“Begging the admiral’s pardon,” Desai said, “but this sounds like an assignment better suited to someone on Commander Miller’s staff, or perhaps Ambassador Jetanien—”
“Under ordinary circumstances, that would be true. But as I said, there are other colonies besides New Anglesey affected by this decision, and Miller’s department is fully occupied with the logistics of relocating those settlements. Ambassador Jetanien’s office is likewise engaged in ongoing diplomatic talks with the Tholians, the Klingons, the Romulans, and more recently, with the Orions.”
The slight emphasis the admiral placed on the word Orionswas not lost on Fisher, and he was certain Rana hadn’t missed it either, though she gave no sign she had noticed it. Fisher wondered how Jetanien, who considered Diego a friend, was handling his assignment to somehow negotiate Reyes’s extradition.
“All that aside,” Nogura went on, “you’re far too modest about your own qualifications for the mission, Captain. You frequently coordinated with Commander Miller’s department in matters of Federation law and Starfleet regulations as they pertained to TR colonies. You’re also no stranger to dealing with the colonial mindset, and that’s exactly what’s needed here.
“More to the point, however—and this should matter to both of you—the circumstances of Commander Miller’s death are far from clear. Governor Ying offered to have the body returned to Starbase 47 in a colony transport, but I insisted that a team from Vanguard be allowed to recover Miller’s remains personally. Ying agreed to allow two more officers to visit the colony for that purpose, but she did so grudgingly. That makes me suspicious. If there’s more to Miller’s death than she’s saying, I want to know what it is.”
Nogura returned to his chair and continued, “The Endeavouris set to depart within the hour for its next assignment, which will take her to within shuttlecraft range of Kadru. She’ll be back in the vicinity in a week’s time. You two have that long to perform an autopsy, verify the cause of death, and complete an investigation into what transpired when the commander lost his life.
“But whatever you find, I expect you to persuade those colonists to evacuate before their sector is removed from Starfleet patrol routes. They need to understand the consequences of remaining on the planet: if they run into trouble, help may be too far away to make a difference.”
When Desai didn’t answer, Fisher cleared his throat and said, “We understand, Admiral. Any other instructions?”
Nogura shook his head and picked up a data slate awaiting his attention, which Fisher took as their cue to leave. He rose and started for the door, stopping when he realized Desai hadn’t budged. “Rana?”
The admiral looked up and frowned when he saw Desai staring at him. “Is there something else, Captain?”
“I was just wondering, Admiral,” she began in a quiet voice, “if it’s even remotely possible that the real reason Doctor Fisher and I were selected for this assignment is because we’re the two people on Vanguard closest to Diego Reyes, and you wanted us both off the station while you contemplated some ill-advised plan to get him back into custody—the nature of which might compel the filing of formal protests by the station’s chief medical officer and its senior representative of the Starfleet Judge Advocate General?
“That’s not possible, is it, sir?”
Rana, what in the world are you doing?Fisher’s eyes went to Nogura, who regarded Desai as if trying to decide, from among several options, which form of disciplinary action would be the most appropriate response to her insubordination.
Instead, the admiral leaned back in his chair. “In light of recent events, Captain, I’m going to do you a favor and forget the last thirty seconds.” To Fisher’s disbelief, Rana started to respond, but Nogura silenced her with a raised finger. “Don’t push your luck, Desai. Just be glad I’m in a forgiving mood. The Endeavourdeparts in forty minutes. I suggest you start packing.”
Far too slowly, Desai released her grip on the arms of her chair and stood. “Admiral,” she said by way of acknowledgment, then turned and vacated the office. She didn’t even look at Fisher as she passed him.
Fisher’s brow creased with worry as he followed her out, and his thoughts returned unbidden to dogwood trees and the void left behind by absent friends.
2
2259
Rechecking the settings on his medical tricorder, Zeke Fisher realized it was the third time in the last ten minutes he’d done so and abruptly snapped the device closed. The tension in the room, he decided, was contagious.
From his seat on the steps of the energizer stage, Fisher glanced around at the score of khaki-shirted engineers and blue-shirted medical personnel crowding the emergency transporter, and tried to take the room’s emotional temperature. Lots of fidgeting, very little talking, the frequent snaps and clicks of field equipment being adjusted—all spoke volumes about the group’s growing impatience. At any moment, Dauntlesswould drop out of warp and the “go” word would come down from the bridge, sending all twenty-two members of the crisis response team scrambling for the pads. The waiting had them all on edge.
Even the ship’s new XO wasn’t immune; she paced the deck in front of the transporter console, the other members of the landing party giving her a wide berth. Tall, blond, and athletic, Commander Hallie Gannon was an imposing physical presence, but still an unknown quantity to many of the crew, having joined Dauntlessjust nine weeks earlier when the ship’s extensive repairs had been completed at Starbase 7. Lean and long of limb, Gannon moved like a dancer.
“Something I can help you with, Doctor?”
The question made Fisher blink, and he sheepishly realized Gannon had caught him staring. She’d stopped pacing directly in front of him, her piercing green eyes daring him to say something unrelated to ship’s business. “Martial arts,” he ventured to say.
Gannon frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Your extracurricular fitness training. I’m guessing it was some form of martial arts. Am I right?”
Her eyes narrowed. “This is that thing the captain warned me about, isn’t it?”
“Oh, he warnedyou about me, did he?”
Gannon smirked. “Well, not you per se . . . just your odd little preoccupation.”
“Is that what he called it? My, my. I never realized the practice of guessing a crewperson’s Academy sport was something anyone would find particularly odd.”
“It is when you consider you could find out easily enough by checking my personnel file,” Gannon said. “Or, I dunno, just askingme.”
Fisher smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Before Gannon could offer a rejoinder, the room’s starboard doors parted to admit the last member of the crisis response team. Everyone not already on their feet, including Fisher, rose as Chief Engineer Shey made a beeline for the XO. The Andorian held out a data slate.
“It’s about time,” Gannon said as she accepted the slate and started to scroll through it. “The ARA certainly cut it close.”
Shey’s antennae dipped toward Gannon in agreement. “At least they came through, though I’m not sure how much the new data will help.”
“We’ll take what we can get,” Gannon answered. She raised her voice to be heard by the rest of the team. “All right, people, listen up. We still don’t know what exactly we’re beaming into, but Commander Shey has our update from the Arkenite Resources Administration, so pay close attention. Commander?”
Shey’s antennae were taut as she addressed the room. “By now, the ARA’s most current schematics of the Azha-R7a asteroid mining complex have been uploaded to your tricorders.” She gave the team a moment to call up the files, but Fisher opted to peer over the shoulder of Soledad Valdez, one of the other doctors, who already had her tricorder open. “Please note they show that the mine has sixteen levels, not the twelve indicated in our library computer database,” Shey continued. “Also, the tunnels are spread over a much wider area than we were led to believe. You have a question, Mister Okano?”