Fisher smiled. “Are you going to keep Hallie as your XO?”
Reyes scoffed and leaned back. “That’s none of your damn business, Doctor,” he said without heat.
“Well, now, that’s where you’re wrong, Captain. But we’ll let that one go. Here’s a better question: do you think she’s right?”
Reyes didn’t answer, and after a moment, he picked up the slate again and handed it to Fisher. “That special training she received about the Klingons . . . Look who she studied under.”
“Doctor Emanuel Tagore,” Fisher read. “The former ambassador?”
“The same. He’s been on the lecture circuit since his retirement. Felt he owed it to the Federation to share what he’d learned from living on the Klingon homeworld for four years. Somebody at Command finally realized Starfleet had something to gain from his knowledge and experience. The thinking was that star-ship captains would benefit from having officers with specialized training in the Klingons’ language, culture, history.”
“Let me guess: somewhere in this file is a glowing recommendation from the ambassador.”
“Glowing? It’s radioactive. She was one of his star pupils.”
Fisher shrugged and handed back the slate. “So she’s got a black belt in Klingon and she’s not afraid to use it. That doesn’t really tell you anything you didn’t already know.”
“No . . . but it does make me wonder if I really am making this personal.” Reyes stared into his coffee. “This thing with Gorkon . . . I’m letting it affect me exactly the way she described, aren’t I? And if Hallie is right about that . . . What if the reason Dauntlessgot the tar beaten out of it last year—the real reason Rajiv died—is because I’m not able to understand what really drives the Klingons?”
Fisher set down his cup. “Diego, listen to me. You have to stop blaming yourself for Rajiv, and everyone else who dies on your watch. We all knew the score when we signed on. Tomorrow it could be someone else. Maybe me. And if it happens, I hope you’ll feel the loss. But the last thing I’d want is for you to be crushed under the weight of it, or for it to compromise your ability to function as captain of this ship. It’s the last thing Rajiv would want, too.”
Reyes remained silent, his eyes filled with doubt.
The bosun’s whistle sounded from his desk’s intercom. “Bridge to Captain Reyes.”
Reyes switched it on, and Gannon’s face appeared on its tiny screen. “Reyes here. Talk to me, Commander.”
“Sir, we have a situation,”she told him. “All hell is breaking loose aboard theChech’Iw.”
“Kendrick managed to tap into their intraship communications,” Gannon explained once Reyes and Fisher were on the bridge. “The Chech’Iwhas suffered some sort of disaster in the surgeon’s bay. They’ve lost containment of something toxic, and whatever it is, it’s spreading quickly throughout the ship. They don’t seem to have the medical personnel on hand to deal with the crisis.”
“Captain, if I might make a suggestion?” Sadler said. “This could be an opportunity.”
Fisher didn’t like the way that sounded. “An opportunity to do what?”
The security chief continued speaking directly to Reyes. “We can offer them the same sort of deal they gave the colonists— help in exchange for their agreeing to relinquish their claim on Azha-R7a.”
“Or what?” Fisher challenged. “We’re going to let them die?”
“That’s exactly the choice they gave the Arkenites,” Sadler said.
“Since when do we take our cues from the Klingons?” Fisher asked.
Reyes stared at the viewscreen. The Chech’Iwhung above them, astern and to port, offering no outward sign that anything was wrong. “I agree with Mister Sadler—this isan opportunity.”
Fisher couldn’t believe it. Well, if that’s the way it’s gonna be, I sure as hell don’t need to stick around here to watch.Fuming, he started for the elevator.
“As you were, Doctor.”
Dammit. Fisher stopped and slowly turned back around, folding his arms. “Aye, sir.”
“Hail the Chech’Iw,” Reyes told Kendrick as he strode toward the center seat.
“Hailing frequencies open, sir.”
“ I.K.S. Chech’Iw,this is the U.S.S. Dauntless. Do you require assistance?” When no answer came, he looked over his shoulder. “Are they receiving us?”
Kendrick nodded.
“ I.K.S. Chech’Iw,we have crisis response personnel standing by to assist you. Please respond.”
“Reply coming in, Captain,” Kendrick said.
The screen warbled and dissolved to show Mazhtog, sweat beading on his forehead, his breathing labored. “What are . . . what are your . . . terms?”he rasped.
“No terms,” said Reyes, and Sadler’s mouth dropped open. “We’re offering our assistance without condition. Do you accept?”
“We . . . accept.”
“Fine. My chief medical officer will be beaming over shortly.” Reyes looked as if he were about to sign off, but then added, “After the first few minutes, you’ll probably want to shoot him. Please don’t. Reyes out.”
The captain spun his chair around and faced his officers.
Fisher smiled. “You surprise me sometimes, Diego.”
“Don’t be too impressed,” Reyes cautioned him. “I have ulterior motives. This is our best chance of obtaining first-hand intel about what the Klingons are really up to.” He looked at Sadler. “There’s more than one kind of opportunity, Lieutenant.”
Sadler nodded. “Understood, sir.”
“Gannon, go with Doctor Fisher. Do what you can to help the Klingons, but be careful over there. And keep your eyes open.”
As the Klingon ship solidified around him, Fisher’s thought from the previous day came back to him: That boy is gonna get me killed one of these days.
Suited up in biohazard gear, he and Gannon had once again beamed into a phalanx of armed Klingon guards, all wearing breathing masks. A strident alert Klaxon bleated from unseen speakers, forcing Gannon to shout over it as she spat at the guards in their own language.
One of the guards spat back, and then he and another Klingon took Fisher and Gannon by the arm, ushering them out of the transporter room and into bedlam.
The Klingons who could still walk stumbled through corridors strewn with the twitching bodies of those more gravely stricken. Some of the fallen bled from their noses, or ears, or eyes.
Fisher opened his tricorder, and the readings he took confirmed his fears.
The Chech’Iwwas dying.
7
2268
“Dammit, Desai, what the hell were you thinking? I sent you to Kadru to fix things, not make them worse!”
Cringing as Nogura responded to her mission update, Desai sat back in the navigator’s seat of the Guo Shoujing,holding her head with one hand. She’d never been more grateful for the lack of viewscreens on Class-F shuttlecraft. “I haven’t given up, sir.”
“Is that meant to reassure me?”the admiral asked as the shuttlecraft’s tripartite hatch opened, letting in a cloud of cool, humid air. Desai looked up to see Fisher emerging from Kadru’s foggy night, carrying a bulky parcel under one arm. “You’ve been there less than twelve hours, and in that time, you’ve managed not only to undo whatever goodwill Commander Miller achieved with the colonists, you’ve actually set back the Federation’s broken relationship with these people even further. Is that a fair summation?”
“More or less, Admiral.”
Fisher winced.
After a prolonged silence, Nogura said, “I want the situation on Kadru resolved, I don’t care how. Are we clear on that, Captain?”