Everyone in the conference room at Earth Spacedock is... subdued. With one exception.
T'Laihhae and the human intelligence officer, Hengest, are sober and thoughtful as they review the data on their screens. They have good reason to be. The real Rehanissen Archive turns out to contain a great deal of disturbing information... and, of course, that is now the least of our worries. I am sobered myself, at the thought.
The Andorian, Shohl, sits in an attitude of dejection, her antennae drooping. She seems to have aged a decade or more.
The one exception, of course, is Pexlini, who is grinning cheerfully, her booted feet propped up on the conference table. I suppose I should be glad to see that someone is happy, but I cannot for the life of me imagine why.
"I'll... pass most of this on to the appropriate intelligence subcommittees and working groups," Admiral Hengest says, eventually. "There's a lot to consider. But our first priority has to be Kalevar Thrang."
"Agreed," says T'Laihhae. "Much of his existing organization is already under investigation - K-T MMA, and his known contacts in the Klingon and allied governments. At least, those contacts who are still... available."
The Chancellor acted promptly - but perhaps not prudently. The Nausicaan government must now send another ambassador, and the unfortunate Sgramash now serves as another reminder that J'mpok has lost none of his skill with a bat'leth. As for Commissioner Hrissaak... Ambassador S'taass had enough standing in the High Council to demand a duel of honour. And S'taass used nothing more than his own claws.
"The mercantile association will be - unravelled," says Hengest. "And between that, and the loss of his original network - the phage victims - Thrang must have received a serious setback." He shakes his head slowly. "I just wish I believed it was enough to stop him. If this genetic analysis is right... the man's a constant danger so long as he's alive."
"How advanced is his genetic augmentation?" I ask.
"Very up to date," says Hengest. "This isn't Eugenics Wars era gene-tweaking - Thrang's genome has been modified using some of the very latest techniques, and I can't even guess who by. We'll pursue every lead we've got, among the augment underground... but it won't be easy."
"We should make sure to share all available information," says T'Laihhae.
Hengest nods. "Absolutely."
"Damn right we should." Tylha Shohl speaks up for the first time. Her voice is flat and hoarse. Everyone turns to look at her. "Information," she spits. "Secrets. Well, we've just had an object lesson in how secrets work, haven't we? Thrang used the damned archive and the secrecy around it to play us all, to play me -" She is shouting, now. "He turned me into a weapon against the Federation and the Empire both! He wound me up like a clockwork toy and set me up to do his dirty work! When I think how close I came -" She stops. She draws in a deep, shuddering breath.
T'Laihhae is nodding, slowly. "Even now," she says, "I am not sure if your interception of the Yasan T'o was deliberately arranged, to make sure you knew you were in the right... or if it was an accident, and the Nausicaan ship was meant to disappear with its evidence... or if Thrang set out on purpose to make sure things worked for him either way. He is capable, I think, of such artistry."
Shohl glares at her. "Artistry," she snarls.
"Well," says Pexlini, "at least we jogged his elbow before he managed his finishing stroke, yeah? Gotta count for something." She pouts for a moment. "I'd be happier myself if Thrang was tucked up safe in Facility 4028, I admit -"
"Augments have broken out of that facility before now," mutters Shohl. She looks utterly dejected. I cannot blame her.
"Even so," Pexlini says, "it'd be a start." She swings her boots off the conference table, and stands up. "Anyway, I gotta leave you guys to do the high-level stuff, yeah? Decide which subcommittees get what, and all that. Me, I gotta get my own records in order. Got a whole bunch of combat logs to send in from the Dechenchholing." She grins at Shohl. "I never knew working for Experimental Engineering was gonna get this exciting."
Shohl just looks disgusted. Hengest sighs noisily. "I suppose I should prepare a report for the Federation Council -"
"And we should return to the Flotilla," says T'Laihhae. She turns her aloof gaze on me for a moment. "I will transmit a preliminary report - obviously, you can do nothing while your secure comms are offline. Probably, your best course of action is to return to Qo'noS at once."
"Yeah," says Pexlini, "though of course me and Heizis both have standing orders, now - if we want to visit the Great Hall, we gotta go to a service entrance, knock, and wait to be let in. Who'da figured J'mpok had a sense of humour, huh?"
---
Afterwards, Pexlini strolls with me, as I head towards the docking bay and my ship. It is not a matter, I think, of keeping an eye on a suspect Reman intelligence officer. Pexlini knows I am not an enemy. Not today, at least. Not with Kalevar Thrang at large in the galaxy.
No, Pexlini just wants to talk. I suspect she always wants to talk.
"So, the way I figure it," she says, "Thrang must have the bulk of his network on the KDF side of things. That's where he's been operating, as an Orion smuggler - and that's where most of the Rehanissen Archive info comes in, too. We gotta figure Thrang's kept copies of all that. Hell, with that hotwired brain of his, he could memorize it at a glance, I reckon. So, well, you gotta keep your ear to the ground over there, Heizis, ol' buddy."
"I will be one part of the intelligence effort, certainly," I say. "But Thrang is a formidable foe."
"Don't I know it. And, even if he's operating solo these days, I wish I knew more about whatever lab they cooked him up in. Federation Council'll feel the same way. You know how humans are, when it comes to genetic engineering. They get way antsy over it."
"Understandable, considering their history. The advantages it gives Thrang are... considerable."
"Yeah," says Pexlini. We are approaching the docking tube to my ship. "But we'll win anyway. See, we're the good guys."
"I admire your facile optimism," I say.
Pexlini stops walking. Her pale blue eyes meet mine, and for once they are serious, not lit by humour. "We are the good guys," she says, "and that is our advantage, and that is why we will beat Thrang."
I stare at her. "I... am not sure that I follow you," I say.
"Think about it. Why didn't Thrang's plan work? Because you and Ajbit trusted me, instead of throwing me straight in the brig like you should have done. Because J'mpok acted immediately when we gave him our word of honour, instead of waiting until the archive data was analysed and cross-checked. And, yeah, because Tylha did her duty as a Starfleet officer and tried to talk to the Nausicaans, instead of opening fire as soon as they came on her screen." Her voice is serious, too. "Trust. Honour. Duty. These things mean something to us, but to Thrang they're just words. They're things he can't plan for, things he can't quantify. They're our edge, and they're why we'll win, in the end."
"That," I say slowly, "and we had a great deal of luck."
Pexlini's habitual grin comes back. "Hey," she says, "you make your own luck in this game."
I think about it. She evidently believes what she's saying. "I... will consider this," I say.
"Yeah, you do that."
"One thing, though." I fix her with a glare. "Call me a good guy again, and I will extract your internal organs and eat them before your eyes."
If it fazes her, she does not show it. "Yeah, well," she says, with a broader grin yet, "OK. I trust you to do that."
And she turns, and swaggers away before I can think of a reply.
I am in a pensive mood as I make my way down the docking tube and into the comfortable dimness of the Palatine. N'aina and Bi'or are both at the airlock to greet me, datapads in their hands. Reports, details - there are always many details to attend to.
"We need those comms modules replaced, as a matter of urgency," says Bi'or. "But, sir -"
"What is it?"
"A transmission came through via Starfleet's system. Encoded in Reman commercial cipher, but I do not have authorization to disclose it to Starfleet. There is a mining colony at Kappa Lacertae, apparently in difficulties. From what I have decrypted so far, their life support systems are failing, and a rival Dopterian concern is making difficulties -"
"I see." I bare my teeth. "Then we will refit our secure comms at Qo'noS, with all possible speed - allowing for a detour to the Kappa Lacertae system."
"Yes, sir." Bi'or looks positively pleased.
The good guys, Pexlini calls us.
I have a horrible feeling that she might be right.
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