“That
was a load of crap if I ever heard one!“
“Not
the words I would choose, but they certainly didn’t tell us the truth,”
Captain Veal agreed with Commander Westmore. “Novak gave us just enough to
keep us hoping that diplomacy will solve our problems.”
“And
you played right into their hands by suggesting the safe zones for the Alekians.
It will take them days, not hours, to come up with any proposal and once they
do, it will take the Council of Ministers however long they want to make up
their mind. Which of course will boil down to a ‘regretfully no, but still
no’. Then we are back to square one.”
“That
may happen, yes, but I believe we learned a few interesting things today. If you
think Novak only wanted to stall us - which I would agree to - why would he do
that? Can he have a real interest in keeping us in orbit around Talkha
forever?”
Westmore
started to grin. “He would only want that if he likes to keep us in his
sights, while the important things are going on somewhere else. Like where those
two missing ships are.” He nodded at his captain. “A logical conclusion,
well based on known facts.”
Before
Tarin could make up her mind if the compliment was meant to cover his own
failure to come to this conclusion or if he had just given her time to work it
out for herself, Westmore went on. “It’s time I go over the public Talkhan
files again. If those ships are on a military mission we would have likely heard
about it by now. If their mission is not military in nature they might have
recruited some civilian specialists. Talkha trains its soldiers to defend their
planet, but not to be scientists or diplomats.”
“A
good idea, but it could be that they are just lying in wait somewhere. Or
perhaps not.” Tarin worried her lower lip. “Without some serious stealth
capability, which we have no reason to believe they have, they would have to
stay far away from every trade route or inhabited planet, if they want to escape
detection for long. So far away in fact that I can’t see how that would give
the Talkhans any advantage, whatever their ultimate objective may be.”
“Difficult
to judge without knowing their objective, but I think we can work on that
assumption for now.” Commander Westmore drummed his fingers on the Isis’
console for a moment. “What do you make of that thing about cultural
stagnation Tretyak gave us?”
Tarin
sighed. “I wish I knew why he mentioned it, but I believe it was the only
truth we heard today.” Noticing Alex Westmore’s surprised expression she
continued, “Talkha has a stable society and economy, but only for now. Social
sciences were never my strong point, but combine a steadily growing population
with their adherence to family tradition for vocational choices and the system
is bound to crash sooner or later. Maybe not within the next ten or twenty or
even fifty years, but one day they will have too many bureaucrats and not enough
workers, or too few scientists, or more teachers than they need, or any
combination of that and more.”
Tarin
stared out the window at the planet slowly revolving under the Isis. “I
know it doesn’t sound like much of a problem, but with such a rigid society as
theirs it may well be more than Talkha can handle. Either they will reshape
their economy and technology to cope with the changes in their population, or
they will have to reform their whole society to introduce flexibility instead of
the caste-like system they now have. So far it has worked, but I believe Tretyak
was right. Talkha has to change soon, before they back themselves so far into a
corner they will never get out.”
*****
“You
seem rather quiet today, Lieutenant,” Tarin remarked as she walked towards the
turbolift, two steps in front of Lieutenant Foster.
“Well,
Ma’am, I got another visit from Miss Basiri today, out on the landing pad. I
think deep down inside she knows the same thing you told Commander Westmore.”
As they both entered the turbolift, Caleb Foster drew a deep breath and shook
his head. “I am just not sure what to make of it. I am glad she may be
starting to look for something more, something different, in her life. At the
same time I fear the Talkhans might have really backed themselves so much into a
corner there’s no way out for them, as you put it.”
He
looked at Captain Veal, who had just ordered the lift to move to the bridge.
“I suck at history and I don’t know jack about social sciences, but colonies
either succeed or they fail, but whenever one failed, it did so big time. Just
look at Nimbus or Turkana.” Foster drew a sharp breath and his fist hit the
lift’s wall. “I don’t want to see these guys go down like this, however
strange they seem at first.”
“I
thought you might make a good officer one day.”
Before
Foster had a chance to reply he was startled by Captain Veal’s cordial smile
that betrayed a confidence in him that he himself had only felt when piloting a
starship. “You have started to realize the Talkhans are not so alien as they
appeared to you at first and you started to care about them. If you ask me, that
is the one thing that sets a good officer apart from someone who just does his
job.”
Caleb
Foster thought about what Tarin had said until the lift reached the bridge and
the doors opened. His shift had just ended and he was free to go wherever he
pleased. Before Captain Veal left the turbolift the Lieutenant asked: “Is that
it? Is that what makes or breaks a good officer, that someone cares about
people?”
Tarin
Veal reached out to the opening door and leaned against the doorframe of the
turbolift, blocking Foster’s access to the bridge. “Yes. That’s what I
always believed.”
She
stepped onto the Valkyrie’s bridge and let the doors close behind her.
It took Caleb a moment to realize he was all alone now.
“Deck
Ten.”
*****
“Do
you think she will believe us for very long?”
“Oh,
I doubt she ever believed a single word of it.”
Minister
Tretyak was at first stunned, then infuriated by Novak’s calmness. “Then why
tell her all that in the first place? Veal isn’t stupid. She will figure out
that we wanted to stall her.”
“Which
is why we will go ahead with the second phase within the next seventy-two hours.
I have already arranged a transport for the materials we have accumulated so
far. All supplies we acquire from here on will be delivered directly to the
target zone, but that can’t be helped. If we make no mistakes we will soon
have secured the objective. It’s risky, but I see no other way.”
Tretyak
threw up his arms. “Can you please stop talking like this? Second
phase, objective, materials! As if I didn’t know what you are talking
about.” Talkha’s Foreign Minister slumped down on the chair behind his
office desk and tried to view the situation rationally. “Within the next three
days? So is this why you played this game with Veal, to give her something to
think about while we secure the objective?”
As
he answered, Novak rose and stepped to the window behind his colleagues desk.
“Not entirely. I doubt she will take long to figure out that we are stalling
her. There was another reason for this meeting.” Minister Novak folded his
hands behind his back and studied Tretyak’s reflection in the huge window. ‘If only he wouldn’t panic so easily I could let him in on
everything. Would make things so much easier.’
When
Novak didn’t immediately explain himself, Minister Tretyak tried to get into
his colleagues mind, something he always found difficult. Bertram Novak was too
fond of keeping secrets within secrets and, what was even more irritating,
letting everyone know that he did. “Veal can’t miss all the activity that is
soon going to happen. She will want to investigate, but if she does, she will
fail her duties, now that a diplomatic solution seems possible.”
Bertram
Novak turned away from the window and slowly nodded. “Yes. If she hadn’t
volunteered to mediate between us and the Alekians I would have played that card
myself. Once we give her our proposals for safe trade corridors she will be
caught between a rock and a hard place when we start moving our forces.”
‘What
a beautiful game this is,’
Novak thought and he almost laughed out loud. He could not anticipate every move
Veal made, but unlike her he had been trained for his position from childhood.
Starfleet captains had a reputation as good strategists, but they had to play by
certain rules, rules Novak knew and could use to anticipate Veal’s next moves.
‘Like a perfect game of chess.’
*****
Captain
Veal had just closed the com-link when the ready room’s door chime rang.
“Enter.”
Commander
Westmore waited at a respectful distance until Tarin had motioned towards one of
her visitor chairs. As he sat down he handed her a padd. “I found
something.”
“What
is it?” Tarin took the padd, but placed it on her desk without looking at the
contents.
“Four
months ago the University of Talkha chartered a small vessel for a field trip.
Two professors, ten students, and a crew of four. The ship returned twenty-six
days later, but the excursion was originally planned for forty days.”
‘Get
to the point,’
was what Tarin thought, but she kept silent. Westmore had worked day and night
on an analysis of every piece of information available from Talkha’s public
sources. If he wanted to take his time to get to the point he had more than
deserved it.
“The
ship returned four days after one of the secret meetings of the Council of
Ministers. That corresponds to a least-time return from two of the three planets
Talkha has recently added to its territory.”
He
paused and gave Captain Veal time to study the relevant data on the padd, which
only repeated the information they already had – to the best of their
knowledge neither of the two systems in question held anything of scientific,
military, or economic interest.
“I
could find nothing at all about this field trip. If a report about it was ever
filed with the university it has vanished. But it gets better. Four weeks ago
everyone embarked on another excursion – the same professors, students, and
crew. At the same time two members of the university’s history department went
on an extended leave. We have not been able to contact them and it seems safe to
assume they are part of this new expedition.”
Tarin
studied the files on the expedition personnel for a moment, then looked up at
Commander Westmore. “So we have geologists and historians going on an
expedition to an unremarkable world and two militia ships most likely providing
escort for them. And at the same time Talkha annexes that same unremarkable
world.”
“Yes.
I suspect everything else, including the privateer raids, is just a
diversion.”
“Agreed.”
Tarin Veal swiveled her chair around to looked out the window at the planet
below. “Whatever it is they found, it must be something big and I am willing
to bet that once we start to negotiate safe passage for the Alekians, the
Talkhans will demand we recognize the rest of their territorial claims in
return.”
She
turned her chair back towards Commander Westmore. “The one thing I don’t
understand is why the Talkhans are in such a hurry to buy all these weapons, now
that a diplomatic solution seems more likely than ever before. On the other hand
they may have discovered something so important that it justifies this military
build-up.”
Tarin
turned her desktop computer to Westmore and activated the recording of Rishana
Hagen’s message. “Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”
*****
“You
are right,” Commander Westmore agreed after viewing the away team’s report.
“Whatever they found, it must be something very important. Mines and jamming
equipment, that looks to me like they are setting up a planetary blockade.
Apparently recognition of their claims by their neighbors and the Federation
isn’t going to be enough. Whatever it is, once the cat is out off the bag it
will draw a lot of attention.”
“Yes.
Whatever it is must be one of the most significant discoveries of the
century.” Tarin Veal drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “On the other
hand we are not seeing the whole picture yet. Considering what we now know there
would be no need to advance their time-table so much. Once the Talkhans get the
Alekians and us into negotiating an agreement they could stall us long enough to
proceed at a slower pace. All this sudden activity is too frantic, too fast.”
Westmore
had to agree, but like Tarin, he saw another piece of the puzzle. “There is
more. We still don’t know why they are buying all these weapons. Mines and
jammers make sense for a planetary blockade, but half the equipment the Talkhans
tried to buy from the Ferengi wouldn’t fit on their ships. If it was intended
for the privateers they would have stockpiled it at a base equipped to handle
major refits. Promising the privateers upgrades to their ships would go a long
way to secure their loyalty, so why would the Talkhans keep it secret.”
“Which
is why I want you to get in touch with every ship we have within two sectors
from here. Find out all you can about ship movements in this region within the
last three or four weeks. Maybe no ship on Talkha can use these weapons, but
somebody can. If this is as big as we think, perhaps the Talkhans have brought
in some outside help besides the privateers.”
“I
am on it.” Alex Westmore rose, but then just stood there for a moment. “I
still think I should have been part of the away team.”
Tarin
looked up to him and reclined in her seat. “Considering what you discovered I
think it was a good idea to keep you here.” She slightly shook her head.
“No. Commander Enikal can take care of himself and Lieutenant Hagen knows what
she is doing, too. You may have a lot of training in undercover missions, but I
trust those two. Considering the information they have already provided they are
doing quite well.”
Westmore
just nodded his head half a centimeter and turned on his heel, leaving Tarin
alone in her ready room.
‘But
how are you
doing, Commander?’
she asked herself. ‘You are only here
because people opposed to our whole mission wanted it. Why is it you are not
doing anything to turn the Valkyrie into a failure?’
She had asked
herself the same question so often she was getting tired of it. Perhaps it was
time to ask Westmore himself, but he would never give her a straight answer. If
only she had full access to his real personnel record. Maybe it was time for
another chat with Admiral Avanessian, once she had the time for it.
*****
“Mind
if we join you?“ Reto Kevas asked.
“No,”
Cal Foster replied and gestured at the empty chairs around his table in Ten
Forward. As Reto Kevas and Tori Xedon took the offered chairs, the Lieutenant
added: “Would you two mind if I asked you a question?”
“Go
ahead.”
“What
is it?”
“I’ve
been thinking about the Talkhans a lot lately and from what I know both Bajorans
and Komari have a sort of caste system, so I thought you two could tell me a
little on how and why such a system works.”
Reto
Kevas shot Lieutenant Foster a curious glance. This wasn’t what he had
expected from the human pilot. “Well, it’s true that we Bajorans had a caste
system for a long time - in Bajoran the castes are called the D’jarras. But
the Cardassian occupation changed everything. It turned most of us into
soldiers.” ‘Or,’ he thought, ‘gun-runners,
collaborators or whatever else kept us alive.’ Kevas knew all too well
that not all Bajorans had become heroic freedom fighters, once freed from the
burden of their D’jarras.
Kevas
took a long gulp of his tranya. “Having been raised without the constraints of
the D’jarras it looks like a pretty silly system to me, but for my people it
worked for centuries.”
It
was obvious Caleb Foster had a hard time believing that. “But what if someone
didn’t want to take the job his caste, his D’jarra, required?”
“Well...,”
Reto Kevas took his time mulling about the question. “First of all, not many
people ever questioned the system. It had worked for a long time and everyone
had grown used to it I guess. And most D’jarras didn’t tell you what job to
take. If your... caste said you should be an artist it would have been up
to you to make the choice between becoming a painter, or sculptor, or musician,
or any other profession that was considered fitting for an artist.” He stared
down at his glass and tried to recall everything he had been taught about
Bajoran history. “And there was some mobility between the D’jarras. If
everyone in a family decided they wanted a change, they could all change their
family name and enter another caste.”
“And
if only a few members of a family wanted that change?” Lieutenant Foster
asked.
“That
wouldn’t have been possible.” Kevas shook his head. “Anyone going against
their D’jarra would have been shunned by society at best. He would have become
a pariah, forced to live outside society. At some times the consequence would
have been deportation, either to some remote part of Bajor or off-world, but
those periods of our history were rare. Still, it could happen.”
Both
Reto Kevas and Caleb Foster fell silent for a moment, one contemplating how
lucky he had been to be born into a world that allowed him to make his own
choices, the other wondering how much difference there was between a caste
system on a world of two billions and one on a world of only two million people.
When
the silence was broken it was done by Tori Xedon. “Uh, I don’t want to
interrupt, but... there is something I need to clarify.”
*****
“What do you make of that?” Ben Tucker gestured with his head to the table on the far side of Ten Forward before he turned to Tarin and Catherine.
“Foster?”
Tarin replied. “I think no one ever gave him a chance to be more than he was
or even imagined he could be more than an arrogant young pilot. All he needed
was a chance to be part of the team.” She fell silent as someone near their
table discretely cleared his throat.
“Good
evening, Captain. Counselor. Commander. Anything I can get you?”
“And
a good evening to you, Mister Neldon.” Tarin looked across the room at the
three young people deep in conversation. “What is it they are having over
there?”
“Tranya
I believe, Ma’am.”
Tarin
looked at Ben and Catherine and saw approval on both faces. “I haven’t had
that in a long time. Tranya it will be for us as well, Mister Neldon.”
After
crewman Neldon had left to see to their orders Catherine Lee asked: “From all
I know that’s a fitting description of the Talkhans – people who have never
been given a chance to be more than they are.”
Tarin
slowly ran her fingers through her hair as she considered the question. “It
looks that way, doesn’t it. But while I have my doubts that their society can
survive any fundamental change, the average Talkhan is not so different from
what I might have easily become.”
“Or
me,” Commander Tucker remarked.
“How
so?” Counselor Lee asked. “I know that Tarin’s parents are both scientists
and that she spent most of her childhood and adolescence with them, but how does
that apply to you, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Ben
Tucker shook his head. “No, I don’t mind.” He took the glass of tranya
crewman Neldon handed him and went on: “It’s no secret. My father is an
engineer.” He sipped the bright orange liquid, then took a large gulp. “Or
perhaps I should say he’s a craftsman. He restores machines. You will find
only a handful of people on Earth who know more about the technology of the 20th
or 21st century. If you visit a museum on Earth and look at some piece of
pre-warp Earth technology there is a chance my dad restored it or made the
replica on display.”
He
put down his glass and breathed loudly. “I learned a lot from him when I was
still a kid and I think I got my love of machines from him, but I never wanted
to dwell in the past like he did. Then again, if I hadn’t passed the Academy
entrance exam who knows what might have become of me.”
“So
you and Tarin both turned away from your family traditions because it was what
you wanted,” Catherine said. “If you did it because you wanted to, how
difficult will it be for the Talkhans to do the same, once they realize that it
will be necessary for their survival?”
*****
“Sure,
go ahead,” Cal Foster invited the Komari cadet and his accompanying smile came
without effort. He had become used to the Komari’s featureless eyes and these
days he thought of her as being less strange and much more cute than his first
impression had been.
“Umm,
you said that Komari have a sort of caste system, but that’s not true. We
place a lot of importance on what someone does, but birth does not determine our
career choices. Every Komari is free to apply themselves to whatever they
want.”
“I
am sorry that I got that wrong,” Lieutenant Foster admitted after a moment.
“I know your government is a meritocracy, but one that values achievements in
some fields higher than others. I just assumed that professions had the same
place in your society that castes, or the Bajoran’s D’jarras, have in some
cultures.”
Reto
Kevas followed the discussion with an amused smile on his lips that widened when
Foster admitted to his wrong assumptions. But when Tori Xedon replied the
Bajoran turned his undivided attention to her.
“On
Komarek we have a... hierarchy of professions. A scientist is considered more
important than, for example, an architect, who is more important than a
craftsman, who is more important than a salesman, and so on.”
Caleb
Foster’s eyes slightly narrowed. “So a profession is to your people what a
rank is to Starfleet?”
Tori
nodded, a gesture she had picked up during her first few weeks on Earth. “Yes,
that’s very close to it. But what makes it different from a caste system is
that no one is forced into a profession by an accident of birth. There are lots
of aptitude tests we all undergo during childhood and adolescence that are
designed to help us find out what we are best suited to, but none of the results
are mandatory.”
“But
I guess family history would make a big difference,” Reto Kevas interjected.
“Being raised by architects or craftsmen or whatever,...
that could influence how the aptitude tests turned out, couldn’t it?”
Tori
Xedon worried her lower lip for a moment, before she slowly replied: “It may.
I have never thought about it that way.” She fell silent again, but just when
Kevas and Caleb were about to speak up Tori found something to add.
“I
don’t think that’s really important. What is important is that any Komari
can ignore the aptitude tests and make her own choices. Look at it this way:
Komari use their profession and their given name to address each other, but
almost never their family names. Bajorans on the other hand place their family
name before their given name. As I understand it the family determined a
Bajoran’s D’jarra when that system was still in use.”
She
picked up her glass and sipped her tranya. “I think that says a lot about the
differences between Bajoran and Komari culture.”
*****
”I
am not sure, but I fear it will be a lot harder for them than you think,”
Commander Tucker answered the Counselor’s question. “I am hardly an expert
in social sciences, but what Tarin just said about Foster and being part of a
team reminded me of something taught in preparation for the bridge offer
examination.”
Catherine
Lee had always been a specialist on trauma psychology, but Starfleet trained its
officers thoroughly and she almost immediately knew what Ben was thinking about.
“You are referring to the balance between aggression and group cohesion.”
Ben
Tucker nodded and Catherine took a small sip of her tranya. She still couldn’t
recall all the details. “Let’s see,” she murmured. “Aggression can have
both positive and negative aspects. It can be motivating and destructive. The
positive side is curiosity, exploration, the desire for personal achievement.
The flipside are egotism, arrogance, violence.”
Those
were desires and drives that had been part of human nature since the first day
mankind had learned to walk on two legs, perhaps even longer. Humans and many
other species had learned to control those instincts, but not nearly as much as
they liked to believe. That insight was hammered into every counselor’s head
– intellect and instinct were often at odds, even in the minds of the most
capable Starfleet officers.
Catherine
continued on her train of thought. “It’s part of the hedonistic theory of
action. We all have a desire for success, for achievement, but in many cases
being part of a group allows us to get the sense of achievement we all crave, be
it the recognition of our peers, praise from our superiors, or the knowledge
that we make the universe a little safer for the people we care about.”
“Yes,”
Tarin agreed. “Channeling aggressive
instincts into productive tasks that lead to a sense of achievement and serve
the group at the same time is one of the basics of motivation and leadership
taught in command school. But I would never have thought of extending the same
idea of small-group dynamics to a whole society.”
She
raised her glass at her fiancé. “For an engineer you are a pretty clever
guy.”
“I
wish I wasn’t.” Ben Tucker sighed loudly. “So far the group, the social
unit, has played such an overwhelmingly important part for the Talkhans that,
once freed from that constraint, everyone’s aggression could emerge with a
terrible vengeance should the group cohesion disappear.”
Catherine
gulped. “Complete social disintegration.”
Ben
Tucker nodded and for a minute they all fell silent.
Finally
Tarin looked at the table across the room and cleared her throat. “I think
Lieutenant Foster was right when he remarked that colonies that fail always do
so in a spectacular way. That’s what may be in store for Talkha – not just
unemployment, not just the disappearance of family traditions, but the
resurfacing of instincts repressed for centuries. Unless someone can prevent it,
Talkha will join the likes of Nimbus and Turkana as a textbook example of a
failed colony.”
‘But
that won’t be me preventing it. I have my orders. Diplomacy,
intelligence-gathering, making sure we get from the Alekians what we want.
It’s not my problem, is it?’
Tarin downed the rest of her drink in one long gulp and gestured for crewman
Neldon to refill her glass.
‘Sanash!’
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