by Tony Daniel
* * *
“You might have allowed me to approve your declaration before you made a hostile move against Starfleet,” Valek said.
Her even Vulcan temperament made the point more emphatic without yelling and screaming, Kirk thought.
They had gathered in the Zeta Gibraltar conference room as soon as Uhura alerted Kirk of the situation aboard the Victory.
“It was merely an attention-getting maneuver,” said Washington-Yarnek. “We felt it might be time to bring the issue to a head.”
“So you decided to cross the Delaware River?” Contreras said, shaking her head sadly. “I had believed you and I were friends, Mister President.”
“We are friends,” Washington-Yarnek replied. “And allies.”
“That remains to be seen,” Valek added.
“Representative Valek, the solution is simple,” said Washington-Yarnek. “We want the opportunity to protect ourselves. In fact, as a new political entity represented by an elective body—”
“When did that happen?” Kirk said.
“Last night, Captain,” Washington-Yarnek replied. “There was not time to inform you.”
“I’ll bet,” Kirk said. “I’m feeling a bit used. I signed that damn declaration, you know.”
Washington-Yarnek bowed to Kirk. “My apologies if I have caused offense,” he said. “But as the president of the New Excalbia Assembly, I demand our right to self-preservation. The Enterprise and the Montana cannot remain on station indefinitely. The L’rah’hane undoubtedly are set to return any moment. Meanwhile, the Federation insists on keeping us on the edge of galactic nowhere until Representative Valek decides—if she decides—to give us a chance. As things stand now, we have no say in our own fate. We are ordered hither and yon without the ability to lawfully protest or seek redress for our treatment.”
“I believe the Federation has been fair,” Valek said. “If not speedy in its actions.”
Washington-Yarnek moved forward and put a hand down on the conference room table. “Yes, you’ve been generous in many regards, we acknowledge this and are grateful,” he said. “You feed us. You provide us shelter, in a manner of speaking. But do you believe we are children?”
“Of course not,” Valek replied.
“Yet you treat us as if we were children. We once treated your kind as if you were children, to be toyed with”—he glanced at Kirk—“and you did not like it so much. Well, neither do we.”
Valek nodded. “I can see how some of my government’s actions can be interpreted as infantilizing you.”
“The issue is the consequence of dependence. It will be far better if we treat with the Federation as equals rather than as its wards,” Washington-Yarnek said. “This will serve the Federation’s interests—your interests, Representative Valek—in the long run, as well.”
“I acknowledge the logic of this position,” Valek replied. “But I am under certain restraints.”
“Are you, then, a mere mouthpiece?” Washington-Yarnek said. “I was under the impression that you had been sent with extraordinary power to decide our case.”
“I have,” Valek replied. “I am not a mere mouthpiece, as you put it. And I do have a great deal of latitude in dealing with the situation here. But there are political considerations . . . differences within the Council that must be considered and reconciled, or no accord we reach here will last very long.”
Washington sighed. “Politics. Factions. I’m all too aware that you speak the truth. Alas, it is ever thus. And yet men, and women, must act as seems just or there is no point in government at all.”
Valek nodded agreement. She turned to Kirk. “Captain, what is your advice?”
“I don’t like that they’ve threatened my officers, if only with an ultimately harmless deception,” he said. “The Enterprise fought for those L’rah’hane ships. We risked our lives to save you, Mister President.”
“Yes,” Washington-Yarnek replied.
“The ships are Starfleet prizes, under interstellar law.”
“They are in our port, however,” Washington-Yarnek said.
“Our?” said Contreras, irritation in her voice. “Who is this ‘our’?”
Washington-Yarnek drew himself up to his full height, squared his jaw.
“New Excalbia,” he said.
For a moment there was silence in the room.
Then Valek stood. She made a slight bow across the conference room table toward Washington-Yarnek.
“Very well,” she said. “As a representative of the United Federation of Planets in this system, I acknowledge your representative body, the New Excalbia Assembly.”
“Thank you,” said Washington-Yarnek with a sigh of relief. “You have no idea what this will mean to my people.”
“If they are people,” muttered Contreras. She slumped in her chair and shook her head, her expression full of misgiving.
“And the L’rah’hane ships in orbit? We wish no conflict with the Federation, but we have occupied them for the purpose of defense, and we will not leave them so long as we perceive a threat to this system.”
“I have no wish to provoke a needless conflict either,” Valek said. She turned to Kirk. “Captain, you doubtless know interstellar space law better than I.”
“We have every right to those ships. In a foreign port or not, in the absence of declared hostilities, prize rights apply,” Kirk answered.
Washington-Yarnek frowned, shook his head darkly.
“Hold on Mister President,” Kirk continued. “We’ve also thoroughly studied the capabilities of those ships and have essentially poked, prodded, and measured everything aboard them. Therefore, I recommend the Federation relinquish rights to the ships to the New Excalbia Assembly.”
Valek nodded. “Very well. It is so ordered.”
“Again we thank you, Representative Valek.”
Valek spoke a command to the room. “Computer, please put Admiral Nelson on the viewscreen.”
“Acknowledged,” the computer voice replied.
Kirk looked to the screen. There stood Horatio Nelson, all right. Beside him was one of Kirk’s own officers.
Ripoll, Kirk thought. With the Spanish y sound for the double l, Kirk recalled. He is Catalan in origin. Ship-faring family. Learned to sail on the Mediterranean as a boy. Top in his class at the Academy.
Washington-Yarnek looked to the viewscreen as well. “Admiral, it seems we’ve got our navy.”
Nelson smiled. It somehow looked predatory and not comforting on his beaky visage. “Very well, Mister President.” Nelson put a hand on Ripoll’s shoulder. “Captain, my first request is that you assign your Lieutenant Ripoll as Starfleet liaison officer aboard this vessel. He has behaved with both courage and wisdom under the circumstances, and I would be proud to have him among my crew, however temporarily.”
Kirk considered. “Lieutenant, you okay with this?” he asked.
“Admiral Nelson has been telling me some very interesting stories, sir,” said Ripoll. “I’ll report back to you on everything I hear.”
Kirk smiled. Now there was a command officer in the making, with an answer like that on the tip of his tongue.
“Permission granted, Lieutenant Ripoll,” Kirk said. “Admiral?”
“Yes?”
“Welcome back to command.”
Now Nelson’s smile did become warm. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I shall endeavor to be worthy of the faith the Assembly has placed in me. And of your professional friendship, Captain.”
“Knowing what you did to the French navy,” Kirk said, “if I were a L’rah’hane pirate, I would stay the hell away from any system over which you were standing watch.”
“If you were a L’rah’hane pirate, Captain,” Nelson replied, “I have a feeling the entire Federation might be quaking in its boots.”
* * *
Kirk sipped his Romulan ale in the reception area in Valek’s quarters. He’d come here immediately after the conference, on Valek’s invitatio
n. This time there had been no demand that he make a report, only a rather enticing invitation.
“I know that, as a human, you are experiencing the sensation of being used as a tool by others,” Valek had said on the way out of the conference room after the meeting with Washington-Yarnek. “To a certain extent, that may be true, but in any case, I wish to apprise you of several details involving my presence here in the Gibraltar system.”
The captain followed Valek back to her quarters to hear her explanation, or admission, or, hell, maybe it would be a confession.
At least maybe he’d get some answers about why he was being ordered to stick around in this system in the first place, even if he did think he ought to be here.
Valek poured herself a Romulan ale as well. She stared down at her tumbler for a moment, then knocked it all back in one gulp, as if she were a midshipman doing Lotholian shooters in a seedy bar. She poured herself another, but took this one to her chair, sat down, and sipped at it far more carefully and appreciatively. And Vulcan-like.
“Kirk, I need to tell you—”
“Why don’t you call me Jim, if we’re going off the record,” Kirk said.
“Very well. Jim.” Valek took another sip. “It sounds odd to my ears, this diminutive. As if I am assuming more familiarity than is warranted, given the situation.”
“Want to try James?”
Valek considered, nodded. “James. Yes, that is better,” she said.
“Am I missing something here, Valek? What is it you want to tell me?”
“The reason I was sent here, James,” she said.
“I presumed that was all covered in the orders I saw.”
“The real reason.”
“All right,” Kirk said. “Now you’ve got my interest.”
“As you know, Vulcans cannot prevaricate nor willfully misrepresent facts in order to deceive. It is simply not in our nature.”
“I know that you are quite capable of telling selective truths,” Kirk said. “That fact has more than once proved a life-saver.”
“That is correct,” Valek replied. Another long pause. “I have contradictory instructions from two sources, both of which I consider to be my superiors.”
Valek templed her fingers and stared at Kirk over them. “As you know, I am a Special Representative of the Federation Council, serving a commission appointed to deal with the Excalbians. I was put forward for this by the Vulcan representative to the Council. This is a temporary appointment. My normal position is in the Federation Ambassadorial Service. I serve in the office of Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan.”
“You do seem to be walking a tightrope of sorts.”
“Unfortunately, yes. The Special Committee for Security and Frontier Intelligence, the portion of the Federation Council that oversees most Federation covert activities, has been receiving very disturbing reports from its listening post nearest the Excalbian system. There is concern that a civil war is under way among the Excalbians brought on, it is believed, by your visit there.”
“I didn’t choose to go to Excalbia.”
“I know this, James,” Valek said. “It is merely a convenient shorthand.”
Kirk nodded. “Go on.”
“Given the great advancement of Excalbia in the manipulation of matter, it has been judged that a war between the Federation and Excalbia would lead to immense causalities, and we may lose.”
“I can see the logic of that.”
“The last thing the Federation would want to do is take sides in a civil war, especially considering that we know almost nothing concerning what it may be about.”
“Another good point.”
Valek gazed down into her glass contemplatively for a moment, then looked back up at Kirk. “Giving sanctuary to the Excalbian refugees was deemed too dangerous a risk to take. It may appear that we are taking sides in this civil war and open us to attack by a powerful enemy. My instructions from the Security and Frontier Intelligence Committee were not only to deny the Excalbians sanctuary within the Federation, but to deport them—utilizing the Enterprise and the Montana—back to Excalbia. If they resist, they are to be eliminated. Killed. We cannot risk a conflagration with an enemy that can destroy entire starships on a whim.”
“That’s . . . harsh.”
“Yes, and ultimately illogical,” Valek said. “As Sarek put it, it is akin to running from a bully rather than confronting the bully with reason and seeking to change his ways.”
“Or running from a photon torpedo. It catches up with you eventually.”
“In any case, perceived weakness can lead to escalation and greater trouble.” She shrugged. “It is not clear that what is going on at Excalbia is a civil war at all. The analysts are at odds with one another, and we do not have eyes on the ground in Excalbia to verify anyone’s conjecture.”
“But we do have Excalbians here.”
“Yes, and that has been my primary function here,” Valek said. “I have come to the conclusion that these Excalbians know nothing of use in that regard. Which leads me to suspect we are not seeing a civil war at all.”
“Then what?”
“That I cannot answer,” Valek said. “Perhaps we shall never know.”
“In the meantime—”
“What is the Federation—what are you and I—going to do with our Excalbians? Yes, that’s the question,” she said. “I have specific instructions from the highest authority not to grant them asylum. So that is an option that has never been on the table.”
Kirk took a long drink of his ale.
Wow, that’s good. And it braces the mind instead of dulling it. Marvelous stuff.
It came to him then. “You instigated their little revolution.”
“I may have put the idea into the air.”
“You want them to succeed,” Kirk said. “So you don’t have to deport them.”
“This was the back-up plan if I failed to extract useful intelligence from them.”
“Whose back-up plan?”
“Ambassador Sarek’s.”
Kirk found himself chuckling. “Why, of all the underhanded dirty tricks.” He shook his head. “And you a Vulcan.”
Valek nodded. “It is because I am a Vulcan that it will work,” she said. “When I take this solution back to the Council they will know that it was the most logical solution. As it is.”
“So we don’t have to kill them.”
“You do not have to kill them, James,” Valek said.
“I would never have done it,” Kirk said. “I think you know that.”
“Yes,” Valek said. “Sarek believed this was the case after having met you on the way to the Babel Conference. I needed your presence. I could not count on Captain Haynes to disobey such orders. He is, as Sarek put it, a time-server.”
Kirk took this in. “I’m sure Haynes would never kill those people in cold blood.”
Would he? Showboat Haynes, fearful of any blot on his record that would disturb his long-anticipated retirement?
Orders . . .
“Let us never put him to the test, James,” said Valek. “Let me never have to give that order.”
Kirk raised his glass to her. “Here’s to that,” he said, and drank down the rest of the ale.
Valek rose, went to the bottle, and brought it back to where they were sitting. She leaned over to fill up Kirk’s glass again, and in doing so, her hand brushed against his own.
“Valek, are you . . .”
“James, I would like to be your friend, that is all.”
Kirk nodded. He wasn’t entirely convinced.
But, of course, Vulcans are incapable of lying . . .
Valek poured herself another and sat back down across from him. Instead of putting the bottle back, she set it down beside her chair.
“Truthfully, I don’t know how I would feel about becoming friends with Spock’s nemesis,” he told her.
“James,” said Valek. “After all this time with your first officer, you still don’t underst
and Vulcans, it seems.”
“Meaning Vulcans never act in a way to harm others?” Kirk chuckled. “If you believe that, I’d like to introduce you to a lady named T’Pring. That’ll change your mind in a hurry.”
“I simply mean that our motives, while they may not be black-and-white, are ultimately logical. Logic is a tool that cuts many ways, James.”
Kirk smiled. “Well, I do know that there’s a great deal to understand in Spock’s case. I think of it as a lifelong challenge.”
Valek nodded, acknowledging, it seemed, the truth of Kirk’s words. “Vulcan children are like human children in some ways and very different in others.”
“Explain.”
“There is play, but it is logical play. Our children are, by human standards, precocious, but they are still developing intellectually. Just as with human children, their reasoning abilities are not fully developed until later.”
“So mistakes in logic, and other areas, might be possible?” said Kirk.
“Yes,” said Valek. “I made such a mistake once at Spock’s expense.”
“You were unkind?”
“I was incorrect. There is a difference.”
“Agreed,” Kirk said.
“There was no malice intended. That is a human emotion. There was . . . logical frustration on my part.”
“With Spock? There is no one more logical than Spock.”
“With the situation, James.”
“What situation?”
“It is difficult to explain.”
“Try me. I may know more about Vulcans than you think.”
Including, as you know, your bizarre, violent mating rituals, Kirk thought. He’d had to fight for his life against Spock in an effort to save his first officer from a plot by Spock’s ex-wife, T’Pring, to get out of their arranged marriage by way of Spock’s death. Logic and goodwill are by no means synonymous.
Valek took a sip of her ale. “Vulcan parents tend to lavish educational instruction and intellectual enrichment opportunities on their children, and, in many ways, the children become a project both parents are equally engaged in. This often is the intellectual connection that brings together Vulcans who otherwise would only be connected through the bonding ceremony.”
