Sweat glittered on Captain Kuthis's brow ridges; his face was grey and haggard. "Once we had broadcast the general alert," he said, "we plotted an intercept course for the trilithium warhead. It was useless. We had no chance of reaching weapons range on full impulse, and no time to calculate a precision micro-warp jump -"
"I know the difficulties," said J'mpok. He sat behind his desk, looking up at Kuthis. Behind him and to one side, Ambassador S'taass of the Gorn was a hulking silent presence. "Go on."
Kuthis nodded. "We understood the consequences of a trilithium detonation... we knew the system was doomed. We.... It seemed to us that we should try to save someone. Something...."
"Your logs show you performed a short warp jump to the outer system," said J'mpok.
"We had to make a choice." Genuine anguish showed on Kuthis's face. "Dolsulca VII... furthest from the blast... it offered the best chance, we thought. We identified six space colony cylinders that would be eclipsed by the gas giant during the initial radiation flash. Two were too large... we chose...."
"Arcology Theyava-Lan 1326." S'taass spoke for the first time, delivering the information in a flat tone.
"Yes," said Kuthis. "We knew it would survive the radiation flare, but when the rest followed, the plasma storm... even at that range, it would overwhelm their shields. Unless we supplemented them with ours.... We had to make a choice! We had to choose some few who might live, and leave the rest to die!"
"You extended your ship's shields and synchronized them with the colony cylinder's own," said J'mpok. "The additional shielding protected the colony, allowed them to survive until the plasma flux dropped to tolerable levels. Disaster relief vessels evacuated the cylinder shortly thereafter. Even for a small Siohonin colony, it took many, many ships... but they lived, Captain. They lived." His heavy-lidded eyes studied the other's sweating face. "A Vor'cha class cruiser such as your vessel does not possess shields enough to be extended in this manner - in normal circumstances."
"The circumstances were not normal, Chancellor. I ordered storm shelters rigged in the cargo bays, sent all but the most essential personnel to those. Those of us who remained at our posts... were all volunteers."
"The shielding, and the sheer bulk of the colony cylinder, protected its inhabitants," said J'mpok, in a soft voice, "and the radiological storm shelters protected your crew. With the exception of yourself and your... volunteers. I have read the medical reports."
"I, also." Kuthis was starting to sway from side to side. "If I have any regrets, Chancellor.... It is only that... I wish we could have done more...."
J'mpok rose to his feet. "You have done all that any true Klingon could, Captain. Qapla'." He raised his fist in a grave salute. "You are dismissed, Captain Kuthis. Rest now. Sto'vo'kor awaits."
Captain Kuthis returned the salute, turned, and stumbled out of the room.
J'mpok looked down at his desk console. "He did all that he could. But... perhaps a million Siohonin rescued, by his action, and by other ships as they fled the system. A drop in the ocean. And the homeworld, destroyed.... The Siohonin are extinct as a civilization."
"Our adversaries chose well," S'taass said. "If any genocide could ever be made acceptable.... The Siohonin had no friends in the galaxy."
A growl started in J'mpok's throat. He rose to his feet. "They fought a war against us all, true enough. They were defeated. And their leadership died for their temerity, and they were dupes of Sebreac Tharr in any case. Besides -" His fists came down on the desktop, hard enough to crack the console screen. "They were the Empire's subjects!" he roared. "They were our responsibility! This - this thing - affronts the Empire's honour!"
"I do not deny it," said S'taass. "What is to be done?"
"What must be done. Find those responsible, and punish them." J'mpok's eyes narrowed. "We must have help. The Federation is constitutionally opposed to genocide, and they know we are already at war with these - creatures. This so-called Action Black. We must pool our knowledge, pool our resources, seek out these criminals and extirpate them."
"I agree," said S'taass. "I worry, only -"
J'mpok rounded on him. "Worry what?"
"That this pooling of resources is precisely what the Actionists demand," said S'taass. "They claim that Action Black has no links to them - that it is a dark parody, only, of their own organization. Still. It seems that this crime brings benefits to the Actionists. And that concerns me."
Office of the President, Palais de la Concorde, Paris, Earth
"Mr President, this is an outrage. It's a violation of everything the Federation stand for. You have to act."
Lyle Anson paced up and down before the desk. Behind it, Aennik Okeg sat perfectly still, his huge eyes watchful.
"Outright genocide, sir. We cannot stand by and watch -"
"The Dolsulca system is... was... a part of the Klingon Empire," Okeg said. "The settlement treaty at the end of the Siohonin crisis stipulated that the Empire would take full responsibility for the control and... rehabilitation... of the Siohonin."
"Sir, are you saying that this is not our problem?"
"Of course not. We will give the Empire all the help they ask for. And I am sure they will ask. But we will not interfere in another nation's affairs until they permit it. It's a fundamental principle of the Federation, Mr Anson."
Anson stopped pacing. He turned sharply on his heel to face Okeg directly.
"Mr President, sometimes principles have to change. There is a bunch of madmen on the loose with genocide weapons, and whoever they are, they need to be stopped. We cannot allow issues of abstract principle to interfere with that!"
"I'm aware of your views, Mr Anson. You already know I don't share them. We will do everything we can, under Federation law. You must know that I want those criminals brought to justice as much as anyone."
"Not as much as us, sir. Action Black! They're laughing at us, sir, at us, the Actionist movement. You can't tell me that's not deliberate. These people, whoever they are -"
"We have a tentative identification, at least," said Okeg. "The ship which fired the warhead - it was using a specialist warp drive developed by an augmented renegade named -"
"Kalevar Thrang. I know. We don't know if it's him, though, or if he just sold the technology to some other group of lunatics. In any case, sir, just knowing a name isn't enough. We need full, open access between ourselves and the Klingons. And the Republic, too. We already know the Remans have been looking for trilithium for some time - they were concerned about exactly this sort of threat. We -"
"You're very well informed, Mr Anson," Okeg observed.
"We need to be. All the Actionist movements communicate, Mr President. We share information, of course we do. And that's why we recognize the value of that. Mr President, a specialist forensic team could scout the Dolsulca system for the remains of that warp contrail. We could track Action Black's ship back to its starting point. Klingon technology isn't up to a task like that, they don't have proper science ships like ours. Are you going to wait for them to ask before you send those ships in?"
"Of course." Okeg's voice remained calm and mild. "We do not interfere, Mr Anson. As soon as the Chancellor requests that help, he'll have it. Until then, though - Well. The Empire is currently in a state of high alert. Sending an unannounced Starfleet task force over the border - well, it's an action that could be dangerously misinterpreted."
"We're talking about genocide, Mr President! Hundreds of billions of people, an entire culture, wiped out! You can't sit there and quote me Federation legalisms!" Anson slammed his hands down on the President's desk. "Sir, I'm giving you a warning. We have resources. And if you won't take action, then I promise you, we will."
Bodega Bay, California, Earth
The planks of the jetty creaked beneath Thomas Harriman's feet. Before him, the sun shone out of a clear sky onto the flawless blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Harriman proceeded, slowly, to the end of the jetty, where the other man was waiting for him.
"Tom. Good to see you." The man with the close-cropped sandy hair and the scar on his face smiled. "It's been a while."
"Franklin. Yes. Yes, I guess it has." Harriman leaned heavily on the handrail, his lips twitching as he tried to force a smile of his own.
"I gather this is business," said Franklin Drake. "Somehow, I never seem to get social calls."
"Well," said Harriman, "your number isn't in the book."
Drake laughed. He turned back to look out over the ocean. Harriman came to stand beside him. They were both silent for some time.
Eventually, Harriman said, "Someone just blew up an entire star system. That's not something we can ignore. There's circumstantial evidence linking it to Action Black, and to Kalevar Thrang -"
"Oh, it's Thrang," said Drake. "You can have that for nothing. His agent has already been in touch."
"What?"
"It's only normal, Tom. Agencies like ours... feel each other out. Test the waters."
"Franklin," said Harriman, "if you already have a lead on these people -"
"Actually," said Drake, "we don't. Thrang's distributed computer subversion is good. We weren't able to track that call - and, believe me, we should have been. You couldn't make a call I couldn't trace, Tom. So, if Tharval could...."
"Tharval?"
"A Lethean rogue agent working for Thrang. We knew that from the 54 Eridani business. Imperial Intelligence shared its data. Sometimes even willingly." Drake smiled.
"All right. So you know two of the people responsible. Franklin, those people have to be neutralized. Brought to trial, if we can manage it, but stopped from doing further damage. I'm -" Harriman drew in a deep breath. "I'm formally invoking Section 31 of the Federation Charter. Officially. Franklin, help us."
Drake nodded. His expression was pensive. "If I can," he said.
"What do you mean, if you can?"
"We're as vulnerable as anyone else to Thrang's computer virus. Section 31 has its own secure, sanitized networks, but we can't run those over interstellar distances without risking infection. So we don't. That's why I'm here, face to face, today."
"You're telling me even Section 31 is helpless?"
"No, not helpless. But unless someone can crack Thrang's subversion process, we're at a disadvantage." Drake's fingers drummed briefly on the handrail. "There's something else." He turned to face Harriman directly. "It's something I probably shouldn't tell you, Tom, but -" He shrugged. "I guess I have loyalties."
"What? What is it?" Harriman demanded.
"Thrang's agent made us an offer, Tom. Thrang's goal is a unified government throughout what's currently Federation, Imperial and Republic space. Tharval made a point, that the only way to run that government... is as an expanded version of the Federation. My organization's purpose is to defend the Federation by any means necessary. Subsuming our two biggest rivals -" He shrugged. "That'd count as defending Federation interests, right?"
Harriman stared at him. The blood drained out of the fat man's face. "You can't be serious."
"Tharval made it sound practical. A short reign for Thrang, followed by a vastly extended Federation. I wonder if I should ask Temporal Operations and find out if that's what's meant to happen? After all, we're pretty sure the Klingons will be Federation members by the twenty-ninth century."
"You can't be serious," Harriman repeated.
"Thrang made the offer. It's... under discussion. I'm not a one-man band, Tom, I have my own command structure to answer to. That structure is... deliberating." Drake started to walk away, down the jetty, while Harriman continued to stare, mute and helpless. After a couple of steps, Drake turned back for a moment. "I'll let you know when they've reached a decision. If I can."
No comments:
Post a Comment