Текст книги "Open Secrets "

Автор книги: Dayton Ward

Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

38

Nogura paced back and forth across the length of his office, ignoring the looks of Commander Cooper, Ambassador Jetanien, and Dr. Marcus. Though he was not a man given to outward displays of strong emotion, this was one of those occasions when some kind of demonstrative response seemed appropriate.

“Damn it!”

The outburst made Marcus—who already seemed a bit shaken, anyway—jump in her seat, and even Cooper flinched a bit. If it affected Jetanien, the ambassador offered no clue. Nogura had to admit that he surprised himself with his reaction. It had been building, of course, from the moment he received the first reports from Captain Okagawa detailing the incident at Erilon. The audacity exhibited by the Klingons angered him—not so much the actions themselves, as they generally were in keeping with what experience had taught him about Klingons. Instead, it was the idea that the empire felt it could, with impunity, direct its ships against Starfleet vessels and Federation interests. It did not ease his mounting irritation to know that the Federation Council and Starfleet Command seemed willing to allow this behavior to continue unchecked. They stubbornly hung their hopes on the diplomats from either side, who even now remained locked in a room somewhere, participating in what Nogura believed was an increasingly preposterous exercise in futility.

No, it was more than that, Nogura knew. The Klingons were more than happy to allow the charade of diplomacy to continue, all while they refined their strategies, deployed their forces, and even sharpened their blades in anticipation of what they saw as imminent war.

We’re not there yet,he reminded himself. But we’re not that far off.

“I apologize for that,” he said. After pausing to draw what he hoped was a calming breath, he turned to Cooper. “Commander, what’s the latest from the Lovell?”

Shifting in his chair, the executive officer replied, “Captain Okagawa reports that they’ve conducted four separate searches of the entire underground complex, at least those areas that are accessible. They’ve found no sign of Lieutenant Xiong, living or otherwise. However, Lovell’s sensor logs recorded transporter activity to and from the Klingon ship. According to Okagawa’s science officer, Xiong was beamed to that ship, and he was alive when it happened.”

“They kidnapped him?” Marcus asked, scowling. “I didn’t think Klingons took prisoners.”

Jetanien replied, “Generally speaking, Doctor, they do not. There have been exceptions, however.”

“Don’t believe the propaganda,” Nogura added. “If there’s something to be gained from taking a prisoner, the Klingons will do it as quickly as anyone else. Of course, they don’t usually treat their prisoners very well, so you’re normally better off if they just kill you outright.” Looking to Cooper, he asked, “I assume the Lovellattempted to track the Klingon ship?”

Cooper nodded. “They did, Admiral, but by the time they figured out what had happened, the ship was long gone. They tried to track them based on their last-known course heading, but Captain Okagawa reports that sensors showed that the ship employed an evasive flight path, designed to throw off anyone trying to track it.”

“I understand Xiong and his team were making some real progress,” Nogura said.

Nodding, Marcus said, “They were, Admiral. They’d succeeded in accessing a few of the Shedai computer systems, though that success was largely limited by other factors out of their control. While they were able to inspect local components of what we believe to be the global computer network, they didn’t have any luck connecting with other nodes anywhere else on the planet, nor were they successful in reaching beyond Erilon and perhaps making contact with another planet harboring Shedai technology.”

“But they did create some form of broadcast off the planet, did they not?” Jetanien asked. “Is it possible that this was detected by the Tholians, and that’s what drew them to Erilon?”

Marcus shrugged. “Maybe. Even with the progress we—that is, Lieutenant Xiong—has made, we still know very little about Shedai technology. Still, he and his team learned to use the Jinoteur carrier wave as a means of searching for other locations where Shedai technology was hidden. The Tholians may possess a similar means of detection. We also don’t know what it means when a Shedai consciousness—or a Tholian’s, in the case of Nezrene—enters these computer networks, as Xiong seemed to believe. Are they projecting themselves in some fashion? Is that detectable somehow to other Tholians, even if they’re not connected to these networks?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about the Tholians,” Jetanien said, “but I do know that they have been affected by the presence of the Shedai. I’ve seen their reactions with my own eyes. On some level, they were aware of its consciousness.” Even as Nogura moved to stand behind his desk, the Chel ambassador adopted the admiral’s pacing. “We know that Tholian crystalline physiology is such that their bodies can themselves be used as a sort of short-range transmitter. It stands to reason that they can receive communications in similar fashion, particularly if the source is something as powerful as we believe the Shedai to be.”

“Are you suggesting that those other Tholians somehow detected Nezrene herselfwhile she was working within the computer?” Cooper asked, frowning. “With all due respect, Ambassador, that seems a little far-fetched.”

Marcus shook her head. “Maybe not, Commander. After all, there’s a lot we don’t know about the Tholians, either. Perhaps they possess some kind of…I don’t know…if not outright telepathy, then at least an ability to broadcast or project themselves over communications frequencies, much as Ambassador Jetanien hypothesized.”

Nogura made a show of clearing his throat to get the attention of his three visitors. “People, as fascinating as this discussion is, none of it’s of any use in determining the fate of Lieutenant Xiong. I think we can at least entertain the idea that he was deliberately targeted, likely for his knowledge of the Shedai.” Such a possibility did not enthuse Nogura, to say the least. Though he had no doubts that Xiong would do his best to protect the secrets he carried, the admiral had seen firsthand the effects of Klingon “interrogation techniques” and knew that every man, no matter his strength of will, had a breaking point. Sooner or later, the Klingons who had taken Xiong would extract from him what they required.

He looked up when he heard a sniffing sound and saw Marcus reaching up to dab a tear from the corner of her left eye. “Doctor, are you all right?”

Marcus drew a deep breath as she straightened her posture and shook her head. “I don’t…it’s just…I keep thinking this is my fault.”

“You were driven to find answers, Doctor,” Nogura said, “which is exactly why Starfleet sent you out here. I knew the risks in sending a team to Erilon, and you didn’t talk me into anything I wasn’t already considering. Not that any of that matters, as I’m the one who authorized the mission. If anyone’s to be blamed, it’ll be me.” Sending subordinates into dangerous situations was a reality of command, Nogura knew, and he had carried the scars of that harsh truth for most of his adult life. That experience never made such decisions any easier, and the admiral feared the day would come when he might look upon such responsibility with cold dispassion.

Never.

Shaking off the troubling thought, Nogura turned to Jetanien. “Ambassador, what are the Klingons saying about any of this?”

“They claim that the action at Erilon was carried out without their permission,” the Chel replied. “As far as they know, or at least are willing to admit, no Klingon vessel is holding any Starfleet officer hostage.”

“What a crock,” Cooper said, making no effort to squelch his bitterness.

“As hard as it may be for us to believe,” Nogura said, “I suppose it’s possible that the Klingons have yet anotherrenegade ship commander running around out there. Ambassador, you have at least one or two contacts willing to talk to you off the record, correct? What about pressing them for information?”

Jetanien nodded. “I have already attempted to make contact with those parties, Admiral. I await a response.”

“Keep at it,” Nogura said, then turned to Cooper. “Get the Lovellback here. Some of those artifacts and other materials that Xiong wanted for study might be able to help us. If the Klingons took him because they’re trying to understand Shedai technology, then maybe they’ll put him to work on some other planet.” Next, he looked to Marcus. “That’s where you come in, Doctor, you and Nezrene. Re-create what they were doing. Maybe if we can understand what they were figuring out on Erilon, it might give us a clue to where to look for him.”

He tapped his right forefinger on the polished surface of his desk, the rhythmic thumping accentuating his words. “People, we don’t rest until I find out what happened to my man. Understood?”

There were no objections, and Nogura watched as his visitors—his advisors, really—filed out of his office, heading to carry out their respective tasks. Nogura was left alone as the door slid shut, with nothing to do but ponder the consequences of what had transpired on Erilon, how the Klingons might benefit from it, and what it might all mean for a young, ambitious Starfleet lieutenant named Ming Xiong.

39

“Reyes, Diego Matias. Serial number SC-886-3762-TM. Service rank: Commodore. Position: Starbase command. Current assignment: Starbase 47.”

Sitting on the witness stand before his court-martial board, Diego Reyes stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on a small defect in the paneling just above the computer terminal as the machine relayed his biographical information into the trial’s official record. As the computer recited his awards and commendations, he could not help but reflect on the rather large period of time the list covered, and the realization—which, for some reason, he had never before pondered—made him feel old.

Check the dates again,his mind chided him. They’re ancient history and of absolutely no help to you now.

Finally, this was it. After days upon days of testimony by all manner of witnesses, most from the station’s crew but also a “few experts” called by Captain Sereb, it now was his turn to take the stand. Most of the other witnesses had served only to weaken the notion that Reyes had conspired with anyone to disobey orders from higher authority or that anyone but him had any prior knowledge of what he had done with regard to Tim Pennington’s story. On the other hand, the testimony also had strengthened Sereb’s primary angles of attack: the actual release of what should have remained classified information and his patent disregard of established policies and protocols when taking such action. With the framework for the trial’s true purpose firmly established, only one task remained: Reyes himself. To that end, he and Desai had formalized a blunt, concise strategy for the testimony he would give. No theatrics, embellishments, or obfuscation of the relevant points. The questions she would ask would be direct, coinciding with the brutal honesty of the answers he would provide.

Let’s get this show on the road.

What did he expect to accomplish here today? Desai had asked him that question on several occasions during the time they spent preparing for trial. Did he actually expect to sway the board? He had come to the conclusion some time ago that such a goal was not realistic. As he knew and as had been rammed home by Commander Spires, Sereb, and even Desai, the charges against him were simple and straightforward. He could not deny them, nor would he avoid responsibility for any consequences arising from them. All that remained was for him to make a case for why he had taken the actions that had brought him to this point, in the hopes that some future good might come forth in terms of the safety of innocent lives.

The computer’s readings of his awards were finished, and Reyes straightened his posture ever so slightly as he heard footsteps behind him and Rana Desai walked into his line of sight. “Commodore Reyes,” she said, “how long have you been involved with Operation Vanguard?”

His right hand resting on the biometric interface built into the chair’s arm, Reyes replied, “I was first briefed on the project just under a year ago. I took command of the station two months later.”

Desai asked, “What persuaded you to take this assignment?”

“The orders with my name on them and the date I was to report to the station.” The response earned him a small, quickly suppressed chuckle from Admiral Komack, but that was the extent of the board’s reaction.

Desai kept her focus on Reyes. “Yes, we know that you accepted the orders as issued to you by Starfleet Command, but what about the assignment attracted your interest?”

“I believed in the project’s goals,” Reyes said. “I didn’t understand the science behind it, and I still don’t, to a large extent, but smart people help me with the bigger words. What I did understand was the potential that came with learning as much about the meta-genome as we could. That’s how I felt in the beginning.” Those feelings still were present, of course, at least as far as the honest, forthright pursuit of knowledge was concerned. Such ambition always was a worthy endeavor. It was only the use to which that knowledge was put that could be defined as either right or wrong. Even with what he now knew about the Taurus Reach, he still held on to that simple axiom.

“And how do you feel now?” Desai asked.

For the first time, Reyes shifted his eyes so that he could stare directly at Admiral Moratino. “Scared.”

Desai asked, “Why do you feel scared?”

“Because we’ve disturbed something out here that we should’ve left alone, but we didn’t. Now it’s loose and running around out there, pissed off at us.”

Desai nodded. “So, is that why you allowed that story to be published? Because you were scared?”

“No,” Reyes replied. “I allowed that story to go out because the public had a right to know about the dangers we’d uncovered out here. Secrecy had already cost too many innocent lives.”

“But shouldn’t your superiors at Starfleet Command be the ones to make that decision?”

“Yes, they should have been.” As he answered the question, his eyes moved across the faces of the trial board members, all unreadable. “They should’ve made that decision months ago, beforethe incident at Gamma Tauri IV. If they had, we might’ve been able to avoid what happened there.”

“Objection,” said Captain Sereb from behind him, speaking for the first time since Reyes took the stand. “The defendant is speculating, Your Honor.”

Moratino replied, “Sustained.”

Unperturbed, Desai continued. “Commodore, you believe that Starfleet’s decision to keep the existence of the Shedai classified is responsible for the destruction of Gamma Tauri IV?”

“No. Iam responsible for the destruction of Gamma Tauri IV.” The decision to invoke General Order 24 and the resulting tragedy were necessary to contain the threat presented by the Shedai life-form. At least, that was what Reyes had thought at the time. Now, after having learned more about the true extent of power and range of influence the Shedai commanded, even the massive, drastic actions taken at Gamma Tauri IV seemed pitiful by comparison. “Starfleet’s decision to keep information about the Shedai classified after our encounters with it on Erilon have put other colonies like that one in the line of fire, to say nothing of Starfleet and civilian vessels traveling through the region.”

Desai had begun pacing again, circling the witness stand. “So, your decision to make public the incident at Jinoteur IV was to warn them of the Shedai threat.”

“Of course.”

“Did you do so because you believed the orders you received from your superiors to be unlawful?”

Reyes shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s the right word. It’s not the word I’d use. Ill-advised, maybe?” He had been reluctant to pursue Desai’s original notion of attacking the possible illegality of the directives issued by Starfleet Command. To him, it sounded as though he was trying to deflect culpability away from himself and onto others. While he firmly believed that others were at fault for what was allowed to transpire in the Taurus Reach, he remained adamant that such opinions not be used as a basis for his own defense. “I don’t doubt that at least some of the people issuing the orders were doing so with the noblest of intentions, but after the incidents on Erilon, I encountered nothing but reluctance when I brought my concerns to their attention. We should have acted sooner, but we didn’t. Invoking General Order 24 at Gamma Tauri IV was the best choice from a list of horrible options, and I didn’t want to be in that position again because someone else had failed to act.”

“What finally prompted you to release the information?” Desai asked, walking a circuit around his chair.

“Fate gave me Tim Pennington and his eyewitness account of the Shedai on Jinoteur,” Reyes replied. “Though he did not—and does not now—know anything about the Shedai or Operation Vanguard beyond what he saw with his own eyes, what he saw was more than enough.”

“You discussed this with him prior to the story’s release?”

“Of course,” Reyes replied. “I knew he’d be writing about his experiences on Jinoteur, and I’d already made up my mind before talking to him. He had written the article and was fully expecting that I would either edit it or refuse to allow its transmission at all. When I saw what he’d written, I knew this was the way to alert the public to what’s going on out here.”

“He wrote about what he saw on a planet deemed off-limits to civilian space traffic,” Desai said, “while engaged in activities as coordinated by a Starfleet officer?”

Reyes kept his eyes on the board members as he replied. “That’s right. He and another civilian volunteered to place themselves in harm’s way in order to assist a Starfleet vessel in distress and ran into more than they bargained for. Afterward, Pennington chose to write about it, because that’s what reporters do.”

“So,” Desai said, stopping before him once again, “after Pennington wrote his story, you took it from him. He did not coerce you?”

“Of course not,” Reyes replied.

“Threaten you?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“You took his story, proceeded to the communications center, and transmitted it to the Federation News Service. Is that the correct sequence of events?”

Reyes nodded. “It is.”

“Tell me, Commodore,” Desai said, “if a similar set of circumstances was to arise again in the future, do you think you’d act as you did on this occasion?”

Hesitating not one fraction of a second, Reyes replied, “If innocent lives were at stake? I would. Absolutely.”

Desai asked, “Even if it meant defying Starfleet regulations?”

“I swore an oath to defend Federation citizens,” Reyes said, “and that duty comes before any other rule or regulation. If that’s changed, for whatever reason, then I’m in the wrong business.”

Offering him a small smile, Desai nodded. That was it, he knew. She had laid out all of the cards he had asked her to play. Turning to the bench, she said, “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Moratino replied, “Very well,” and Reyes watched as Desai moved behind him and back to her table. “Captain Sereb, I assume you wish to cross-examine?”

“Indeed I do, Your Honor,” the Tellarite replied, and the swarthy Tellarite rose to his feet and moved to the center of the room. “Commodore Reyes, you said you felt scared now that the truth—or at least some of it—about the Shedai has been revealed. Tell me, are you a coward?”

Thanks to Desai’s courtroom experience, she had anticipated several avenues of cross-examination based on the questions she planned to ask Reyes during his testimony. This question from Sereb, or something like it, was one of her accurate guesses. Glancing toward the prosecutor as he strode past, Reyes replied, “I’ve behaved in a cowardly fashion.”

Turning toward him, Sereb leaned closer. “You mean you acted in such fashion by your decision to circumvent your chain of command and release this information to the public.”

“Are you asking me a question,” Reyes said, keeping his voice even, “or trying to jam words into my mouth?”

Sereb grunted before turning toward Moratino. “Your Honor,” he began.

Holding up her hand, Moratino nodded. “Commodore, unless you’re invoking the Seventh Guarantee in order to avoid self-incrimination, you’re bound to answer all questions put to you.” Turning to Sereb, she added, “Captain, you will state your queries as questions, not editorials, opinions, or judgments.”

“Understood, Your Honor,” the Tellarite replied before turning his attention back to Reyes. “Now, Commodore, do you believe you were acting out of cowardice when you decided to circumvent your chain of command?”

“No,” Reyes replied. “I was a coward for not doing it sooner.”

For his part, Sereb seemed to have been anticipating a response along those lines. “A very noble sentiment, Commodore, though it raises an interesting question. Why not come forward earlier, before the incident at Gamma Tauri IV? After all, several colonies had already been established on planets known to possess the Taurus Meta-Genome. After the incidents involving the U.S.S. Endeavourat Erilon, why did you not launch your crusade for truth and security then? As you said before, you might have saved thousands of lives. Where was your nobility then?”

From behind him, Desai called out, “Objection, Your Honor. Argumentative. Counsel is badgering the witness.”

“Sustained,” Moratino replied. “Watch yourself, Captain.”

“It’s all right, Your Honor,” Reyes said.

The admiral fixed him with a stern glare. “You don’t have to answer that question, Commodore. Counsel will rephrase without the fire and brimstone.”

“With all due respect, Your Honor,” Reyes countered, “I’d like to answer it as asked.”

Moratino nodded. “Very well. You may proceed.”

Reyes turned toward Sereb, who had moved to his left. “It’s a simple question, with a simple answer. I didn’t come forward before because I was weak or blinded by duty and regulations, or both. Whatever. Take your pick. We should’ve taken what happened at Erilon as an obvious warning and acted accordingly. We should’ve at least informed colony administrators of the threat potential. Most of all, I was wrong about the true nature of what the Shedai represented. All of us were. We had no idea what we’d stirred up, not really, and the people on Gamma Tauri IV paid for that miscalculation with their lives. So, yes, I took it upon myself to act.”

“Your Honor,” Desai said, and Reyes heard the pleading in her voice, but he ignored her. He had long since tired of the proceedings, angry that it was taking so long to just get to the heart of the matter.

“Did I disobey orders by revealing that threat?” he asked. “Yes. Did I conspire with anyone else? No. This is entirely on me, just as the responsibility for all of those people who’ve died since I took command of this station is mine. If only one good thing comes out of this trial, it should be that no one else should have to die because we didn’t do our jobs.”

Turning toward the bench, he glared at the board members. “And if the price for protecting the people we’re sworn to defend is my head on a platter, then take it. Take it, and jam it down whoever’s throat you have to back at Headquarters, and make them listen. If this circus can’t even accomplish that, then do me a favor, and either throw me in a hole or out an airlock right now. I don’t want any part of any organization that can’t understand how badly we’ve turned everything out here into a pile of shit.”

Silence engulfed the courtroom, except for the constant warble of the station’s power generators far below their feet. Though he forced himself to stare once more at the base of the bench rather than at any of the board members, Reyes still saw Sereb in his peripheral vision. The Tellarite’s expression was not one of triumph or smug satisfaction. Instead, it was unreadable. After a moment, the prosecutor cleared his throat.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

It took Moratino a moment before she said anything. Her own features had hardened into an implacable mask, though Reyes refused to move his eyes to look directly at her. Finally, she said, “Captain Desai, do you wish to redirect?”

Her response so low that Reyes could barely hear it, Desai replied, “No, Your Honor. The defense rests.”