Read Star Trek: Brinkmanship Online

Authors: Una McCormack

Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Adventure, #Media Tie-In, #Fiction

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BOOK: Star Trek: Brinkmanship
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Now he turned to address the whole room and, through the recording devices, the whole Venette Convention. He swung his hand out toward Alizome, and, with the gesture, implicated her government and her Autarch.

“Isn’t it possible,” he said, “that they’re
lying
to you? That they were lying to you before we arrived, that they’ve been lying to you throughout these talks, and that they will continue lying to you until their bioweapons are placed on your base and your three beautiful systems are put into the front line of a bitter war among the major powers? Isn’t it
possible
?”

The room fell terribly, frighteningly silent. Crusher gripped her hands around her knees.
I know they’ve said they prefer plain speaking,
she thought,
but does
anyone
want to be spoken to so plainly?

Alizome unraveled from her seat. “This is slander! Captain Picard, how often will you harass my people? Not content with attacking our ships, now you attempt to destroy our friendships—”

“Speaker Alizome,” Picard replied, “I am not here to talk to you. I am here to talk to those delegated by the Venette Convention to speak on their behalf. You claim to support their right to self-determination and
yet you prove that to be a lie every time you speak on their behalf.”

That, Crusher saw, had hit its mark. The consensus around the room collapsed as quickly as it had formed, and every single Venetan seemed to want to make his or her opinion known. Alizome raised her voice in an attempt to be heard over the noise. A mistake, Crusher thought. She was only proving what Jean-Luc had said.

“Such an accusation cannot be allowed to stand!” Alizome cried. “Unless you withdraw it at once, I shall advise the Autarch to close your embassy on Tzenketh and expel all your diplomats.”

“Be quiet!” said Rusht, banging the palm of her hand against the table.

Everyone fell silent. Resting her hands flat upon the table, Rusht addressed Picard. “Will you withdraw your accusation?”

“No, I will not.”

“And will you order Captain Dax to send Peter Alden to Outpost V-4 and speak to Heldon—and Heldon alone!—to answer her questions?”

“No, I will not. But I have some questions for
you,
Rusht. Will you accept our offer, made in good faith, of alternative medical supplies? Will you ask your friends to turn their ships around?”

Rusht hesitated. Crusher, holding her breath, leaned forward in her seat. She could see the doubt in Rusht’s mind. She watched her look around the room, trying to determine whether there was any consensus to be found in the faces around her. Crusher could not
tell what that consensus might be, but Rusht seemed to know.

“No,” Rusht said, “I will not.”

There were some aghast cries around the hall, but more, Crusher thought, there was a strong sense of approval. Rusht, whatever her personal misgivings, had done what they wanted her to do.

“Then regretfully,” said Picard, and again he seemed to be addressing the whole Venette Convention, “I must tell you that the militarization of Outpost V-4 will not be permitted. I have consulted Negotiator Detrek, and she has confirmed with her superiors, as I have with mine, that neither of our governments can allow those Tzenkethi ships to enter Venetan space. If the ships try to cross the border, they will be stopped, boarded, and their crews taken prisoner. Is this clear, Rusht?”

“It’s clearly an act of war,” said Alizome.

“It’s clear, Captain,” said Rusht. She looked very old now, Crusher thought, and bewildered, as if all the rungs on the ladder of her understanding of the world had suddenly collapsed.

“We’ll leave now, Rusht,” Picard said. “With your permission, I will take all Federation and Starfleet personnel with me on board the
Enterprise.

Rusht nodded her consent.

The Federation contingent departed, surrendering the room to Alizome.

12

FROM:
Civilian Freighter
Inzitran,
flagship, Merchant Fleet 9

TO:
Ementar Vik Tov-A, senior designated speaker, Active Affairs, Department of the Outside

STATUS:
Estimated time to border: 9 skyturns
Estimated time to destination: 14 skyturns

FROM:
Captain Ezri Dax
, U.S.S. Aventine

TO:
Admiral Leonard Akaar, Starfleet Command

STATUS OF TZENKETHI FLEET:
ETA at Venetan border: 5 days
ETA at Outpost V-4: 7 days

D
ax went down to the brig and stood beyond the force field looking in. Alden pulled himself up into a seating position. They stared at each other across the barrier between them.

“So,” Alden said. “Made up your mind yet what you’re going to do?”

“No.”

“Ah.” He gave her a chilly smile. “So you still think I’m a potential saboteur?”

“You’ve not said anything to convince me otherwise.”

He stood up and slowly made his way toward her. Soon they were standing only a couple of feet apart. “In that case, you should hand me over.”

“It would prevent a war,” she pointed out.

“For the moment, anyway.” He licked his lips. “It won’t be the Venetans who interrogate me, you know. Whatever they say. The Tzenkethi will persuade them to hand me over. Trust me. They’re very persuasive.”

She waited for him to continue.

“Do you know how they treat enemy agents, Ezri? I do. I’ve seen the effects. They’ve no respect for anyone who is not Tzenkethi. We’re impure, sources of potential contamination.” He laughed. “How do you respect a virus? You can admire its complexity, you admire how well it works to achieve its ends, but even then you study it only to find out ways to defeat it. No, they don’t respect us. The higher echelons barely respect their lower grades.” He placed his hand upon
the force wall and stared directly at her. “Did you know that there’s a caste of Tzenkethi bred not to speak? Can you believe that? The scientists decided that they didn’t need to speak in order to perform their functions. They’re the sick ones. It’s a sick society, a wrong society, a
bad
society. We’re right to oppose them and we’re right to hate them.”

Dax drew closer. They were face to face. “You are making a mistake,” she said, “if you’re still thinking of me as Ezri Tigan. I am Dax. I’m the sum of many parts. I’ve been a mother, a father, and the lover of both men and women. I’ve been a diplomat, a legislator, a pilot—yes, and a killer. I’ve seen countless friends die. I’ve outlived thousands of them—and still died eight times myself. I’m older than you think—and I’m much less patient than ever. If I can stop a war by handing you over, Peter Alden, you’d better believe I’d do it.”

He blinked. Suddenly he seemed very young—and very vulnerable. His face was pale and clammy. He turned away from her quickly, and sat down again, deflated. He folded his arms and closed his eyes. “Then go ahead and do it. It’s only what I expected would happen one day.”

She left and strode toward her ready room. She was sure that Heldon wouldn’t harm him, but she could not be certain that was true of the Tzenkethi. And while she trusted Heldon—trusted her more than she did Alden, whom she’d known for years—how long would Heldon be able to resist Tzenkethi pressure?
Heldon had said that she was afraid. And that fear would be fertile ground for the Tzenkethi to work on, to persuade her to hand Alden over to them.
That sickness,
Dax thought.
None of us are immune. Not even those of us old enough to know better.

Bowers came to find her.

“We’re done here, Ezri,” he said. “The talking’s over. A blockade of the Venetan system is about to begin. We’ve received orders to rendezvous with the
Enterprise
on the border.” He looked at her sympathetically. “You have to make a decision about Alden.”

“I know.”

They walked back slowly to the bridge. “As well as our ships,” Bowers said, “Cardassian ships are being dispatched to provide support. The Tzenkethi fleet is moving in response. As I say, you need to make a decision about Alden.”

They reached the bridge, where Dax gave the orders to set a course to rendezvous with the
Enterprise.

“Commander Alden?” Bowers asked quietly.

On balance, Dax thought, Alden had probably planted that bomb. But she wasn’t going to leave it to the Tzenkethi to get the truth out of him. Besides, she had made him a promise before sending him on the mission to the starbase.

I won’t let you down, Peter.

“Commander Alden stays where he is,” Dax replied. “I’m not handing over a fellow officer.”

Bowers exhaled slowly. “An executive decision, Ezri?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t the one having to make it.”

“I think that’s what the extra pip is for, Sam.”

•   •   •

The Federation was leaving Venette. Glinn Dygan, uncertain of his immediate duty, stood by a wall in the atrium of the Hall of Assembly and tried to look inconspicuous. Not easy for a Cardassian in this place, particularly one of Dygan’s size and, worse, in uniform. The stream of people exiting the meeting hall and coalescing in gangs of two and three to dissect events shot him angry—even poisonous—looks as they went past.

It was a relief to see Doctor Crusher on the far side of the atrium. She waved in greeting and slowly pushed her way through the crowd toward him.

“Dygan,” she said, “the Captain asked me to find you. You’re with us.”

Dygan slowly exhaled. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said. “I’m not sure I could—” He left his sentence unfinished, but Crusher nodded her understanding. He could not serve Detrek. “Well,” he said. “We tried.”


Some
of us tried.”

His face paled and he dropped his head. She touched his arm.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.”

“Thank you, Doctor, but I can’t help feeling responsible for what my people have done here—”

“You can’t be responsible for that. Only for yourself. And you’ve acquitted yourself admirably. The
problem was that some people came here wanting a fight. Not just Detrek. Alizome too. That’s all it takes.”

He nodded slowly and looked around the atrium. “I suppose we should leave. I doubt we’re welcome here.”

“I suppose so.” Crusher reached up to tap her combadge, but her hand stopped partway there. She was looking across the room. Dygan, following her gaze, saw Rusht.

Rusht was very frail. She walked slowly, leaning on Vitig for support. As she passed through the crowd, the Venetans fell back, opening up a pathway for her to pass through unhindered, murmuring their thanks and respect. Dygan dropped his eyes. He felt ashamed looking at her, as if he was in part responsible for her sudden decline.

“Dygan,” Crusher said. “Come with me. One last chance.”

She pushed her way purposefully toward Rusht. Dygan followed as quickly as he could. When they reached the two Venetans, Crusher said, “Rusht. Please. May I speak to you?”

Vitig glared at her. “Have you and your people not done enough damage already?”

“The damage so far is nothing compared to what we’ll see if we don’t stop this,” Crusher replied. “Rusht, I’m a doctor. I took an oath to cause no harm. I don’t know what your people know about war, but it’s
terrible
. Whatever horrors you’ve imagined, it’s a hundred—a thousand—times worse.” She was speaking
very quickly. “I’ve sat by friends and been unable to do anything to save them. I’ve told other friends that their loved ones have died. Your worlds are beautiful, Rusht. Your people are gracious and wise—but in this respect you are innocents. I don’t want you and your people to see all that I’ve seen since I last came to your world.”

“Then go away and leave us in peace!” Vitig snapped. “Take your ships away from our borders. Let us be friends with whoever we choose—”

“Your friends mean us harm, Vitig,” Crusher said. “And if these medical supplies are indeed as innocent as they claim, then the secrecy and threat in which they’ve been cloaked sickens me. Do you know what navithium resins do to human flesh? I do. I’ve seen what the burns are like. I’ve seen the state of human lungs that have breathed in air thick with navithium. If you had seen that, you’d understand why we react with such horror even to the suggestion of such weapons close to us. My oath as a doctor—to do no harm—means I cannot simply go away and leave you in peace. Because the same courtesy is not being extended to me.”

The atrium had fallen silent. Dygan held his breath. Rusth, who had been listening quietly, but with attention, looked around. “Where is Alizome?” Her voice was weak and trembling. “Our friend should have the chance to reply to this.”

“Not Alizome,” Crusher said firmly. “These are
your
worlds, Rusht—”

Too late. Alizome, passing through the crowd like
a streak of lightning, reached Rusht’s side. She grasped the old woman’s other arm. “Are they distressing you?” she murmured. “They should have left by now.”

“Alizome.” Desperation had crept into Crusher’s voice. “You can stop this. Please, stop it!”

“That is up to you, Doctor.” Her eye fell on Dygan. “You may wish to begin by curbing your Cardassian friends. This latest threat is surely beyond even that bloodthirsty people.”

BOOK: Star Trek: Brinkmanship
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