The Good That Men Do (the star trek: enterprise)

by Andy Mangels

  “Concerned” is a nice understatement,Trip thought. Aloud, he said, “It’s about the Romulans.”

  Harris’s expression turned grave as Trip struggled to organize his thoughts. “Go on, Commander.”

  Here goes,Trip thought, taking a deep breath. “Earth and all the other Coalition planets are in serious danger. The Romulans are planning to move against us in a big way. And soon.”

  Harris displayed a degree of emotional control that T’Pol probably would have admired. “Do your colleagues aboardEnterprise concur with your opinion?”

  “Malcolm is with me on this. And so’s Captain Archer.”

  “But not Starfleet Command, I gather.”

  “You must have been eavesdropping on us, Harris.”

  Harris smiled benignly. “You’re quite the flatterer, Commander. But it isn’t all that hard to guess that the brass hats might not want to look too closely at any inconvenient truths for the next few weeks. At least not until the Coalition Compact is finalized and signed. I’m sure Admiral Gardner doesn’t want to be responsible for spooking the various Coalition delegations.”

  “That’s my take on things, too,” Trip said, nodding. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Harris had never explicitly denied his charge of eavesdropping—and the idea was making all the small hairs on the back of his neck slowly rise to attention even as he continued speaking. “Are you aware of the mass kidnapping of Aenar telepaths from Andoria last week?”

  “We are, Commander. And we clearly see a Romulan hand in that action, even though they tried very hard to cover their tracks by going through intermediaries. We have no doubt that the Romulans plan to use those telepaths to revive their telepresence drone warship program, and on a considerable scale.

  “But that isn’t the end of it. Our intelligence sources show strong indications that the Romulans are on the verge of perfecting a new generation of starships, vessels capable of reaching speeds of at least warp seven.”

  Trip couldn’t keep his jaw from falling open. “Warp seven,” he said quietly. Five years after the launch of Enterprise, Earth was still working the remaining kinks out of Henry Archer’s warp fiveengine. “That puts them even with the Coridan shipyards.”

  Harris nodded. “Even Coridan will be hard-pressed to counter a Romulan invasion of Coalition territory, which we believe is coming soon.”

  “A warp-seven drive would use one hell of a lot of power,” Trip said, running power-curve calculations in his head.

  “Agreed. And that means that the Romulans will need to get their hands on huge quantities of dilithium—which the Coridan system planets have in far greater abundance thanany of the other Coalition worlds do.”

  “So Coridan must be the Romulans’ first target,” Trip said, swallowing hard. “For lots of reasons.”

  “Once the Romulans annex the most productive dilithium mines in known space, the Coalition wouldn’t stand a chance of resisting strikes from a Coridan beach-head. Tellar, Andoria, even Vulcan would fall like dominoes following a long war of attrition, bolstered by Coridan’s captured resources and the Romulan expansion ethic.”

  “And then Earth.” Trip’s voice was pitched barely above a whisper.

  “It certainly isn’t a pretty picture, Commander.”

  Trip gripped the sides of his desk tightly. His head was spinning, and only in part because of all the tequila he’d just consumed with Malcolm.

  “How do you know all this, Harris?”

  When Harris responded, his tone remained patient, almost like that of a college professor conducting an introductory lecture. Or perhaps, Trip thought, like a very slick salesman.

  “As Lieutenant Reed has no doubt already told you, Commander, I am part of an organization that has access to numerous intelligence networks and other resources, including some not immediately available either to Starfleet or most of the other agencies of United Earth’s government.”

  “And is that who you represent? Earth’s government?”

  “I suppose the answer to that question depends upon whom you ask. Let’s just say we represent Earth’s long-term interests.”

  Harris’s words weren’t doing anything to allay Trip’s nagging suspicions. “That sounds to me pretty much like what John Frederick Paxton said about Terra Prime.”

  “Hardly,”Harris said with a gentle chuckle. “Paxton is a xenophobe and a terrorist. And he’s exactly where he belongs right now—in prison. He saw Earth’s contact with other sentient races as something to be feared, and therefore curtailed.We see that contact as inevitable and beneficial—but we’re not so naive as to believe there won’t be dangers that have to be managed very carefully along the way.

  “My group is part of Starfleet, Commander, and it’s keeping an extremely watchful eye on what’s left of Paxton’s network, to prevent terrorist acts like those committed by Terra Prime from ever happening here again. But we’re keeping even closer tabs on Earth’s many potential interstellar adversaries. Most notably the Romulan Star Empire.”

  They’re part of Starfleet,Trip thought, still having a little difficulty digesting the concept, even though Malcolm had already told him as much in the crew mess.

  “You say you’re an arm of Starfleet, Harris,” he finally said aloud. “But you seem to be operating independently of Starfleet’s direct control. How is it you can get away with that?”

  “You seem to be implying that there’s somethingillicit about my group’s activities, Commander.”

  Trip shrugged, and restrained himself from commenting on the trouble Harris’s clandestine organization had caused Malcolm a few months back. Malcolm’s activities on Harris’s behalf had very nearly gotten him court-martialed.

  “I’m just saying it’s damned irregular,” Trip said.

  “Perhaps. But it’s also authorized by Starfleet’s own charter.”

  “Come again?”

  “I refer you to Article Fourteen, Section Thirty-one. You’ll find that it establishes an autonomous investigative agency that holds nonspecific discretionary power over certain security-related matters. I’d say that incipient aggression by the Romulans certainly qualifies as one of those matters.”

  Trip was still digesting the surprising revelation that Harris’s spy bureau might have been hidden right out in plain sight, buried in the text of Starfleet’s own founding document, when Harris’s last remark finally registered.

  “So…are you saying you can help me do something about the Romulans?”

  Harris put on an ingratiating smile that almost convinced Trip there was some real warmth behind it. “I am, Commander. Our best analysts have already confirmed that the Romulans present a clear and present danger to Earth and her Coalition allies. We’re already conducting operations intended to throw a monkey wrench into the Romulans’ warp-seven drive program, while also trying to learn as much about it as possible.”

  “It’d be nice to use the Romulans’ own research to jump-start a Starfleet version of the same thing,” Trip said, nodding. He wondered just how much warp-seven technology Starfleet already had on the drawing board, and hoped it wasn’t as sketchy as he feared it was.

  “Exactly, Commander. In fact, I was just about to approach Lieutenant Reed again regarding this very matter. Things are going to begin happening very quickly, and very soon.”

  “I wouldn’t bother calling Malcolm again if I were you. He’s still not very keen on working with you folks.”

  “So you’ve both already said. Regardless, we were also planning to contactyou as well. I must thank you for saving me the trouble.”

  Trip blinked in surprise. “Why contact me?”

  “Because your skills could prove invaluable to us, Commander. We need engineers capable of neutralizing the Romulans’ plansdirectly. People like you who already have a hands-on grasp of the inner workings of Romulan technology. I read your reports on the Romulans’ cloaked mine field, their flirtation with stealth ships, and their remote-control drone-ship experiments. Very impre
ssive work. It helped convince me that you are anideal candidate for field work.”

  Trip immediately felt flattered, then reminded himself of Malcolm’s repeated warnings that Harris was a master manipulator. “Thanks. But those reports must have been evaluated by better engineering minds than mine. Besides that stuff, what makes you think I’myour man?”

  “Whether you realize it or not, you arealready a citizen of the coming galactic confederation. You are a human being ahead of his time, Mister Tucker. You have demonstrated an ability to empathize with and understand the minds of aliens, like the Tellarites and the Andorians.”

  “Wow. Malcolm warned me that you lay it on a little thick sometimes to get what you want.”

  Harris’s brow furrowed. “I’m not speaking about your gifts hyperbolically, Commander. People skills are just as important to a field agent’s success as engineering talent. Perhaps evenmore important. Case in point: You may be the first human ever to have a serious romantic relationship with a Vulcan.”

  “In case you missed it, that relationship crashed and cratered.” Whatever might lay ahead between him, Harris, and the Romulans, Trip hoped for a smoother trajectory than the one he had shared with T’Pol.

  “Allthat proves is that there are no guarantees in this life.”Harris paused to close his eyes and rub the bridge of his nose with a steepled pair of index fingers. “Frankly, I’m a little surprised at your ambivalence about us, Commander. Need I remind you that no one outside of yourEnterprise colleagues other thanus has been willing to listen to your warnings about the Romulans? We, on the other hand, will not only listen, we’ll also provide you with whatever resources, cover, and contacts you’ll need while working covertly in the ‘off-channel’ sector. With our resources at your disposal, you will finally have a real opportunity to protect Earth and her allies.”

  Trip sat in silence for a lengthy time, evaluating Harris’s words as the other man continued studying him from across the light-years. While he thought Harris’s praise of his alleged exodiplomatic skills was highly overblown, he knew he couldn’t remain on the sidelines while Starfleet continued to do nothing, Malcolm’s warnings about Harris notwithstanding.

  He’s not the devil,Trip told himself. If he were, then why would Malcolm have suggested I talk to him?

  “All right. I’m in,” Trip said at length. “At least until we get done neutering this Romulan invasion.

  “Just tell me what I have to do.”

  Eleven

  Monday, February 10, 2155

  EnterpriseNX-01

  JONATHAN ARCHER SIPPED COFFEE from a tall metal mug as he shuffled down an E-deck corridor toward the captain’s mess. He wasn’t a stranger to exhaustion—it often seemed to be a prerequisite for a captain—but last night he’d gotten even less sleep than usual. Something wasn’t sitting right with what was going on with the ship, andwith Shran. He suspected that getting Shran off the ship might help him sleep better for a night or two, but the consequences of that action might be problematic for the crew at a later date. And not just because of the suspicions shared by Shran, Trip, and himself about the purpose and destination the Orions intended for their Aenar captives.

  He rounded a corner and was surprised to see Trip waiting for him outside the captain’s mess. The commander looked haunted; not a huge step down from his demeanor ever since the Terra Prime incident and the death of his daughter, but he definitely looked wearier than he had when he’d gone off-shift yesterday.

  “I need to talk with you, Captain,” Trip said, his voice plaintive.

  “Sure, Trip,” Archer said, patting his old friend on the shoulder. “Come on in. Have you had breakfast yet? I can have Chef whip something up for you.”

  Trip took the first seat at the round metallic table, opposite the viewport. “No, thanks, Captain. I’m not really very hungry right now.”

  Archer seated himself at his regular spot, glad to see a covered dish already waiting for him. “Suit yourself,” Archer said, lifting the cover. Chef had prepared eggs Florentine and crêpes today, along with three wedges of the multigrain toast that Archer preferred.

  Unfolding his napkin, Archer asked, “Now then, what can I do for you?”

  “I want to get this all out before you say anything, Captain,” Trip said, splaying his hands across the table in front of him. “It’s going to be difficult enough to get through this without interruptions—no offense—and I really want to finish.”

  Archer smiled wanly and cut a bite of crêpe with the edge of his fork. “The floor is yours.”

  The captain wasn’t quite sure what he expected Trip to say, but several minutes later, when the engineer’s tale seemed to be winding to a close, Archer’s meal had gone cold, and he hadn’t eaten anything past the first bite. He’d expected something related to Trip’s relationship with T’Pol—perhaps a heartache-heavy request for another transfer—or some news of a discovery about Shran or the Aenar, or even some minor conjectures about the Romulans, but this…

  “Are you finished?” Archer asked.

  Trip sighed. “More or less. For the moment.”

  Archer fixed his chief engineer with a steely gaze. “So they want to send you into Romulan space as a field operative. Okay, it’s a tactic as old as Homer. But even supposing that Harris’s intelligence about the Romulans is correct, along with all our suppositions about how they plan to use the Aenar against us, what real pointis there in having you infiltrate the Romulan Star Empire?”

  Trip looked puzzled. “We’ve got to sabotage their war plans somehow.”

  “‘Somehow’ is pretty damned vague, Trip.” Archer felt he had to persist with a few admittedly merciless questions before he allowed his old friend to go any further down such a dangerous road. “How exactly could one agent in disguise stop any attack against Coridan Prime? I’m pretty sure you never took a course in conversational Romulan.”

  “Maybe I should ask Harris to consider asking Hoshi to go instead,” Trip said wryly.

  Archer raised a placating hand. “I’m not trying to shoot you down, Trip. But there’s a lot to consider here. For one thing, no Coalition ship is likely to be within range of the most powerful transmitter you could carry while you’re in Romulan space.”

  Trip nodded. “I admit, I may have to improvise. Commandeer some of their equipment. Live off the land a bit.”

  “More than a bit, Trip. And have you really considered the danger? The Romulans can probably detect and destroy any ship you bring into their space fairly easily. And I assume they’re security-minded enough to make it pretty difficult for you to ‘live off the land.’ I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to just pop in and out of Romulan space at will, or smuggle secret communiqués to us when you can’t raise us over the subspace bands. So what’s the real advantage, given all the downside? And how are you even going to doit?”

  “Harris plans on putting me under deep cover. From the sound of it, it’ll involve some surgical alterations, to make me look like a Romulan.”

  That raised another point that Archer hadn’t even considered. “Do they knowwhat the Romulans look like?”

  Trip shrugged. “Harris says they don’t. But they have connections with people who do. People who supposedly can make me look enough like one of them to pass.”

  “Well, at least we know they’re humanoid,” Archer said, half under his breath. He’d often wondered how a race that was so feared throughout the known galaxy could have remained so secretive. But as he had learned over the four years he’d commanded Enterprise, every race—every society—had its secrets, at least to some degree. Like the Coridanites, who for some reason had never allowed outworlders to see the unmasked faces of their diplomats, and guarded their high-warp technological secrets jealously, even from their interstellar allies and trading partners.

  “I’ll be working alongside one of their most experienced operatives.” Trip said. “Our job will be to infiltrate their new stardrive project and sabotage it. They need someone
with engineering experience to pull this off. That’s why they can’t use Malcolm.”

  “And what about the telepathically piloted drone ships, and the Aenar, and the possible assault on Coridan? You’re going to stop those, too?”

  Trip rolled his eyes, and breathed out heavily through his nose. “No, sir. It looks like those jobs will be up to you.”

  Archer snorted. “So this secret intelligence group thinks that I’lljust do their bidding as well? We’re not a defensive first-strike vessel, no matter how many MACOs or new weapons we’ve taken on since the Xindi attack.”

  “I really don’t think it has anything to do with what Harris or his group wants, Captain,” Trip said, leaning forward. “You’re already onthe trail of the Orions. If this is all real—which I believe it is, and I think youdo as well—you know that events are going to pull you in. And one way or another, you’re gonna make sure that the Romulans don’t get their way.”

  Archer spread his hands wide and looked toward the ceiling, as if appealing to a higher power. A tremendous weight seemed to settle squarely upon his shoulders. “‘Events are going to pull me in.’ Nice way to say either that I’m predictable, or that I’m easily manipulated by outside forces.”

  “That’s not what I meant, sir.” Trip sighed and shook his head. “I’m just not saying it quite right.”

  Archer rose and walked to the viewport and gazed out at the distorted, warp field-streaked stars. At times like this, I sure could use a sunrise at breakfast time,he thought. Finally, he turned back toward Trip, who had remained seated, looking up at him with a mixture of trepidation and resolve in his eyes.

  “You said it right enough, Trip. I don’t trust this Harris, but I’ve done a little digging, and I know his organization is real, and it issanctioned by Starfleet, even if only the upper brass seems to know anything about it. And the conclusions we’re all reaching on this ship seem to support the idea that the Romulans have got some very deadly schemes in the works right now.”