Star Trek: Vanguard: Declassified Read online

  “You know how those science types can be,” Nassir said. “Theriault can’t wait to get back to Traelus for more research. She thinks she’s really on to something there.”

  Even without the specifics, Reyes knew to what the Sagittarius’s captain was referring. Ensign Theriault’s theory that the meta-genome samples found on Traelus II held several stark similarities to those discovered on Ravanar IV two years ago had been confirmed by one of Operation Vanguard’s dedicated science teams, lending credence to the theory that the same party was responsible for depositing the complex DNA on both worlds, and likely on a still-unknown number of additional planets. Whoever created the meta-genome, if they even still existed, appeared to possess a level of technological prowess—and by extension, far greater power—than previously believed. What would life be like on a world ruled by such beings? Had they eradicated all disease and suffering? Had they learned to traverse the stars in some manner so far unimagined by even the greatest known scientific minds?

  And what of any weapons they may have fashioned? Where were they, and what would be the consequences if such ghastly creations fell into the wrong hands?

  That’s the sort of thing that’ll keep me up nights, Reyes mused.

  “I’m afraid Theriault’s out of luck,” he said. “According to Captain Desai, the Klingon Empire did in fact make official notification through the Federation Embassy here on the station of its intent to settle on Traelus II, well before you got there.”

  On the viewscreen, Nassir’s brow furrowed in confusion. “How’s it possible something like that was missed?”

  “Talk to Lieutenant Ballard,” Reyes replied. “You know those system glitches we’ve been having all over the station for weeks? The communications array looks to be just as prone to them as everything else.” Starbase 47’s chief engineer had assured Reyes that he and his team felt they were close to finally having a handle on the ongoing problems plaguing the station’s advance toward full operational capability, but at this point the commodore remained less than convinced.

  “So, we’re saying we’ve definitely lost Traelus?” Nassir asked.

  Nodding, Reyes replied, “Looks that way. The Empire’s notification was in order, and after review the Diplomatic Corps and the Federation Council have agreed that there’s nothing to be done. Traelus belongs to the Klingons now.”

  “The Tholians won’t be thrilled about that,” Nassir said, “but that would’ve been true even if we’d gotten there first. It’s awfully close to the Tholian border, and that’s before you take into account how much the Tholians like to shift their territorial boundaries on a whim.”

  Reyes knew it was a notion shared by many within the halls of leadership at Starfleet Command. Whereas the Federation would have been content to colonize the Traelus system—even as a cover for exploring Traelus II for further signs of the meta-genome or its creators—and leave the Tholians well enough alone, many of Starfleet’s foremost tactical minds worried about what the Klingons might do in such close proximity to Tholian territory. It would not be long before the Tholian government issued some form of protest at the Empire’s perceived encroachment, but how would the situation evolve or deteriorate from there?

  And what if the Klingons somehow stumbled across the meta-genome, and from there discovered Starfleet’s interest in it?

  “Stop trying to cheer me up, Captain,” Reyes said, attempting a small, humorless smile to soften the remark. “We’ll have to worry about the Tholians and the Klingons another day, and Ensign Theriault will just have to find another place to play. Anything else to report?”

  Nassir shook his head. “Only that we’re tired, and that some shore leave would not go unnoticed or unappreciated.”

  “Duly noted,” Reyes replied, tapping his fingers on his desktop. “I’ll do everything I can to get you some decent downtime once you get back, mission permitting. Safe travels, Captain, and we’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

  Touching his right forefinger to his temple in an informal gesture of salute, Nassir said, “Thank you, Commodore. Nassir out.” His face disappeared in a burst of static as the subspace connection was severed, after which the screen shifted to depict a condensed version of the station’s current status schematic as displayed on the larger viewscreen in Reyes’s office. The commodore studied it for a moment, noting the few lines of text in red that detailed systems currently being serviced by one of Lieutenant Ballard’s engineering teams.

  The sound of his door chime made Reyes turn toward the entrance to his quarters, and he frowned. Who would be calling on him at this hour, and in person, no less? “Come,” he called out, and was surprised to see Captain Rana Desai standing at the threshold as the door slid aside, her Starfleet captain’s uniform smooth and straight as though she had just donned it. Rising from his seat, Reyes glanced toward the chronometer on his desk. “Captain,” he said, his confusion mounting. “I’m sorry, did we have an appointment I’ve forgotten about?”

  Desai stepped into the room, and Reyes noted that unlike almost every other occasion on which he had seen her since that first meeting in his office, she was not carrying the data slate that seemed to be an extension of her body. “No, sir, this isn’t duty-related.” She paused, looking about the room before continuing, “I’m sorry, Commodore. Are you busy?”

  “Not at all,” Reyes said, gesturing with his hands to indicate that he was not otherwise occupied. “What can I do for you?” He heard her clear her throat, and she glanced at her hands, which were clasped before her and held near her waist.

  “I . . . I just left my office,” she said, “and I was wondering if you might like to join me for a late dinner?”

  Unable to keep the expression of surprise from his face, Reyes replied, “That sounds great, actually. I . . . I missed dinner. Paperwork. The life of the commanding officer, and all that.”

  Stop babbling, you idiot.

  Their first dinner had been a quiet, unassuming affair in the officers’ club, and while they had maintained a professional demeanor throughout the evening, Reyes could not help but sense that Desai had wanted something more, just as he had. Neither party acted on those apparent feelings, and their dinner concluded with Reyes returning to his office to catch up on reviewing backlogged reports, while Desai continued her efforts to settle into her new assignment. What Reyes wondered was whether the captain, like him, had simply sat at her desk, ignoring her work and ruminating on how the evening might have gone if either or both of them had chosen a different path.

  Swallowing the odd lump that had formed in his throat, Reyes asked, “So, what are you hungry for?”

  Desai seemed to ponder the question for a moment, and then Reyes saw her features soften before she stepped toward him. “I’ve decided I don’t want dinner. We can talk later about what to have for breakfast.” Reaching out, she grasped his head in her hands and pulled him to her.

  Well, this changes some things, was the last rational thought to pass through Reyes’s mind before he surrendered it and everything else.

  13

  Ambassador Jetanien had never liked waiting, despite the knowledge that waiting—and being able to make others wait—was a time-honored weapon in any diplomat’s arsenal. He employed it himself on frequent occasions, using it as a means of informing other parties that he was in control of a given situation, and that events would evolve and progress according to his agenda and desires.

  He was rather less enamored of the practice when it was utilized against him.

  Holding his hands together before him, Jetanien tapped his long fingers in rhythmic fashion as he waited for the image on his desktop computer monitor to show him something else besides a spinning crimson dodecahedron superimposed upon a black background. He had been staring at it for no less than five minutes, and was sensing his patience beginning to wane.

  One has to wonder if this species’ apparent obsession with punctuality is a ruse.

  Jetanien was almost ready to de
clare this venture a wasted exercise and terminate the connection when the image on the monitor shifted from stark, unmoving black to a sea of roiling blue. At the center of the image now stood an angular, crystalline silhouette, its crimson hue all but leaping through the screen. Boring into Jetanien was a pair of triangular pink eyes, the sole features on the face of the Tholian now staring at him from across dozens of light-years of interstellar space.

  “I am Sesrene,” the Tholian said, “special diplomatic envoy representing the Tholian Assembly. You are Ambassador Jetanien?”

  Jetanien nodded. “Indeed I am, Ambassador. It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance. As you no doubt are aware, the Federation has for some time now been attempting to engage your government in the interests of cooperation and peace.”

  “You do this even as you seek to encroach upon our territory?” Sesrene asked. “Do not think we are unaware of your aggressive expansion into the region flanking our borders. This does not seem to us to be the acts of supposed allies.”

  Well versed in Tholian xenophobia, Jetanien considered Sesrene’s words before replying, “Ambassador, the Federation has always demonstrated, through word and deed, restraint and respect when attempting to expand or simply explore beyond its borders. We view the sovereign claims of any civilization to be inviolable. Our surveys into the Taurus Reach are limited to worlds which harbor no indigenous populations or which are not otherwise known to have been claimed by another power. It is not the Federation with which your government needs to be concerned, sir, but rather the Klingon Empire.”

  On the screen, the Tholian appeared to lean closer, as though intrigued by the statement. “We know of some efforts by the Kling-ons to invade the sector of space you call the Taurus Reach, but according to our latest reports, their attempts to this point have been rather limited.”

  Seeing his opening, Jetanien said, “That appears to be changing, Ambassador. Indeed, the Klingon Empire has recently laid claim to a mineral-rich world in the Traelus system, which is very close to Tholian territory. It is but one of several such systems the Klingons are planning to conquer. Unlike the Federation, they are unconcerned with the welfare of anyone who might already be living there. Such people will simply become subjects of the Empire. This may expand to include allies of the Tholian Assembly.”

  “We will never allow such heinous acts,” Sesrene warned, though the tone of his voice even as filtered through the translation software running in parallel with the subspace communications relay still betrayed surprise at what Jetanien had reported. “Any form of military buildup in the Traelus system would provide a point from which to launch an offensive campaign into our territory. We cannot allow that to go unchallenged.”

  “I am sympathetic to your concerns, Ambassador,” Jetanien replied. Sensing the Tholian’s skepticism, he raised a hand and added, “A Klingon invasion of your territory presents a problem for us, as well, as the Federation wants no part of the conflict which surely would result, and in which we would likely find ourselves trapped. While it’s too late for us with respect to the Traelus system, we obviously would like to avoid such an incident being repeated.” What he of course did not say was that he was still angry at the fact that his failure to detect the spy working on his staff, Anna Sandesjo, had allowed her to inform her Klingon handlers about Starfleet’s interests in Traelus II, if not the reasons behind wanting to subject the planet to further scrutiny. There was nothing to be done about that, Jetanien knew, though he might well be capable of turning at least part of the situation to his advantage.

  “What are you suggesting?” Sesrene asked.

  Adjusting himself to a more comfortable position atop his glenget, a backless chair constructed to support a Chelon’s physique, Jetanien said, “That we work together, Ambassador, against our common adversary. Though our diplomats are locked in seemingly unending negotiations with their Klingon counterparts, anyone with any experience in interstellar politics knows that the Empire is simply using such talks to provide cover as they mobilize for their next armed confrontation. It is their way, and always has been. What you and I have is an opportunity to perhaps serve both our peoples and enable them to be ready when the Klingons finally choose to strike.”

  Sesrene seemed to consider that for a moment before responding, “For this to be of any use to us, we would need access to information which currently lies beyond our grasp, such as data on Klingon ship movements and targets for conquest. Are you in a position to provide such information?”

  “Officially?” Jetanien asked. “No, but as we both know, there are occasions where diplomacy must be conducted in the shadows in order to succeed.” It would not be difficult to obtain such intelligence data, he decided, particularly given his current role as one of Commodore Reyes’s only on-site advisers with respect to Operation Vanguard. Getting that information to Sesrene or the ambassador’s duly appointed representative might prove more challenging. Still, if the Tholians could be informed as to the location and activities of Klingon assets within the Taurus Reach—in particular when such assets posed a threat to Tholian security, as was the case with a possible Klingon base in the Traelus system—that might go a long way toward keeping their attention occupied on matters away from some of the more sensitive missions Starfleet ships would soon be undertaking elsewhere within the region. It was impossible to know how much time such a ploy might buy the Federation as it continued its own investigations into the Taurus Reach.

  Likewise, Jetanien reminded himself, you cannot predict whether what you propose might have other, costlier consequences.

  As always, there were risks to be considered, but to Jetanien, such overtures on his part might be a step toward leveling the playing field so far as the Tholians and the Klingons were concerned. His actions today could help his efforts toward eventually bringing both parties as well as the Federation to some form of negotiations, which he foresaw taking place right here on Vanguard under his own guidance. If all worked according to his plan, he might well succeed in forging a lasting agreement between the three powers.

  If his plan failed, he might well be responsible for embroiling the Federation in a massive, two-front war.

  So, let us not fail, then.

  “Allowing our respective peoples to become mired in conflict requires no effort or risk on our part, Ambassador,” Jetanien said. “However, I suspect you feel as I do and that you and I, given the roles we’ve chosen for ourselves, consider it our responsibility to help our leaders find a better way to resolve our differences. Surely, by working together we can present our governments with alternatives far more attractive than that of going to war with one another.”

  Sesrene paused, perhaps to consider Jetanien’s words, before replying, “You have given me much to consider, Ambassador. We will contact you shortly with our decision.” Before Jetanien could offer any kind of response, the Tholian’s visage disappeared and was replaced by the image of the rotating polyhedron, before that too faded as the computer screen deactivated.

  He sat motionless for several moments, reviewing the conversation that had just taken place. There could be no doubt that the Tholian ambassador would examine Jetanien’s offer from every possible angle. This would almost certainly include how to exploit such information so that it perhaps even turned the Federation and the Klingons upon one another, leaving the Tholians to collect whatever remained. Would they even be interested, given their demonstrated lack of desire toward anything within the Taurus Reach? That remained to be seen, but it was not something with which Jetanien could be concerned, at least for the moment. Embarking on the course of action he was envisioning was fraught with its own problems, not the least of which was how Anna Sandesjo fit into the equation.

  Not just Sandesjo, he reminded himself, but T’Prynn, as well.

  Based on his own observations as well as those of a few trusted assistants, Jetanien was certain that T’Prynn must now know that Sandesjo was a spy. Unsubstantiated accounts alleged that
the two women had engaged in at least one clandestine romantic liaison. If that was true, and given what Jetanien knew of Vulcan telepathic abilities, he saw no means by which T’Prynn could have avoided learning Sandesjo’s true identity. Therefore, if she did know, then why had she not yet elected to inform Commodore Reyes? Was it possible that the Vulcan was pursuing some other agenda, and that Sandesjo somehow fit into that scheme? Perhaps T’Prynn was a spy herself, and was now considering a means of manipulating Sandesjo for her own ends.

  Interesting.

  Though he had considered taking this information to Reyes himself, Jetanien had opted against such action. Keeping Sandesjo in place and providing what she thought was valuable intelligence data to her superiors might prove useful, at least for now, as he continued with his own plans, or until such time as he could find a more overt way of turning her presence here to his advantage. Perhaps T’Prynn had similar thoughts, in which case she certainly had a head start on Jetanien. He decided he also would wait and observe that developing situation, in the hope that there might be something there for him to gain, as well.

  And what of Sandesjo herself? Jetanien had of course given considerable thought as to what she might be planning. Were she to somehow gain the trust and confidence of the station’s intelligence officer, it could only help to further her mission here. Would T’Prynn see through such a ploy? If she did not, what sort of damage might that cause? And if she indeed was a spy, in what way might T’Prynn use this knowledge, and who stood to benefit from her actions?