Star Trek: Brinkmanship (12 page)

So, instead, they drop the air car’s lights and put the engine into a low-power mode. They descend into
the small courtyard with a gentle, almost soundless
whoomph.
Before leaving the car, they dim their silvery flesh tones to a dull iron. Naturally, they check their weapons. They are not fools. They know the danger that their target might pose.

They cross the courtyard silently to the correct stairwell. They use their master codes to find and unseal the entrance. They pass like ghosts upstairs. At the door to the target’s billet, they pause to check what is within. It is like many other billets in this district: there is the seating space, the holoviewer, the heater, the gravity pocket on the anterior deck where some personal possessions are stacked, the bed, with its sole occupant fast asleep after the day’s labors. There are no surprises. Unsealing the door, they enter quickly and without fuss. The occupant, waking suddenly, cries out, but they are already there to muffle the sound. The contents of a hypospray are used to make the occupant unconscious, whereupon the comatose body is carried downstairs (this is the most awkward part) and secured in the back of the air car. The car lifts noiselessly, and not long afterward, the enforcers deliver their charge to the basement of the Department of the Outside, where numerous people are very eager to ask this particular individual numerous questions.

An efficiently executed, almost routine job, carried out by experienced people. And if anyone nearby heard a thing, and consequently felt fear, he did not call it that but instead reminded himself how much the Autarch must love his people to bless them with
enforcers whose function was to keep his servants safe and sleeping.

•   •   •

Day two of talks with the Venetans got off to an equally rocky start. Not because of anything Detrek was doing but because of her absence. The Venetans in the room muttered away, but Rusht sat silently in her seat, her expression becoming more severe and remote with every passing minute. Vitig exchanged a few quiet words with Alizome and then also sat and waited in quiet and dignified silence.

Crusher eased forward in her seat and tapped Picard on the shoulder. “What’s going on? Where is she?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Want me to go and ask Dygan?”

They glanced across the table to where Dygan and the other Cardassian juniors sat huddled together, whispering.

“I’m not sure he knows much more than we do.”

After about fifteen minutes, Rusht slowly began to gather up her data files. The assembled Venetans indicated their approval. The cheerful and friendly Venetan from the previous day leaned over to Crusher and said, “She’s not going out of her way to win any friends, is she?”

On the whole, Crusher agreed. And when, three minutes later, Detrek did finally put in an appearance, her demeanor was hardly that of someone who wanted to apologize for her tardiness in arriving for a critical
set of talks. She strode into the room, a padd in one hand, and pushed her way magisterially through the crowd to get to her place. She didn’t sit down. She stayed standing and looked around the room witheringly. The buzz of Venetan dislike rose, peaked, and then simmered down.

“I’m glad I have your full attention,” Detrek said.

Crusher’s heart went out briefly to Dygan, who seemed to be shrinking into his chair at every word.

“And I hope that the whole of your convention is listening to this.” Detrek held up her padd. “I have been in conversation with my government this morning. The observers we sent to Outpost V-15 reported back last night. Based on their observations, and information supplied to us by . . . 
alternative
sources here on Venette, we are in no doubt that Outpost V-15 is being fitted out for military use—”

Picard started. “Has she quite lost her senses?”

Crusher put her hand over her mouth. Had she heard that correctly? Alternative sources? Had Detrek all but come out and said that the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau was operating within the Venette Convention?

The whole room was in an uproar. Detrek’s voice grew louder to compensate for the racket. “This is an
outrage,
Rusht!” she cried. “We came to your world in good faith. We have no history of disagreement with you, and this is how you choose to repay us—”

Rusht rose from her chair, a tall woman with at least as much steel in her as in her Cardassian accuser.
The room fell silent, and yet Crusher was left in no doubt of the respect in which the Venetans held this woman, and of their trust that she would know how to respond on behalf of them all.

“I shall not dignify your accusations by asking you to prove them, Detrek,” she said softly, and the room agreed with her. “You were indeed invited here in good faith, but from the moment you entered this room, you have done nothing but demonstrate yourself unworthy of any trust.” She leaned down to speak quickly to Vitig and then looked over to Alizome, who nodded. “We shall not continue with this,” she said. “Not while you and your contingent remain in this room.”

She turned to leave. Vitig followed, and Alizome, uncoiling from her place, took up the rear. The Venetans cheered and stamped their feet in support of the delegates, and booed loudly when Detrek strode out of the room. Over the noise, Crusher could hear Jeyn curse.

“That’s it,” Picard said. “Detrek’s effectively removed herself from these negotiations. If we’re going to keep on talking to the Venetans, it will be without the Cardassians here.”

“Akaar is going to hit the roof,” Jeyn said.

Picard pulled himself out of his seat. “I’m going to speak to Dygan, get him assigned back to the Federation mission. I think we’re going to need him more than ever now. Jeyn, see if you can get to see Detrek. We need to meet with her about this at once. Damn it, she could have warned us about this!”

He went around the table to where a shell-shocked
Dygan was sitting. Crusher, standing up to go speak to Ilka, felt a tap on her arm. It was the friendly Venetan.

“You need to find some better friends!” he said, and Crusher very nearly found herself agreeing with him.

The backroom negotiations got nowhere. Rusht confirmed what Picard had guessed: the Venetans were no longer willing to speak to the Cardassians. Detrek had gone too far, and not even an apology was likely to make Rusht agree to speak to her again. Detrek, meanwhile, had shut her doors and was, seemingly, in conference with her castellan. And the day was not over yet.

Captain Dax contacted the
Enterprise
to brief them on the presence of the P96 solvents and their significance in relation to navithium resin.

Picard frowned. “Navithium resin?”

“It’s a substance deadly to humans,” Crusher said. There was a cold, horrible sensation in her stomach, as if she was suddenly carrying a great weight. “It’s used in bioweapons.”

“
Bioweapons?
Dax, you haven’t found some of this substance on Outpost V-4?”

Dax shook her head.
“No, and that’s my problem. Yes, there’s the presence of the stabilizing compounds. Yes, the Venetans have confirmed that the Tzenkethi have asked if they can stock certain ‘resinous compounds’ on the base. Yes, there’s a large medical facility being run by Tzenkethi who could all be bioweapons experts for all I know. And yes, the base is being refitted to cope with large
Tzenkethi ships. Whether these will be merchant freighters or warships, your guess is as good as mine.”

“That’s a great deal of evidence,” Picard said. “But all circumstantial.”

“Exactly. Every single element is innocuous by itself. But put it all side by side and it looks horrifically like the Tzenkethi are intending to put bioweapons along the Venetan border with Federation space
.
And given what Detrek said earlier, I don’t think they’ll be stopping with our border. This could affect most of the powers in the Khitomer Accords.”

Bioweapons
.
On three borders.
It was too easy, Crusher realized, to imagine the horrors that could follow. Far too easy.
We’ve seen too much in these last years.

“But what does your mission specialist have to say about all this?” Picard asked. “What’s his opinion?” A pause followed Picard’s question. He frowned. “Captain Dax, what does Commander Alden have to say?”

Dax sighed.
“This is very difficult, Captain, and what I’m about to tell you I’m saying in the strictest confidence. Again, I have no evidence, but . . .”

“Go on.”

“I’ve got serious doubts about Peter Alden.”

“Doubts?” Picard said in alarm. “About his loyalty?”

“No, no, nothing like that. About his judgment. He’s certainly suffering from stress—”

“If we weren’t suffering from stress after the last
few years,” Crusher said softly, “we’d all be very ill indeed.”

“This is something else.”

Crusher looked at Dax in sympathy. “Just say it, Dax. It might turn out not to be true, but you’ve got to put it out there. You know it won’t go farther than us.”

“I think it might be possible—just possible, mind you—that he’s suffering from a mild form of paranoia. I mean where the Tzenkethi are concerned. I can’t say for sure, my counselor hasn’t interviewed him at all, but . . .”
Dax shook her head.
“Something isn’t right. I can’t entirely trust his judgment where the Tzenkethi are concerned. He sees a threat where there might not necessarily be any.”

“And he therefore presumably believes that the evidence is not circumstantial but definitive proof,” Picard said.

“That’s right.”

“But is it not possible, Dax,” said Picard, “that despite any irrational response on Commander Alden’s part to the Tzenkethi around him, his assessment of the situation may be correct?”

“Of course it’s possible. It’s also possible that he’s wrong. You’ve met the Venetans now, Captain. Do you think they want to rain bioweapons down on us?”

“No,” Picard said immediately. “No. I think they are angry with us, and that they are often confused or even shocked by us, but I don’t believe they have murderous intent.”

“Nor do I. The Venetan I’m dealing with here, Heldon, she’s intelligent, aware, principled, sometimes she’s even friendly. Like anybody rational, she’s appalled at the thought of biological warfare.”

“Which leaves us stuck,” said Picard. “Either we accuse the Tzenkethi outright of intending to weaponize Outpost V-4—”

“In which case we no doubt find ourselves thrown out of negotiations like Detrek,” said Crusher.

“Indeed. Or else we wait for something else to happen that gives us grounds to make this accusation.”

“While any preparations that
are
being made to weaponize Outpost V-4 continue unhindered,” Crusher concluded. “Jean-Luc, we have to stop this.”

“How, Beverly? What firm evidence do I have?”

The chime of Dax’s combadge prevented their discussion going any further. They heard her exchange a few brief words, and then she turned back to them, looking serious.

“Captain?” said Picard.

“You know that ‘something else’ we were worried might happen? I think it’s happening. That was my XO. He’s just informed me that our long-range sensors have picked up twelve Tzenkethi merchant ships en route to Venetan space. They’re twelve days from crossing the border and fourteen from arriving at Outpost V-4. Call me suspicious, but I have a feeling that’s the navithium resin on its way.”

“Twelve days before crossing the border,” said Picard. “And slightly more than a fortnight before
the Tzenkethi Coalition might have the capability to assemble bioweapons and launch them at Starbase 261. And from there . . .”

Crusher put her hand on his arm. “From there, on into Federation space.”

Week 2
Confrontations

7

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: 23 skyturns
Estimated time to destination: 28 skyturns

Instruments indicate that the fleet has been scanned by long-range detectors.

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

TO:
Admiral Leonard Akaar, Starfleet Command

STATUS OF TZENKETHI FLEET:
ETA at Venetan border: 11 days
ETA at Outpost V-4: 13 days

P
icture embassies on red alert. Analysts and policy makers and specialists up to their necks in data and up to their eyeballs in stimulants, trying to see some sort of pattern through the mist. Picture tired and fractious people trying to second-guess what other tired and fractious people are doing. Frightened politicians shouting for answers before they make decisions that are going to have consequences for millions. Picture being the one tasked to come up with the answer. Picture getting it wrong.

The problem is, you can’t know the whole of other people’s minds. You can’t know whether they’re being frank, or dissembling, or clueless, or triangulated somewhere in between. In the end, you have to make a judgment call. Do you believe what they say? Or do you think they’re lying? What do you do when your allies are causing as much trouble as your enemies?