Star Trek: Typhon Pact 04 - Paths of Disharmony

by Dayton Ward

  “He might be getting pressure from higher up,” Choudhury suggested. “I’ve heard rumors Starfleet Command’s been trying to promote him to admiral for over a year. Maybe he’s eyeing you to replace him here.”

  Casting his gaze down to the coffee table, Worf replied, “I am not a suitable candidate for command. I have several reprimands in my personnel file that would disqualify me from such consideration.”

  “I’ve seen those,” Choudhury countered, “and you know what? All of that was a lifetime ago. Since then, you’ve earned a record that a lot of captains would kill themselves to call their own. Besides, if having Jean-Luc Picard ask for you by name to serve as his first officer on the Federation flagship isn’t a referral, I don’t know what is. Hell, they’d probably make you an admiral if he told them to do it.”

  Worf waved away the suggestion. “This is all irrelevant. Captain Picard will never accept promotion. He’s already refused several offers. No, his place is here, on the Enterprise.”

  Smiling, Choudhury reached across the table, extending her hand and waiting until Worf took it in his own. “And will your place always be by his side?”

  After several moments spent in silence, Worf said, “I honestly do not know. Though it would be a great honor to succeed him, if given a choice, I might well remain here for as long as the captain wanted me as his first officer.” He shook his head. “I will have to give this a great deal of thought.”

  Choudhury rose from her chair, keeping her grip on his hand and pulling him to his feet. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her cheek into his broad chest. “Yes, you should do that.”

  He could do it tomorrow, she decided.

  Chen ran her hands over the pages of the real book, savoring its texture. Her fingertips registered the rough page edges, and if she closed her eyes she imagined she could feel the words themselves, rising from the paper to greet her. She had enjoyed reading as a child, and while that interest had followed her into adulthood, she possessed very few physical books. Though the book she now held was an obvious reproduction of a book originally published a century ago, that did not at all diminish her present enjoyment.

  “Lieutenant?”

  Only upon hearing the voice did Chen realize she had closed her eyes, and she opened them to see Geordi La Forge standing across the table from her, eyeing her with an expression of curiosity and even mild amusement. Offering a small, sheepish smile, she glanced around the crew lounge to see if anyone else might be looking at her, but it appeared that her admittedly odd behavior had attracted no notice. Of course, she realized that was no mean feat, given the somber mood affecting pretty much everyone aboard ship. That vibe had permeated even the unfailing atmosphere of good humor that normally characterized the Happy Bottom Riding Club.

  “Commander,” she said, starting to stand.

  La Forge gestured for her to keep her seat before indicating the chair opposite her. “May I join you?”

  “Of course,” Chen said, nodding as she cleared her throat. “What brings you here, sir?”

  Taking his seat, La Forge replied, “I was told you’d be here.”

  “You were looking for me?” she asked.

  The chief engineer smiled. “Absolutely. Commander Taurik told me what a tremendous help you were, but I hadn’t had a chance to thank you in person before now. What you did was really something. It was inspired. I love that kind of unconventional thinking, especially in an engineer.”

  Unsure of what to say, Chen did not want to spoil the moment with something inappropriate, so she offered a simple nod. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d want to be assigned to me full-time?” La Forge asked.

  Now Chen laughed. “Well, I don’t know about that. I certainly don’t mind helping out, especially during the long stints where there’s really no need for a contact specialist. I know Captain Picard would rather I keep up with the cross-training, and to be honest I’m enjoying it. Engineering, flight ops. It keeps things fresh.” Then, more comfortable with the conversation, she added, “Unless you’re wanting to train me to take over your job?”

  “One step at a time, Lieutenant.” La Forge chuckled, then his features softened and he looked down at the table, running his fingers across its smooth surface. “It’s nice to laugh, especially after everything that’s happened.” He gazed out at the rest of the crew lounge. “The news about Andor’s really gotten everybody down.”

  You think? Chen only just managed to avoid hurling the sarcastic question across the table. Instead, she said, “I have a feeling we’ll all be thinking about this for a while.” The impact of Andor’s decision had already been felt among the crew, with half of the ship’s seventeen Andorian crew members resigning their commissions and transporting to the planet’s surface prior to the Enterprise’s departure. Those who had remained were receiving the support of their friends and shipmates, but no one was pretending that such a startling development would not have a dramatic impact on the political landscape the Federation now faced.

  “Did you know any of the Andorian officers who resigned?” she asked.

  La Forge shook his head. “Not that well, no. What about you?”

  “No,” Chen replied. “I feel bad about that, now.”

  “Well, it’s going to take a long time to sort things out,” the chief engineer said. “I’m already hearing rumors about background checks for any Andorian who opts to stay in Starfleet. Somebody somewhere probably thinks of them as a security risk now.” He released an exasperated sigh. “I hope they don’t push things that far. It’s not like everyone on the planet was even for this idea, let alone everyone in the Andorian government. You’d think we’d know by now that there’s nothing to be gained by ostracizing people just because they’re of a certain species or were born on a particular planet.”

  Chen shrugged. “Let’s hope someone in charge is smart enough not to repeat those same mistakes. I’m betting that’s President Bacco.”

  “Me, too.” Leaning forward in his chair, La Forge drew a deep breath as though attempting to change mental gears. He gestured toward the book still lying on the table before her. “What are you reading?”

  Smiling as her attention returned to the book, Chen said, “I actually haven’t started reading it yet. I found it in my quarters when I came off shift this evening. Apparently, it’s a gift, from Captain Picard.”

  “Really?” La Forge asked. “What’s the occasion?”

  Once again uncomfortable, Chen replied, “I did a favor for Dr. Crusher. She asked me to repair that flute he keeps. You know, as a memento.”

  “Oh yeah,” the engineer said, nodding. “I know.”

  “Right,” Chen said. “So, I fixed it, and I guess she gave it to him, and he gave me this, as a way to say ‘Thank you.’ I have to admit, I feel weird about it.”

  La Forge laughed again. “I suppose that’s understandable. He is the captain, after all, and he’s also pretty reserved.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Chen countered. “Anyway, the book’s an interesting choice. It’s a novel, published a hundred years or so ago, about the first contact between humans and Vulcans.”

  Frowning, La Forge said, “I know that book. Captain Riker gave that to him as a birthday present several years ago. It was after . . . well . . . let’s just say whatever happens in that book isn’t the way things really went.”

  “I’ve read the reports, Commander,” Chen said, unable to suppress a small giggle. “What I thought was most interesting is that he wrote an inscription.” Opening the book, she turned it to the first page and rotated it so that La Forge could see what he undoubtedly recognized as Captain Picard’s unique, exacting penmanship.

  Reading aloud, La Forge said, “To T’Ryssa Chen. Things aren’t always as they seem, and sometimes they surprise you. Thank you. JLP.” Impressed, he leaned back in his chair. “For what it’s worth, I’ve known the captain for almost twenty years, and while he’s not the most o
utgoing person, he’s definitely become less aloof than when I first met him.” He pointed to the book. “That said, he must be very impressed with you to make a gesture like that.”

  “You don’t think it’s just fatherhood mellowing him?” Chen asked, garnering another chuckle from La Forge.

  “I don’t think I’ll be testing that theory any time soon,” he said, looking up as someone else approached their table. “And now, if you’ll excuse me,” he offered as he rose from his chair, “my dinner date’s arrived.”

  Chen turned in her seat to see Dr. Tamala Harstad walking toward them. She smiled as she greeted La Forge, whose face seemed to brighten as he regarded her.

  Guess the rumors are true.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant,” Harstad offered after La Forge made the introductions.

  “And you, Doctor.” To La Forge, she said, “Enjoy your evening, Commander.” She forced herself to keep a straight face even as she added a small lilt to the end of her sentence, which had the intended effect of causing the chief engineer to struggle at suppressing a small grin despite himself.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Thanks again, Lieutenant. Like I said, that was some fine work. I won’t forget it.”

  The couple made their way to another, unoccupied table on the other side of the room, leaving Chen sitting alone at her table. She sighed, contemplating whether to eat her dinner here, or simply order something from the replicator in her quarters. Her right hand played across the surface of the book, and she once again was drawn to the exquisite tooling of its imitation leather cover.

  At least I’ll have something to read tonight.

  “Lieutenant?”

  Startled by the new voice, Chen jerked herself upright in her chair and was surprised—pleasantly so, she realized—to see Taurik standing to her left, hands clasped behind his back. “Commander,” she said. “I apologize. I was just . . . never mind. What can I do for you?”

  Taurik’s right eyebrow arched, and he indicated the empty chair on the table’s far side with a nod. “I was curious as to whether you cared to have dinner with me?”

  44

  Sitting in the small office in his quarters, Picard regarded the weary visage of Iravothra sh’Thalis depicted on his desktop computer screen. She seemed to have aged a decade in the few short days that had passed since he had last seen her.

  “I apologize for not having an opportunity to see you before you left, Captain,” she said, offering a small smile. “As you know, I’ve been rather busy these past few days.”

  Buoyed by her attempt at humor, Picard replied, “That’s quite all right.” He stopped himself before referring to her by her former title. “I understand completely. I hope you won’t take what I have to say as simple courtesy, but I was supremely disappointed in the parliament’s decision to remove you from office. From where I sit, you carried out your duties to the people of Andor with integrity and compassion. I’m only sorry that did not appear to be sufficient for some parties.”

  Sh’Thalis warmed upon hearing that. “Very kind words, Captain, particularly coming from someone of your stature. While politics had never been an aspiration of mine growing up, I came to love my work. I really did want to help people; to make their lives better. Hopefully, I’ll be able to do that again.” She paused, looking away from the comm unit’s video pickup as though contemplating a brighter future just within her grasp. “And since we’re on the subject of helping people, I also did not get to properly thank you and your crew for everything you did while you were here. From the conference to assisting in our reconstruction efforts, your support was invaluable. I only wish we had been able to show our appreciation in some meaningful way.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Picard said. “As my first officer has been known to say from time to time, the honor is to serve. I only wish that we could have done more.”

  Pausing again, sh’Thalis released a small sigh. “I predict that the parliament will come to regret the action they took in haste, fueled as it was by emotion. I don’t understand how they think this will bring stability to our world. The decision has sparked all manner of dissension, given that a sizable portion of the population opposed secession. There’s even talk of trying to orchestrate a new referendum in order to revisit the original vote and see if a call for rejoining the Federation can’t be approved. And of course, none of this changes the agenda of groups like the Treishya. They will continue to oppose the work of Professor zh’Thiin and those like her, despite the potential it harbors for the survival of our race.”

  Picard had read the latest reports coming from the now-“liberated” world of Andor as provided by the Federation News Service, which had been granted provisional permission by the parliament to remain on the planet and report current events. The news organization was, by some accounts, already coming under fire from hard-line Visionists and outspoken representatives of the Treishya, the True Heirs of Andor, and other activist groups. Eklanir th’Gahryn, the mysterious yet oddly charismatic leader of the Treishya, had come out of hiding and resumed his infrequent broadcasts to the Andorian people, calling for the ousting of the Federation “propaganda machine.”

  As for Professor zh’Thiin, from what Picard had been able to learn, the Andorian Science Institute had not forced her to cease her work. With the first bondgroups expecting the birth of healthy children aided by the genetic research she had devised, there was little practical argument against what she had accomplished. Assuming those children developed no unforeseen side effects as a result of zh’Thiin’s protocol, it was a veritable certainty that public opinion would soon begin to swing toward supporting her work.

  “I hope such a referendum comes to pass,” Picard said. “Andor’s role in Federation history is an honored one, and we are lesser without you.” He tried not to dwell on that comment, having read Admiral Akaar’s report regarding President Bacco’s final meeting with the Andorian ambassador and how that conversation had ended.

  Andor, joining the Typhon Pact? Picard simply could not believe it, and the Andorian government was neither confirming nor denying such speculation. Would the next weeks and months see the Pact boasting of a momentous expansion of their fledgling coalition? The ramifications of such a radical shift in the interstellar political landscape were staggering. Admiral Akaar had already sent a message to Picard, wanting his insights into the Andorian situation with respect to how it might affect the Typhon Pact. It was a question that would be receiving no small amount of critical attention in the days and weeks to come, and that discussion was one to which Picard was not looking forward.

  “Rest assured there are many here who feel as you do,” sh’Thalis said. “I only hope that their voices are heard, sooner rather than later.” When she smiled again this time, it seemed to Picard as though some of the fatigue bearing down on her had faded. “I know you’re a busy man, so I won’t keep you any longer. Once again, thank you for everything. Thiptho lapth, Jean-Luc.”

  “Until we meet again, Iravothra,” Picard said. When the transmission ended, he sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the people of Andor. Trying times still lay ahead for them, made only the more difficult, he thought, by the loss of someone as dedicated and forward-thinking as Iravothra sh’Thalis.

  A damned pity.

  Something rubbed against his leg, pulling him from his reverie, and he looked down to see René staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

  “Up,” the boy said, his small hands gripping Picard’s trouser legs as he tried to pull himself into his father’s lap.

  “Come here,” Picard said, lifting the boy and turning him so that he faced the desk, and in doing so his gaze fell upon the familiar ornate box sitting to the left of the computer terminal. Reaching for it, he opened the box and smiled as he beheld the flute. “Hello, old friend,” he whispered as his fingers caressed the instrument. Though he had come to terms with perhaps never again being able to play the cherished keepsake, simply look
ing at it was enough to sadden him at the thought of losing not only that treasured pursuit but also the tenuous connection to everything the flute represented. He had never voiced that sorrow to Beverly, but she obviously had sensed his despair despite his best efforts to keep it concealed, and it had spurred her to action. The result of that devotion—with the able and wondrous assistance of Lieutenant T’Ryssa Chen—was a gift beyond measure, in ways that to this day Picard could articulate solely through the music he and the flute created. That it was here, restored and waiting for him, filled him with a joy he had missed for far too long.

  “There you are.”

  Picard looked up to see Beverly standing at the doorway to the small office. Seeing her, René held out his arms and offered a near-toothless grin of greeting.

  “Escaped your clutches again, did he?” Picard asked.

  “He knows it’s time for his bath,” Beverly replied, “and he’s stalling.” She stepped over and lifted René from his father’s lap. “Everything okay?”

  “I was just talking to Presider sh’Thalis,” Picard said. “Excuse me, former Presider sh’Thalis.”

  Nodding in understanding, Beverly asked, “How is she?”

  “Tired,” Picard said. “Unhappy. Worried for the future.”

  Beverly shifted René so as to support the boy on her right hip. “She should join the club. You don’t have to be a planetary leader to worry about things like that.”

  Sensing that there might be more to his wife’s words than she might be letting on, Picard asked, “Something on your mind?”

  “I suppose so, yes,” Beverly said, turning from him to regard René for a moment. “When we were down on Andor, during the . . . incident?”

  “Yes?” Picard asked.

  As though wary about how he might react, Beverly glanced to the ceiling before replying, “To be honest, once that was over, I thought about you and René, and how I’m starting to feel that I don’t want to have to wonder whether I might never see either of you again because of one dangerous mission or another. I don’t want to wonder what might happen to you when duty calls.”