tucker nervous to stand here in the lion’s den and pretend to be unaware of the danger.
Fortunately, the Ware technology provided a compelling dis
traction. “There are technologies here that could advance the Federation by centuries,” he continued. “Never mind the items offered for sale, the matter replicator alone would be a revolution. Imagine how much longer starships could stay in deep space without having to resupply at a starbase or a friendly planet. As long as they had asteroids for raw materials and starlight for energy, they could replace any expended supplies or damaged components, even rebuild shuttlepods or the ship itself if they needed to.”
“That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it?” Akomo asked. “It’s not a rescue mission to you, it’s about acquiring this technology.”
He winked. “Hey, I’m an Abramson consultant, just like you, remember? We’re both hoping we can discover something useful here.”
She grimaced at the reminder of his deception. “And I suppose you and Captain Reed just happened to hit it off well enough to seem like you’ve been friends for decades.”
“Looks that way.”
After a pause, she went on. “Working with Willem Abramson for five years, I’ve learned a thing or two about people pretending to be someone they’re not.”
He studied her rounded features. “How much do you know about him?” He asked partly as a Section 31 agent, hoping to learn more about the anomalous immortal, but partly just as a man wondering how much someone who led a life of false identities could truly share with another person.
“Enough to know it isolates him. Keeping up the walls all the time. Knowing that, eventually, he’ll have to run away again. I don’t know specifics, but I’ve gathered enough to be quite certain that Willem has several contingency plans for faking his death.”
“I daresay he’s got some practice at that,” Tucker mused, drawing an odd look.
After a moment, Akomo went on. “But I trust Willem, Mister Collier. I grew to trust him before I knew he wasn’t who he claimed, so I was able to go on trusting him after I learned.
“You, on the other hand, have yet to earn my trust. So no, Mister Collier, I’m not about to concede that we want the same things.” She shook her close-shorn head. “For one thing, the Ware is so dependent on living brains that I doubt we’ll find the kind of artificial intelligence breakthroughs Mister Abramson is hoping for.”
Tucker thought it over. “On the other hand, if we could learn more about how the Ware interfaces with organic brains, it could improve your ability to interface the brain with bionic limbs. Maybe even prolong life with cybernetic bodies.”
She thought over his words, her silence indicating that she could not easily refute the suggestion. Eventually, she said, “You have a point. It does align with some of the projects Willem and I have been pursuing.”
“The bio-neural circuitry?”
“For one.” Her eyes darted. “Consider the ‘lock-in’ syndrome associated with certain victims of delta radiation, for example—their neural tissues so degraded that normal prosthetics and brain scanners can’t get through to whatever consciousness remains within. If we could devise a more sophisticated interface, it might allow some degree of communication, at least.” She shook her head. “What am I saying? For all we know, these stations might have the means to repair such damage directly. I read in the logs how that first repair station healed Captain Reed’s injuries. Imagine what other breakthroughs they could offer.” She caught herself. “At least . . . those that don’t depend on a living brain’s processing power.”
Tucker’s gaze went unfocused as her words sparked a thought. Maybe there was a tangible benefit they could gain right now.
U.S.S. Pioneer
“No, Trip!” Malcolm Reed’s fingers gripped the edge of his ready-room desk. “It’s out of the question.”
“But, Malcolm, this could be the answer! You remember the way that first repair station fixed your leg. It saved you weeks of healing and therapy! And I’ve seen the medical scans the station made of our whole crew.” He fidgeted. “Granted, the Ware aren’t big on privacy. But they’ve diagnosed your genetic damage and offered to fix it!”
“It’s not a question of their ability. You’re asking me to profit from the enslaving of sentient minds.”
“I’m asking you to think about your future. Malcolm, I know how much you’ve always wanted to have children. I was devastated when Phlox told me about the transporter damage.” It had been the good doctor’s analysis of the subtle genetic damage to Reed’s reproductive system, along with the mild neurological deterioration that had left Admiral Archer deskbound, that had led to the discovery of the cumulative harm inflicted by Earth’s transporter technology. Both men had been among the heaviest users of the transporter, and Tucker, who was right up there with them, had been relieved but a bit guilty when Phlox had determined that, by the luck of the draw, he had avoided any lasting damage. On top of that survivor’s guilt was the added guilt that he, as Enterprise’s chief engineer for four years, had failed to discover the flaw in the technology in time to spare his friends from its lasting consequences. “You shouldn’t have to give that up forever. This is your chance to fix it once and for all!”
“I’m not out here for my own self-interest, Trip!”
“Of course not, but there’s a tactical reason for it too. The more we play along, the more we lull the enemy into a false sense of security.”
“You’re talking about these machines as if they were sentient.”
“I’m just considering that someone could be monitoring the machines.”
“If that were so, we would’ve been recognized from last time.”
“Maybe you destroyed that station before it could transmit its information. We just don’t know. That’s why we’re here: to learn everything we can. And you know as well as I do that sometimes you have to cozy up to an enemy, do things you don’t want to do, in order to get the intelligence you need.”
“And while I’m at it,” Reed replied, “I conveniently manage to indulge my own personal needs, is that it?”
“If it serves everyone, why not?”
“Because ‘everyone’ includes those poor people this station is currently exploiting and slowly killing. People I have every intention of liberating when we’re done here. Who knows how much we might accelerate their mental deterioration with every additional demand we make of the station?”
Tucker was sobered, surprised by the question. Reed caught his reaction. “That didn’t even occur to you, did it, Trip? Nor did the way I’d feel about it. I’d rather have no children at all than have them owe their existence to that kind of moral compromise.”
“Oh, I get it,” Tucker said, raising his own voice to match Reed’s level. “This is you claimin’ the moral high ground, lookin’ down on me for the compromises I have to make to do my job. I can understand that from Travis. He’s entitled. But let me just remind you, Captain, that you were doing this job before I was. You were the one who got me into Section Thirty-One in the first damn place, remember?”
“I can never forget that!” Reed cried. “That’s exactly the problem. Yes, I’ve made compromises in the past, but I’ve seen how high the cost is, to myself and to others. Working with the section in the Klingon Augment affair almost cost me my freedom and the respect of my captain. And what I did to you . . .” He trailed off.
Tucker frowned, studying him. “What you did to me?”
“Just look at yourself, Trip. I can’t even call you ‘Trip’ outside this room. You had to give up your whole life, hide from your friends and family . . .” He shook his head. “It was one thing during the war. I could convince myself that the hell you went through was no worse than the hell most of Starfleet went through, that it was worth it for the greater good it served. But the war’s been over for five years and you’re still trapped. They’ll never let you go as long as you live, will they? And it’s my fault for getting you into it in the first place!” He turned away, tamping down his anger. “So I’ve had my fill
of making choices that come at the expense of others. I’ve seen where that leads. And it’s not pretty.”
Tucker could think of nothing to say in response. But the conversation stayed on his mind long after Reed dismissed him.
Great Ancient Hold, Vanot
Prime Minister Pevrat Hemracine leaned forward over her desk, her fleshy arms supporting her considerable weight, as she skewered Daskel Vabion with a watery gaze. “This break-in should never have been allowed to happen. Why are your mechanical sentries so blasted useless in a storm?”
“You know why, Pevrat,” Vabion replied. In contrast to her agitation, he sat as calmly as ever in his chair, his lean, dark fingers folded before him. But his tone conveyed a warning that Hemracine took to heart. There were certain answers he could not give in the presence of her other advisers. “Rest assured my engineers are working on the . . . development of designs better suited to Vanot’s environmental conditions.
Star Trek: Enterprise - 017 - Rise of the Federation: Uncertain Logic Page 16
