Star Trek: Enterprise - 017 - Rise of the Federation: Uncertain Logic

by Christopher L. Bennett

  “I am V’Las.”

  The subdued murmurs among the councillors were an uproar by Vulcan standards, Archer knew. But then, tensions had been high ever since the bombing. Such a blatant act of violence had provoked an upwelling of fear and outrage—logically, unemotionally expressed, of course—toward the High Command loyalists and their traditionalist allies. It was no wonder, Archer realized, that their true mastermind had found it necessary to step out of the shadows. The resurrection of V’Las was the one thing dramatic enough to draw the public’s attention from the bombing and give the disgraced former administrator a chance to take control of the narrative.

  And that was exactly what he was doing. “I know my return will not sit well with all of you. There have been many false charges leveled at me . . . and some true ones,” he conceded with a tilt of his head. “I have made errors in judgment, which my foes have exploited to paint me as a tyrant, a violent madman, even a Romulan collaborator. I acted in good faith on military intelligence that I am now convinced was engineered by the Andorians to embarrass the High Command. I acted too forcefully against the Syrannites, provoking them to extreme actions in response. I was blind to the Syrannite sympathizers within my own government, for I could not believe that such a longtime associate as Kuvak was capable of betrayal, or that such an esteemed diplomat as Soval could be concealing the perversions of a melder.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” Archer muttered to himself. Next to him, T’Pau glared, having no patience for his human irreverence. On his other side, though, Soval’s gaze conveyed sympathy with the sentiment.

  “And perhaps I have made a mistake in remaining hidden for so long, allowing matters to escalate to this extreme. In their determination to conceal their falsification of the mythical Kir’Shara, the Syrannites and the Federation have first slandered and then persecuted those of us who never lost faith in the true Vulcan way—a way of discipline and strength, purity and authority. And now that persecution has culminated in an attempt to plant false evidence that these loyal Vulcans were responsible for their forgery—an attempt that Starfleet aggression swiftly escalated to the point of tragic violence.”

  V’Las paused as though he could hear the disapproving murmur of the councillors. He might well be watching monitors showing the reactions of Vulcans in public assembly areas all over the planet, Vulcans aware of the same thing that weighed on the councillors now. And he was smart enough to preempt their criticism. “Do not misunderstand me, citizens of Vulcan. I do not attempt to deny that Commander Zadok chose to activate the self-destruct device in the Irinthar facility himself—despite being forced to leave behind eleven of his own people, most of whom had probably already been killed by the human intruders. This was not an easy choice for the commander to make. But logic dictates that force is often the only option to repel force.

  “Consider what has occurred, citizens. A Starfleet team—a human military unit—undertook an armed raid on sovereign Vulcan soil. Is this what membership in the supposedly ‘United’ Federation of Planets means? That our worlds no longer have the right to police our own affairs, or to protect ourselves against armed intrusion by an alien military? Yes, Starfleet claims its team was acting with the invitation of the Syrannite government. But is this logical? Recall that the first action of the Syrannite government was to dissolve the High Command, the organization that had kept Vulcan safe from alien invaders for centuries. Oh, they retained its name and some semblance of its organizational framework, but the defense fleet that had kept Vulcan strong and safe for centuries, that had enabled us to bring peace and order to our neighbors, was withdrawn and kept in abeyance—even after it became clear that the Romulans posed an active and growing threat to the security of our region. The Syrannites left the defense of the sector in the hands of humans—a backward, aggressive species that seized the opportunity to build the largest military fleet in the region and then allied with our historic foes, the Andorians, to create an even larger combined fleet. And at the same time, even though the actions of the Romulans had proven the danger Vulcan faces from offworld aggressors, First Minister T’Pau chose to dismantle our defense force altogether and eradicate the last vestiges of the High Command.” V’Las shook his head. “And we are expected to believe that the Starfleet force at Irinthar was subordinate to the Syrannite contingent? Is it not more consistent with the facts to conclude that Starfleet initiated the aggression?”

  V’Las leaned forward, his gaze hardening. “My fellow Vulcans, the troubling reality is that we are now faced with the first step in an outright military occupation of our planet by alien forces. Now that their use of a fraudulent Kir’Shara has been exposed as a lie, they have begun to escalate to open force. And it will not end here.

  “In the face of this prospective invasion, it is a logical necessity to take up arms in the defense of our community, our home. It is necessary to strike against aspiring occupiers, and their collaborators within our own society, to make it clear that the cost to them will be dear if they make the attempt. When dealing with violent, irrational species like those that dominate the Federation Starfleet, this is the most effective way—the only way—to deter their aggression. Commander Zadok understands this, which is why he acted as he did.

  “And I assure all of you who are loyal to the true Vulcan way that he does not stand alone. To those of you who choose to align with Zadok and myself, to take a stand against offworld occupation even if it requires employing the same violent methods our occupiers use . . . I promise you, we have the numbers to do what is necessary, and we have the means. We can take Vulcan back from those who have corrupted our logic, hobbled our strength, and subordinated our proud people to the violent whims of far younger races.”

  He grasped the folds of his robe and lifted his chin. “And I, V’Las of Vulcan, stand ready to lead you in the defense of our world, as I did before. Together, we can restore Vulcan to its former height—and to its proper standing in the galaxy.”

  The address ended, and the councillors promptly began chattering among themselves. Archer turned to Soval with some dismay. “Did he just imply that his loyalists have the military strength to mount a coup?”

  “I believe he did more than imply it, Admiral,” the commissioner answered grimly. “V’Las has never been one for making empty threats. On the contrary, his preference—as you well know—is for overkill.”

  “But do you think anyone’s going to believe the lies he spun?”

  T’Pau answered. “The incident in the Irinthar base demonstrates that V’Las already possesses a larger, more militant cadre of supporters than we had believed, Admiral. We have seen that they are willing to employ great violence, even to sacrifice their own people. If we cannot discredit him soon, there may be civil war.”

  Archer set his jaw. “I’ll get my people on Endeavour working on cleaning up those scans from the bunker.”

  “Even they may not be sufficient, Admiral,” the youthful Syrannite told him with cool solemnity. “Without physical proof or a live prisoner, they will be able to claim that the sensor evidence of forgery was itself forged. The computer interpolation of degraded data is similar enough to computer simulation that its probative value is questionable.”

  “You can’t be trying to tell me he’s already won!” Archer insisted.

  T’Pau met his gaze. “I am not, Admiral. But even if we do prevail . . . the fight is likely to be a long and costly one.”

  17

  June 2, 2165

  Stone Valley Hold, Vanot

  VABION WATCHED WITH SATISFACTION as the intruders materialized in the holding chamber of his security headquarters. He took pride in having trained the system to deliver the intruders it ejected to this location. It was a small step toward asserting control over the mechanism, but it was something, even if it was more a matter of convincing it to choose to cooperate.

  And if these intruders were what he thought they w
ere, he might be on the verge of gaining far more control.

  He had the ex-inquisitor Zeheri and the apprentice assisting her separated from the other three, whom he kept confined long enough to make them sweat and then had brought before him in his local office, a space carefully designed to direct the eye toward his desk and leave no doubt who was dominant here. “Welcome,” he told his esteemed visitors. “I, as you know, am Daskel Vabion. You need not introduce yourselves; you are called Travis, Rey, and Katrina, are you not? Although in your private communications with your cohorts, you have used other names: Mayweather, Sangupta, Ndiaye.” He hoped his pronunciations were not too outrageous.

  The biggest of the three, Mayweather, took a step forward. “You’re awfully well informed, Mister Vabion.”

  “Worldwide Automatics does not advertise how pervasive our surveillance truly is,” Vabion replied. “However, it surprises me that you were unable to deduce its presence, given your own obvious level of advancement.” He held up a pair of the devices that had been confiscated from them: a rectangular tablet containing sophisticated measurement instruments and a powerful, compact two-way radio with miniaturized computational circuitry built into it, somehow instantly translating their language into Stone Valley dialect. His engineers had advised that the confiscated weapons remain contained and untouched until they could be analyzed. “Why you did not take more care to conceal your conspiracy with Miss Zeheri, or your jaunts outside the walls to visit your lander craft and communicate with your associates in orbit, is a mystery to me.”

  The paler one, Sangupta, spoke up. “Well, maybe we’re advanced enough to know better than to use our technology for invading people’s privacy.”

  “Yes,” Vabion went on with a sigh. “I had initially allowed myself to hope that you were the creators of the automated system, arriving at last to follow up on your initial gifts to our world.” He turned their devices in his hands. “But a cursory examination reveals that while your equipment shares certain common principles with the system, it is based on a different and somewhat less sophisticated technology.”

  He put the devices down and leaned forward, facing Mayweather. “But you are not industrial spies, I think. You come from other stars, as the system did, so surely you could access it more directly than by coming to Vanot. Competitors, then? Do you hope to sabotage my systems and offer your own, clearly inferior models to one of my rivals?”

  “No,” Mayweather told him. “We’re people who’ve seen the harm this technology does. The lives it preys on.” The alien’s large eyes searched his. “You can’t be unaware of all the disappearances. Do you know—really know—the price your ‘system’ demands in exchange for its gifts?”

  “I am not without compassion, Mister Mayweather, but I am a practical man. Every new breakthrough carries a cost. The burning of coal poisoned the air and created new diseases. The invention of the electric car led to fatal collisions and battery explosions. Air travel provided a more efficient way to wage war. The cost in lives of my system is small compared to these—particularly since few of those individuals chosen to serve have actually died.”

  “Their brains are being eaten away every day!” Mayweather cried in anguish. “Most of them are past saving already. I know. I’ve tried.”

  “Many more people out there on the streets would be past saving if not for the food, clothing, and medicines Worldwide provides. I do not call it an ideal arrangement, but I strive to ensure the balance remains positive.”

  Sangupta grimaced. “Leaving aside the utter hypocrisy of that, have you thought about the long term? The more you spread the Ware—the more dependent on it you become—the more lives it’s going to demand.”

  “And the more impossible it’ll become to wean yourselves from it,” Mayweather added. “I’ve seen it happen. Your greed could doom your entire world.”

  Vabion scoffed at their hypocrisy. “Except for the one thing you possess that could liberate our people for all time: the power to travel between the stars. The Vanotli could never be destroyed if we could spread to other worlds. Indeed, why stay on this storm-tossed wreck of a planet at all? Our climatologists tell us that at times in the past, Vanot has maintained a stable, temperate climate for tens of millennia at a time. Surely there must be other worlds out there that are already in such stable cycles.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Mayweather asked, “why haven’t you just ordered up a spaceship or two from the Ware? I know they have them for sale.”

  That evoked genuine surprise, and Mayweather caught it before he could suppress the response. “It hasn’t offered them to you, has it? Whoever sent it to you, they want you hooked. They want to make sure you’re good and dependent on them before they offer you any more benefits.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Or maybe they’ll never bother to offer you spaceflight. Why go to the trouble, when they’ve already got you nicely corralled and can harvest bodies from you whenever they want?”

  He’d struck a nerve—Vabion had to grant that much. The Vanotli took a moment to gather himself. “I think you underestimate my resolve, Mister Mayweather. I have already made progress in understanding the—the Ware, you call it? It is only a matter of time before I break its encoding and learn how to turn it to the Vanotli’s benefit.”

  Mayweather laughed. “You? You’re over two centuries behind my people. And, like you said, the Ware is even ahead of us. You wouldn’t have a chance.”

  “Before today, perhaps not. But today I have you. And you have a ship that can travel between stars. You can take me to the source—help me decipher and re-encode it.”

  “And why would we help you?”

  Vabion sighed. He loathed resorting to petty thuggery. But as he’d said, he was a pragmatist. He activated a buzzer on his desk, and a moment later, two of his security personnel led Urwen Zeheri into the office. “Travis!” she called, and Vabion noted that her attention was only on the leader. “Are you okay? Where’s Ganler?”

  “Isn’t he with you?”

  “Apprentice Nibar is safe in our custody,” Vabion told them both, “but I am content to leave him where he is for now.”

  “You’re really low, Vabion!” Sangupta cried. “Taking a child prisoner!”

  “He, and you, forged WWA credentials and trespassed on our facilities. I am entirely within my legal rights to detain you. However, I am offering your group an alternative to incarceration.”

  “If we take you to the source of the Ware,” Mayweather replied.

  “Exactly. I direct your attention to the collar affixed around Miss Zeheri’s neck.” The offworlder’s eyes went to the gray metal-and-plastic device. “As you can see, it is an instrument of Ware design, intended for penal use. As is the matching implement I wear around my wrist.” He slid up his left cuff to let them see it. “Which will allow me to do this.” With a grimace of distaste, he depressed the contact on the bracelet. Zeheri convulsed in pain and fell to the floor. Vabion promptly released the contact as Mayweather ran to her side. “My apologies, Miss Zeheri, but I had to demonstrate the sincerity of my threat. Be assured, all of you, that the collar is quite capable of delivering a lethal shock if I so choose. Or if anyone should attempt to tamper with it,” he cautioned Mayweather, whose hands jerked away from the collar—then clenched into trembling fists as the big man turned a smoldering gaze on Vabion. “The same will occur should my own heart stop, in case you have any ideas.” Mayweather took a deep breath and controlled his rage.

  “Excellent,” Vabion continued. “Now that we’ve established our parameters, we can keep this civilized. I should add that Apprentice Nibar is equipped with an identical device. I gather from my surveillance recordings that you have a particular aversion to endangering those of apprentice age. I trust this will sufficiently motivate you to cooperate.”

  Mayweather stared at him through lowered brows for a long moment. “We don’t know the source
of the Ware,” he finally said. “We’re searching for it, but we haven’t found it yet. I can’t guarantee anything.”

  Vabion smiled. “I’m actually glad to hear you say that, Mister Mayweather. I trust it more than glib assurances that you’ll give me everything I demand. Believe it or not, while I insist on having the upper hand in any business deal”—he flourished the control bracelet to make his point—“I hope that this can be the beginning of a more equal partnership.”

  “You are out of your mind.”

  “I’m simply forced to extreme measures by my circumstances. Look at it from my point of view. I’m attempting to master a technology sent to me from another star, by beings with abilities and motivations I cannot grasp. Now I’m faced with more beings from still another star, again with powers and knowledge well beyond my own. If I’m to have any hope of dealing with either on an even footing, I need some form of leverage. It’s simply a matter of self-defense.”

  “You’ll use any excuse to seize control, Vabion,” snarled Zeheri.

  “And you should be grateful for it, my dear, for I am safeguarding Vanot’s interests in the face of an alien community we are all but powerless against. I hope you’ll learn in time to appreciate that.” He fingered his collar idly as he went on: “Although I can’t blame you for not being in the mood to see it just now.”

  “You know what?” Mayweather asked. “I find that the longer people spend trying to rationalize their actions, the more it proves how indefensible they are.”

  Vabion took it in stride. “Well, then, in that spirit, I suggest we get on with this. Since you came down in a landing craft, I assume you prefer not to send living beings by dematerialization. I’ll defer to your experience on that point, so I suggest you escort me to your lander at once.”

  “All right,” Mayweather replied after a pause. “But Urwen stays here.”