“It will not be simple by any means, Mister President,” offered Selvok, the Commissioner for Science and Technology. The Federation Commission was essentially the cabinet of the new hybrid government, with several elected commissioners from each world, each assigned a different portfolio. “Decades of research and use of human transporter technology failed to identify this replication fault. Determining its causes and devising solutions could take years or decades further. For all we know,” the middle-aged, auburn-haired Vulcan said, “there may be fundamental quantum-mechanical limits that will preclude ever making transporters completely safe.”
“But other races use transporters,” said the round-faced, white-haired Gardner. “The Klingons, the Orions, the Osaarians, the Xindi.”
“And the Malurians,” Archer put in.
“Not exactly races known for their high standards of safety or responsibility,” said Admiral Thy’lek Shran, his antennae curving forward along with his torso. Archer smiled slightly, glad that his longtime friend had agreed to come out of retirement once again to serve as chief of staff for the Andorian Guard—the division of the combined Starfleet that specialized in the defense of the Federation’s borders, just as UESPA handled exploration, the Tellar Space Administration handled operational support and supply, and so forth. Shran now wore a green command tunic much like Archer’s, but the division patch on his breast was the new Andorian Guard insignia, a stylized initial in Andorii script which looked to Archer like a lopsided pretzel with its upper loop tapering to a point. “Their transporters could be equally dangerous and they just don’t care.”
“And if we tried to obtain it from them in trade,” offered the Tellarite chief of staff, Admiral Mov chim Flar, whose chest insignia resembled a stylized hoof-print, “it would take years of testing to find out if theirs were safe. Wouldn’t it, Selvok?”
“Most likely,” the commissioner replied.
“And nobody else in the Federation has a superior technology?” Vanderbilt asked. “Selvok, your people are so far ahead of the rest of us in so many ways.”
“Not that far ahead,” Shran interrupted.
Next to him, the silver-haired Vulcan Space Council chief, Fleet Commander T’Viri, replied, “Only because you captured and reverse-engineered so much of our technology during our years in opposition.”
“And improved on it!”
“Shran,” Archer cautioned. The Andorian had mellowed in recent years, but he still had a temper. Yet just one word from Archer was enough to calm him.
“Vulcans have historically been more . . . cautious toward transporter usage by live personnel than humans have been, Mister President,” Selvok replied. “And more patient, perhaps, with regard to our transportation needs. Although we have employed transporters for a number of years, they have not been utilized extensively enough by live personnel to allow an assessment of their long-term safety.”
“And the Andorians and Tellarites didn’t get transporters until they began trading with humans,” T’Viri added with another glance at Shran, who mercifully restrained himself from responding.
“The bottom line is, we’ll just have to get reaccustomed to traveling the old-fashioned way,” Flar said. “Which is perfectly all right with me. You’d never have gotten me into one of those confounded things in the first place.”
“I’m gonna miss them,” said the final chief, Admiral Alexis Osman. She was a compact woman with wavy blond hair, her uniform bearing the vertical rectangular logo of the Alpha Centauri Space Research Council. So far, Alpha Centauri had few ships to contribute to Starfleet beyond a smattering of freighters and support craft; their efforts were directed more toward terraforming and settlement efforts within their own system than interstellar travel or defense. But like the Vulcans, they were a valuable partner in planetary research, as well as providing significant funding, resources, and logistical and administrative support to the combined fleet. “The sensations are extraordinary. That feeling of the world transforming around you, as if it’s being dissolved instead of you. Not to mention all the hassle it saves.”
“There’s more at stake than that, I’m afraid, Alexis,” the president said, looking glum. “Transporter tech is one of the major incentives we’ve been offering potential members. What will the Denobulans or the Arkenites or the Lorillians think when they find out it’s dangerous? This could be a monumental embarrassment.”
“We can’t not tell people, Mister President,” Archer reminded him. “Imagine how much worse we’d look if we tried to hide it.”
“Of course, of course, Jonathan. I wasn’t suggesting that for a moment.” He sighed. “It’s just that this won’t make it any easier to convince other worlds to join our little club.”
Archer was aware that securing new members was one of Vanderbilt’s highest priorities. There were those who felt the five founding nations had rushed into unification too precipitously after the end of the war, and factions on every member world had protested the perceived surrender of their self-determination. Many on Vulcan, Andoria, Tellar, and their colonies felt the coequal Federation was just a façade for co-opting their own resources to rebuild and defend the war-damaged human worlds. But the war had proven that there were threats in the galaxy that no single government could handle alone, and the previous loose Coalition of Planets had dissolved far too easily when placed under pressure. The Federation had been formed out of a commitment to strength in numbers (though Archer liked to think that his own efforts to promote interspecies cooperation had played a role as well), and Vanderbilt, who had served as Earth’s defense minister for most of the war, was devoted to that same principle.
Yet expanding the union was proving more challenging than the president had hoped. Mars had recently agreed to join as the sixth member, but others were more wary. The Denobulans, while remaining close allies, were reluctant to sign on so long as the Federation maintained its ban on genetic engineering—an Earth policy that Vanderbilt had persuaded the Federation Council as a whole to adopt, largely to avoid provoking the Klingons into retaliating against what, in the wake of the Augment crisis eight years back, they would likely perceive as bioweapons research. President Vanderbilt had backed down enough to explore relaxing the ban for lifesaving therapies, but the Denobulans, a people renowned for their patience, were in no hurry to jump on the bandwagon. The Rigelians still held a grudge over the Terra Prime violence of 2155 and were slow to trust what they saw as a human-dominated alliance. And even though the Andorians had nominated their former subject world Arken II for Federation membership, the Arkenites were concerned that it would mean giving up their newly independent status. Vanderbilt’s desire to add to the Federation’s strength seemed increasingly elusive.
“Mister President,” Archer put forth with deliberation, “I think it’s worth considering that . . . maybe it’s okay for the Federation to grow slowly. As we just saw with the Tandarans, our neighbors might feel threatened if they see us as an expansionist power. The only reason the Klingons are content to leave us be is that they don’t think we pose any threat to them. But we can’t guarantee that won’t change if they see us getting too big too fast. And let’s not forget—it was the Romulans’ fear of our original coalition that drove them to launch a war on us in the first place. They’re quiet for now, but I’d just as soon not risk provoking them to change their minds.”
“So we should hold back our expansion out of fear?” Shran sneered. “I can’t believe I’m hearing that from you.”
“I’m just saying we shouldn’t force things. Before we rush into making the Federation bigger, we need to settle just what kind of Federation it’s going to be. What it stands for, what it has to offer.”
“I hear you, Jonathan,” Vanderbilt said. “And in an ideal galaxy you’d probably be right. But there are other things to consider. The potential danger of the Romulans, Klingons, or Tandarans just underlines how important it is that we do solidify our strength. And you never know when another unexpec
ted threat might come out of nowhere, like the Xindi.” He shook his head. “And that’s assuming we can keep the members we have. I know all your governments are committed to the union,” he told the joint chiefs, “but it’s still tenuous, and sometimes major changes have a way of propelling the opposition into power. We need to add enough members that we can survive if we lose one or two.”
Archer could tell the president’s mind was made up on this issue. “Yes, Mister President,” he said, and let it drop.
After the meeting adjourned, Shran sidled over to him. “I apologize for suggesting you were afraid, Jonathan. I knew that wasn’t what you meant. You just took me by surprise.”
He gave his old friend a smile to show there were no hard feelings. After all they’d been through in the turbulent formative years of their relationship—a spot of torture here, a severed antenna there—a few harsh words barely registered. “But you disagree.”
“I’m responsible for defending the Federation’s borders. The more support my fleet has at its back, the easier I’ll sleep.”
“And for you, with that responsibility, that attitude makes perfect sense. But the president . . .” Archer shook his head. “It just seems to me he should have a broader view. The Federation is about more than just strength in numbers. It’s about . . . about hope and a common purpose. Expanding knowledge and understanding.” He clasped Shran’s shoulder. “What we have here—what you and I helped to create—it’s not like anything the galaxy’s seen before. It just has so much promise. And I don’t want us to lose track of that bigger picture because we’re too fixated on survival and fear.”
Shran chuckled. “Sounds to me like you think you could do Vanderbilt’s job better than he could. Should I expect to hear campaign slogans for President Archer?”
Archer grimaced. “Don’t even joke about that. Like my current desk job isn’t bad enough.”
2163
4
January 13, 2163
U.S.S. Endeavour
THE SHIP ON THE VIEWSCREEN had clearly been in combat recently, and come out the worse for it. The angular vessel drifted through the interstellar void at a lopsided angle, its multiple engine ports dark. Its tritanium-gray hull bore ruptures and carbon scoring across much of its surface.
“It’s an Axanar ship,” Lieutenant Cutler reported from the science station. “A light cruiser, normal complement of thirty.” She paused. “I’m reading twenty-eight.”
“Commander Sato, any response?” Captain T’Pol asked.
“Still nothing on subspace except the distress beacon.”
Aranthanien ch’Revash stepped forward to stand on T’Pol’s right, watching the vessel carefully. “Scan the area, Mister Kimura,” he instructed, not prepared to trust its appearance of helplessness. “Identify any debris, weapon signatures, or the like.”
T’Pol gave him an inquisitive look. “Commander?”
“The Andorian Guard has dealt with the Axanar before,” Thanien pointed out. “They are an extremely long-lived people, and thus can be quite aggressive toward anything that might shorten their lives unduly—while being far more cavalier about ending the lives of more ephemeral species. Which, by their standards, would include even Vulcans.”
“Starfleet’s met them too, sir,” Hoshi Sato pointed out. “We’ve always found them pretty friendly.”
“Thanks largely to the first impression you yourself were able to make, Commander Sato,” Thanien acknowledged. “But I’ve studied that first encounter, and I’m sure you recall that their combat vessel initially fired upon you even though you were already under attack by raiders. And once they were convinced you had a common enemy, they acted ruthlessly to destroy those raiders.”
“You didn’t see what the raiders did to their people, Commander. What they would’ve done to us. Anyone would’ve been outraged.”
“What are you suggesting, Commander?” T’Pol asked him.
Thanien took a breath, trying to match her calm. In his six weeks as Endeavour’s first officer, he’d found it difficult to establish a rapport with T’Pol. It wasn’t for lack of trying, though. Thanien had initially had reservations about serving under a Vulcan captain, but it had been over ten years since he had faced Vulcans in combat, and Admiral Archer had convinced him that if the union of races in the Federation was to work on the large scale, it had to be achieved on the individual scale as well. Adjusting to life aboard a vessel intended more for exploration than defense was a challenge for him, a first in over three decades of service. But he admired what Archer and the humans had accomplished, and was honored that the admiral had granted him the opportunity to contribute to its further advancement. Thus, Thanien was determined to make this work.
But it wasn’t easy being the newcomer in this closely knit crew. So he strove for a reasonable tone as he said, “I merely recommend that we keep our antennae wide. We don’t yet know whether the Axanar were the victims or instigators here.”
“I’m not picking up any debris beyond a few pieces of the Axanar’s own hull, sir,” Kimura reported. “There is an approaching ion trail, then some evidence of weapon discharges . . . then the trail retreats. It doesn’t seem any weaker, though.”
“Maybe they were damaged somewhere besides the engines,” offered Pedro Ortega, the young ensign at the helm.
“But at least they could move. That puts them in better shape than the Axanar.”
“And that means they could come back,” Cutler added.
“I’m getting a signal,” Sato announced. “It’s weak, on a short-range EM band . . . Hold on.”
She worked to clear up the transmission, and in moments a low-resolution image appeared on the screen, flickering with interference. “This is Captain Edzak of the Axanar defense ship Metsanu,” said the figure on the screen, a hairless, antennaless, pinkish-gray biped with a heavily ridged, somewhat reptilian face and pale, slit-pupilled eyes. “Thank you for responding to our distress signal. You are an Earth ship?”
The captain rose from her seat. “Our ship is Endeavour, representing the United Federation of Planets, of which Earth is a member. I am Captain T’Pol.”
“Whatever you call yourselves, I’m glad you’re here. We’ve had to make life support a priority and are lacking adequate components to repair our warp drive.”
“We stand ready to assist you, Captain. We are unable to breathe the methane in your atmosphere, but we can send a repair crew over in environment suits.”
“I’m sure we can handle the repairs on our own, once we have the parts. Your offer is appreciated, but I do not wish to inconvenience your crew unduly. More importantly, it seems likely that our attacker will return before long. Working in environment suits could slow repairs too much.”
Thanien stepped forward. “Why do you believe they will return?”
“Because they’ve already come and gone three times. First they simply appeared in our path, sat there for a short time without responding to hails, then flew off without explanation. Must’ve been to get us off our guard, because the second time they appeared, they repeated the mute treatment at first, then surprised us with a powerful scanning burst that overwhelmed our systems, leaving us defenseless when they fired a moment later. Yet they left again without pressing their attack. From then on, we were on the alert, so this last time we opened fire as soon as we detected them. They fired back and knocked out our weapons and propulsion, killing two of our engineers. Then they sent a boarding party over.”
T’Pol’s frown had deepened as she listened to the account, and she exchanged a look of shared recognition with Sato. “Our condolences for your loss, Captain. But tell me: did the boarding party take invasive scans of your personnel?”
Edzak stared. “Yes. Some kind of sensor beams coming directly out of their palms. We tried to stop them, but they shook off our hand weapons’ fire as easily as if we were blowing on them. My quartermaster may never walk again thanks to the nerve damage they caused.”
“Allow
our doctor to examine your quartermaster. He has treated this kind of damage successfully in the past.”
“I take it you’ve faced these creatures before? Extremely thin, long-limbed, with translucent heads and some kind of feelers sticking out where their eyes should be?”
“I have encountered them once, twelve years ago. If they have followed the same pattern aboard your ship, they most likely planted a monitoring device before they left. I recommend you initiate a search at once.”
“We’ve already found and disabled their device. You can’t be too careful when strangers invade your home.”
“Good. If they are unaware you have been joined by Endeavour, that may give us an advantage upon their return.”
“Then you do expect them to return again?”
“Given that their pattern here almost exactly duplicates their actions twelve years ago, it seems likely. The next phase will probably be a demand to surrender your vessel to them.”
“So they finally deigned to speak to you?”
“No. Their ultimatum was an edited playback of our own captain’s speech.”
Edzak nodded. “Makes sense, in a twisted way. These things . . . they’re disturbingly silent. Even when we fought them in the corridors, they didn’t make a sound. No words, no cries of pain or effort . . . I didn’t even hear footsteps as they ran. And their ships are no better, the way they sneak up on you . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“On the plus side,” Sato put in, “it was over two days before they came back for that last attack.”
“Yet their return was only hours after we identified and deactivated their monitoring device,” T’Pol replied. “We should not lower our guard.”
The captain assigned Commander Sato to work with Chief Engineer Romaine on coordinating repair efforts, due to the communications officer’s prior familiarity with the Axanar. This gave Thanien time to review the logs of Enterprise’s initial encounter with the mysterious attackers, which he studied on the main table in the situation room alcove at the aft of the bridge. He was struck by the sensor image of the silent enemy’s ship: a black, hunchbacked delta-wing craft with a notched prow and luminescent green protrusions along its flanks and rear. “Captain,” he said, coming up to the alcove’s forward railing and catching T’Pol’s attention. “I recognize the enemy craft. An identical vessel attacked Docana three years ago, over a dozen light-years from here.” T’Pol nodded, recognizing the name of the Andorian battle cruiser he had previously served upon. “I didn’t recognize the pattern of their attacks because in our case, they only appeared twice. When they first fired upon us, we took little damage and retaliated forcefully. Their vessel was badly compromised and limped away. We did not see them again.”
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