Rogeiro stood up and joined the captain in the center of the bridge. “I think those energy discharges so close to Tzenkethi space make me nervous,” the first officer said. “We should avoid crossing out of Federation boundaries so close to the Coalition, but we have to check it out.”
“Agreed,” Sisko said, forcing himself not to sigh in resignation. He had no interest in any contact with the Tzenkethi. As he’d told Akaar, he wanted to avoid any actions, no matter how well justified or seemingly benign, that could lead to armed conflict. As much as Starfleet had recovered since the Borg had attempted to wipe out the Federation, and as much as alliances with the Cardassians and the Ferengi had bolstered the ranks of qualified starship personnel, the UFP and the other Khitomer Accords nations could not afford war with the Tzenkethi and their Typhon Pact allies.
And yet here we are, he thought. With a dead president behind us, and unidentified energy surges in front of us.
Sisko returned to the command chair, and Rogeiro took his post beside him. “Set course in the direction of the discharges, best speed,” Sisko said to Lieutenant Commander Sivadeki, who sat at the conn. “Get as close as you can while staying on our side of the border.”
“Aye, sir, laying in a course,” she said. Sisko watched as she brought up a sensor readout, then matched the ship’s route and destination to the appropriate coordinates. “Going to maximum warp.”
On the main viewscreen, the starfield canted to one side as Robinson raced onto its new heading. The deck vibrated with the increase in power. The great thrum of the warp drive deepened as the faster-than-light engines pushed the ship to greater velocities.
Rogeiro leaned in toward the captain. “I don’t like it,” the first officer said sotto voce. “Starfleet vessels massing along the border for all the Tzenkethi to see. It’s almost as though Command wants to provoke them.”
Not Starfleet Command, Sisko thought. Ishan Anjar. The president pro tem wanted to send ships to warn—or maybe even to intimidate—the Tzenkethi, based on the belief that they might have conspired to murder Nanietta Bacco. But if the Federation could prove Coalition conspiracy, Sisko wondered what next step the interim president intended to take. Raids on Tzenkethi ships? A massive assault against one or more of their worlds as a punitive measure? An all-out war?
“I don’t like it either,” Sisko told his first officer, “but Starfleet Command emphasized that we should proceed with extreme caution. We’re here strictly to patrol this section of the border, not to cross it, and not to engage with the Tzenkethi if we can avoid it.”
“A plan that works perfectly well until sensors register energy discharges just on the other side of the border, and attempts to contact one of our scoutships fail,” Rogeiro said.
“Right,” Sisko said. All at once, it became perfectly clear that they would not find the energy surges to be some natural phenomenon, or even an act as relatively nonthreatening as mining. Nor would the complement of Robinson discover that Argus had simply experienced a communications breakdown. No, it’s going to be something far worse, he thought. It’s going to be the Tzenkethi. And that meant that he might have to take his ship and crew into battle.
Sisko stood up again, induced to take action by a sickening feeling spreading through his gut. “Commander Uteln, send an encrypted message to Captain French at Helaspont Station. See if they’ve had any recent contact with the Argus. Also find out if they’ve detected the energy surges, and if so, what they know about them.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Commander,” Sisko continued, addressing his first officer, “you have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room. Contact me at once if we hear from the Argus or Helaspont Station, or if we learn anything new about the situation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sisko crossed the bridge quickly, almost as though he could outrun his overwhelming uneasiness. He entered his ready room, and as the door panels slipped shut behind him, he moved to his desk. Rather than circle around it and sit down, he walked directly over and leaned heavily on it. His breathing accelerated and grew shallow, and he became light-headed. Beads of perspiration broke out on the bald flesh of his head and spilled down his face. He thought that he might pass out.
Sisko closed his eyes, then fumbled for his combadge. He slapped at it, and it activated with a chirp. He thought of the words he should use—Sisko to sickbay—but he didn’t say them. He let his hand fall back to his side, and he concentrated on his respiration, attempting to bring it under control. By degrees, he slowed and deepened his breathing. He stopped sweating, and when he finally opened his eyes again, his vertigo had passed.
Pushing away from his desk, the captain made his way across the compartment and into his refresher. He ran cold water in the basin and splashed it onto his face and head. He grabbed a towel and dried himself as he headed back out into his ready room.
He walked over to his desk, intending to sit down behind it, but then he glimpsed the holoprint that stood on one corner. Sisko tossed the towel onto the sofa, then picked up the framed image of his family. He peered at Kasidy, with her dark hair and dark eyes, and her lustrous smile; at their beautiful daughter, Rebecca, an impish nine-year-old who nevertheless sometimes demonstrated insight beyond her years; at his son, Jake, who had grown into a fine man; and at Rena, a splendid woman who had married Jake and brought romance into his life, along with a contentment that Sisko had never known him to have.
The holophotograph had been taken just a few months earlier, not long before the end of Robinson’s two-year assignment to guard the Bajoran system, including the new Deep Space 9, which at that time had yet to be completed. Sisko’s son and daughter-in-law visited from Earth, where they had taken up residence during Jake’s writing studies at the Pennington School in New Zealand. Kasidy made herself available by rescheduling her training as a Federation envoy, and Sisko coordinated his leave from the ship. Together again for the first time in almost two years, the five of them vacationed at Glyrshar Canyon, one of Bajor’s few natural wonders that had survived the Occupation fully intact.
Sisko stared at the holoprint, at the five beaming faces, including his own. Their location provided a spectacular backdrop: the group stood together on a promontory overlooking the tallest waterfall on the planet as it thundered down into the vast canyon. When seated at his desk, Sisko looked at the print often, and it never failed to bring him a sense of peace. Holding it up before his face, he allowed it to perform its restorative magic on him.
Feeling better, the captain set the holophoto down and moved to the chair behind his desk. He dropped into it, thinking that, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to go to his quarters and spend some time with his wife and daughter. Although his rank certainly allowed him the privilege, his family’s daily life did not. At that hour, Rebecca would be in school, and Kasidy and the rest of Robinson’s diplomatic team would be meeting to study the culture and customs of the civilization that the crew had the best chance of next encountering: the Tzenkethi.
Alone in his ready room, Sisko shook his head. He’d already had his share of experiences with the Tzenkethi, from fighting against them in the Federation’s last war with the Coalition, to watching as one of their teardrop-shaped marauders destroyed the freighter Xhosa at a time when he’d believed both Kasidy and Rebecca to be aboard. He hoped that his wife would not have to deal with them—that none of the Robinson crew would—but on the trip out to Helaspont Sector, he had discussed the possibility with her. Having mourned the crew she’d lost aboard Xhosa, some of whom had become her close friends, she admitted to harboring general animosity for the Tzenkethi. Ever broad-minded, though, she refused to accept that she should assess an entire civilization based on the actions of one rogue crew. And while she sympathized with her husband for the terrible experiences he’d endured at the hands of the Tzenkethi, Kasidy declined to judge its present government by actions taken decades in the
past.
Tired of thinking about the Coalition—and certain that he would have to contend with some of its forces soon enough—Sisko activated the computer interface on his desk. He quickly navigated to a file that been rendered obsolete, but that he hoped one day in the near future to revive: the itinerary for the Robinson crew’s extended exploratory mission out beyond Bajor. The captain had assisted Starfleet Operations in the preparation of the schedule, which had subsequently been approved by Admiral Akaar. The assignment had been left open-ended, with an expected duration of two to three years.
Sisko perused the route that he and his crew would have taken. He examined the few known facts about several of the nearer star systems along the way, some gleaned from astronomical observations, others from automated long-range probes. He had just begun to read up on a number of unexplained interstellar phenomena when the door signal chimed.
“Come in,” Sisko said, curious why, if his crew had learned something about the energy surges or Argus, Rogeiro hadn’t called him to the bridge. The answer became apparent when the doors parted to reveal not his first officer, but the ship’s counselor. She entered the ready room and stepped up to the desk. “Commander,” Sisko said, “what can I do for you?”
“Nothing at all, Captain,” Althouse said. In her sixties and petite, with short blond hair, she regularly proclaimed in conversation to have no interest in any particular subject, but that often belied her desire to address a psychological issue with one of the crew. It didn’t surprise Sisko to see her; in the four years since he had first taken command of Robinson, he had gotten to know the counselor very well, and she, him. He found her perceptive and astute, and he knew that, of all her duties in maintaining the mental and emotional well-being of the crew, she considered keeping her commanding officer healthy the most important.
“If you’re concerned about my having to deal with the Tzenkethi, you needn’t be,” Sisko told her.
“You mean because you fought in the war against them?” Althouse asked. “And because the crew of a Tzenkethi starship destroyed your wife’s vessel and killed most of her crew?” She shrugged. “It never occurred to me.”
“It didn’t?” Sisko said, not believing the counselor. He chalked up her assertion as some form of reverse psychology intended to draw out his feelings of resentment for the Coalition. “Maybe Starfleet placed you in the wrong position, then.”
Without being invited to do so, Althouse sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. “So are you telling me that I should be concerned about you possibly having to face the Tzenkethi?”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Sisko said. “I just thought . . . based on my personal history, it seemed like a natural conclusion for you to make.”
“Not at all,” Althouse said. “What I’m aware of is your long and successful career in Starfleet, as well as your overall record of inclusiveness, which contains such deeds as sponsoring the first Ferengi for the Academy. I know you’ve had difficult confrontations with Tzenkethi before, but I wouldn’t think that you’d resent their entire species any more than you’d resent, say, all humans or Bajorans or Starfleet admirals.” She leaned forward and reached a hand up to the edge of the desk, motioning toward the captain. “I am right in my assessment that you’ve had difficult confrontations with humans and Bajorans and admirals?”
“Oh, yes,” Sisko said. “And with some counselors as well.”
Althouse smiled and rapped her knuckles against the desktop. “There you have it,” she said, as though she had just received incontrovertible proof of her premise. “I’m delighted not to be drawn with the same harsh brush as some of my less-than-illustrious predecessors.”
Sisko smiled, amused, but he did not forget that Althouse had come to pay him a visit during their duty shift. Not somebody to waste time or effort, she must have had something on her mind. “So, if you’re not here to discuss my unbridled hatred for all things Tzenkethi, then why are you here, Counselor?”
Althouse leaned back in her chair. “Actually, I was just wondering why you left the bridge,” she said. “You usually stay there during alpha shift, especially when the ship might be headed into a dangerous situation.”
“No particular reason,” the captain said. He could not deny to himself that, on the bridge, he’d experienced a strong reaction to a potential clash with Coalition forces, but he felt sure that the shortness of breath, dizziness, and perspiration he’d exhibited had been unrelated. I probably just stood up too fast, he told himself.
Sisko took hold of the computer interface on his desk and spun it around so that Althouse could see it. “I thought I’d take another look at our route out past Bajor,” he explained. He knew that if he didn’t satisfy the counselor’s curiosity, he would be faced with many more questions—questions that regulations obliged him to answer.
Althouse looked at the display. “Our grand mission of exploration,” she said with an air of pomp. Then, with a decidedly disappointed air, she added, “If we ever get to go on it.”
“We will,” Sisko said at once. He felt strongly about it, though he couldn’t tell if his fervor arose out of conviction or mere wishful thinking.
“You sound certain. I wish I could be. After what happened to the president . . .”
“It’s important for Starfleet to provide stability and security for the Federation at this terrible time,” Sisko said. “But as a people, as an amalgam of worlds that share the same lofty values, we’re far more than just interstellar diplomats and military enforcers. Sometimes it’s necessary for us to play those roles, but that’s not who we are: we’re explorers and scientists, reaching for the unknown and to expand our knowledge of both the universe and ourselves.”
“High-minded words,” Althouse said, not without appreciation.
“They’re all the more important because they reflect high-minded ideals,” Sisko said. “Our mandate is what it says in the Starfleet charter: ‘to boldly go where no one has gone before.’ ”
A glint showed in the counselor’s eyes. “I’ve never liked the split infinitive,” she said wryly.
“To go boldly, then.”
“That’s better.” Althouse stood up, and Sisko thought that she intended to return to the bridge. Instead, she walked past the side of his desk and over to the tall, narrow port that looked out on the stars as they sped past. Staring out, she said, “I do find it frustrating, Captain.”
“You find what frustrating?”
Without turning around, Althouse said, “One minute, we’re poised to embark on a momentous journey into the unknown, and the next, we’re headed toward the border in Helaspont Sector, our bow pointed toward the Tzenkethi Coalition. That doesn’t exactly sound equitable, does it?”
“It doesn’t need to be equitable,” Sisko said. “It’s all part of the duty we signed on for.”
“Still,” Althouse said, at last looking around to face the captain again, “I’m sure that Kasidy must be disappointed. And Rebecca, too.”
“Kasidy and Rebecca?” He glanced over at the holoprint. “They’re not Starfleet. The change doesn’t really affect them.”
“Oh, good,” Althouse said. “I thought it might be hard for them to know that the ship might be heading into combat.”
“I don’t believe they think about being aboard the Robinson in those terms,” Sisko said. They don’t think about it in those terms, but I do.
“I’m glad that’s the case, otherwise Kasidy and Rebecca could find their time on the ship very disquieting.” She moved away from the port and back over to the chair in front of the desk, though she did not sit. “I realize that when they finally relocated to the Robinson on a permanent basis, they expected a mission like that one.” Althouse pointed toward the computer interface, which still displayed the ship’s prospective path out past Bajor. “And now, for the Robinson to suddenly be thrust into a dangerous situation�
��”
“Exploring the unknown can be dangerous too,” Sisko interjected. “Sometimes more so than taking the ship into combat. The Robinson has strong defenses and powerful weapons.”
“Yes, it does.”
Sisko felt an itch on his forehead, and when he rubbed at it, he realized that he’d begun to sweat again—not profusely, as he had a few minutes earlier, but his fingertips came away slick. “Life aboard a starship is dangerous,” he went on. “Starfleet vessels have been destroyed in wars, and they’ve been lost while their crews have been out exploring the universe.”
Very quietly, Althouse said, “I think more have been lost in military battles.”
“Yes, of course,” Sisko said. He rose to his feet and paced over to look through the port out into space. The counselor’s insensitivity shocked him. For her to argue that Starfleet Command’s reassignment of Robinson to the Helaspont Sector put his family in greater danger—
Why would she do that? Sisko asked himself. Even if she’s right—and he knew that she was—why would she make that argument? He certainly understood as well as anybody the risks to civilians living on a starship—he understood better than most: he had lost his first wife—
I lost Jennifer, Sisko thought, and the counselor knows that.
He put his hands up to the bulkhead on either side of the port. Out in space, the stars passed, ablaze in their reality, but cold in their distance. Sisko refocused his eyes onto the transparent surface of the port, and he saw his ghostly reflection there. He looked at himself, but he realized that Diana Althouse had looked at him more closely, at least in the past few minutes.
Sacraments of Fire Page 22
