Chapter 12
Chief of Staff’s Office
Building 1, Federation Headquarters Complex
New York
Colin Groves slapped the PADD down on his boss’s desk and stared down at her with a self satisfied smile. She glanced at him, one eyebrow crooked, then looked down at the screen.
“There’s the job done,” he all but crowed.
The PADD showed the latest issue of the Federation Herald, one of the few pro-Baxter news outlets still out there. The headline read: Starfleet Admiral resigns; Claims that he was forced out dismissed by Command.
Myriam grunted, then glanced at him. “Yes, I already know about it. L’mpec’s replacement is in with the President as we speak.”
“Oh,” Colin said, feeling a distinct sensation of deflation as he fell back into his chair.
It seemed like a feeble reaction after what he had been through over the past few days. There had seemed to be one obstacle after another. Although J-L’s cousin had done as he had promised, and his contact in the Press Corps had managed to get Colin an unofficial meeting with the Starfleet Commandant, it had been far from easy to reach a compromise with the man. Two long days of negotiations had led to the President’s office agreeing to increase spending for a new experimental starship design supposed to revolutionise space combat, while on Starfleet’s side, Admiral L’mpec had resigned, allowing the Press Corps – in the form of Lieutenant Benouakhir – to announce a retraction of his former statements. After all of that, Colin had been hoping for a bit more enthusiasm from his boss.
Myriam seemed to sense his tone and looked back up at him with a tired smile. “You did good, kid. Really you did. Unfortunately, although we’ve managed to put this fire out, we’re still facing a hell of a lot of pressure from Starfleet to launch some kind of retaliatory attack against the Klingons.”
A few days before, Colin would have nodded along and bitched about Starfleet’s constant war-mongering, but he couldn’t help think back over his conversation with J-L’s cousin. Now’s as good a time as ever, he thought. “Maybe they’re right.”
Myriam’s neck almost cracked as her head snapped up. “What?” She sounded incredulous.
Holding his hands up as if to ward off any attacks, he shook his head. “Calm down, Myr. All I’m saying is, the Klingons are obviously yanking us around. As long as they can keep us from retaliating, they can prepare for another attack. Or they can strengthen their defences for the day we finally decide to do something about it. We lost a lot of good people in those attacks. Maybe it’s about time we called them on it.”
“Is that Colin Groves, Deputy Chief of Staff, talking? Or Starfleet?” Myriam’s voice dripped with barely concealed irony. Colin didn’t rise to the bait, forcing his voice to calm instead.
“A bit of both, actually.” He was finding it hard to put his thoughts into words. Finally, he just said the first thing that came to mind. “Don’t you ever feel we’re not doing our jobs properly, Myr? The people of the Federation elected us to protect them, all of them, from all the dangers that are out there. Everyone was so optimistic after the end of the Occupation – it really seemed like the Bashir Proclamation might actually take form. Instead, the Tholians and half the Klingons dropped out of the Alliance. The Earth Conference turned into a joke. Then the Plague hit and we lost Vulcan. Now all of this with the Klingon Empire. Can we really look at ourselves in the mirror every morning and tell ourselves that we’re protecting the citizens of the Federation?”
Myriam looked at him for a moment, her face hard as stone. “You done?”
He knew he should probably shut up, but the things that Damien had said seemed to have gotten deeper beneath his skin than he had thought. “No, Myr. Seriously. What exactly are we doing here? We’re so worried about opinion poles and next term, we’re sticking our heads in the sand.”
His boss’s eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to say something, but she got cut off by the sound of the door sliding open behind them. Colin turned around and saw J-L stood in the doorway. From the look on his face, he didn’t have good news.
“What is it J?” Myriam snapped. “We’re kind of busy here.”
“I think you should look at this.”
He walked into the room without being invited, nodding to Colin, then handed her a PADD. Colin looked at him questioningly, but the Communication’s Director just shook his head and looked away. By the time Colin turned his attention back to Myriam, her jaw had tightened noticeably. He watched her eyes flick from side to side as she read whatever was on the PADD.
“What is it?” he asked once she was done.
Instead of answering directly, she handed him the PADD. He started to read, then looked up at her.
“This is a joke, right?”
She waved for him to keep on reading.
The PADD held a report from the Terran Post, one of a handful of anti-Baxter news outlets that had been renowned on the campaign trail for spreading a number of false rumours in the run up to the election. The journalist writing the article claimed to have gained possession of an internal memo from S.I to the President, detailing recent findings relating to General K’mpack’s links to the High Council, and specifically Empress Likana herself. According to the news report, Starfleet Intelligence had clear proof linking the attacks to the Klingon ruling caste.
Colin finished reading, then looked up at Myriam. “Tell me you didn’t know about this.”
Instead of denying it, she heaved a sigh and pushed another PADD across the table to him. Colin didn’t touch it. He only needed to glance at it to know that it was the very report the Post claimed to have a copy of. He felt a surge of anger, followed by a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Come on, a little voice said. You knew this was going to happen one day.
Still, he demanded, “Why the hell wasn’t I told about this?”
“We felt that you had enough on your plate with - -”
“Don’t handle me, Myr,” he snapped.
“Fine,” she said, eyes hardening like Vulcan dust crystals. “Considering your prior relationship with Starfleet and your close proximity to them during this crisis, we felt…”
“You didn’t trust me.”
Myriam nodded. “I’m sorry, Colin, but that’s the way it is.”
“I can’t believe you!” He jumped to his feet, too angry to remain sitting. He pushed past J-L and headed for the door.
“What was I supposed to do?”
He swung round to face her. “Talk to me about it! I could have found someone else to deal with Starfleet. I should have been kept in the loop! Dammit Myr, you hired me to be your right hand man.”
“I made a decision, Colin. I still feel it was the right one.”
“Well, you were wrong. God, Myr. How could you bury this? What are you going to do now?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m going to have to go to the President. When Starfleet find out we hid this from them…”
It took a moment for that last piece of information to filter through to his brain. He gaped. “You mean… You’re telling me Starfleet Command wasn’t informed?”
Myriam shook her head. She seemed more tired than contrite. “The President put pressure on S.I Chief Bolland to keep the report in-house. For now.”
“In-house? They’re Starfleet Intelligence for God’s sake.”
“I know that Colin. I also know that they work for the Federation, not Commandant Livok. Listen, this is how it’s going to work, ok? We can’t afford to have some gun-toting maverick with a starship deciding to launch another galactic war. So either shut up and get onboard, or leave.”
He stood there for a moment, his jaw working, just staring at her. Then he turned and walked out.
He was halfway to his office when J-L caught up with him. He didn’t stop or slow, letting the other man quicken his pace to keep up.
“Don’t take it like this, Colin,” J-L said, his accent deepening as it always did when he was forced to make a physical effort. “You know she was only doing it to protect the President.”
“Oh really?” That brought Colin up short. He spun to face the other man, who took a step back. “Protect him from what exactly? From doing his job? Dammit, J-L, this isn’t what I signed up for! We’re supposed to be here to stand up for the citizens of this Federation.”
“Please!” J-L rolled his eyes. “Are you really that naive?”
“I guess I am,” Colin said and stormed off. J-L didn’t bother to follow him this time.
When he reached the atrium to his office, he found Nargle jumping up and down nervously. When he saw his boss, the small Ferengi squeaked.
“What is it?” Colin growled.
“I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I said she should wait that she couldn’t just go in but she said you wouldn’t mind, that you were friends and that she wanted to surprise you and that it would be ok and I didn’t have a choice!” That last ended in a moan. Colin frowned, trying to make sense of what Nargle was saying. Finally, he shook his head.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The woman in your office.”
“What? You let some woman in my office?”
“She said she wanted to surprise you.”
“And what the - -“
He broke off when the door to his office opened and he saw her standing there. His mouth dropped open, then he swung on Nargle.
“Don’t let anyone in my office. Ever again.”
Then he pursued her into the office. As soon as the door closed, he rounded on her.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The young woman he had last seen waiting to enter the President’s office with the Eugenics faction smiled ironically. “Well that’s friendly. You treat all the girls this way?”
“Only those who lie to me,” he snapped.
“Lie?” Her eyes widened in a parody of an innocent lamb. “When did I lie?”
“How about not mentioning the fact that you’re genetically engineered?”
“Technically that was an omission and not a lie. And we prefer DNA-enhanced to genetically engineered.” She raised her hands when he opened his mouth to reply to that. “But that’s fine. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
He snarled. “How couldn’t you tell me?”
“Why should I have? You’re a man and I’m still a woman no matter how enhanced I might be. I liked you. We spent the night together, which was… nice and now I thought it might be even nicer to go and have a meal together.”
He decided not to react to the emphasis she had placed on the word ‘nice’. Those were some of my best moves. No, don’t go there. Stay on track.
“You have to be kidding me,” he said finally.
“Why? Because I’m a freak?” She seemed determined to bate him and he refused to allow her to draw him into that conversation.
“No, of course not.”
“That’s what you thinking though, isn’t it?” she pushed him. “Some genetically engineered monster who’s going to try and take over the world.”
He hated to admit it, but that was part of the problem. The Eugenics group had been around on Earth ever since the beginning of the Occupation, the result of a small faction of humans who willingly joined the Dominion in return for their expertise in genetic engineering. Although for decades they were considered collaborators, when the Resistance truly began and the war erupted, the Eugenics joined the rest of humanity in throwing off the Dominion yoke. And ever since they had been kept as far away from power as possible.
“I don’t like people hiding things from me,” he said finally.
“You do work in politics, right?”
That cut a little too close to home and he sighed. “What exactly do you want?”
“A meal. Dinner. In a nice restaurant. Preferrably with flowers and candles and music.”
He snorted. “So you can find out what the President plans to do about the Eugenics faction?”
“No, so I can find out where you grew up.”
He hesitated. There was something about her, something very, very attractive. But he couldn’t. There were too many complications in his life as it were. Slowly, he shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
To his surprise, she smiled. “I thought you might say that. Well, in case you change your mind, I’ve left my card on your desk.”
She walked towards the door, stopping next to him. She was so close that he could smell her perfume, a mixture of coconut and some other, unidentifiable aroma that reminded him of the night they had spent together. He felt his heart start to pound and he could only gaze deep into those big blue eyes.
“And you will call me,” she said.
“How do you know?” His voice sounded breathless, weak.
“Call it genetically engineered female intuition.”
And then she was gone. Leaving Colin to wonder what the hell he was going to do next.
Office de Concorde
Admiral Kovat, the new Starfleet liaison to the office of the President, stormed out of the Office de Concorde, his face dark as a thunder cloud. The two Starfleet security officers charged with the President’s protection stepped rapidly out of his way, while both of his aides hurried after him, keeping a safe two or three steps back. They had probably never seen him so angry, he thought bitterly.
The trip up to the shuttlepad on the top of the headquarters’ building flashed by in a red tinged blur. That arrogant, stubborn, self-aggrandising bastard! Kovat still couldn’t believe Baxter’s reaction to the news of the leaked memo – he hadn’t even seemed sorry to have ordered the Starfleet intelligence chief to sit on highly classified information. And he certainly hadn’t been ready to change his tune on the Klingons. Damn him! Damn them all!
His personal pilot, a young human fresh out of the Academy, took off the moment Kovat was on board. He piloted them safely up into the mid-morning traffic and towards the Starfleet complex in nearby Conneticut. Kovat spent the trip reading the news coverage of the leaked memo and going over and over the President’s reponse in his mind. Bastard!
Once he was safely back in his office, he collapsed into his chair and stared out the window. The forests of northern America spread out before him, cocooning the complex in green. Not for the first time, he wished for the familiar colours of Cardassia Prime. When Starfleet Command had approached him to take over Admiral K’mpack’s role as official liaison officer between Starfleet and the President, Kovat had been reluctant. He had been hoping to return home and take up a position in the Cardassian command complex.
A message from the Company, though, had quickly quashed that idea.
Speaking of whom…
Surreptiously, he turned around to look out into the outer office. As he had hoped, his secretary seemed to have stepped out. Checking regularly for signs of anyone coming, he activated the switch beneath his desk, erecting a dampening field around his office, to make sure no one could listen in. Once he was sure that it was securely in place, he brought up the comm system, accessing a hidden sub-routine only he had the access address to. Keying in his code, he waited for the transmission to go through. Moments later, the white-whiskered face of his contact within the Company appeared.
“How did it go?” the man demanded without preamble.
“I did what you asked,” Kovat said. “I’m sure you saw that the memo was leaked exactly on schedule. How by the Prophets did you get a hold of something like that, by the way?”
“We have our sources.”
“Within the President’s office?”
“Everywhere.”
Kovat swallowed, then nodded. “Well, I leaked it to that fool who works for the Post. And I confronted the President about it.”
“And?”
“Things didn’t go according to plan.”
The Company man’s eyes hardened, the blue turning cold as polar ice on Cardassia Prime. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the bastard is still digging his heels in,” Kovat said in frustration. “He’s had the report for who knows how long and it still hasn’t pushed him to take action against the Klingons. The President and his people seem to think they can ride the public outcry and come out on the other side without having to declare war.”
The Company man didn’t respond, his eyes growing shadowed. Kovat didn’t bother asking any questions, and simply sat in silence, wondering how his contact would react. Finally, the other man sighed.
“Very well. We will just have to push him into a position where he has no other choice. Give the Federation news service a smoking gun to wave over the holonet. Something that not even Mr. Baxter can ignore.”
“How?” Kovat asked, feeling nervous at the course the conversation was taking.
“That doesn’t concern you. You just keep pressurising Mr. Baxter about the Klingons, and keep preparing your battle plans. We will take care of the rest.”
Though all he wanted was to remind this man that he was talking to a Starfleet Admiral, Kovat only nodded. “And what about Redemption?”
“Everything is on schedule. Your man Sarine has done a good job. Our operative onboard has been quite impressed with how he has handled the obstacles we’ve put in his way. A necessary evil, I’m afraid. At least this way the Laurentii will be as desperate as we need them to be when that ship arrives.”
Kovat desperately wanted to know exactly what the Company had planned for the Laurentii and Redemption, but he knew he would not get a straight answer. He nodded. “Is there anything else you need from me?”
“For now, no. Stay focused on your part of the plan: the Federation must retaliate against the Klingons if our plan is to succeed.”
“I remember.”
“Good. Everything is falling nicely into place, Admiral. Soon, the Federation will be at war, keeping everyone’s attention elsewhere. Redemption will be safely out of harm’s way. We will get our hands on that technology, Admiral Kovat, I can assure you of that.”
Once the screen went black, Kovat deactivated the dampening field and turned around to stare out of the window again. Not for the first time, he wondered what he had gotten into when he had allowed the Company to recruit him. They seemed to have the same goals as he did – to keep the Federation from ever falling to an external force like the Dominion again – but the more he was drawn into their plans, the more he wondered what their endgame really was. And who they really were.
More importantly, he wondered what role Ba’el Sarine and the USS Redemption had to play in all of this.
