Star Trek: Vanguard: Declassified

  “ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR, CAPTAIN?”

  Nassir, unmoved by the Klingon’s display of indignation, replied in a calm, even voice, “I don’t believe that’s what I said, Commander. What I requested was the record you or someone else surely sent to your superiors, who in turn would have relayed that information to your diplomatic envoys for transmittal to their counterparts within our Federation Diplomatic Corps. This procedure was put into place when it became apparent that both our governments expressed interest in exploring the Taurus Reach, so that incidents such as this apparent and unfortunate miscommunication might be avoided.”

  Standing at the rear of the bridge, Terrell forced himself not to smile. The captain was known for his enjoyment of spirited debate on a vast array of topics, and relished laying oratorical traps for any opponent foolish enough to accept his challenge.

  “Somehow,” Terrell whispered, his words audible only to Theriault, “I don’t think this guy’s in the mood for cunning wordplay.” A quick look over the shoulder of Lieutenant Commander Bridget McLellan at the information displayed on her tactical console told him that both the Sagittarius and the Klingon scout ship had raised their defensive shields, but he felt a twinge in his gut as he noted that only the enemy vessel’s weapons were powered.

  I hate when that happens.

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  Cover design by Alan Dingman

  Cover art by Doug Drexler; station design by Masao Okazaki;

  Ptolemy-class design by Franz Joseph

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4516-0691-1

  ISBN 978-1-4516-0698-0 (ebook)

  ALMOST TOMORROW

  Dayton Ward

  For Addison and Erin:

  You always make me look forward to tomorrow.

  HISTORIAN’S NOTE

  The events of this story take place in early 2265, several months prior to the completion of Starbase 47’s construction and the station’s being declared fully operational (Star Trek Vanguard: Harbinger; Star Trek: Corps of Engineers—Distant Early Warning), and before the U.S.S. Enterprise’s first voyage to the edge of our galaxy (“Where No Man Has Gone Before”).

  THE TAURUS REACH

  2265

  1

  Commander Clark Terrell stepped onto the bridge of the U.S.S. Sagittarius, pausing at the entrance to take stock of the situation before him. Doing so took only a moment, as the Archer-class scout’s command center was smaller than the room Terrell had shared with two other cadets at Starfleet Academy more than a decade earlier. Of course, the bridge was more tastefully appointed.

  And it definitely smells better.

  Sitting in the command chair, which along with the tactical station was situated at the center of the compact bridge, Captain Adelard Nassir turned to regard his first officer with a deadpan expression. “What took you so long?”

  “I got lost,” Terrell replied as he stepped away from the door and allowed it to close behind him. “You know, that joke doesn’t get any funnier the more you try it.” Given the size of the Sagittarius, one could travel between any two compartments in under a minute, and that included any movement requiring the use of either of the three ladders connecting the ship’s three decks. Terrell’s cabin was next to the bridge, along the port bow. He could traverse the distance in seconds should an emergency situation present itself, but the first officer otherwise preferred to spend a few minutes making a circuit of the ship’s interiors before reporting to the bridge for his assigned duty shift.

  Nassir asked, “But you know I’m just going to keep trying it, don’t you?”

  “At least until someone throws you out the airlock,” Terrell countered, stepping farther onto the bridge and pushing up the sleeves of his olive drab jumpsuit—the standard duty uniform worn, without rank or other insignia, by every member of the Sagittarius crew.

  Eyeing the first officer as he drew abreast of the command chair, Nassir chuckled. “I assume that was said with all due respect?”

  “Oh, absolutely, sir,” Terrell replied. “You’ve even got my word as an officer that I promise to salute when I push the jettison button.”

  Nassir nodded. “See that you do.” Despite the Deltan’s bald pate, fair complexion, and slight build, the captain carried himself with the confidence of an experienced leader who harbored no doubts as to his authority. Though he had little use for the pomp and circumstance that so characterized much of Starfleet’s various protocols and regulations, when the situation called for it Nassir could be the very model of by-the-book efficiency and expertise. Terrell knew that it was the captain’s easy willingness to toss that book when a situation warranted such action that endeared him to subordinates and superior officers alike. Even Commodore Reyes, the commanding officer of the starbase to which the Sagittarius currently was assigned, not only respected Nassir’s unorthodox leadership style but welcomed it, giving the captain whatever latitude he needed to carry out his mission.

  Terrell moved to take up a position next to Ensign Vanessa Theriault, who sat at the bridge’s science station. Studying the image of the lush, green world that dominated the upper third of the main viewscreen, slowly rotating from left to right as the ship maintained its high orbit, Terrell asked, “What’s the story?”

  Looking up from her console, the young, red-headed officer said, “The story is that Traelus II may well be the proverbial gold mine.”

  “Dilithium?” the first officer asked.

  The science officer nodded enthusiastically. “Dilithium, pergium, rodinium. This planet’s a buffet.”

  “That’ll make the folks back home happy,” Terrell said.

  Rising from his seat, Nassir moved to stand to Theriault’s left, opposite Terrell. “Or, it might just give them all bellyaches.” He shook his head. “Considering how close we are to Tholian space, you know Starfleet Command’s going to throw a fit when they hear about this.”

  Terrell’s brow furrowed. “What were they expecting? Isn’t this the reason we’re out here in the first place?” Traelus was one of three solar systems in this region—a distant corner of the area that stellar cartographers had dubbed the Taurus Reach on Federation star charts—assigned to the Sagittarius for detailed surveys. All three systems shared three common traits. First, they so far had been mapped only by unmanned r
econnaissance probes. Second, those preliminary sensor scans had raised enough questions that a further study was warranted. Planets in each of the systems were determined to possess at least some measurable quantities of the vital minerals Theriault had cited, making them potentially valuable from a mining as well as strategic point of view. In particular, the presence of dilithium and rodinium made completing mapping surveys of all three systems a top priority for Starfleet, at least so far as operations in this area of space were concerned.

  This aspect also dovetailed with the third factor, in that all three systems were located along what laughingly passed as the territorial boundary claimed by the Tholian Assembly. Verifying that any of the planets did in fact contain important natural resources was a paramount concern, particularly in light of Federation expansion into this region of space.

  For all the myriad reasons we’re doing that, Terrell mused.

  Turning from the science station, Nassir directed his attention to the Andorian officer seated at the helm, Lieutenant Celerasayna zh’Firro. “Sayna, what do the navigational charts show us about traffic in this area?”

  The young zhen shook her head. “Not much, sir. Other than our own mapping probes and the odd civilian transport ship— probably smugglers hoping to avoid security patrols—I haven’t been able to find much evidence at all that anyone cares about anything around here.”

  “You have to wonder why the Tholians didn’t expand their territory to include this system,” Nassir said, folding his arms across his chest. “Or the others, for that matter. Considering how averse they are to interacting with their interstellar neighbors, you’d think they’d claim these systems if only to keep anyone else from doing the same thing.”

  Terrell had no answer. Unnatural restraint seemed to characterize the Tholians’ attitude toward the entire Taurus Reach, a wedge of space sandwiched between the areas claimed by the Tholians, the Klingon Empire, and the Federation. Starfleet vessels had only begun investigating the region two years earlier, but those initial forays had prompted an accelerated program of exploration and colonization here, all spearheaded by the construction of a massive, state-of-the-art space station, Starbase 47—or Vanguard, as it was informally known—which the Sagittarius and two other Starfleet vessels called their home port while tasked to this sector. Despite that activity, as well as the proximity to its borders of several systems and resource-rich planets, the Tholian Assembly appeared uninterested in moving in this direction, for reasons known only to them.

  They may end up being the least of our problems.

  “It’s not the Tholians I’m worried about,” Terrell said, “but you know it’s only a matter of time before the Klingons start sniffing around out here.”

  “We already know the Klingons have been making their own ventures into the region,” Nassir said. “The reports I’ve read from Starfleet Intelligence indicate it’s just the beginning.”

  Theriault nodded. “If they were to plant their flag here, or some other system so close to Tholian territory, that might be enough to spook the Tholians into doing some poking around of their own.” She sighed. “Tholians and Klingons, both with short tempers and hair triggers. That spells fun for everyone.”

  “Those are issues for Commodore Reyes and Starfleet Command,” Nassir said. Reaching out, he rested his right hand on Theriault’s shoulder. “Let’s get started with the complete sensor sweep of the planet. The sooner we’re finished here, the sooner we’re on our way home.”

  Terrell chuckled. “Any chance they’ll be finished building home by the time we get back?” Starbase 47 had been declared operational on a provisional basis for mission-essential tasks. Although primary support and defense systems were on line, the station still lacked many of the creature comforts it would boast once construction was complete.

  “One can only hope,” Theriault replied. “Just so long as I can get a hot shower, a decent meal, and a bed someone else hasn’t been sleeping in when I’m not looking, I’ll be happy.” As though anticipating a retort from either Nassir or Terrell, the science officer looked up from her station and directed a scathing glare at both men. “With all due respect, gentlemen, any comment you might be considering will be avenged in your sleep.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” Nassir countered, offering an expression of mock surprise. To Terrell, he said, “Were you going to say something, Commander?”

  Terrell shook his head, schooling his features so that he did not smile. “My mother raised no fools, sir.”

  A series of beeps from the science station drew Theriault’s attention to the array of status displays before her, and Terrell noted the change in the young officer’s expression as she studied the readouts. “Something else, Ensign?”

  Theriault replied, “Just more mineral deposit readings, Commander. This planet has it all: a temperate climate, beautiful oceans, and more raw materials than any of the planets we’ve charted so far.” She paused a moment before adding, “I’ve got half a mind to retire early and build a house down there.”

  It took Terrell an extra moment for the statement to register, but when he glanced down to Theriault’s console he saw that the ensign was tapping one blinking red light with her left forefinger, and realization dawned. Struggling to school his features, he turned to Nassir, who was already regarding him, the question evident in his eyes.

  Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

  Looking up from her console, Theriault offered an almost imperceptible nod first to Nassir then to Terrell. The first officer glanced at the other stations, confirming that none of the other bridge personnel had caught their silent communication.

  The science officer had invoked the code phrase that she, Terrell, and Nassir had agreed to use upon the discovery of any evidence of the Taurus Meta-Genome.

  Entering Nassir’s quarters and finding the captain and Ensign Theriault already waiting for him, Terrell waited for the door to close before thumbing the control panel to engage the door lock. The trio now enjoyed all the privacy there was to be found aboard the diminutive Sagittarius.

  “So,” Terrell said, leaning against the locked door and crossing his arms, “it’s true?”

  Theriault nodded. “Most definitely, sir. I triple-checked the readings, and there’s no mistake. It’s the meta-genome, all right.”

  “Well, how about that?” Nassir said, his face breaking into a wide smile. Terrell knew that despite the missions to which he and his crew were assigned, Adelard Nassir was first and foremost an explorer, having joined Starfleet for the express purpose of pushing outward the farthest limits of known space and discovering what might be waiting beyond those boundaries. For Nassir, the Taurus Reach and the mysteries it contained were like the seductive calls of the Sirens from Greek mythology.

  Discovered more than two years earlier during a science survey mission in a system near the opposite edge of the Taurus Reach from the Sagittarius’s current position, the meta-genome had been determined to be a DNA sequence, apparently of alien origin, that possessed far greater complexity than any life-form previously encountered. Samples of the gene sequence had subsequently been located on several other worlds in scattered systems throughout the region in proximity to the initial find, with the possibility of further discoveries across the Taurus Reach.

  The meta-genome, essentially a carrier of raw genetic data contained within a biochemical matrix, was believed to be hundreds of thousands of years old and carried with it the potential to revolutionize current understanding of life and evolution, provided its Byzantine composition could ever be fully understood. If, as was believed by some experts at Starfleet Command, the alien DNA sequence was the product of artificial genetic engineering, then it suggested a level of technological prowess far above that of any known civilization. Investigating the meta-genome as well as its origins—and preventing rival powers such as the Klingons from doing the same thing—was the foremost priority for Starbase 47 and the starships assigned to it, an
d the reason the massive space station had been rushed into service in the first place. Support operations for the ongoing exploration, colonization, and merchant shipping efforts overseen by Vanguard would provide cover for that mission.

  Terrell said, “Now, hang on a minute. The initial meta-genome samples were found in the Ravanar system, on the other side of the Taurus Reach. Everything found after that was still a long way from here.” Until now, no such clues to the existence of the enigmatic gene sequence had been found so far from the original discovery. “If what we’re saying here is true, then whoever cooked up that damned thing—”

  “—had even greater influence than was originally theorized,” Nassir said, cutting off Terrell and smiling to soften his interruption. “That alone is a rather interesting discovery, don’t you think?”

  Theriault chuckled. “Your gift for understatement never fails to impress me, Skipper.” Glancing to Terrell before continuing, she said, “The preliminary sensor readings are very similar to what was found on Ravanar IV, but we’ll need to collect samples for further, more detailed study and comparison back on Vanguard.”

  Nodding, Nassir said, “Agreed. They’ve already got a cadre of scientists champing at the bit for anything we might find out here.” In addition to the team of specialists already assigned to Starbase 47 and given the task of studying the meta-genome, Terrell knew that Starfleet was dispatching a first-rate archeology and anthropology officer with advanced training and experience in the investigation of long-dead civilizations. That officer—currently en route from Earth—was not due to arrive at Vanguard for several more weeks.

  Looks like we’ll have a present for him when he finally gets here.

  “Since the three of us are the only members of the crew who know anything about this,” Nassir said, reaching up to rub his smooth, angular chin, “it looks like the two of you draw sample collection duty. We’ll have to concoct a story to tell the others, but considering how long we’ve been running fast and hot, I imagine Master Chief Ilucci will welcome the opportunity to give the ship a once-over. That’ll keep him and his people busy, and we can find other tasks for the rest of the crew. Just make your survey a quick one.”