Gorkon stared at her. “Of course, Doctor Duvadi,” he said after an awkward moment, and with that blessing, the administrator of Azha-R7a led Latour and the landing party down the corridor, away from the Klingons.
“Let me get right to the point, Captain,” Duvadi began, her eyes becoming highly reflective in the subdued light. “I know what you’re doing here, but it needs to stop. I’m honoring my pact with Gorkon, and I don’t want you interfering.”
“Forgive me, Doctor,” Reyes said, “but how can you possibly believe I’ll allow this to continue?”
Duvadi looked at her human deputy. “Did you explain it to him?”
Latour nodded. “I did. But there’s a cultural divide here, Doctor. And frankly, this is a difficult thing for any human to grasp.”
“But you honor your debts,” Duvadi insisted, turning back to Reyes. “I know that you do.”
“Yes, of course,” Reyes agreed. “But under conditions when the parties involved are both acting in good faith.”
“This is good faith.”
“The Klingons took advantage of your people during a crisis, and exploited your vulnerability! How is that good faith?”
“The Klingons were being true to their nature, and we are being true to ours.”
Reyes shook his head as if unable to process what he had just heard. “Look, Doctor, even if I were to let this go—something I have no intention of doing—do you really think the Federation will honor a deal you made while the Klingons held a gun to your head?”
Duvadi fixed him with a harsh gaze. “We did not agree to stop being Arkenites when we joined the Federation, Captain. Or am I to understand that only your human value system is relevant here?”
“Of course not. But—”
“If the Klingons can be persuaded to release my people from our agreement, we’ll have no objection, Captain,” Duvadi assured him. “But let me be clear that there is no military alternative to this course that any Arkenite would support. We will not compromise who we are simply because you cannot comprehend our moral choices.”
“You’re putting me in a very difficult position, Doctor,” Reyes said.
“I realize that,” said Duvadi. “That’s why you need to leave, Captain.”
Reyes nodded toward Latour. “What about the people here who aren’t Arkenites?”
“My deputy is the only one.”
“I’ll have to insist that he be allowed to depart with me.”
“I would not object to that. Philippe is bound by a different set of ethics. He doesn’t share our obligation. Besides, he would likely face a harsh punishment from the Klingons for his role in your recent mischief, and I have no desire to see that happen.” Duvadi turned and walked back toward the lab complex.
Reyes exchanged a look with Gannon. “Recommendation?”
Gannon shook her head, at a loss. Reyes glanced at Fisher, and the utter frustration behind the captain’s eyes looked as if it was about to explode.
Finally Reyes turned back to face the Klingons. “We’re going,” he told Gorkon. “All four of us. You have a problem with that?”
Gorkon looked at Duvadi, his eyes narrowing, and it was becoming clear to Fisher that however the general might have wanted to respond, he wished to avoid antagonizing the Arkenite administrator more.
“ ‘Stand not upon the order of your going, but go at once,’ “ he told Reyes, who then flipped open his communicator and called Dauntlessfor beam-out.
“This isn’t over,” he promised Gorkon, just before the transporter beam took them.
5
2268
Turbulence shook the Guo Shoujingas the shuttlecraft arrowed through the dense clouds that shrouded Kadru. Working the helm, Desai fought to compensate, but whatever she tried seemed only to make things worse. “Fish, where’s that beacon?”
Fisher looked as if he was trying very hard not to be sick as he struggled to read the navigation console. “I had it a moment ago. . . . Hang on. . . .”
A rough jolt nearly bounced Desai out of her seat. “I need it now!”
“I can’t— Wait, there it is! Eighteen degrees to starboard! Can you get a lock?”
“Trying . . .” Desai applied thrust, angling the shuttle to the right and dipping its nose in slow increments as the wind crashed against the hull. On her board, directional targeting icons started to intersect, and as they finally became one, Desai keyed the autopilot.
The Guo Shoujingshook again, and for one terrifying instant Desai thought the shuttle would go into a roll and drop from the sky like the brick it really was. But then the turbulence abated and the ship leveled off, letting its occupants catch their breath as the shuttle eased into a much gentler descent.
“That was some chop,” Fisher said. “Is that normal?”
“Did you even tryreading the mission file?” Desai scolded.
“I’m a doctor, not a lawyer.”
Desai shook her head. “The upper atmosphere’s highly active and heavily ionized. Plays hell with sensors, too. I knew it would be a rough entry, but that was even worse than I expected.”
“How about if, next time, we ask for a pilot? No offense.”
“None taken,” Desai assured him.
The air on Kadru was soup. Fog rolled everywhere, just dense enough to reduce the one- and two-story buildings of the New Anglesey settlement to gray silhouettes, a kilometer west of where the Guo Shoujinghad set down. Beads of moisture started collecting on Desai’s skin as soon as she stepped out of the shuttlecraft.
“This landing field doesn’t get much use,” Fisher said. Desai followed his gaze and saw immediately what had prompted the comment: coarse green shoots broke through the tarmac all around them.
From somewhere far away came a trumpeting sound, like an elephant in agony. A startled flock of cranelike avians took to the air from a line of trees south of the landing field, and for the first time Desai noticed the densely forested ridge rising above the tree line. Then she remembered: New Anglesey had been built at the foot of that ridge in order to take advantage of the immense river that flowed on the other side of it. The river led down to the ocean, fifteen kilometers east.
“Company,” Fisher said.
Desai squinted into the distance. From the direction of town, two skimmers sped toward them. One of them towed a cargo sled, its oblong burden draped in a plastic tarp and held down by thick elastic cords. As the vehicles hovered to a stop, three humans got out, all wearing the two-toned civilian jumpsuits that were ubiquitous on frontier worlds. From the first skimmer emerged two middle-aged women, one with long black hair tied back, the other with a blond buzz cut. The second skimmer, the one towing the sled, let out a thin-faced, bearded man shouldering a Starfleet duffel bag and carrying a data slate. Desai recognized all three of them from the mission file . . . and all three, she noted, wore sidearms.
“Welcome to the independent colony of New Anglesey,” said the woman with the black hair. “I’m Ying Mei-Hua, governor of this settlement. This is Helena Sgouros, head of security, and Anatoly Dolnikov, our senior physician.”
“Captain Rana Desai, Judge Advocate General’s office, Starbase 47,” Desai said, extending her hand to Ying as she stepped down off the shuttle’s ramp. “This is Doctor Ezekiel Fisher, our chief medical officer. Thank you for coming out to meet us, Governor, and for granting us permission to visit your planet.”
“It seemed the decent thing to do,” Ying said. “I can appreciate your admiral’s desire to have Commander Miller’s remains handled according to Starfleet custom. And on behalf of my people, I want you to know that we share your grief. Aole was an exceptional individual.”
“Thank you,” Desai said. “I’ll be sure to convey your sentiments to his friends and family.”
“I know you must be eager to return to your base, and we have no wish to delay you,” Ying continued. She nodded at Doctor Dolnikov, who stepped forward and offered his slate to Desai.