“How
do you like piloting the Valkyrie instead of the Hawk, Lieutenant
Foster?”
Caleb
Foster looked over his shoulder at the captain. The Valkyrie was on
course for Talkha and there was little for him to monitor on the helm controls.
“It’s good to pilot something again, Ma’am, but it’s just not the same
as flying a ship like the Hawk.”
“So
I would imagine, but you do understand why we couldn’t use you as pilot for
the Hawk on this mission, do you?”
“Yes,
Ma’am. I would do a lot to pilot a fast little ship like the Hawk, but
loosing my manhood isn’t even on that list.”
Commander
Westmore just snorted, but at the tactical station Lieutenant Alvarez laughed
out loud, as did several other members of the Valkyrie’s bridge crew
including Caleb Foster himself, even if his laughter came a bit reluctantly.
When
the laughter had died down Lieutenant Alvarez addressed Captain Veal. “I know
we have our orders, but wouldn’t it be best if we just went in and shut down
the Talkhan privateers?”
“I
wish we could,” Tarin replied. Her
hand found her neck and kneaded it as she went on: “I despise this thinly
veiled piracy as much as you do, but the Federation has no jurisdiction in this
region of space. The legality of the Talkhans’ claim may be very much in
doubt, but we can’t take any direct action.”
“This
sucks,” Lieutenant Foster exclaimed, only to go on in a much more subdued
tone. “Sorry, Captain, but it looks to me like we are doing the wrong thing
here. Wouldn’t it be best to help the Alekians and move against those... privateers,
despite all the legal mumbo-jumbo?”
Tarin
Veal looked the young Lieutenant straight in the eye. “I can understand your
point of view, but the answer has to be a firm No. We can’t place ourselves
above the law, however justified it may seem at a time like this. Expedience may
be enough for politicians, but it should never dictate our actions. We
are Starfleet officers, sworn to enforce the laws of the Federation and the
policies of the duly elected government of the UFP.”
“Even
if that works against the UFP’s best interests?” Foster asked carefully.
“Especially
then.” Tarin rose from her seat and stepped to the helm station. As she leaned
down to Lieutenant Foster she lowered her voice so much that Caleb had to strain
his ears to make out her words. “Even someone as cocky as you should realize
that without a clear chain of command and due regard for the policies of the UFP
we would descend into chaos. Can you imagine each starship CO doing what he or
she thinks is right, instead of obeying orders?”
Tarin Veal gave the young Lieutenant no time to reply and moved away from the conn station again. “Commander Westmore, you have the bridge.”
Captain
Veal crossed the few meters to her ready room and looked over her shoulder, just
as the door slid aside. “Lieutenant Foster, please join me in my ready
room.”
*****
“Why
don’t you have a seat.” Tarin motioned towards the couch and the young
helmsman took the offered seat, just as the captain settled into the chair
behind her desk.
Tarin
leaned back and crossed her legs. “I guess you are not satisfied with what I
told you on the bridge, are you?”
“I
don’t get it, Ma’am. I mean, I can understand what you said about the chain
of command and following orders, but doesn’t the commander in the field often
have a much better knowledge of the situation than everyone back on Earth who
gave those orders?”
“A
few times I thought so myself and acted upon it, either following my CO’s
decisions or making my own,” Tarin admitted. “I was lucky that each and
every time Starfleet decided it had been the right choice and, based on the
results we achieved, decided to overlook regulations. What you have to
understand is that the line between acceptable departure from protocol and
outright mistakes is very thin.”
Captain
Veal took her time to gather her thoughts before she went on. “Starfleet had
two hundred years to develop protocols that cover every conceivable situation we
may encounter. At the same time Starfleet captains are allowed a certain
independence in making their own decisions. That is because Starfleet trusts its
senior officers to act on their orders as best as they can, even if it may not
always be possible to confirm in the field how said orders should be
interpreted. It is always a difficult decision, perhaps the most difficult
decision a starship captain can face.”
She
uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “You, Lieutenant Foster, are far from
being fit to make these decisions yourself.”
“Oh, I never wanted to make decisions like that,” Foster replied. “All I want to be is a pilot, not a commander.”
“Well,
that is too bad.” Tarin sighed. “I was hoping I could trust you with a
little more responsibility than just being a helmsman.”
It
took Lieutenant Foster a moment to recover his speech. “Ma’am?”
“Mr.
Foster, I’ll be frank with you. When you came aboard this ship I had my doubts
that you would ever become a respected member of this crew. From what I hear you
are sometimes still a bit abrasive with the enlisted crewmembers, but all in all
I am impressed by the way you handled yourself during the last two months. What
I would like to hear from you, before we discuss anything else, is why this
change happened?”
Foster
drew a sharp breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had noticed the change
in his behavior, but never before tried to put it into words. “Permission to
speak freely, Ma’am?”
When
Tarin Veal answered with an inviting gesture and a “Go ahead” Caleb Foster
slowly started his explanation: “I am good at what I do, really good. Wherever
I was posted I was always the best pilot. I know it sounds arrogant, but it’s
still true. Being a helmsman is what I have been for years and I guess if I
couldn’t make everyone realize how good I am I would have lost some of my
self-esteem.”
He
rested his arms on his knees and looked down on the deck, drawing another deep
breath. “I never cared what everyone thought as long as I could think of
myself as the best of the best. When I got posted here I tried the same pattern
again and it just didn’t work. I knew that Galaxy-class crews are picked from
the very best, but I never expected what I found here.” He raised his head and
looked Captain Veal straight in the eyes. “Let’s face it. Kevas did at least
as good a job during that simulation as I did and I thought he was just a
crewman, a mechanic in way over his head.”
When
Tarin heard Foster refer to Reto Kevas by his given name a warm smile crossed
her face. “Go on, please.”
“I
guess what changed me was the realization that around here I am no longer the
top dog, not even as a pilot. I looked up Lieutenant Hagen’s record and I
guess she is about as good as I am. Hell, it goes for everyone, not just her.
Everyone on this ship can pull more than their own weight.”
“So
you thought you had to work even harder to stay on top, but at the same time you
knew you could only achieve the recognition you wanted if you became part of the
team?”
“I
couldn’t have said it any better myself,” Foster replied and grinned.
Tarin
softly laughed and rose. Pausing at the replicator she looked over her shoulder
at Lieutenant Foster. “Do you think you are ready to prove yourself as part of
the team and not just as a pilot?”
*****
The
Valkyrie's captain's yacht descended below the clouds and her occupants
got their first view of Altassa, capitol of the planet Talkha.
"Looks
more modern than I had anticipated," Lieutenant Alvarez remarked.
"These
people had two hundred years to make themselves at home here. What did you
expect, some rag-tag shantytown, like in a Western holonovel?"
"No,
Captain, I have seen enough frontier worlds and colonies to know how unrealistic
that would be, but skyscrapers like these I had not expected. After all Talkha
is about fifty or sixty years behind the Federation technology-wise."
As
Lieutenant Foster turned the yacht into a slow spiraling descent and engaged the
autopilot he, like Tarin and Felix Alvarez, studied the city below them. The
skyscrapers were truly impressive –fingers of glass and concrete that
stretched out to reach for the clouds and the stars beyond. But as impressive as
they were they formed only the nucleus of a much larger city. Past the parks
that encircled the city center smaller buildings were laid out in a regular
pattern of concentric rings, connected to the center by streets arranged like
the spokes of a wheel. 'Or rays of a
star,' Caleb Foster thought as the bright orange sun of Talkha broke through
the cloud cover and rays of light dance across the city.
Outside
the ring of residential quarters, at least that's what Cal took them for, six
industrial zones were arranged around the city in regular intervals. And
industrial zones they were, there was no mistaking that. Smokestacks reached
into the sky, belching out clouds and flames. Huge warehouses, cooling towers of
power plants, huge pipework running between and through the enormous buildings
that had to be factories. As the yacht circled low over the city for the last
time before turning on her final landing vector Cal Foster could even see large
cranes loading containers on transport vehicles, some wheeled, some hovering
half a meter above the streets on cushions of air or electromagnetic force.
Lieutenant
Foster switched from his programmed autopilot course to the landing beacon.
"We are on final landing approach." He pointed out the cockpit window.
"We should touch down right there, at the edge of the city center, beyond
that line of trees."
"Very
good. You know what to do, Lieutenant Foster?"
"Yes,
Ma'am," the pilot replied, anxiety mixing with self-confidence in his
voice. "If I get the chance I'll look around, talk to the locals without
making it look like a social survey. Don't worry, I can managed that."
*****
When
Tarin and her two officer's stepped from the Isis their welcoming group
was already waiting at the edge of the landing pad. Two men and two women in
brown and gray suits stood in front of a large hovercar, flanked by two men in
dark blue uniforms who had their hands close to their holstered guns. A large
truck was parked ten meters behind the group and two more guards stood near its
rear. In addition to their sidearms both carried rifles slung on their back.
That
the guards stayed a few steps behind when the civilians moved forward to great
the Starfleet officers did little to make Tarin feel more welcome. From all she
had learned about Talkha she doubted that the politicians and diplomats of this
strongly regimented world needed so much protection. It seemed paranoid to bring
four armed guards to great three unarmed visitors. And for a simple honor-guard
it would make little sense to keep half of them in the background and have only
some equipped with rifles.
Before
Tarin could devote any more thought to it she had reached the four Talkhans who
had come to greet them. The older of the two men cleared his throat and extended
his hand. "Welcome to Talkha. I am Minister Tretyak."
Tarin
shook the hand that was withdrawn at the first opportunity and put up a smile.
"Captain Veal of the Federation starship Valkyrie. Thank you for
seeing us on such short notice, Minister Tretyak. Allow me to introduce two
members of my crew, please. Lieutenant Alvarez, my chief of security and
Lieutenant Foster, the Valkyrie’s helmsman."
Tretyak
nodded towards both men, before he half turned and gestured towards the hovercar.
"If you will come this way, please. My office is only a few minutes
away."
"Yes,
of course," Tarin replied. "There is just one other thing. A small
favor I would like to ask of you if it’s not too much of an inconvenience.
Lieutenant Foster has expressed an interest in learning more about your world.
Do you think it would it be possible for him to look around your city while we
discuss matters of interstellar diplomacy?"
Tretyak
thought about it for several seconds before he motioned one of his female
associates forward. "That should be possible, but I think it would be best
if Ms. Basiri accompanied your Lieutenant to answer any questions he might
have."
*****
Before
he sat down opposite the Talkhan, Caleb Foster shot a quick glance out the
second story window at the yacht, but there was no activity at all on the small
landing pad. They had taken a short walk without talking much and Caleb had
quickly decided he needed a more comfortable surrounding to get anything from
the Talkhan. "So, you are a diplomat."
"No,
I am not. I am an executive assistant."
"I
see.” Foster really wanted to scratch his head while he figured out her
disapproving attitude, but just folded his hands on the table instead. “So you
organize things, keep everything running smoothly at the ministry, that sort of
thing?"
"Yes,
that is an important part of my duties." Before Karena Basiri could add
anything she noticed the waitress who had silently stepped close to their table.
"Perhaps you would like something to eat or drink?"
After
Foster and Basiri had both ordered coffee and some pie she had recommended the
Talkhan picked up the conversation again. "And you are a pilot, as I
understand it. That is quite a high ranking profession. How many generations has
your family been pilots, if I may ask?"
"Uh,
none," Foster carefully replied, the impression that he was treading on
thin ice breaking through his rising attention to the Talkhan's beauty. "My
father was a history teacher and my mother a painter."
"But,
but..." she stared at him in sheer disbelief. "Your father a scholar
and you mother an artist, how could you be anything but,..." it took her
several seconds to work it out, "a scholar?"
"What
has my parents' occupation got to with anything? Don't tell me you only became
an assistant because it runs in the family?" Cal Foster was as stunned as
the Talkhan.
"Executive
assistant," she shot back and Cal replied with a quick "I am sorry. I
apologize."
As
they noticed the waitress and leaned back to give her room to place cups and
plates on the table Foster and the Talkhan both thought about how strange the
other was.
*****
They
had eaten in complete silence, both hardly looking up from their plates. Caleb
finished his pie and downed it with the last of his coffee. The pie had been too
sweet for his liking, tasting like a mix of honey and strawberries with a bucket
full of sugar thrown into the mix, but at least the coffee was good. Strong,
bitter, almost enough to forget the taste of the pie.
"Okay,
perhaps we should try a fresh start. Seems our societies are pretty different.
Perhaps you could just tell me a little about your world and I'll tell you a bit
about mine. Would that be okay with you?"
Karena
Basiri took a small sip and eyed the Lieutenant over the rim of her cup.
"That may be for the best, but I am not sure I will be able to understand
your ways, even if tried."
Caleb
slowly nodded and tried to recall his basic social science and diplomacy
lessons. "To be honest, I feel the same way, but than again, the Federation
is based on the idea of getting along despite all our differences."
The
Talkhan still looked troubled, so Foster tried his best to put her at ease:
"Why don't you show me around? I can't go too far from the yacht, but
seeing your society at work may help me better understand your people."
When
they walked through the park near the landing pad a little later, neither Basiri
nor Lieutenant Foster had spoken more than a few words. "Tell me a bit more
about this city," Caleb took the initiative. "During our landing I
could see the industrial zones and I take it between them and here are mostly
residential sectors, but what about the city center?"
"What
about it?" she cautiously replied.
"Well,
what purpose does it serve? I guess it's the seat of your government, but what
else? All these skyscrapers can't be just filled with ministries and government
offices."
"No,
of course not. There are all kinds of businesses here, from shops and
restaurants to pretty much else you can imagine. And a lot of people live here
too. Many people who run businesses in this part of the city live close to their
shops and of course our leaders have residences here."
For
a few minutes they walked on in silence again, as Caleb tried to make sense of
the Talkhans and their way of life. "And your leaders, your politicians,
they have a long family tradition too, I guess."
"Yes.
Don't tell me on your homeworld it's any different?"
"Well,
actually it's quite different back on Earth," Caleb started and told her
about the United Earth Republic. He had become so used to it that at times he
had to rack his brain to remember all the details, but in the process he learned
a few things about Basiri and her world too. She was quite intelligent, catching
every obvious detail he forgot to mention and while she was still baffled by the
differences between their cultures she relaxed the more Caleb talked about his
world instead of asking about hers.
"But
it makes no sense at all," Karena concluded after Cal Foster had finished.
"If practically everyone can become a leader among your people there is no
way you can be certain they have the skills and knowledge to serve efficiently
in their offices."
"No,"
Caleb agreed, " we can't be certain, but there is a lot of information
available to the public, so we can form a pretty good picture of who we are
voting for and besides, if someone doesn't fulfill our expectations, we can
always vote him out of office at the next elections. But there is something I
was wondering about your system here on Talkha."
"What
is that?"
"How
can you be sure that your politicians don't become complacent? Forgive me if
this sounds like a stupid question, but there seems to be no incentive for your
leaders to do the best they can. With all the traditions supporting them, their
position seems to be assured, even if they don't try their best."
*****
"So
you are saying that the system works for two basic reasons. On the one hand
family traditions ensure that everyone who takes up a certain job or position
has the best training and qualifications for the job."
Basiri
replied with a nod and an "Uh-huh", before Foster went on. "On
the other hand everyone just knows their place in your society, so they won’t
do anything to change the status quo, because everyone is happy doing what they
do and it’s what works best anyway?"
"I
think you are simplifying our culture too much, but you are more or less
correct." They had rounded the landing pad twice by now and Karena Basiri
sat down on a bench near the restaurant they had left an hour ago. "What
makes your culture look so strange to me is how insecure everyone must feel. You
go through all your childhood and adolescence without knowing what your place in
life will be. I could never imagine how that feels. Our family traditions don't
just give us the best possible preparation for our future duties, but they make
sure we all know what our place in our society is."
Lieutenant
Foster sat down at the far end of the bench. "So it's all a kind of
safety-net."
"No,
it is not." Basiri’s earlier resentment resurfaced with a vengeance.
"You only need a safety-net when you are insecure or exceed your limits. I
have never done that and I have never felt insecure in my whole life. Can you
say the same for you?"
Foster
drew a long slow breath. "No, I can't." Before the Talkhan had a
chance to comment, the human went on: "There were times when I had wished
that I had made different choices, done something else with my life, but I don't
think that's important."
"Go
on." She briefly wondered why she had said it, but she never before had a
chance to talk so much to an alien. Foster was a strange man, but at least he
was open and direct about it.
"The
advantage my culture has, at least I think of it as an advantage, is that we can
all do what we want. We make a choice about who and what we want to be.
Sometimes we have to strive very hard to realize our ambitions, but that we set
our own goals can provide a strong motivation. I don't think I would have become
as good a pilot as I am, if I hadn't wanted it so much. We may lack your feeling
of security, but we make up for it in determination and motivation."
Karena
looked straight across the landing pad as she tried to figure out what Foster
had just said. "You think we are complacent, lacking drive to become more
than we are?" It was a strange thought, but in a twisted way it seemed to
make some sense.
"That's
how it looks from where I sit, but I told you that the Federation is all about
embracing diversity. There are a lot of different people in Starfleet and the
UFP and at times I can’t understand half of them, but I can still work with
them." He rested his arm on the backrest of the bench and turned towards
her. "You Talkhans are who you are and that's just that."
At
that moment Foster's combadge chirped and he was quick to reply.
"Lieutenant Foster."
"Lieutenant,
this is captain Veal," the reply sounded from the tiny communicator.
"We will be arriving at the landing pad in about ten minutes. Please have
the Isis stand by for launch."
"Yes,
Ma'am," the Lieutenant replied before he tapped his combadge off. "I
am afraid we will have to cut our conversation short. Perhaps we can continue
another time?"
"Maybe
we will, but I don't see why we should. Our cultures are just too different to
provide much common ground."
"Perhaps."
Foster nodded and started to walk towards the Valkyrie's yacht after a
simple "Goodbye then."
He
had covered about twenty meters when the Talkhan stopped him with one final
question. "Lieutenant Foster, do you think I could get access to your
ship's database if I wanted to learn more about your world?"
The
human turned around and considered the question carefully. "I don't know.
Would be best if you asked the Captain, but I don't see why not." Again he
nodded, but this time it was a much more friendly gesture accompanied by a
smile.
*****
"How
did you like your stay on Talkha, Lieutenant Foster?" Tarin asked as the Isis
lifted off and the city of Altassa fell behind.
"I
saw little of the city, but it looked like a nice place. The people on the other
hand..."
"Go
on, Mr. Foster, just tell me what you think about them."
"Well,
Ma'am, I think they are pretty strange. That woman I spoke to, Basiri, I think
it never occurred to her even once in her life that she could be anything but
what her family tradition turned her into. I just don't get it. I mean I can
understand that it makes them feel safe and content, but how can that be enough
for them?"
"Because
they have never known another way of life.” Captain Veal reclined in her seat.
She could imagine how hard it was for Lieutenant Foster to comprehend Talkhan
society, but a part of her could understand these people only too well. “Think
about it, they never had much contact with offworlders, and when they did, their
diplomats and traders handled it. Most Talkhans probably never realized that
there could be another way of life. And even if they did, it must have looked to
them like their own ways were superior to any alternative. Their government
works, they are provided for, everyone knows their place in life. Compared to
that every other system must look chaotic, full of unnecessary risks and
chances."
"Yes,
that was the reaction I got from Basiri. It's just hard to understand." Cal
Foster looked over his shoulder. "By the way, Basiri asked me if she could
get access to our database and I told her to ask you about it. Did she do
that?"
"Yes,
she did. I asked her to contact us later today, so we can work out what access
to grant her, but I am willing to allow her access to all our public files and
history database." Tarin raised an eyebrow at Lieutenant Foster's smile.
"What do you make of her curiosity?"
"I
am not sure. I hope it's something else, but it's possible she just wants to
confirm for herself how chaotic our society is. Maybe she just needs to
strengthen her own belief in her world’s system by comparing it to our
ways."
"An
interesting perspective. You know, Lieutenant, we may make a good diplomat of
you one day."
*****
"How
was your visit with the Talkhans?" Moira O’Shea asked.
"Oh,
Minister Tretyak and his people were polite, listened to everything I said, and
we got nowhere." Tarin Veal slowly lowered herself into the seat at the
head of the conference table, instead of just slumping down like she wanted.
"I took great care to explain to the Minister how irritated the Federation
is about the measures recently taken against Alekian shipping in this sector. In
turn he informed me how much his government regretted any disruption caused to
Federation interests, but tried his best to let me know that Talkha would not
change its position, without ever directly saying so or indicating why they took
this position in the first place." Tarin sighed and brushed a strand of
hair from her face. "What was your impression, Lieutenant Alvarez?"
"It's
just a gut feeling, but I thought they were pretty nervous, especially Minister
Tretyak. Not so much about the Valkyrie, but more about you, Captain. But
I could be wrong about that."
"No,
I don't think you are," Tarin said. "I have studied the reports from
our earlier political contacts with Talkha and I thought Tretyak was a good
diplomat, but when I talked to him he appeared quite different. Now that you
mention it I can only think of it as a deep-seated mistrust. Be that as it may,
I have a com-conference scheduled with Tretyak and the Talkhan minister of
commerce early tomorrow morning. Perhaps that will get us somewhere, but not
without further information. Commander Westmore?"
"I
have little direct information. I gained access to the Talkhan public records
easily enough, but all decisions concerning territorial claims or the privateers
have been declared secret for reasons of planetary security, so there never was
a public vote on them."
"Makes
sense I guess. Maybe it was too much to hope for a stroke of luck so early in
our investigations."
Alex
Westmore smiled one of his rare wry smiles. "There is still a lot to learn
from the Talkhan records. At least two thirds of the secret debates during the
last six months have been initiated by Bertram Novak, the Talkhan minister of
defense. I have the computer working on any correlation between secret debates
and publicized events. With some luck we will have a good idea what these
decisions lead to by tomorrow morning."
*****
“Hi
darling.” Ben placed a quick kiss on Tarin’s cheek and got out of her way.
She was making pancakes and from the looks of it she was prepared to make quite
a lot. Sometimes she was cooking because she enjoyed it and sometimes she did it
to distract herself, to get her mind off something that troubled or frustrated
her. This smelled like the latter, but it also smelled quite good.
"How
was your day?" Ben asked as he sat in one of the dining chairs.
"Don't
ask. I have no idea where to start negotiating with the Talkhans. As long as I
can't figure out what their goals are it will be difficult, perhaps impossible,
to strike a deal with them. I just hope Dar and Rishana can provide us with some
information that sheds new light on the situation, but I don't expect to hear
from them for another two or three days."
"And
you think information on the Talkhan's goals is all you need? From the mission
briefings it looks like their society itself could provide some serious
complications."
"I
don't think so. The problem is that the Talkhans simply don't want to negotiate.
They listen attentively to all I have to say, graciously nod their heads, agree
to my arguments, and then just say no to everything I suggest. They claim it’s
all a temporary measure, but never care to explain why or how long it is going
to last. But enough of that. How was your day, Ben?"
"Pretty
routine. It's time for enlisted performance evaluations again."
"No
problems there I trust?"
"Not
at all. I am satisfied with everyone's performance and some of those guys are
doing an outstanding job." Ben Tucker’s pride in his people was almost
tangible, radiated outward and warmed Tarin more than the heat from the stove.
Behind
her back, unaware of Tarin’s first genuine smile of the day, Ben continued:
"Take PO Reto for example. Maintenance of the Hawk doesn't require
much of his time, as we rarely use it. So he helps out where he can and when that
doesn't occupy him he studies engineering theory. He does a great job and
everyone likes working with him. If he keeps this up we should promote him to
Petty Officer Second as soon as possible."
"Let's
wait until the next evaluations in two months. If you still feel the same about
him then, just run that recommendation through Dar's office to me. It's too
early to give him the full promotion to PO2, but I should be able to give him a
provisional promotion, if it comes endorsed by my Chief Engineer and XO."
"Sounds
like a plan," Ben said through a big grin. "Speaking of plans, have
you made any for this evening?"
"I
would like to study Talkhan history some more. I know about their relations to
their neighbors during the last few years, but it can't hurt to study the
history of Talkhan foreign relations in more detail." She looked over her
shoulder, an apology on her face, but a trace of her smile still remained
around her eyes. "I am sorry, I hope you are not too disappointed."
"No."
Ben made a vague gesture, but winked as he went on. "I expected as much. I
know how things go once you embark on a new project or mission. Don't worry.
Today I'll be content with a home-cooked dinner and a few minutes of your time
if you can spare them."
"Don't worry," Tarin replied, a loving smile playing across her face, "you will get both."
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
