"I don't care what your speciality is, Mr. Slett," I snap. "Just get down to level 106 and start working on those SI generators."
The Tellarite glares up at me. "I'm a design engineer!" he shouts. "I'm a theoretician, not a - a mechanic!"
"In case you hadn't noticed," I say, "there's a crisis on just now. So, either you theorise some way to breathe space, or you get down to 106 and fix those generators. Getting your hands dirty won't hurt you, Mr. Slett, but a hull breach will. Now get to it!"
Slett turns around and stumps off, muttering under his breath. Tellarites. You can depend on them for anything, if you shout at them hard enough first. I turn my attention back to the desk console. Some more urgent-priority messages have come in.
Experimental Engineering is no longer experimenting; with the confusion currently reigning aboard Earth Spacedock, theoretical engineers like Slett are badly needed for their practical expertise - and I hope, by now, enough people know that I'm making them available to other departments. I can't tell; internal communications are badly snarled up. Some of the urgent messages are dated three days ago or more - I don't bother with those, the urgency must have passed by now.
So far, I think, we are keeping on top of things. So far.
I pick up a PADD and start scanning through the requests, and then the portable comms unit bleeps for attention. With ESD's networks snarled up, direct links are the most reliable way to keep in touch - the unit is tied in to Spirits of Earth's subspace radio, and I can talk to my ship whenever I want. And, of course, they can talk to me.... "Shohl here."
"Skipper." F'hon Tlaxx's voice, sounding troubled. "Got something odd here. Subspace call, asking for you, personally - routed through the subspace array at Tellar, but originating on Vulcan?"
"Vulcan? I thought they weren't talking outside official diplomatic channels?"
"I don't think they're meant to. Skipper, this thing is flagged personal and eyes-only, and it has a visual - do you want me to patch it through?"
"Better find out what it is," I say, "and that's the only way to do it." I flick a switch, and the screen unfolds from the top of the comms unit. "OK, ready. Let's have it."
The screen flickers with an abstract holding pattern for a moment, then resolves into a face. I blink. I recognize the Vulcan, but it takes a moment to recollect his name. One of Stiak's people: Stileg.
"Mr. Stileg," I say, cautiously. The Vulcan scientist looks healthier than when I last saw him; the weeping welt on his forehead is gone; he looks well-groomed, well-fed... and worried.
"Vice Admiral Shohl. I am glad you remember me. It will save explanations."
"What is it you want?" I'm not really in the mood to be polite to one of Stiak's associates.
"Vice Admiral, I had to contact someone in authority in the Federation. I have come into possession of data which - I am not entirely sure of the implications, but they would be considerable."
I frown. "What data?"
"I do not believe I can discuss it on what may be an insecure channel. I am taking something of a risk in making this contact, though I judge the probability of danger to be acceptably low. I have obtained a visual recording, which I believe will stand up to forensic scrutiny." He takes a deep breath. "In any case, it should certainly be subjected to such scrutiny."
My antennae are twitching. "What sort of recording?"
"I will not discuss it on an insecure channel. Vice Admiral, the best thing, I think, would be to arrange for the recording, on its original medium - a standard isolinear data chip - to be transferred off Vulcan and to the appropriate authorities in Starfleet. My judgment is that Starfleet Intelligence would be the logical recipients."
"That... might present some problems, in the current climate."
"Yes. My activities are subject to scrutiny, because I am an acquaintance of the Hegemon, but have not joined the Hegemony myself."
That piques my interest. "Why not?"
"I am familiar with the historical Hegemony of Bresar. Its social structures and morality are not things which, in my opinion, should be emulated. Vice Admiral, I understand that you will need to make arrangements. Would you be willing to speak to me again in three standard hours? I will be able to call again in that time, with only a negligible additional attendant risk."
"I'll... see what I can do. I'll instruct my comms officer to listen out for your call."
"Thank you, Vice Admiral." And the screen goes blank.
I stand up, slowly. Now, what the hell was that all about? Time, I think, to be a good little Vice Admiral and seek guidance from my superiors.
---
When I reach Admiral Hengest's offices, though, everything seems to be in confusion. Which is normal, right now, admittedly - but it's the wrong kind of confusion. Ensigns are carrying case-loads of equipment out of the office suite; clerks are typing furiously at consoles - I can't see what they're typing, Intelligence does take some precautions about that. But everyone seems to be in motion, and it looks like they're moving out.
I make my way to the inner office, and the door slides open before I can announce myself. "Oh," says Hengest, as he sees me. "Tylha." He sighs. "I suppose it can't wait, can it?"
"Less than three hours, sir," I say.
"Right." He sighs loudly. "Come inside, let's talk."
There is someone else already in the office; a dark-haired woman, with her back to me at first, looking out of a viewport. When she turns, I recognize her at once. "Admiral T'Nae?"
"Ah, yes. Vice Admiral Shohl, is it not?" T'Nae's eyes flick across me, dismissively.
"You're, um, still here, then, sir?"
"I am. The logic of the situation was inescapable. Vulcan is my home purely through accident of birth; Starfleet is my career through reasoned and deliberate decision." A faint look of pain shows in those cool eyes for a moment. "What is not logical is that I should be forced to make a choice.... However, that is irrelevant at the moment. What are your requirements?"
I give them both a run-down of Stileg's message. "Potentially interesting," says T'Nae, in a rush of enthusiasm.
"I thought, sir, if you could arrange some sort of extraction -"
"Out of the question," says T'Nae.
"Yes," says Hengest. "I'm sorry, Tylha - this does sound interesting - but I'm out of here."
"Admiral Hengest is required in the Eta Eridani sectors as a matter of extreme urgency," says T'Nae.
"What -? But that doesn't make sense," I say. "The Vulcan situation is the biggest crisis we've got, and Admiral Hengest's the one who's been coordinating the intelligence work on the Hegemony since this started -"
"You are inaccurate," says T'Nae. "The military situation in Eta Eridani has developed in unwelcome ways - if we do not respond in a coordinated manner, quickly and efficiently, there is a high probability of major military reverses. Even as things stand, there is an 83% probability that we will lose control of the Aznetkur corridor and our other recent gains in those sectors. Intelligent coordination of our response is therefore paramount, and all available command resources are being diverted to that aim."
"Including me and my staff," says Hengest. "Look -" He picks up a PADD from his desk, and enters a code into the interface. "I can hand you our list of available assets in or near Vulcan - I'm clearing you for that now. If you can find anyone to get this Stileg and his data chip out, use them. Other than that - well, no, that's all I can do." He hands me the PADD. It's the same as any other PADD, but it feels awfully heavy to me.
"We must depart," says T'Nae. "Careful intelligence and proper command and control are vital to all our endeavours. The situation in Eta Eridani is being complicated by excessive independent action - well-meant but quixotic operations are causing us almost as much damage as enemy action and outright sabotage." Her eyes turn to me, measuring me. "Please bear that in mind, Vice Admiral Shohl."
---
Back in my office - Semok's office - I stare at the PADD.
Stileg's next message is due in about forty-five minutes. The list of intelligence assets on Vulcan is formidable - Hengest has been busy - but I don't see how it's going to help me. While President Okeg has been sticking to his open-door policy, the Vulcans, under Stiak's direction, have been increasingly sticky about travel restrictions and so on.
Maybe there are people on these lists who could help me get around that. There probably are. But I don't know any of these people - Hengest does, I don't. They're just names to me - and aliases at that. I don't know their capabilities, their histories -
It might not matter anyway, I tell myself gloomily. By now, Stileg's amateur-hour cloak-and-dagger antics have probably got him stood up against a wall and shot.
Then I find a cross-reference link, and I follow it up, and all of a sudden my day gets brighter.
Hengest has been cooperating with Romulan Republic intelligence, and they have assets in place. There's even a protocol for getting in contact with them. And, although they've all got anonymous code names, there's one particular asset - a Romulan woman under cover as a design engineer - that I think I do know.
All right, I say to myself. All you've got to do now is thrash out some kind of plan with Stileg, and communicate it to T'Laihhae... and, probably, get Spirits of Earth into some kind of position to help out -
My console bleeps at me, showing another urgent message. And, I remind myself, I have to find someone to turn this lot over to, because keeping ESD running is still essential -
The office door hisses open. "I have completed those repairs!" shouts Slett. "The rankest apprentice could have completed those repairs! I demand, Vice Admiral, that you assign me duties commensurate with my abilities!"
I feel the smile spreading across my face. "Oh, Mr. Slett," I purr, "I'm so glad to hear you say that...."
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