Текст книги "Declassified "

Автор книги: David Mack

Соавторы: Marco Palmieri,Dayton Ward
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

8

2259

“It’s theragen,” Fisher confirmed, once Reyes, Sadler, and Shey had joined him in Dauntless’s sickbay, where the biobeds were filled with unconscious Klingons requiring intensive care. At the foot of each bed, Sadler had stationed a security guard.

“Theragen?” Reyes repeated. “That nerve gas of theirs? What happened?”

“Some containers that were stored in the surgeon’s bay ruptured, not that anyone would even admit that was the problem. None of them are talking. The only reason I have any hope for these poor souls is that Hallie was able to access the Klingons’ medical database, which included some very superficial molecular analyses of the agent and woefully inadequate treatment recommendations. But it gave me a place to start, and I’m happy to say I’ve been able to improve the treatment considerably.”

“Theragen,” Reyes said again, shaking his head. “I knew Gorkon could be one cold son of a bitch, but I never imagined he was vicious enough to– My God, could that be what he’s doing on the asteroid? Turning it into a chemical weapons factory?”

“No,” Shey said, “certainly not with the equipment in the science labs. I’ve finished looking into their capabilities, and they don’t have the capacity to be used as you’re suggesting, Captain. They’re designed for research and analysis of organic compounds, and not in any way suited for the large-scale production and storage of chemical weapons.”

“Maybe they don’t need to be,” Sadler said. “What if the Klingons’ true objective was to refine the formula for the nerve agent, develop small samples of something even nastier, and then use the Arkenites as guinea pigs?”

Reyes looked at Shey. “Is that possible?”

Shey’s antennae drooped slightly. “Theoretically, yes.”

Reyes’s hands curled into fists. The sickbay doors opened to admit Gannon, but before she could speak, the captain turned to Sadler. “Lieutenant, within the hour, I want a briefing with your recommendations for retaking Azha-R7a, with the objective of neutralizing any biohazardous materials, even if it means we have to put innocent lives in jeopardy.”

Sadler nodded and started for the door, but Gannon stopped him with a hand against his shoulder. “Terry, wait. Captain, I don’t think this is what it seems.”

Reyes looked at her. “And how did you happen to come to that conclusion, Commander?”

Gannon held up a data card. “These are the files from the surgeon’s bay database on the Chech’Iw. I’ve been reviewing them since Doctor Fisher and I got back, along with General Gorkon’s Starfleet Intelligence file. And I’m now convinced that Gorkon is actually trying to develop a counteragent to theragen.”

“Kintazh, son of Gorkon,” Gannon said, naming the young Klingon whose image looked out from the monitor at the end of the briefing room table. “Until recently, he was a weapons officer for Captain Kavau of the I.K.S. Qul qemwI’. He’s the reason all of this is happening.”

Reyes had decided to remain standing during the briefing, and his officers followed his lead, much to Fisher’s annoyance. For the sake of his old bones, he hoped it wouldn’t be the start of a trend.

“Kavau was a singular captain in the Klingon Defense Force,” Gannon continued. “He used theragen to quell uprisings on Klingon subject planets.”

“He used theragen withinthe Empire?” Sadler asked, and Fisher shared his surprise. From everything he’d ever heard, theragen had been used exclusively as a conquest weapon, back before the Klingons abandoned it around the turn of the century.

“That’s what made him so singular,” Gannon said. “Officially, the use of theragen is strictly against imperial policy, chemical and biological warfare being considered dishonorable by most Klingons. That was what led to the ban in 2207. But Kavau had the backing of several powerful members of the High Council who were pushing for the use of unconventional weapons against the Federation. The councillors thought that by reintroducing theragen domestically, they’d demonstrate the effectiveness of such weapons and build more support for them on the High Council.

“That seemed to be the direction things were going until one of the theragen tests backfired, killing three-quarters of the Qul qemwI’crew. They were the lucky ones. The survivors were all terminal, including Captain Kavau and Kintazh. Upon learning what had happened, Chancellor Sturka ordered the program shut down and sent Gorkon to mop up. To provide cover for the High Council, this newest use of theragen was officially disavowed, the captain and crew of the Qul qemwI’branded renegades and criminals. Gorkon’s job was to execute Kavau and the other survivors, and to destroy the ship along with any remaining stockpiles of theragen it carried.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Reyes muttered.

Gannon nodded. “Based on my findings, I think Gorkon couldn’t bring himself to let his son die dishonorably. But Kintazh’s status as a criminal meant that he was ineligible even for ritual death by Mauk-to’Vor,which would restore his honor in the afterlife. His only chance to die with honor was to live long enough to redeem himself. So after executing the other survivors and setting the Qul qemwI’to destruct, Gorkon took Kintazh and several containers of theragen aboard the Chech’Iw—without advising his superiors. Then he put his scientists to work on curing his son.

“But as we’ve now learned, the effects of theragen are beyond the ability of Klingon medicine to cope with, especially if left untreated too long. Faced with that knowledge, Gorkon must have realized Kintazh’s best chance was with Federation medical technology. The problem was, he couldn’t seek it openly; the Klingons have a long-standing distrust of alien bioscience. Gorkon would be risking dishonor for himself and, by extension, for his crew and his entire House—not to mention the wrath of the High Council—by asking the Federation for help.”

“What does that mean for the patients in my sickbay?” Fisher asked. “Not to mention all the people I treated on their ship?”

“It depends on whether or not Gorkon can keep the incident buried,” Gannon said. “What I believe happened next is that Gorkon hatched a scheme to save his son under the pretense of capturing enemy territory and assets—assets that included a state-of-the-art bioresearch laboratory, and a population whose customs he could turn to his advantage. My guess is that he hired a third party to infiltrate the asteroid and perform an act of sabotage that would threaten the colony sufficiently to warrant issuing a distress call, which the Chech’Iwwould be in position to answer first. To throw off the High Council to his true intentions, Gorkon made the Arkenites an offer he knew they couldn’t refuse.”

“Unbelievable,” Reyes said.

“Now we know why the Chech’Iwdidn’t have adequate medical personnel to deal with the theragen poisoning,” Fisher said.

“They’re with Gorkon on the asteroid,” Reyes realized, “trying to treat Kintazh.”

“It also explains why Duvadi was being kept in the lab wing,” Fisher added, “and why Gorkon was going out of his way to keep her happy.”

Gannon nodded. “He needed her help to make sure the unfamiliar lab equipment was being used to its best effect. Her sense of obligation, the thing that ensured her cooperation, depended on his continued goodwill. Kintazh’s lifedepended on it.”

“All this is about saving his son,” Reyes said, shaking his head. “Why the hell didn’t he just tell me?”

“Sir, Gorkon was already violating custom and law, and disobeying the orders of his chancellor. If what he was really up to became known, it wasn’t just hishonor that would be forfeit. He’s a Klingon general. Every man and woman under his command, and every member of his House, would share his dishonor, irredeemable even in death. Even if he wanted to divulge the truth, he couldn’t risk it.”

“I think I get the picture now, Commander.”

“So what are we going to do?” Sadler asked.

Reyes looked pensive. “I think, Mister Sadler . . . I see another opportunity.”

After learning what had befallen his ship, Gorkon was quick enough to agree to Reyes’s demand for a meeting. And while he stoically endured the dishonor of Dauntlesstowing the Chech’Iwback to Azha-R7a while his crew recovered from theragen poisoning, much of the wind seemed to have left his sails.

With Fisher and Gannon at his side, Reyes faced Gorkon across the conference table in Duvadi’s office, and for once, the general wore no trace of his derisive smile. Nor were his guards shadowing him this time. Whatever transpired here, Gorkon clearly did not want witnesses from among his own people.

“I know about your son,” Reyes began without preamble. “Doctor Fisher can cure his condition. I’m offering you that assistance, and also my assurance that I’ll back up any story you come up with to give you and your people cover with the High Council. In return, you’re going to give up your claim to Azha-R7a and its inhabitants.”

If Gorkon was surprised by the depth of Reyes’s knowledge, his stony face revealed nothing. After a time he asked, “And if I refuse? What then? Would you withhold the cure that would save my son?”

“No,” Reyes said. “I’m not going to play that game. I’m here because thanks in no small part to my first officer, I think I finally understand what led to this moment, and what’s really at stake for you and your boy. I’ll simply remind you that I just came from saving your ship. Your crew is mostly alive and well because of me. So I suggest you consider carefully what your honor demands at this juncture.”

Gorkon leaned back in his chair. “So . . . you would use my own honor as a weapon against me,” he said. “Coercion.”

Reyes shrugged. “Let’s call it a choice.”

Shortly thereafter, Fisher was given leave to enter the asteroid’s laboratory wing, where Gorkon’s bioscientists struggled to keep a bedridden Kintazh alive. Initially, Fisher’s arrival was met with open hostility. But a few stern words from Gorkon in tlhIngan’Holcleared the way for Fisher to gain their cooperation, assess the patient’s condition, and tailor his theragen treatment to optimize the young Klingon’s chances for recovery. It wasn’t long before Kintazh started showing clear signs of improvement.

As agreed, Gorkon informed Duvadi that she and her people would be released from their debt as soon as his son was well enough to leave.

Duvadi thanked Reyes for all he’d done, and for respecting the Arkenites’ customs. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, Captain.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Reyes conceded. “But maybe it should’ve been.”

Days later, Kintazh was back on his feet, and the Dauntlesstrio returned to observe the Klingon withdrawal from the asteroid. Gorkon, his personal guards, and his son were the last to depart. The Klingons carried themselves proudly as they marched toward the transporter room, barely acknowledging the Starfleet officers watching their approach.

What followed happened very quickly, but each instant was frozen indelibly in Fisher’s memory.

As the Klingons entered the transporter room, Kintazh’s gaze found Reyes, and all pretense at equanimity vanished.

Without warning, the young Klingon drew his d’k tagh,growled something in his native tongue, and lunged.

Reyes, without even a glimmer of surprise in his eyes, easily blocked the initial attack.

Kintazh recovered, then swiped again and slashed the captain’s shoulder, drawing blood.

Gannon, shouting, drew her hand laser.

And suddenly, there was Gorkon. He stepped in quickly, blocking Gannon’s aim, and snapped his son’s neck with his hands.

Fisher started forward, already reaching for his medkit, but one of Gorkon’s guards blocked his path.

Kintazh fell on his back, and as his last breath escaped him, Gorkon knelt down, forced open his son’s eyes and roared at the ceiling.

Into the shocked silence that followed, Fisher moved to tend to Reyes, whose injuries were, fortunately, superficial.

Gannon stood there aghast, unable to believe what she had just witnessed. “I could have stopped him without killing him!” she shouted. “After all you did, after everything we’ve all gone through to save Kintazh . . . why slay your own son?”

“Why?” Gorkon repeated. “You are supposed to be intelligent, Gannon. How can you know us so well, and still ask the question?” He regarded her with disdain, clearly disappointed by her lack of comprehension. “Turn to your captain for answers if they elude you, Commander. He understands . . . finally.”

Gorkon recovered Kintazh’s d’k tagh,stained with Reyes’s blood. He handled it almost reverently. “ ‘I have thee not, and yet I see thee still,’ “ he whispered.

Then he and his guards mounted the energizer stage, and the general called his ship for transport.

Before the beam took him, his eyes met those of Dauntless’s captain. “Die well, Reyes.”

“Go to hell.”

Gorkon and his guards vanished, leaving the apparently unimportant corpse of his son behind.

Fisher moved to check the body, and after verifying that Kintazh was dead, he gently closed the young Klingon’s eyes. The doctor shook his head. “It’s insane.”

Gannon was still visibly shaken. “Sir, I—”

“This was never about saving Kintazh’s life, Hallie,” Reyes said, his eyes fixed on Gorkon’s son. “You said it yourself: it was about prolonging it long enough to give him the chance to redeem himself—so he could die with honor. Kintazh died trying to kill an enemy of the Empire. That’s how he’ll be remembered. And Gorkon performed his duty by executing a member of his House who was about to commit an act of war. Honor is served.”

“I thought I understood them,” Gannon said. “But nothing in my training prepared me for this. Maybe you’re right to hate Gorkon, Captain. Maybe there really is no bridging the gulf between our peoples.”

Reyes met her eyes, and the sadness Fisher saw in his face gave way to a look of grim determination. “Dare to hope, Hallie.”

9

2268

It was twilight when Desai found the leviathan.

Her trek up the southern ridge had been slow and arduous. She followed some well-worn trails when she could, but caution had forced her off the beaten path whenever she felt she was in danger of being discovered. She had to assume the other colonists had quickly learned about her escape from Sgouros’s custody, and Desai wished to avoid any of the search parties that were undoubtedly now looking for her as well as Fisher. Fortunately, she had succeeded in disabling the transponder in Sgouros’s comm unit, so they had no easy way to track her movements.

From the top of the ridge she’d seen the river. Or rather, she’d seen the blanket of fog that clung to it and followed its serpentine course as far as her eyes could penetrate. From somewhere below, the signal she followed called to her.

It took her another hour to reach the muddy, fog-shrouded bank, and it was there that she saw the beached form of what looked like a gigantic aquatic serpent, the full extent of its unbelievably long body lost in the mist. The transponder signal she’d been chasing momentarily forgotten, Desai stood in the mud, marveling at the size and alienness of the life-form—at its dark blue body streaked in pale green, at its toothy mouth that was big enough to close over an elephant, at its strange multiplicity of eyes that seemed to notice her presence, but which regarded her with an unfocused quality. Desai realized then that the creature was dying.

Its body swelled suddenly, as if with a great intake of breath, and with a thunderous trumpeting that rattled Desai’s teeth and caused winged creatures all around to take flight, a great tear formed in the leviathan’s side, releasing thousands of smaller serpents that spilled into the mud and slowly slithered toward the river, following the current as the leviathan expired.

“Sad and beautiful, isn’t it?”

She turned to see Fisher emerging from the fog along the river’s edge, followed by a young woman Desai assumed was Octavia Dawes. Behind them came Doctor Ying and several other New Anglese. “The colonists named them nagai,” Fisher went on. “They travel upriver from the deep ocean to spawn, but they can’t survive the experience. Their young have to struggle their way back home, because if they stay here, they’ll die too. This is the secret the New Anglese have been guarding.”

Desai’s stare returned to the dead mother. “What’s going on here, Fish? What does any of this have to do with Aole?”

“This is why he died,” Ying said. “After he came here to convince us we needed to abandon Kadru, we decided to trust him with our knowledge of the nagai.We showed him our data, the holos we’d taken. He understood immediately, and wanted to help us. But he wanted to see the nagaifor himself. We were reluctant, but he insisted New Anglesey was running out of time. So while we met to debate his request, Aole took matters into his own hands and went out alone to experience the nagaifirsthand. He came across a beached mother, just as you did. But something went wrong. He must have slipped or fallen in the river, struck his head on a rock below the surface of the water. Dawes found him not long after, but it was already too late.

“We panicked. We were afraid of more outsiders finding the nagai,so we went to work eradicating any trace of where Aole had been, or any nagaiDNA he’d come in contact with. We even burned his uniform. We had to make sure Starfleet wouldn’t be able to retrace his steps back here. But it was all for nothing.”

“Why?” Desai asked. “Why did it need to be kept secret?”

Fisher exchanged a look with Dawes and said, “The way it’s been explained to me—and the data I’ve been shown backs this up—the blood of the nagaihas a very complex and unusual composition. It contains a unique combination of biochemical constituents that Doctor Dawes here has identified as a potential panacea to most of the known humanoid species, and probably many others. Imagine it, Rana: a wonder drug for whatever may ail us. A revolution in medicine throughout every world we know about.

“But it’s their blood. And there’s mounting evidence to suggest that the nagaiare sapient, or on the cusp of it at least. When the colonists made that discovery, they began to worry about what would happen if word got out about the possibilities surrounding nagaiblood. What might the Klingons do? Or the Orions?”

“Or even the Federation,” Desai said quietly. It was a fair question: How could anyone be trusted to treat thenagai with respect under those circumstances?

“In the deep ocean they’re relatively safe, and can defend themselves if necessary, but the spawning season is when they’re their most vulnerable,” Dawes said, gesturing toward the newborns. “The young feed on their mother’s blood until they’re ready to be born. Whatever’s left behind lacks any of the medicinal potential we’ve detected, so we can’t simply harvest the dead mothers. Even if we could, we still have no idea how they would feel about such a thing. We’re trying to learn as much as we can while we’re here, but we need time. The gulf between the nagaiand us is unimaginably wide, and it could be lifetimes before we can bridge it.”

“That’s the real reason we’ve demanded to be left alone, Captain,” Ying said, “and why we can’t allow ourselves to be evacuated, even if Starfleet abandons this sector. Someone has to make sure the nagaiaren’t exploited.”

“So that speech you gave me about our broken colonial system,” said Desai, “that was all misdirection?”

“I didn’t say anything that isn’t a matter of record, Captain,” Ying pointed out, “but we never wanted to turn our backs on Starfleet and the Federation, and especially not on Captain Gannon, who was as staunch a friend as I’ve ever had. If it wasn’t for what we’ve found here, we’d be trying to work out our grievances, not bury our heads in the sand.” Her gaze traveled back toward the moving tangle of newborn nagai. “But now that you know the truth, I need to ask: what are you going to do?”

That’s the big question, isn’t it?Desai thought. She looked at Fisher, and in his eyes she saw her own uncertainty reflected back at her. Somehow the future of much more than just this one colony had been placed on her shoulders, and whatever choice she made now, someone would have to pay a price for it.

“This isn’t the outcome I sent you to achieve, Captain,” Nogura said. “In fact, in most every way I can measure, it’s the exact opposite.”

Desai stood at parade rest, facing the admiral across his desk. He plowed on before she could formulate a response, gesturing with one hand at the slate he held in the other. “According to your report, the New Anglesey colonists have filed a formal petition to have the planet Kadru reclassified as a nature preserve and wildlife refuge, a process that will require, at minimum, months or even years while the petition awaits a proper review in the Federation Council. But just the act of filing it means Starfleet can’t discontinue its oversight of that sector until the Council has reached a decision about Kadru’s status.” He looked up at her. “Can you explain to me how a colony of isolationist scientists obtained the legal advice to draft such a well-crafted and airtight document?”

Staring straight ahead, Desai answered, “They must have found a good lawyer. Sir.”

Nogura scoffed. “I’ll bet. This will notgo over well with Starfleet Command, but that’s a headache for another time. I’m pleased to note you and Doctor Fisher did manage to confirm that Aole Miller wasn’t the victim of foul play . . . which means, I suppose, that the matter is effectively closed.” He cleared the screen on the slate and set it aside. “There’ll be a memorial service honoring Commander Miller three days from now. Would you care to be a speaker?”

“Yes, sir, I would. Thank you, sir.”

Nogura nodded. “My yeoman will be in contact with you about the details. Dismissed.”

“Admiral,” Desai said, making no move to leave, and instead offering him the slate she’d been holding behind her back. “There’s one more piece of business we need to discuss.”

The memorial service was held on Fontana Meadow. Many beautiful things were said by many people, and when Desai’s turn came, she kept her statements brief but spoke from her heart.

Afterward, many of those in attendance migrated to Stars Landing, the crescent of civilian commercial and residential structures that bordered the meadow. Manón’s Cabaret was crowded to overflowing with Vanguard personnel in dress uniforms celebrating the life of Aole Miller. Drinks flowed freely, and the lively atmosphere was full of stories and songs.

Desai found a seat at the bar, ordered a glass of ’51 Brunello Riserva for old times’ sake, and was halfway through it when Fisher eased onto the empty stool next to her. “You’re making a mistake,” he told her over the noise. He held up three stacked fingers to the bartender and silently mouthed the words, Saurian, neat.

“If I am, it wouldn’t be the first,” Desai answered.

“But a transfer off the base? To an Earthside posting?” Fisher shook his head. “I won’t even ask how you convinced the admiral to pull those strings. “

“Actually, Nogura was very supportive,” Desai said, taking a sip of wine. “My guess is, he thinks it’ll make whatever he ends up doing about Diego less complicated for him.”

The bartender returned with Fisher’s brandy. “That sounds like a good reason to stay, not to leave.”

Desai said nothing. Instead, she reached into her sleeve and drew out a data card, holding it out to Fisher between two fingers.

Fisher accepted it, a puzzled look forming on his face. “What’s this?”

“Hallie’s voice,” Desai said. “All her official logs below top secret, from her days on the Dauntlessto her captaincy of the Bombay,declassified for your exclusive access.”

For a moment Fisher was speechless. Then his expression hardened. He set the card down on the bar between them and slid it toward her. “Take it back.”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing from her personal logs; I wouldn’t violate her privacy.”

“Even so.”

“Why?” When Fisher failed to form an answer, Desai said, “Zeke, she was your friend. You miss her.”

“I’ve lived a long time, Rana. I miss a lot of people. And I carry them with me. But this . . . I spend too much time as it is talking to ghosts. If I start listening to them—”

“Fish,” Desai said, “that’s not what this is.”

“What is it, then?”

“Maybe I haven’t lived as long as you, but I do know what it’s like to lose people I love . . . and what it is to be haunted by them, to feel at times like there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to have one more day with them. I can’t give you one more day with Hallie, Zeke. But what I can give you is a slightly bigger perspective on who she was, in her own words.” Desai put her fingers on the data card and pushed it back under Fisher’s hand. “You can get to know her all over again.”

Fisher’s hand slowly closed around the card, gratitude and sadness streaming from his eyes. “Why are you leaving, Rana?”

She turned back to her wineglass, took another sip. “It’s time.”

“Is this about Diego?”

“Of course it is,” she admitted, seeing no point to evading or equivocating. “I love him, Zeke. But when he needed me most, I was powerless to help him. Every time he needed me, I was powerless. And just when I finally accepted it and began to move forward, he came back. He’s so close at this very moment that I should be able to walk the distance separating us. But I can’t. I’m still powerless . . . and I no longer have it in me to stay here just so I can be a witness to whatever happens next.”

Fisher‘s kind eyes were devoid of judgment, as always. It made things easier. But only a little.

“You know,” he said at length, “I once heard Diego offer someone advice about bridging impossible divides. You want to hear it?”

“No,” Desai said. Then she set down her unfinished drink, kissed Fisher tenderly on the cheek, and walked away without a backward glance.

Diego Reyes thought he had long ago gotten over just how big Vanguard truly was, but seeing it now, from a narrow window angled up toward the primary hull, the station seemed more immense than ever. He had to hand it to Ganz: the fat bastard had made it seem as if he’d selected this stateroom at random, but there was little doubt in Reyes’s mind that the self-styled merchant prince had intended for Reyes to always have a spectacular view of everything and everyone he had lost.

Reyes watched as the work to clear out the compromised sections of Starbase 47’s starship bay continued, but if his armchair assessment was right, Isaiah Farber and his engineers were nearing the limits of what they could achieve on their own. They would need to call in help soon, if it wasn’t already on its way.

The door chimed. Reyes tried to ignore it, but on his visitor’s third attempt, he got so sick of hearing the insipidly ethereal tones all he could think about was making them stop. “What is it?” he snapped.

One of Ganz’s women entered, carrying a tray of food and drink. Not another Orion, but even in the low lighting he could tell she was as shapely and diaphanously attired as all the others, and she moved with a similar sensuality. The pheromones are just as bad, too.Reyes didn’t spare her more than a glance. “Compliments of Mister Ganz, sir,” she purred.

Yeah, I’ll bet.“Leave it and get out.”

He heard her take her time setting down the tray, obviously in no hurry to leave. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can offer you this evening, Mister Reyes?”

Irritated, Reyes looked at her again . . . and this time he saw what Ganz had wanted him to see. The height, the caramel complexion, the shimmering black hair, and the big brown eyes that were half closed in invitation.

You son of a bitch.

With deliberate effort he turned back to his view of Vanguard, fixing his eyes on the lighted rectangles just below the saucer. “I said get the hell out.”

This time she departed, her task accomplished.

Diego Reyes continued staring up at the station long into the ship’s night. He could almost imagine Rana standing at one of those viewports, searching the Omari-Ekonfor some sign of him. The distance between them wasn’t far. It felt like light-years.