Somehow, we all end up back at the Hazari base. It seems like the best place, to take stock, to transship the Hazari wounded, to organize contact with Delta Command.
The docking bays are crowded and chaotic. I catch a glimpse of Y'Nadan, as he is bundled off to the Hazari medical centre; I wave to him, and he manages a half-hearted salute back at me. There are people moving everywhere, mostly Hazari and Starfleet. Engineering specialist crews and SAR teams have beamed down aplenty from King Estmere, working to fix the station's beaten-up infrastructure, and maybe even pull a few more survivors out from shielded bunkers underneath the shot-up sections.
We may wind up doing ourselves some good with the Hazari, here. Maybe. But maybe we need to... if more of them have Ge'Sirn's attitudes, we could have trouble there.
There's a hundred and one things to manage, not least the treatment of my own wounded - and my unwounded, too, since Ostankino has had to be pretty much emptied out. Tylha Shohl's work crews are aboard, now, patching my little raider back into some sort of functioning shape. Damn, the King Estmere has a lot of people....
A traffic control and admin office has been set up at the docking bays, and I'm on my way there, threading my way through the crowds... when I notice, out of the corner of my eye, something that needs attention, like, right now.
So I turn around and head for the airlock, where one lithe black feline in Starfleet uniform is facing a lithe blue feline in Klingon leather.
"You guys," I say, "play nice, now, all right?"
Rrueo turns her head towards me. "Rrueo was inquiring as to the time and place of a formal debriefing session," she says. "Since Pexlini is here, perhaps this is as good a time as any for an informal one."
"She's right," says M'eioi. "Heaven knows there's enough to discuss."
"'kay," I say. "I'll see if I can book us a meeting room somewhere. Better get Tylha Shohl and T'Pia in on it... at least that way we can talk direct to other commanders, without anyone listening in."
"We have a line on that encoder console," M'eioi says. "There's only so many places where the physical equipment, and especially the security software, could have been cloned off. Starfleet Intelligence is already onto a suspected Octanti sympathizer -"
"Octanti sympathizer?" Rrueo breaks in. "Rrueo would have thought that a rare failing, even in Starfleet Command."
"There are plenty of people who are anti-Borg, though," says M'eioi. "We've lost so many people to them, from Wolf 359 to Vega Colony... there's no shortage of people who will fight the Borg by any means they think necessary. And if they think the Octanti can help them take the fight to the enemy...."
Rrueo shakes her head. "The Borg are an enemy," she says. "Ruthless, implacable, and without honour. But we must never be defined by what we fight. Not like the Octanti."
"I agree," says M'eioi. She looks hard at the Ferasan.
"Ah," says Rrueo. "Rrueo understands. My people and yours, each defining the other as what they are not. Well. Rrueo has no especial love for Caitians, but she has not found working with M'eioi to be excessively difficult. Rrueo is inclined to let the past stay in the past."
M'eioi's eyes narrow a little, and her tail switches. The whole Caitian Diaspora thing, I seem to remember, is kind of a lot of past for Rrueo to be dismissing just like that.
But, in the end, she says, "Well, we have to cooperate. This whole business has proved that, in any case."
"Only a fool fights in a burning house," Rrueo quotes. "And there are issues remaining. Tuarak - we do not know what has become of him. With the loss of his ship and his base, he may be a spent force, but Rrueo would be happier if she saw his corpse. Then, there is the matter of Ge'Sirn's device...."
"Well," I say, "the device itself is kind of toast, right? And Ge'Sirn himself -"
"Assimilated," says Rrueo. "Which means his knowledge is part of the Borg, now. But Rrueo frankly does not believe that the Borg Collective could not build protomatter devices of its own. The Collective chooses not to, because it, like ourselves, cannot guarantee the results of using such devices...."
"But sometime," says M'eioi, "we are going to have to find some way to - to tame protomatter. Because you can't put that kind of scientific genie back in its bottle. For now, I think we're OK, because the Hazari don't have the resources to make the stuff, and the Hierarchy won't consider it cost-effective, after what happened to their research station. But all it will take, somewhere, someday, is one researcher with the talent to duplicate the Genesis Project, and who doesn't have the wisdom to see the consequences -"
"Quite," says Rrueo. "All ethical scientists renounced the use of protomatter in their researches, once. Thus leaving the field clear for the unethical scientists. Rrueo wonders whether that was wise -" Her wrist communicator beeps. She frowns at it. "Rrueo must return to her ship. It is necessary to ensure that Tylha Shohl's people have not worsened the condition of that nacelle... and, of course, to check that Oschmann has not killed anyone of importance." She turns to me. "Rrueo will leave Pexlini to organize the debriefing session. Contact the Brathana once the time is fixed." She turns back to M'eioi. "Rrueo notes, by the way, that M'eioi's banners have not yet fallen. Rrueo would advise M'eioi, perhaps, for M'eioi's own peace of mind, to stay away from the dabo table." And she turns and stalks away.
I stare after her for a moment, then turn to M'eioi. "What was that about?" I ask.
I can't really read Caitian faces, but there seems to be a funny sort of expression on M'eioi's. "Private joke," she says eventually. "Nothing important."
I shake my head. "'kay," I say. "Well, I guess it's good you can have private jokes with her...."
"She's still an arrogant genetic experiment with an ego the size of Betelgeuse," says M'eioi. "But I guess we can work with her." Something tells me we haven't exactly healed the breach between Cait and Ferasa, today. But what the heck. Baby steps, and all that. At least they didn't actually kill each other, it's a start.
"So," I say. "What do you think of the Delta Quadrant, then? Everything you were expecting?"
Now that's a definite cat smile on her face. I think. "Yes and no," she says. "I knew it would be a challenge, but I didn't know what sort." She shrugs. "I guess you never do."
Then she points. "I think someone's looking for you."
I follow the line of her finger. Hal Welti is there, pushing his way through the crowds of Hazari and techs, waving at me with his free hand. There's a PADD in the other one. That can't be good news. "Oh, hell," I say. "I'll catch you at the meeting, 'kay?" And I jog over to meet Hal without waiting for a response. She'll be there, anyway. She's Starfleet, she's reliable. She'll be fine.
"Ajbit wanted me to go through the manifests," Hal says. "If we're transferring to a new ship -"
"Aw, yeepers, you know Ajbit usually handles all this stuff." I grab the PADD off him. I reckon this is Ajbit getting back at me for gambling her on that kajhod game. She's got a long memory for stuff like that. Long lists stare at me from the PADD's display. Long, long lists.
"If 'twere done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly," Hal says.
"You've said that before. That is a quote, isn't it?" Hal nods. "Yeeps. You ever meet that Borg Admiral at Earth Spacedock? Ronnie Grau?"
Hal nods, and his dark face lights up with a rare smile. "We met, once or twice."
"Thought so. You've got a lot in common."
Hal is evidently feeling perky. Wish I was. "She said," he says, "that, given our ages, she might be my great-great-great-great-great-great-aunt.
I look up from the PADD, scowling. "Nah," I say. "Nobody's that great."
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