He watched Desai carefully for her reaction. The smile she volleyed back seemed genuine enough, but it failed to reach her big brown eyes. “Oh, come on, Fish,” she said. “It’s not like I’ve been AWOL.”
Was that an acknowledgment that she had put some distance between them? Fisher supposed it must be, but he wouldn’t probe deeper . . . just as he never pressed her about what had transpired between her and Jackson last year, around the time the first rumors of Diego’s survival had begun to spread. Rana would open up to him in her own time, or she wouldn’t. All he could do was be there for her if and when she needed him.
The office door opened. “Stay seated,” Admiral Nogura said as he entered the room, stopping Fisher and Desai halfway out of their chairs. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he added as he strode briskly toward his desk. Not for the first time, Fisher envied the shorter man’s vigor. Despite being nearly the same age as the octogenarian doctor, Nogura showed few signs of it. The admiral’s deeply lined face and silver-streaked hair belied the energy with which he always moved.
“What I’m about to tell you will be made known to the rest of the crew shortly, but I wanted you two to hear it from me first,” Nogura began as he lowered himself into the high-backed chair behind his desk. He paused as if considering how he should proceed before he finally told them, “There isn’t an easy way to say this, so I’ll come right to the point. It’s my sad duty to inform you both that Commander Aole Miller is dead.”
The words were a kick in the gut. Rana froze in disbelief. Fisher looked away, shaking his head.
God, not Aole . . .
Miller had been among the first arrivals at Starbase 47, on the same transport as Fisher. The doctor had been instantly taken with the younger man’s upbeat and gregarious nature, and the two became fast friends before either of them had set foot on the station. But Aole had that effect on everyone, Fisher quickly learned, his apparently inexhaustible optimism and indiscriminate affability quickly making him one of the most well-liked members of the crew—the proverbial ray of sunshine even during Vanguard’s darkest days.
Such a loss for all of us . . .
“How did he die?” Rana asked, her voice cracking.
“Commander Miller was on assignment to the New Anglesey colony on Kadru,” Nogura said. “This morning I was informed by the colony’s governor that Miller accidentally drowned when he ventured too far outside the settlement without an escort or authorization.”
Fisher swore under his breath. He knew from experience that young colony worlds were dangerous places, each with its own unique set of hazards, which had to be learned over time by the settlers. But there was always the danger of visitors forgetting that a planet had not been “tamed” the moment colony ships touched down, and in those rare instances the consequences were too often tragic, even for experienced Starfleet personnel.
The hell of it was, if anyone knew landing party protocols, it was Aole Miller. He might not have written the book on the subject, but as Starfleet’s colonial liaison for the entire Taurus Reach, he had probably contributed more than a chapter or two. The idea that he could have made a mistake that cost him his life—
“Has anyone told Ahmed?” Desai asked.
Nogura nodded. “That’s the reason I was late getting here. I gave Mister Farahani the news myself.”
Fisher wanted to kick himself. On top of everything else, Miller was a newlywed of four months. That it had taken him this long before he gave a thought to Aole’s widower shamed him. Fisher imagined Ahmed alone, overcome with anguish, and it was more than he could endure. Rising from his chair, he said, “Admiral, if you’ll excuse me—”
“As you were, Doctor,” Nogura said without force, but in a manner that had the effect of nailing Fisher’s boots to the deck. “Lieutenant Goldrosen went with me to see Mister Farahani, and I left him in her expert care. I’m sure you’ll agree he’s in good hands.”
Fisher opened his mouth to protest, but quickly tamped down the impulse. Nogura was right. Tziporah Goldrosen was an experienced grief counselor. For Fisher to show up now would probably be more disruptive than helpful. But that raised another question, and once again, Rana was half a step ahead of him.
“Admiral . . . may I ask why you elected to inform the two of us personally, and ahead of the rest of the crew?”
Nogura rose and stepped around his desk. He leaned back against the forward edge and folded his arms. “I’m tasking the two of you with completing Commander Miller’s assignment.”
Fisher blinked.
“Which was what, specifically?” Rana asked.
“To convince the colonists to evacuate Kadru.”
Fisher and Desai exchanged looks before the doctor asked, “What are we looking at? More territorial challenges from the Klingons? Or has someone detected the presence of the meta-genome?”
“Nothing so dramatic—at least, not yet,” Nogura said. He picked up a remote control resting on his desk and pointed it at the office viewscreen, calling up a map of the Federation’s colonial holdings in the Taurus Reach. Blue dots denoted the settlements. A number of arcing yellow lines radiated from the spot that symbolized Vanguard, weaving among the colonies, and Fisher knew these represented starship patrol routes.
“Starfleet Command is increasingly concerned about its ability to adequately safeguard Federation colonies in the Taurus Reach,” the admiral said. “Some of them are simply too remote for the resources available to Operation Vanguard.”
“It was my understanding the recent increase in dedicated starship support was supposed to have addressed that,” Desai said.
“Unfortunately, the rising frequency of military engagements in the region has effectively negated the benefits of our enlarged fleet. Simply stated, the Taurus Reach is too hot, and we’re spread too thin, for the number of colonies we need to protect.” Nogura tapped his remote, and several of the outermost colonies shifted from blue to red. “The Federation Council agrees with Command’s assessment, and has determined these four settlements are in areas where continuing to provide Starfleet support would be contrary to Federation interests at this time.” Another touch on the remote, and the patrol routes shrank, leaving the red dots well outside their arcs.
“A strategic withdrawal,” Rana interpreted.
“A temporary one, we hope,” Nogura said.
“The Klingons won’t see it that way,” Fisher warned. “They’ll see it as a sign of weakness, and they won’t hesitate to exploit it. Admiral, we’re essentially relinquishing our claim on those systems.”
“I don’t disagree with you, Doctor,” Nogura said. “I’m against this course of action for those very reasons, but the decision has been made. One month from now, all four of these colonies will be outside our regular patrol routes. We need to get those settlers relocated ASAP.”
“And New Anglesey?” Desai prompted.
“The one holdout.” Nogura keyed the screen to zoom in on one of the red systems, displaying a cloud-heavy Class-M planet, second out from a G0 main sequence star, HD-24040. “Kadru was colonized three years ago. It’s a scientific research settlement that went independent after just six months. Since then relations between New Anglesey and the Federation—Starfleet in particular—have deteriorated to the point where they’ve been denying our people permission to set foot on the planet. We notified them of the Federation Council’s decision, but they’re refusing to cooperate. They’ve dug in and have no intention of leaving Kadru.”
Desai frowned. “If they’re not allowing Starfleet visitors, how is it Miller was able to go there?”
“He sweet-talked his way in,” Fisher guessed.
“You’re not far off,” Nogura confirmed. “A few weeks ago Miller started building a rapport with Governor Ying Mei-Hua over subspace, and he finally persuaded her to give him permission to make his case in person. He was four days into his visit when the colony contacted us with news of his death. And judging by the conversation I had with Ying, the New Anglese haven’t changed their position on being evacuated. That’s where you two come in.”