Текст книги "Declassified "

Автор книги: David Mack

Соавторы: Marco Palmieri,Dayton Ward
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“Yes, of course,” Reyes agreed. “But under conditions when the parties involved are both acting in good faith.”

“This is good faith.”

“The Klingons took advantage of your people during a crisis, and exploited your vulnerability! How is that good faith?”

“The Klingons were being true to their nature, and we are being true to ours.”

Reyes shook his head as if unable to process what he had just heard. “Look, Doctor, even if I were to let this go—something I have no intention of doing—do you really think the Federation will honor a deal you made while the Klingons held a gun to your head?”

Duvadi fixed him with a harsh gaze. “We did not agree to stop being Arkenites when we joined the Federation, Captain. Or am I to understand that only your human value system is relevant here?”

“Of course not. But—”

“If the Klingons can be persuaded to release my people from our agreement, we’ll have no objection, Captain,” Duvadi assured him. “But let me be clear that there is no military alternative to this course that any Arkenite would support. We will not compromise who we are simply because you cannot comprehend our moral choices.”

“You’re putting me in a very difficult position, Doctor,” Reyes said.

“I realize that,” said Duvadi. “That’s why you need to leave, Captain.”

Reyes nodded toward Latour. “What about the people here who aren’t Arkenites?”

“My deputy is the only one.”

“I’ll have to insist that he be allowed to depart with me.”

“I would not object to that. Philippe is bound by a different set of ethics. He doesn’t share our obligation. Besides, he would likely face a harsh punishment from the Klingons for his role in your recent mischief, and I have no desire to see that happen.” Duvadi turned and walked back toward the lab complex.

Reyes exchanged a look with Gannon. “Recommendation?”

Gannon shook her head, at a loss. Reyes glanced at Fisher, and the utter frustration behind the captain’s eyes looked as if it was about to explode.

Finally Reyes turned back to face the Klingons. “We’re going,” he told Gorkon. “All four of us. You have a problem with that?”

Gorkon looked at Duvadi, his eyes narrowing, and it was becoming clear to Fisher that however the general might have wanted to respond, he wished to avoid antagonizing the Arkenite administrator more.

“ ‘Stand not upon the order of your going, but go at once,’ “ he told Reyes, who then flipped open his communicator and called Dauntlessfor beam-out.

“This isn’t over,” he promised Gorkon, just before the transporter beam took them.

5

2268

Turbulence shook the Guo Shoujingas the shuttlecraft arrowed through the dense clouds that shrouded Kadru. Working the helm, Desai fought to compensate, but whatever she tried seemed only to make things worse. “Fish, where’s that beacon?”

Fisher looked as if he was trying very hard not to be sick as he struggled to read the navigation console. “I had it a moment ago. . . . Hang on. . . .”

A rough jolt nearly bounced Desai out of her seat. “I need it now!”

“I can’t– Wait, there it is! Eighteen degrees to starboard! Can you get a lock?”

“Trying . . .” Desai applied thrust, angling the shuttle to the right and dipping its nose in slow increments as the wind crashed against the hull. On her board, directional targeting icons started to intersect, and as they finally became one, Desai keyed the autopilot.

The Guo Shoujingshook again, and for one terrifying instant Desai thought the shuttle would go into a roll and drop from the sky like the brick it really was. But then the turbulence abated and the ship leveled off, letting its occupants catch their breath as the shuttle eased into a much gentler descent.

“That was some chop,” Fisher said. “Is that normal?”

“Did you even tryreading the mission file?” Desai scolded.

“I’m a doctor, not a lawyer.”

Desai shook her head. “The upper atmosphere’s highly active and heavily ionized. Plays hell with sensors, too. I knew it would be a rough entry, but that was even worse than I expected.”

“How about if, next time, we ask for a pilot? No offense.”

“None taken,” Desai assured him.

The air on Kadru was soup. Fog rolled everywhere, just dense enough to reduce the one– and two-story buildings of the New Anglesey settlement to gray silhouettes, a kilometer west of where the Guo Shoujinghad set down. Beads of moisture started collecting on Desai’s skin as soon as she stepped out of the shuttlecraft.

“This landing field doesn’t get much use,” Fisher said. Desai followed his gaze and saw immediately what had prompted the comment: coarse green shoots broke through the tarmac all around them.

From somewhere far away came a trumpeting sound, like an elephant in agony. A startled flock of cranelike avians took to the air from a line of trees south of the landing field, and for the first time Desai noticed the densely forested ridge rising above the tree line. Then she remembered: New Anglesey had been built at the foot of that ridge in order to take advantage of the immense river that flowed on the other side of it. The river led down to the ocean, fifteen kilometers east.

“Company,” Fisher said.

Desai squinted into the distance. From the direction of town, two skimmers sped toward them. One of them towed a cargo sled, its oblong burden draped in a plastic tarp and held down by thick elastic cords. As the vehicles hovered to a stop, three humans got out, all wearing the two-toned civilian jumpsuits that were ubiquitous on frontier worlds. From the first skimmer emerged two middle-aged women, one with long black hair tied back, the other with a blond buzz cut. The second skimmer, the one towing the sled, let out a thin-faced, bearded man shouldering a Starfleet duffel bag and carrying a data slate. Desai recognized all three of them from the mission file . . . and all three, she noted, wore sidearms.

“Welcome to the independent colony of New Anglesey,” said the woman with the black hair. “I’m Ying Mei-Hua, governor of this settlement. This is Helena Sgouros, head of security, and Anatoly Dolnikov, our senior physician.”

“Captain Rana Desai, Judge Advocate General’s office, Starbase 47,” Desai said, extending her hand to Ying as she stepped down off the shuttle’s ramp. “This is Doctor Ezekiel Fisher, our chief medical officer. Thank you for coming out to meet us, Governor, and for granting us permission to visit your planet.”

“It seemed the decent thing to do,” Ying said. “I can appreciate your admiral’s desire to have Commander Miller’s remains handled according to Starfleet custom. And on behalf of my people, I want you to know that we share your grief. Aole was an exceptional individual.”

“Thank you,” Desai said. “I’ll be sure to convey your sentiments to his friends and family.”

“I know you must be eager to return to your base, and we have no wish to delay you,” Ying continued. She nodded at Doctor Dolnikov, who stepped forward and offered his slate to Desai.

“My autopsy report,” the doctor explained, “as well as the release transferring custody of the body and Miller’s personal effects. If you’ll sign it, we can assist you in loading his stasis chamber onto your shuttlecraft.”

Desai made no move to take the slate. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We won’t be leaving until Doctor Fisher has conducted his own autopsy and confirmed the cause of death to his satisfaction, and my own.”

Dolnikov tensed. “That’s hardly necessary. A tricorder scan will confirm my findings.”

“I have no doubt they will,” Fisher said diplomatically. “This isn’t intended to impugn your forensic skills, Doctor. It’s a matter of regulations. Autopsies on Starfleet personnel have to be carried out by authorized Starfleet medical officers.”

“Surely you can do that back at your base,” Sgouros said.

“We’d prefer to remain within easy access of the place Miller died,” Desai said. She turned back to Ying. “If any questions arose, I’m sure you’d prefer we addressed them sooner rather than later, especially if it meant we’d have to return here to get the answers.”

“That isn’t what we agreed to—” Sgouros began.

“That seems entirely reasonable, Captain,” Ying said, speaking over her head of security. “Anatoly, why don’t you take Doctor Fisher and the body back to your lab so he can carry out his duty. Please extend to him every courtesy.”

“You’re welcome to leave Commander Miller’s duffel bag here in the shuttle,” Desai offered.

“Thanks,” Dolnikov said, tossing the bag through the open hatch before leading Fisher back to his skimmer.

“I imagine they’re going to be a while,” Ying told Desai. “Can I interest you in a late lunch, Captain?”

“That’s very gracious of you, Governor,” Desai said. “I’d welcome an opportunity to speak with you.”

Until Fisher had stepped off the Guo Shoujing,he had managed to avoid thinking too much about his role in the Kadru assignment. It was easier to focus on worrying about Rana, or trying to cheer her up, or doing damage control with the senior officers of the Endeavour. Not that he didn’t take this saddest of his duties seriously; of all his responsibilities during his fifty years as a Starfleet physician, performing an autopsy paradoxically required the greatest level of sensitivity as well as the highest degree of detachment.

But it was different when the one on the slab was somebody he knew.

Dolnikov wasn’t one for small talk, despite Fisher’s attempts to engage him on the ride into town. At first Fisher thought he was just irritated about another doctor waltzing in to redo a procedure he’d already performed. But it was more than that, Fisher realized. Dolnikov didn’t seem resentful so much as worried.

It was too bad, really; stripped of his obvious unease, Dolnikov seemed like he might be a decent enough fellow . . . the heavy stun pistol strapped to his hip notwithstanding.

With a population still barely over three hundred, New Anglesey was too small to warrant its own medical examiner, much less dedicated facilities for one. It therefore came as no surprise to Fisher that the room Dolnikov used for autopsies was in the building that housed the colony’s infirmary as well as laboratories for the study of biological samples.

Just after the two doctors had finished changing into surgical scrubs, a striking young woman entered the lab from outside, carrying a small sample case. She couldn’t have been much over twenty, if Fisher was any judge—about Rana’s height, and with the same caramel complexion. There the similarities ended. The young woman’s hazel-eyed face had sharper angles than Rana’s, and her light brown hair was streaked with gold.

She froze upon seeing Fisher, and her initial surprise changed very quickly to suspicion.

“Who’s the Herbert?” she asked Dolnikov.

Fisher raised his eyebrows.

“Tavia, what are you doing here?” Dolnikov said. “I’m in the middle of something! Come back later!”

She glared at him. “Relax, Doc. I’m just dropping off some new samples. I didn’t know you’d be—” She broke off as she noticed the exam table, atop which lay the draped body of Aole Miller.

“What the hell is this?” she grated. “This was done, Anatoly!”

“Tavia, calm down!” Dolnikov urged.

“Why are you cutting him open again? Can’t you leave him in peace?”

“Maybe I should explain,” Fisher began.

Her eyes blazed with open hostility. “Maybe you should go to hell.”

“That’s enough!” Dolnikov shouted. He grabbed her by the arm and started ushering her forcefully toward a set of double doors leading to an inner room. “He’s Doctor Fisher, from Aole’s base. Mei signed off on this. So put your samples away and go cool off!” To Fisher’s surprise, the young woman didn’t resist. Her anger had already burned out, leaving only anguish.

“Were you Aole’s friend?” Fisher asked.

She looked back at him, suspicious again. “I dunno if I knew him long enough to say, but . . . yeah. Yeah, I was his friend.”

“Aole was my friend, too,” Fisher said, and he smiled at her. “And the thing is, this is the last thing I’ll ever do for him. So you can believe me when I tell you I’m going to treat him with the utmost respect.”

Her expression softened, but only slightly. Still, it was enough.

“You’d better,” she warned him, and disappeared through the double doors, leaving the men to their grim work.

As Sgouros drove them through town, Desai absorbed as much as she could of New Anglesey. It had clearly started out like most Federation settlements, with a well-organized core grid of standard one– and two-story prefab structures, giving way to more individualistic buildings that combined imported construction elements with materials that had been obtained locally. Dull white prefab walls had been painted in dramatic colors, varying from building to building according to the user’s taste. An enormous geodesic dome—the colony’s greenhouse—dominated the southern end. In the center of the settlement was a paved town square surrounded by a handful of commercial establishments, including an open-air café. Governor Ying’s home was one of the more modest structures on the northern end of town, and doubled as her office.

Lunch was a salad of fresh greens, sliced tomatoes, chopped celery, and carrot shavings, tossed with a raspberry vinaigrette and prepared by Ying herself. Sgouros disappeared for a few minutes, returning with pitchers of real lemonade and freshly brewed iced tea she brought over from her own house down the road.

“I hope this isn’t too rustic for you, Captain,” Ying said as the three women sat down to their meal.

“On the contrary, Governor,” Desai said. “This is just what I needed.”

“Good. But I prefer ‘Doctor Ying,’ actually,” the colony leader corrected as Sgouros poured Desai some iced tea. “We’re a scientific community, and my role is administrative, not political. Titles like ‘governor’ only remind us what we’re trying to get away from.”

Desai saw the opening and wasted no time stepping through. “If you don’t mind my asking, Doctor . . . what areyou trying to get away from?” she asked.

Ying shrugged as she took up her fork and started eating. “Too little freedom, too much compromise, too many broken promises . . . take your pick, Captain. We aren’t short on reasons for being here.”

“I guess not,” Desai said.

“Were you and Aole close?” Ying asked.

“Somewhat. Our jobs intersected a great deal. That’s how we became friends.”

“I envy you that. I wish I could have known him better. He had this way about him . . .”

Desai smiled. “I know. Everybody who spent enough time talking to him says the same thing.”

“That’s quite a legacy. I’m glad to know my experience with him wasn’t unique.”

“I take it his powers of persuasion weren’t enough to convince you of the need to evacuate this planet.”

Ying exchanged a look with Sgouros. “No, they weren’t.”

Desai set down her fork. “Doctor, help me to understand. Why are you fighting this? What sense does it make to remain out here, on your own, so far from Starfleet protection?”

“We long ago accepted that New Anglesey and the Federation have grown apart,” Ying said. “Maybe you should do the same, Captain.”

Desai noticed Sgouros watching her, and she decided to try a different tack. “I couldn’t help but notice as we traveled through town that everyone in New Anglesey walks around armed. Is that one of the freedoms you believe you have too little of?”

“Newly colonized planets are dangerous, Captain,” Sgouros answered. “Surely that’ssomething Starfleet needs no help understanding? Especially given the events of this week.”

“Because Commander Miller left the safety of the settlement by himself?”

“Yes, but let’s be clear about this,” Sgouros said. “We don’t carry weapons to make a political statement. We have no shortage of dangerous predators on Kadru, and we’ve had to adjust our everyday behavior to fit that reality. We can’t even use communicators safely outside the town perimeter, because for some reason the sound of electronically filtered voices attracts the predators.”

“The bottom line,” Ying said, “is that we’re playing the hand we’ve been dealt. We’re big believers in self-reliance.”

“I actually have no trouble believing that, Doctor,” Desai said, “given New Anglesey’s abrupt shift toward isolationism.”

“As I mentioned earlier,” Ying said, reaching for her lemonade, “there’s a great deal we wanted to get away from.”

“It didn’t start out that way, though, did it? Back when the Bombayassisted you and your people in establishing this settlement, you weren’t motivated by the desire to get away, but by a passion to explore a new and biologically diverse world. Then, for no reason you were willing to explain, you started keeping Starfleet at a distance. Captain Gannon was quite distraught about it. She thought you were her friend.” Ying seemed taken by surprise at the mention of Gannon, and suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “So what changed?”

“Maybe you should ask the colonists on Gamma Tauri Four,” said Sgouros.

Desai nodded. “I did consider that the destruction of the New Boulder colony might be the reason for your sudden withdrawal, but the chronology doesn’t line up. New Anglesey went independent six months before the incident at Gamma Tauri.”

Ying set down her glass and leaned forward. “Then call it validation of our decision—the most recent in a long history of so-called ‘incidents’ where Starfleet failed the colonies it was supposed to be protecting—Tarsus Four, Azha-R7a, Ingraham B, Deneva, Omicron Ceti Three, Cestus Three, Janus Six, New Paris—do I really need to go on, Captain? Oh, yes, I know: some of those settlements were actually savedby Starfleet intervention, but you couldn’t actually protectany of them, could you?”

Desai said nothing. Everything she feared Ying might say had been heaped at her feet.

And still Ying wasn’t done. “Twenty years ago on Tarsus Four, the system failed spectacularly. When famine threatened the colony, Starfleet sent ships to help, but they didn’t get there before the colony’s warped leadership exterminated half the population in order to save the other half. Our entire colonial system has been paying for that crime ever since. Each new crisis has led to stricter laws, tougher regulations, tighter controls, forced relocations, and less freedom to live as the colonists choose—which is the reason many of them became colonists in the first place!

“So let me say it as plainly as I can, Captain. If Starfleet abandons this sector, New Anglesey is prepared to stand on its own. My people won’t be pressured into leaving Kadru by anyone.”

“Is that why Aole Miller died?” Desai asked.

Sgouros frowned. “Exactly what are you implying, Captain?”

Desai looked at her. “I’m on Kadru to investigate the death of a Starfleet officer. By the governor’s own statements, her feelings toward Starfleet represent those of her constituents. I need to know if some of them would resent Miller’s presence here—and his purpose—enough to do something about it.”

Ying rose slowly to her feet. “You want to know if one of my people was capable of murdering Aole?”

“That’s exactly what I want to know.”

“Then this is my answer: you and your doctor have twenty-four hours to complete your investigation and get the hell off this planet.”

6

2259

“. . . Unfortunately, Captain Reyes, this matter is beyond your authority,”Admiral Telles Vindeilin said from the briefing room monitor, the Denobulan’s usually genial manner taking a back seat to her grim news. “You’re to take no action while the Federation Council tries to resolve the situation diplomatically.Dauntless is ordered to withdraw to the edge of the Azha system, escorted by theChech’Iw. I know that adds insult to injury, Diego, but it was the only way the Klingon ambassador would even consider meeting with the Federation Council about this. Starfleet Command wants you to remain in the vicinity and to continue monitoring the situation as best you can. Keep me updated, and I’ll advise you of any changes on this end. Vindeilin out.”

Reyes, Fisher knew, had already sat through the recording once. He spent the replay watching the faces of his gathered senior officers, as well as that of their guest, Philippe Latour, for their reactions. No one looked happy.

As silence settled over the circular room, Reyes tapped the comm on the tabletop’s computer interface. “Reyes to bridge.”

“Jordan here, sir.”“Mister Jordan, I believe the Chech’Iwis waiting to hear from us. Please inform them we’ll be ready to get under way at one-quarter impulse in ten minutes. You may then proceed at your discretion to a position thirty astronomical units from Azha.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Reyes out.”

“That’s it, then,” Brzezinski said.

“The hell it is,” said the captain.

“Sir, Starfleet Command—”

“We may not be able to engage the Klingons directly,” Reyes said, “but I’m not about to simply do nothing. Think, people! Let’s break it down: an explosion of indeterminate origin on Azha-R7a forces the Arkenites to send out an SOS, just when the Chech’Iwwas close enough to be the first responder. Does that strike anyone else here as even remotely suspicious?”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Sadler agreed. “And since when do the Klingons come to the aid of Federation citizens in distress?”

“It’s unlike them,” Gannon admitted, “but not unprecedented, as long as it suited their purposes. The real question is, what have they achieved by answering the Arkenites’ call for help?”

“It’s a diplomatic knife between the ribs,” Shey said. “Think about it, the Klingons have acquired new territory and absorbed its population without firing a shot, essentially beating us at our own game. When word of this gets out, and it will, the Federation will be humiliated. Its ability to protect its members and holdings will be cast into doubt. If Gorkon did engineer all this, he knew exactly how to hit us.”

“Commander Gannon,” Reyes said, “what’s your read on Gorkon?”

“Current leader of the House of Makok and a thirty-year veteran of the Klingon Defense Force,” Gannon recited. “Thought to be a favorite of Chancellor Sturka, who is rumored to be grooming him for the High Council. Widely regarded as a brilliant strategist and one of the foremost military minds in the Empire. As commander of his current ship, the Chech’Iw,he’s been directly involved in sixteen skirmishes with Federation forces. Five of those involved the Dauntless.His wife and three of his sons are deceased. He has two surviving children, a twenty-one-year-old son in the KDF, and a daughter, six. As a grand master of klin zha—”

“That’s enough background,” the captain interrupted. “I’m more interested in how you’d assess his behavior inside the colony.”

Gannon hesitated. “I think that whatever is going on, Gorkon is worried about something,” she said at last. “He held all the cards, yet he twice acceded to Doctor Duvadi, as if he felt he had no choice.”

Reyes turned to Fisher. “Doctor, do you agree with Commander Gannon’s assessment?”

“I do, Captain,” Fisher said. “I got the same impression.”

“So did I,” Reyes agreed. “So what does that tell us?”

“That Duvadi is the one pulling the strings,” Brzezinski said.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Reyes, raising a finger toward the science officer, “but he definitely didn’t want to do or say anything to piss her off. That suggests to me he needs her for some purpose, and he’s willing to take atypical steps to ensure her continued cooperation.”

“ Atypicalis exactly the word for it,” Gannon said. “Nothing about this reflects usual Klingon behavior. Azha-R7a has little value strategically. Its mineral resources have some worth, but they represent neither a crippling loss to the Federation nor a significant gain for the Empire. No offense, Doctor Latour.”

“None taken,” Latour said.

“Arkenites, as a species, have never been of particular interest to the Klingons before, so it’s unlikely this has anything to do with them,” Gannon went on. “And with all due respect to Shey’s valid analysis of the astropolitical fallout of this crisis, the tactics employed simply don’t track with Klingon psychology. They favor direct confrontation to subtlety and lateral thinking. It’s hard to see what they’ve really gained from this.”

“The science labs,” Reyes mused, suddenly turning his full attention to Latour. “Why is it that, of all the locations to set up as their command post, the Klingons chose the laboratory wing?”

“Honestly, Captain, I have no idea,” Latour said.

“But what are the labs for?” Brzezinski asked. “I thought Azha-R7a was strictly a mining complex?”

“We started branching out last year,” Latour explained, “after a survey of a high-impact region revealed the presence of a subsurface frost layer teeming with exotic microbial fossils and unusual organic compounds, which we’ve determined were deposited by past cometary strikes. The Federation Science Council granted us a full array of state-of-the-art analysis-and-research equipment to study what we found. We’ve been at it ever since. But before you draw any hasty conclusions about that, we’ve made a thorough study of the frost and its contents, and I can assure you there’s nothing dangerous about our discoveries.”

“Let’s say you’re correct,” Sadler said. “What about the lab equipment itself? Is there anything about it that might be cause for concern if it fell into the wrong hands?”

Latour started to reply, but his confidence in whatever answer he was about to give faded quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Shey,” Reyes said. “Take Doctor Latour with you to engineering. I want you to work together on compiling an inventory of everything the FSC sent to the colony. Check the library computer for their specs and review them for all possible applications.”

“Aye, sir,” said the Andorian engineer, nodding to the deputy administrator as the two of them got up from the meeting table and exited the briefing room.

Reyes turned to his chief of security. “Terry, I want you to start developing contingency plans to storm the colony. If we find out that diplomacy has failed, Starfleet Command might want us to take direct action to liberate the Arkenites, regardless of the political consequences.”

“Will do. But you need to know this, Captain . . . I’ve already made a thorough study of the mining complex, and in my current estimation, there’s no scenario that won’t involve civilian casualties.”

“Find one,” Reyes said. “Brzezinski, please assist Mister Sadler.”

That left only Gannon and Fisher in the room with Reyes. “Captain, I understand the necessity of preparing for worst-case scenarios,” the XO said, “but you must realize that if we do resort to force, we’ll be giving Gorkon exactly what he wants: an even stronger claim on Azha-R7a.”

Reyes looked close to losing his patience. “Commander, I respect the fresh perspective you bring to the table, but I know this man in ways that transcend what you can memorize from a computer file. And despite any pretense of honor, Gorkon is a ruthless, cunning bastard who won’t hesitate to space those people down there if and when he decides he doesn’t need to perpetuate this farce any longer. Once he has whatever he came here for, they’re as good as dead. My job is to make sure that moment never comes. Now, is there anything relevant you have to contribute to that objective?”

“There is one thing,” Gannon said evenly, “but I don’t think you’re going to like hearing it.”

Reyes’s eyebrows shot up. He cast a glance Fisher’s way, then leaned back in his chair. “Speak freely, Gannon.”

Gannon laced her hands atop the wood-stained oval table. “Gorkon takes great satisfaction in pushing your buttons, Captain. And frankly, that’s something he shouldn’t know how to do. This has gotten personal. You can’t seem to respond to him any way other than viscerally, and Gorkon knows it. He’s using your hatred of him to keep you off balance, to throw you off your game, to interfere with your judgment. And from what I’ve observed so far, he’s succeeding.”

Wow,Fisher thought. Go, Hallie!

Reyes’s eyes blazed. “Observation noted,” he answered curtly, abruptly vacating his chair and moving toward the exit.

“Gorkon was paying Commander Mehta a compliment, by the way,” Gannon called after him, and Reyes stopped in the doorway. “Before you threatened to blow his head off, when he told me to die as well as my predecessor? He wasn’t threatening me, or spitting on Mehta’s memory. He was acknowledging the honorable death of someone he considered a warrior. Among Klingons, it’s high praise.”

“What’s your point?”

“Only this, sir: The only way you’re going to beat Gorkon is by understanding what’s driving him, not by judging him according to human values. He’s never going to fit into the box you keep trying to put him in.”

•    •    •

As he strode down the curved corridor two hours later, Fisher told himself he’d waited long enough. When he reached his destination, he stopped at the door and thumbed the buzzer. It was answered in a distinct tone of resignation: “Come in, Zeke.”

The door slid open, and Fisher stepped inside the captain’s cabin to see Reyes working at his desk. “How’d you know it was me?”

Reyes’s eyes rolled toward him. “Everyone else aboard has the good sense not to bother the captain when he’s in a bad mood.”

“That’s a relief. I was afraid you were gonna make some smart-ass crack about hearing my joints creaking from down the corridor.”

Reyes rose and moved to his food slot. “Look, Zeke, if you came here to say something, just say it and go. Or you can shut up and join me for some bad coffee. Either way, I’m too busy to put up with the usual crap.”

“I’ll take the coffee,” Fisher said agreeably as he strolled toward the desk, where the screen displayed Reyes’s after-action report on the incident at Xarant. The doctor ignored it, reaching instead for the slate that Reyes had placed facedown on the desk when Fisher walked in. He turned it over and saw Gannon’s personnel file.

“Archery,” Fisher noted. “Who would have thought?”

“Hey, do you mind?” Reyes said irritably, grabbing the slate and handing Fisher a steaming cup. “What if this had been a top secret file?”

Fisher waved dismissively and went to sit in the chair opposite Reyes’s desk. “So what? You hate keeping secrets.”