A cascading rain of holographic alien glyphs descended around Maddox and Cybel as the pair analyzed the contents of the Kan-Uut computer core in Valhalla’s primary computer lab.
Standing just outside the shower of data, Raffale studied another holographic interface, searching for patterns. “Good thinking to bring all this gear onboard, Commander.”
“It made sense to grab it at the same time as I beamed you and the others aboard from the slaver ship. Though Starfleet has many rules about interrogating prisoners, they have almost none about interrogating their technology.”
“Pity there wasn’t enough left of the Regoth ship to recover,” Raffale reflected. “They’re clearly the more advanced species of the two.”
“Not that it helped them much after I deduced their interstitial coordinates. Their ships react to anti-matter warheads just like anyone else’s,” Cybel mused.
“What is it we’re looking for again?” Maddox asked, his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders and his unshaven, unkempt appearance. He was having difficulty focusing, courtesy of his sleep being continuously disrupted by the nightmares generated by the crew’s non-corporeal tormentor.
“I want to know where this coalition of theirs is headquartered, or failing that, the location of their closest major facility,” Cybel replied. “We need to go on the offensive if we want to track Europa down, or to draw her out.”
“And how does the commodore feel about that?” Raffaele asked pointedly, directing a side-eye at Cybel as he continued to scan the data feed.
“The commodore is still recovering, and may be for some time,” Cybel allowed. “Until Dr. Zelbin has determined he’s fit to resume his duties, I’ll retain command.”
Raffale cast a meaningful glance at Maddox that was meant for Cybel to see. “We’re not exactly at our best right this moment, sir. We’re still repairing the significant damage to the saucer-section. The crew’s nearly debilitated from these ongoing psychological attacks, and we’ve got a significant leadership vacuum among our junior officers. If you’ll recall, those officers surrendered control of the saucer to a war criminal after you and the commodore were incapacitated. Perhaps we need to lay low for long enough to address these more immediate issues before we go poking that particular hornet’s nest?”
She stepped out from within the shower of alien symbology to face him. “From what we’ve been able to glean so far, Rafe, a Federation starship has been complicit in the systematic murder of innocents in order to service the Skorrah. They’re harvesting them!”
He held his ground in the face of her agitation. “Whatever’s happening here, it’s been going on for a long while. It also appears from the records we’ve uncovered so far that many local governments are complicit in this process. Meaning, even if we manage to locate and remove Europa from the equation, these cullings are likely to continue and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it.”
Cybel quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so? Watch me.”
“So, we’re throwing the Prime Directive out the window, then?”
“It no longer applies to this situation. Europa’s participation means the Federation’s already interfered here. We’re simply trying to fix what they’ve broken.”
The elicited a genuine laugh from Raffale. “You and the old man just sprinted right into their trap, didn’t you? Couldn’t help yourselves.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Maddox pulled himself from his muddled reverie and approached, trying to calm what was fast becoming a heated argument. “Let’s take a step back, shall we?”
“Hush, Commander,” Raffaele snapped at Maddox distractedly, his gaze still fixed on Cybel, “the adults are talking.”
Raffale then replied to the acting captain. “It means that I believe that Izawa, and to a lesser extent, you, were selected for this mission to serve someone’s purpose back home. It’s no coincidence that the leader of the anti-militarists wing who helped to topple an entire administration with his group’s mass multi-world protests suddenly finds himself leading a lone starship into the LMC. And hey, guess what, within a few months of his arrival he’s pulling the trigger just as quickly and indiscriminately as Captain Ebnal and the others who were locked up or cashiered out of the service after Operation Distant Shore blew up in their faces.”
“That would be a spurious allegation, the commodore was under the influence of an alien consciousness when he—”
“Do you really believe that argument will hold water, Cybel? With all that intellect, you cannot possibly be that naive!” Raffale countered hotly. “All those people who’d backed Vanguard and Distant Short from the beginning and were forced to hold their tongues during the backlash that Izawa helped provoke will now point and say, ‘See, after all his moralizing and casting of blame, he took the same path.’ What better argument to bring Izawa down while simultaneously resurrecting the careers and reputations of dozens of former high-ranking Starfleet officers?”
Cybel fell silent, a parade of emotions sweeping over her features.
“You know I’m right,” Raffale pressed. “This whole charade will last just long enough for Starfleet Command to digest your after-action report. I can guarantee that the result of that will be our immediate recall to the portal and a return trip home to face months if not years of official investigations into our actions.”
“I won’t subscribe to your belief that this whole mission was a set-up to discredit the commodore from the beginning,” she reproached.
“No, of course not,” Raffaele countered. “Starfleet was obligated to reconnoiter the LMC through the portal, but in sending Valhalla under Izawa they were able accomplish two goals with a single stroke. Now, you’ve allowed them to realize three aims simultaneously.”
Cybel frowned, skeptical. “And what’s the third?”
“In raining fire and vengeance on the Kan-Uut, you’ve bolstered the arguments of those who feared you were nothing more than a jumped-up M-5. Regardless of your sentient standing, you’ll be given a show-trial and then locked back inside that black box you struggled so long to escape. You’ll be returned to the AI version of a Federation penal colony.”
“I refuse to accept that,” she crossed her arms defensively.
Maddox, still groggy with exhaustion, nonetheless nodded reluctantly. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Rafe on this. As implausible as it sounds, it’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”
“Then what do we do about it?” she asked, already beginning to run countless probability simulations based on Raffale’s hypothesis.
“Finish this,” Raffale answered, “but do it on our terms. Regardless of who set all this in motion and what their ultimate endgame is, we’ll have to take the higher road. You, Cybel, are perhaps the most intelligent being in this galaxy right now, but you’re allowing others a galaxy away to set the agenda. I for one am done dancing to their fiddle.”
Maddox bobbed his head in mute agreement.
“Commodore Izawa’s on a crusade to hunt down the last vestiges of Operation Vanguard and see them stand before a court-martial for their actions. That mindset blinds him to other more diplomatic possibilities. You yourself objected to his attack on the Kan-Uut due to his not knowing the context of the situation. Now you’re on the cusp of doing the very same.”
“We know the context!” Cybel objected.
Raffaele shook his head. “We don’t. We’ve got the Europa logs left on the buoy where Caelestis was located, but that only gives us two years of data. They’ve been out here nearly six years. Whatever other Amon abilities Sandhurst possesses, he can’t brainwash people. What about the officers and crew that chose to follow his banner, Cybel? How do we explain them turning their backs on their Federation principals? There has to be more going on here than we can see from our current vantage.”
She looked from Maddox to Raffale, weighing the opinions of those closest to her. It was galling to admit that despite her raw intellect that her friend and her husband could deduce something that she herself had refused to consider.
“Okay, Rafe, we’ll try it your way. However, if Europa’s people or their allies try anything stupid, I’m taking the gloves off, consequences be damned.”
Raffale raised his hands in gesture of submission. “Fair enough, sir.”
She turned her attention back to the Kan-Uut computer assembly, switching herself into machine-time and happily discarding, at least for the moment, the confused and desperate machinations of biologicals.
Standing just outside the shower of data, Raffale studied another holographic interface, searching for patterns. “Good thinking to bring all this gear onboard, Commander.”
“It made sense to grab it at the same time as I beamed you and the others aboard from the slaver ship. Though Starfleet has many rules about interrogating prisoners, they have almost none about interrogating their technology.”
“Pity there wasn’t enough left of the Regoth ship to recover,” Raffale reflected. “They’re clearly the more advanced species of the two.”
“Not that it helped them much after I deduced their interstitial coordinates. Their ships react to anti-matter warheads just like anyone else’s,” Cybel mused.
“What is it we’re looking for again?” Maddox asked, his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders and his unshaven, unkempt appearance. He was having difficulty focusing, courtesy of his sleep being continuously disrupted by the nightmares generated by the crew’s non-corporeal tormentor.
“I want to know where this coalition of theirs is headquartered, or failing that, the location of their closest major facility,” Cybel replied. “We need to go on the offensive if we want to track Europa down, or to draw her out.”
“And how does the commodore feel about that?” Raffaele asked pointedly, directing a side-eye at Cybel as he continued to scan the data feed.
“The commodore is still recovering, and may be for some time,” Cybel allowed. “Until Dr. Zelbin has determined he’s fit to resume his duties, I’ll retain command.”
Raffale cast a meaningful glance at Maddox that was meant for Cybel to see. “We’re not exactly at our best right this moment, sir. We’re still repairing the significant damage to the saucer-section. The crew’s nearly debilitated from these ongoing psychological attacks, and we’ve got a significant leadership vacuum among our junior officers. If you’ll recall, those officers surrendered control of the saucer to a war criminal after you and the commodore were incapacitated. Perhaps we need to lay low for long enough to address these more immediate issues before we go poking that particular hornet’s nest?”
She stepped out from within the shower of alien symbology to face him. “From what we’ve been able to glean so far, Rafe, a Federation starship has been complicit in the systematic murder of innocents in order to service the Skorrah. They’re harvesting them!”
He held his ground in the face of her agitation. “Whatever’s happening here, it’s been going on for a long while. It also appears from the records we’ve uncovered so far that many local governments are complicit in this process. Meaning, even if we manage to locate and remove Europa from the equation, these cullings are likely to continue and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it.”
Cybel quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so? Watch me.”
“So, we’re throwing the Prime Directive out the window, then?”
“It no longer applies to this situation. Europa’s participation means the Federation’s already interfered here. We’re simply trying to fix what they’ve broken.”
The elicited a genuine laugh from Raffale. “You and the old man just sprinted right into their trap, didn’t you? Couldn’t help yourselves.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Maddox pulled himself from his muddled reverie and approached, trying to calm what was fast becoming a heated argument. “Let’s take a step back, shall we?”
“Hush, Commander,” Raffaele snapped at Maddox distractedly, his gaze still fixed on Cybel, “the adults are talking.”
Raffale then replied to the acting captain. “It means that I believe that Izawa, and to a lesser extent, you, were selected for this mission to serve someone’s purpose back home. It’s no coincidence that the leader of the anti-militarists wing who helped to topple an entire administration with his group’s mass multi-world protests suddenly finds himself leading a lone starship into the LMC. And hey, guess what, within a few months of his arrival he’s pulling the trigger just as quickly and indiscriminately as Captain Ebnal and the others who were locked up or cashiered out of the service after Operation Distant Shore blew up in their faces.”
“That would be a spurious allegation, the commodore was under the influence of an alien consciousness when he—”
“Do you really believe that argument will hold water, Cybel? With all that intellect, you cannot possibly be that naive!” Raffale countered hotly. “All those people who’d backed Vanguard and Distant Short from the beginning and were forced to hold their tongues during the backlash that Izawa helped provoke will now point and say, ‘See, after all his moralizing and casting of blame, he took the same path.’ What better argument to bring Izawa down while simultaneously resurrecting the careers and reputations of dozens of former high-ranking Starfleet officers?”
Cybel fell silent, a parade of emotions sweeping over her features.
“You know I’m right,” Raffale pressed. “This whole charade will last just long enough for Starfleet Command to digest your after-action report. I can guarantee that the result of that will be our immediate recall to the portal and a return trip home to face months if not years of official investigations into our actions.”
“I won’t subscribe to your belief that this whole mission was a set-up to discredit the commodore from the beginning,” she reproached.
“No, of course not,” Raffaele countered. “Starfleet was obligated to reconnoiter the LMC through the portal, but in sending Valhalla under Izawa they were able accomplish two goals with a single stroke. Now, you’ve allowed them to realize three aims simultaneously.”
Cybel frowned, skeptical. “And what’s the third?”
“In raining fire and vengeance on the Kan-Uut, you’ve bolstered the arguments of those who feared you were nothing more than a jumped-up M-5. Regardless of your sentient standing, you’ll be given a show-trial and then locked back inside that black box you struggled so long to escape. You’ll be returned to the AI version of a Federation penal colony.”
“I refuse to accept that,” she crossed her arms defensively.
Maddox, still groggy with exhaustion, nonetheless nodded reluctantly. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Rafe on this. As implausible as it sounds, it’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”
“Then what do we do about it?” she asked, already beginning to run countless probability simulations based on Raffale’s hypothesis.
“Finish this,” Raffale answered, “but do it on our terms. Regardless of who set all this in motion and what their ultimate endgame is, we’ll have to take the higher road. You, Cybel, are perhaps the most intelligent being in this galaxy right now, but you’re allowing others a galaxy away to set the agenda. I for one am done dancing to their fiddle.”
Maddox bobbed his head in mute agreement.
“Commodore Izawa’s on a crusade to hunt down the last vestiges of Operation Vanguard and see them stand before a court-martial for their actions. That mindset blinds him to other more diplomatic possibilities. You yourself objected to his attack on the Kan-Uut due to his not knowing the context of the situation. Now you’re on the cusp of doing the very same.”
“We know the context!” Cybel objected.
Raffaele shook his head. “We don’t. We’ve got the Europa logs left on the buoy where Caelestis was located, but that only gives us two years of data. They’ve been out here nearly six years. Whatever other Amon abilities Sandhurst possesses, he can’t brainwash people. What about the officers and crew that chose to follow his banner, Cybel? How do we explain them turning their backs on their Federation principals? There has to be more going on here than we can see from our current vantage.”
She looked from Maddox to Raffale, weighing the opinions of those closest to her. It was galling to admit that despite her raw intellect that her friend and her husband could deduce something that she herself had refused to consider.
“Okay, Rafe, we’ll try it your way. However, if Europa’s people or their allies try anything stupid, I’m taking the gloves off, consequences be damned.”
Raffale raised his hands in gesture of submission. “Fair enough, sir.”
She turned her attention back to the Kan-Uut computer assembly, switching herself into machine-time and happily discarding, at least for the moment, the confused and desperate machinations of biologicals.
* * *
