Star Trek: The Next Generation - 119 - Armageddon's Arrow (21 page)

Mynlara replied, “They assisted Jodis and his crew before understanding our conflict. Picard understands at least some of the complexities of our conflict, and I see in his eyes the struggle he wages within himself as he attempts to avoid taking sides.” She had only her observations and interaction with Picard to guide her, but her instincts told her that the human was a man of principles and integrity. His request to address leaders of both Uphrel and Henlona only served to strengthen her feelings of trust for him.

“I can appreciate the strain you must be under,” Vedapir said. “You are here, far away from our home, forced to make judgments and decisions without guidance from higher authority. There are any number of questions and decisions weighing on you, and it would be difficult to find fault with how you have comported yourself throughout this affair. However, I would be remiss in my duty if I did not ask whether you have considered a strategy for taking control of the Federation ship, should circumstances require us to do so.”

“That is why you are here,” replied Mynlara as she shifted in her seat. “You are not the only one who has considered such a course of action. With so much at stake we cannot afford to leave anything to chance.” She wanted to believe that Picard would keep to his word and not interfere with Golvonek military affairs or her attempts to secure the weapon ship, but what if his stance changed? What if he decided to return the vessel to the Raqilan? “If we do not control the weapon ship, then it must be destroyed, or else we risk it being turned against us as was its original intent. If only we could know for certain.”

Vedapir leaned back. “These are trying times, after all.”

Pushing herself from her chair, Mynlara began pacing the width of her quarters. “Trying times. How often has that term been used to justify actions we know to be regrettable, if not reprehensible?” Despite the Golvonek having fought a largely defensive war throughout the generations, there had been occasions when bold, aggressive, and lamentable action was taken to thwart Raqilan attacks or other plots that might have resulted in devastating loss of life. Mynlara had undertaken such deeds more than once. They had been necessary, she knew, but that knowledge had done little to ease her remorse at what war had forced her to do, and the memories of those acts would haunt her for the rest of her life. For that more than any other reason and like so many other Golvonek and Raqilan, as well, Mynlara wanted peace for both worlds. If Jodis was being truthful about the future that awaited them, then to desire otherwise was to invite eventual extinction.

“Picard has said or done nothing to indicate he might turn against us. Also, have you considered that their presence here might be a good thing for all of us? He has said he is willing to speak to our leadership. If he could bring both sides together, he might just be the impetus needed to rededicate ourselves to the peace process.” After a lifetime in service to her planet and the war, the very notion of it no longer permeating every aspect of her people’s very existence seemed as much fantasy as the idea of a massive weapon from the future traveling through time to erase her world from history itself.

“What has the leadership said?” Vedapir asked.

Mynlara sighed. “Directorate Command has expressed concerns about the outsiders, and they want both the
Poklori gil dara
and the
Enterprise
secured. I have received orders to see to this as soon as possible. The weapon ship is a deterrent, no matter who controls it. As we speak, reinforcements are on their way from Uphrel. Once they arrive, we will take full control of the weapon ship, and use it to commandeer the
Enterprise
.”

Saying nothing for a brief interval, Vedapir seemed to be studying her. Then he said, “I believe this to be a wise course of action. As you have already stated, there is far too much at stake for us not to act to protect our people.”

During his time aboard the
Calkurizar
, Vedapir had distinguished himself as an officer capable of handling any task or decision he faced, and Mynlara had come to rely on him as her most trusted confidant. Principled and driven, he had never been afraid to express a viewpoint even if it meant disagreeing with her. Though he observed all military protocol in the presence of subordinates, he long ago had earned the right to speak in blunt fashion whenever they conversed in private, where he had no reservations about arguing with her if circumstances demanded it. This direct, honest manner had been one of the qualities she respected in him, more so because when such conversations did occur, more often than not he succeeded in convincing her that his position was the correct one. He would, in her estimation, make a fine fleet legate when his time came for promotion, and she had made notations to that effect in several of his evaluations.

After another pause, Vedapir said, “You seem uncomfortable with these orders.”

“My comfort is of no consequence,” Mynlara snapped. “I will carry out my orders, but that does not mean I support what I have been directed to do. Picard has extended the hand of friendship, and we will smack it away in a clumsy attempt to plunder his ship and its finite resources. Is that what we have become? Bandits and looters?” Staring at the door leading from her quarters, she shook her head. “No. That is not who or what we are.”

You have no choice, she reminded herself. Duty demanded nothing less.

These are trying times, after all.

21

Worf’s first impression of the room in which he and Lieutenant Elfiki stood was that the air was stale. He was certain he could taste the metallic tinge permeating what likely was an atmosphere subjected to uncounted iterations of recycling and scrubbing of pollutants. How long had the environmental systems of this station been in operation? Years, perhaps decades, he thought.

“They didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for us, did they?” asked Elfiki.

Worf replied, “I suspect they do not receive many visitors.” Escorted by the Raqilan fighters, he and Elfiki had piloted the
Siouxsie
back to the moon that was home to the weapon ship’s construction site. They had guided the shuttlecraft to a larger installation that sensors showed to have been built on the lunar surface as well as extending underground and into a nearby mountain range. The landing pad on which they had come to rest had descended into a subterranean hangar, where the Starfleet officers were met by a team of Raqilan soldiers wearing equipment harnesses and helmets and wielding formidable-looking rifles. Under guard, Worf and Elfiki were taken deeper into the complex, where they were searched before being deposited in this bare, uninviting room. Throughout the process, the soldiers had treated their charges with respect if not outright courtesy, though the looks on their faces told Worf that they likely were operating under strict orders regarding the handling of their new prisoners.

“This place reminds me of one those remote observation outposts along the Neutral Zone,” Elfiki said. “All tunnels and narrow passageways carved into the rock.” Worf saw her rub her upper arms as though warding off a chill. “I never liked those places.”

Recalling from her personnel record that the science officer had served on such an outpost as an early assignment following her graduation from Starfleet Academy, Worf said, “My understanding is that you requested a posting to one of those stations.”

Elfiki nodded. “I thought it would be a way to get an interesting perspective on the real state of relations between the Federation and the Romulans. It was after the Dominion War, but before that business with Shinzon. Still, our alliance had pretty much run its course by then, and the situation seemed like it was changing every day. At one point, I was sure a fleet of warbirds would run right over us, but the diplomats always found a way to keep things from escalating.” Looking around the room in which they had been deposited, she added, “Of course, after being stuck inside an oversized tin can for months on end, there were times when an attack might’ve been welcome. Still, so much of our joint history is tied to that buffer between us. Some of those outposts have been there for two hundred years.” She made a show of sniffing the air. “This place smells about the same, now that I think about it.”

They had been standing alone in the dingy room for the past several minutes, and Worf had detected no signs of surveillance. The only possibilities came from what looked to be a ventilation grate in the ceiling and what appeared to be a communications grille embedded in the wall near the room’s only entrance. There were no visible controls on the unit, and the room itself was devoid of furniture or any other items that one might use as a weapon. Worf and Elfiki had been relieved of their phasers, and their hosts also had taken the Klingon’s baldric. The first officer took momentary comfort from the look on the Raqilan guard’s face upon being told that any mistreatment of the cherished vestment would result in Worf becoming, as he had put it, “irritated.” Conversely, both officers had been allowed to keep their combadges when the Raqilan guard in charge of their escort detail and search realized that the devices also functioned as translators. Beguiled by this wondrous technology, the guard had run off to tell his superiors that they would be able to speak directly with the “outsiders.”

After a few moments spent in silent investigation of the room, Elfiki had made her way to the door when she took an abrupt step back from the entrance. “Commander, someone’s coming.” Worf also heard muffled footfalls on the metal deck plating of the corridor outside the room, and he moved to stand alongside the science officer. When the door opened, it was to reveal two Raqilan sentries, both males—so far as Worf could discern under their helmets and body armor—and each carrying an imposing-looking rifle of the sort he had seen carried by other soldiers during their capture. The guards stepped through the doorway and assumed flanking positions to either side of the entrance, leaving it clear to admit another Raqilan. This one, also a male, was dressed in a more formal uniform that to Worf suggested an officer. A charcoal gray ensemble, it was highlighted by a single silver stripe running down each sleeve from shoulder to cuff, and an assortment of multicolored diamonds adorned his chest, just below his high, stiff collar. The uniform’s dull color served to highlight its wearer’s lavender skin. Despite what Worf guessed to be a significant effort on his part to maintain his composure, the Raqilan’s eyes betrayed his surprise upon getting his first look at the strange beings standing before him.

“Remarkable,” said the new arrival, nodding in open appreciation. “I am Sasel Pitrotha, commander of this facility. I must confess that I did not at first believe the reports relayed to me upon your capture, but there can be no denying that you most certainly are not Golvonek, or Raqilan, for that matter.”

Recognizing Pitrotha’s title from the briefing provided by T’Ryssa Chen regarding Raqilan military rank structure and remembering that “sasel” was an approximate counterpart to a Starfleet captain, Worf offered a formal bow of his head. “I am Commander Worf, first officer of the Federation
Starship Enterprise
.” He gestured to Elfiki. “This is Lieutenant Elfiki, my science officer. I wish to apologize once again for firing on your vessels, sir. I assure you that it was in self-defense, and we regret any damage or injury our actions may have caused.”

Pitrotha actually shrugged. “Your reaction to attack was understandable. I would have expected nothing less from anyone else in your position.”

Something about the way the reply was phrased gave Worf momentary pause. He had spent enough time battling diplomats—literally and figuratively—to recognize the beginnings of a verbal trap when he heard one. It was obvious to him that Pitrotha had entered the room with his mind made up so far as whatever fate awaited Worf and Elfiki, and now he was spending a few minutes playing with his prisoners, likely for his own amusement.

“We are new to this region of space,” said the Klingon, deciding to see where an attempt at dialogue might lead. “We represent an interplanetary cooperative of many worlds and civilizations comprising many billions of diverse beings, who have joined together for the betterment of all our members. Our mission is to make contact with other advanced societies and hopefully establish peaceful relations and perhaps even alliances.”

Pitrotha nodded. “Yes, and yet we find you trespassing in our space, spying on our installations. Is this how your people extend the hand of friendship?”

“We weren’t spying,” Elfiki snapped, then cleared her throat as Worf cast a warning glance in her direction. “It was not our intention to spy. Our scans detected the presence of life on this moon, and we came to investigate.” Though she was telling the truth in the strictest sense, Worf knew that her statement, delivered in defense of Pitrotha’s accusation, left several openings for someone keen enough to recognize and exploit them.

Pitrotha appeared to be such a person.

“Investigating signs of life?” he asked. “And when your scanners revealed to you the presence of such life on our moon, what did you do? Did you make any attempt at communication, in keeping with your mandate to form ‘peaceful relations’ with the ‘advanced civilizations’ you find during your ‘investigation’ of other people’s sovereign territory?” He smiled, but it was not a pleasant expression. “No, of course you did not. Instead, you chose to turn and flee at the first sign of detection. These are not the actions of friends, or those who wish to be friends.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, he began to walk around the room. Worf did not so much as move his eyes to track the Raqilan’s movements, listening instead to the sounds of his boots on the deck as he paced behind the Klingon and Elfiki. Even with the guards and their rifles trained on him, Worf felt his muscles tensing as he waited for Pitrotha to make what would be the fatal mistake of attacking him. Two seconds later, the officer moved back into his field of vision, his expression fixed and neutral.

“Your Federation sounds like an impressive collective, and it is obvious that your technology is extraordinary, as well. Our technicians have already set to inspecting your craft, and the early status reports are rather illuminating.”

Worf had expected the
Siouxsie
to be subjected to such scrutiny, and Elfiki had taken the precaution of locking out and encrypting access to the shuttlecraft’s onboard systems. He knew that those measures would not prevent Raqilan soldiers or engineers from boarding the shuttle or even cutting through the hull to inspect elements of the propulsion or weapons systems, but denying them the computer would at least hamper such efforts.

Lieutenant Elfiki, however, could not resist one small ploy.

“You might want to tell your technicians that I armed the shuttle’s self-destruct mechanism prior to your taking us into custody. It’d be a damned shame if one of them accidentally triggered it.”

When Pitrotha laughed, it echoed off the room’s smooth metal bulkheads. “I admire your poise, outsider, though I suspect you are being less than truthful with me. Rest assured that my people are quite good at what they do, and I have every confidence that they will detect and disable any triggers or traps you may have left for them.” He eyed Worf as he continued to pace. “I also find it hard to believe that you would destroy your most likely means of escape, which brings me to another point of discussion. Where is the rest of your clan? Where is the larger, more powerful vessel you must have at your disposal?”

Seeing no sense or advantage in lying about something he guessed Pitrotha already knew, Worf replied, “Our ship is holding station outside your solar system. We dispatched a distress message prior to our capture, and you can be certain our captain will not hesitate to launch a rescue mission.”

“Yes,” Pitrotha said, “one of our deep space tracking stations has identified the presence of your ships beyond our system’s outer boundary. We are attempting to investigate further, but it appears Golvonek forces have gotten there first.”

It took Worf an extra second to realize that the Raqilan officer had referred to more than just the
Enterprise
. Was he operating under the impression that the
Arrow
was an alien vessel, rather than the very ship undergoing construction elsewhere on this moon? If this was the case, then his small verbal gaffe had provided Worf with a valuable clue about the level of long-range scanning technology available to the Raqilan military. Of course, there was at this particular moment precious little he could do with that information. Schooling his features to show no outward reaction, he wondered without looking in her direction if Elfiki also had noted the slip.

When Worf said nothing, the Raqilan officer smiled again. “So, you now understand my dilemma, yes? Here you are, strangers, possessing what looks to be remarkable technology, and you apparently have allied yourselves with our sworn enemies. What am I to do here?”

“We haven’t allied with anyone,” Elfiki countered. “The Golvonek came out to us. It’s not our fault they’re more on the ball than you are.” Pitrotha frowned at the unfamiliar expression, but the science officer did not elaborate.

Instead, Worf said, “She speaks the truth. We were first contacted by Golvonek vessels while still outside your system. I assume they somehow detected us with scanning technology similar to your own.”

“You say you are not allies of the Golvonek,” replied Pitrotha. When he stepped forward as though attempting to intimidate him, Worf very nearly lashed out just from reflex. Only force of will kept him rooted in place as his captor moved to stand just within arm’s reach. “Does that mean you would consider joining with my people?”

Worf shook his head. “No. We are forbidden from taking sides in conflicts such as yours. My captain has relayed the same information to the Golvonek representatives who intercepted our ship. He has offered to appear before leaders of both worlds, if all parties agree that it assists in what I understand to be ongoing peace negotiations.”

Again, Pitrotha laughed, starting to pace once more. “Those negotiations have been ongoing since I was a child. I suspect that the current iteration will yield results no better than previous attempts. However, like many who have served our people for the vast portion of our lives, we would welcome the announcement that our services were no longer required. I have children of my own, Commander, one of whom I have not seen since her birth. If your captain, or anyone else, can say or do something which might bring an end to our war, I and countless others welcome it.” When his circuit of the room brought him once more face-to-face with Worf, he stopped, and the Klingon saw that his eyes seemed haunted by futility.