Jetanien asked Okagawa, “Have the Klingons made any overt threat against your ship or your people on the planet?”
“No, Your Excellency,” Okagawa said. “But I’ve put my ship on yellow alert anyway. ‘Turn the other cheek’ doesn’t mean stand there and wait to get hit.”
Reyes nodded. “My sentiments exactly.”
“Captain,” T’Prynn said, “when did you detect the spike in energy readings on Gamma Tauri IV?”
“About three and a half hours ago.”
T’Prynn looked at Jetanien and then Reyes as she said, “The signals group down in the Vault detected unusually intense activity on the Shedai carrier-wave frequency around that time. They claim the signal originated in the Jinoteur system.”
“Then it would appear that the link between those two systems is more than merely circumstantial,” Jetanien said as he began pacing slowly in the middle of the office. Looking at Captain Okagawa on the monitor, he continued, “Do you have an estimate on when Klingon reinforcements will arrive?”
Okagawa shook his head. “Nothing definite. But considering how fast their colony ship moved in, I suspect their military can’t be far behind.”
“Getting back to the situation on the planet,” Reyes said, “how many civilians were killed at that aquifer dig?”
In the time it took Okagawa to look at his data slate for the answer, T’Prynn said, “Thirty-nine: nine engineers, twenty-eight workers, and two peace officers.”
A few short clicks prefaced Jetanien’s query. “Are we certain beyond a reasonable doubt that the Klingons aren’t responsible for the attack on the colonists?”
“That’s for Dr. Fisher to say,” Okagawa said. “We’ve sent all the forensic data we collected at the scene. As far as deciding what it all means—“
Reyes cut in, “Point taken, Captain.” Looking at Fisher, Reyes said, “We need your report on the double, Zeke, so consider it a rush job.”
Fisher quipped with a weary smirk, “Aren’t they all?”
“Captain,” Reyes said, “continue evacuating our people. I’ll have the Endeavour pick up the pace; they should be with you in less than twenty-one hours. That should be enough to make the Klingons think twice before taking a shot at you.”
A troubled look lingered on Okagawa’s face. “What about the colonists, sir? If a Klingon battle cruiser on their doorstep doesn’t convince them to leave, then what?”
“Then nothing,” Reyes said. His weathered face slackened with dour resignation. “If they won’t ask for help, there’s nothing we can do for them. Once you have our people aboard, pull back to safe distance and stay out of it.”
“That seems pretty harsh,” Fisher said, sounding more irate than he had intended. “Why not tell them the truth? That something really powerful is going to kill them if they don’t get out of there?”
In an arch tone that rankled Fisher, Jetanien replied, “And how do you propose we explain our wealth of knowledge about their predicament, Doctor? The colonists would no doubt ask us to cite previous encounters with these entities. They would inquire about the nature of these beings: Are they intelligent? What do they want? Can they be bargained with? In every case we would find ourselves unable to answer, lest we divulge the entirety of Operation Vanguard.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Fisher said. “Those colonists’ lives are in danger. They have a right to know.”
“Perhaps,” said T’Prynn. “Perhaps not. Warning the colonists would expose our operation and grant the Klingons an undue advantage.”
Suddenly, Fisher felt like the only sane person in the room. Indignant, he said to T’Prynn, “What advantage? The only reason the Klingons are on Gamma Tauri IV is because we are. They obviously know why we’re there.”
“Not necessarily,” T’Prynn said. “They know that we are searching for something, but they might not know what. I suspect they made discoveries on Palgrenax that were similar to our own. But you misunderstand me. I am not speaking of a scientific or even a military advantage but a political one.
“If we betray our knowledge of the entities the Tholians call ‘Shedai’ in order to save the colonists on Gamma Tauri IV, the Klingons will manufacture a public outcry about our ‘secret programs’ to undermine civilians’ trust in Starfleet and the Federation. Our ability to continue our investigation will be compromised, while the Klingons will be able to justify their own efforts as a reaction to our own.”
Fisher was fuming as he looked to Reyes. “Am I hearing this right, Commodore? We’d let eleven thousand people die on Gamma Tauri to make sure the Klingons don’t embarrass us?”
Reyes sighed. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Doctor. You’ve seen the potential in the meta-genome—hell, you showed us how to unlock part of it.” He reclined regally in his chair. “Now, I could be wrong about this, but I’m pretty sure that whoever figures out the meta-genome first is gonna be holding all the cards in this game—and I’d rather not see them in the Klingons’ hand, especially when we’ve got damned near all our chips on the table.” He leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. “So far we’ve been a little bit lucky, and we’ve bluffed our way out of a few tight spots—but if we show our cards early to save eleven thousand lives on Gamma Tauri, we might be throwing away eleven billion lives across the Federation by giving the game to the Klingons.” Softening his tone, he added, “I’m not a monster, Zeke. I don’t want to see those people come to harm. But I’ve had to get used to the fact that we’re playing for much higher stakes than we’ve ever played before. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but we could be talking about the survival of the Federation.”
Heavy silence fell over the room. Realizing that he was outnumbered by people just as stubborn as himself, Fisher grimaced and shook his head. “Rationalize it, explain it, justify it any way you like,” he said. “It still adds up to letting innocent people die so we can keep our damn secrets.”
A low rumbling sound percolated inside Jetanien’s broad chest. Then the Chelon ambassador said, “May I make a suggestion, Commodore?”
“Please,” Reyes said, sounding both weary and curious.
Jetanien grasped the lapels of his robe and said, “It is likely that the Shedai attacked the Starfleet survey personnel because they were armed and perceived as a threat. If so, it is possible that the unarmed civilian colonists will not be considered dangerous and will not be targeted by the Shedai. If Dr. Fisher’s forensic analysis concludes that the colonists were killed by Klingon action, I propose that we treat the incident as a matter between third parties and remain neutral. But if he concludes that the colonists have been targeted by the Shedai, I recommend we either coax or coerce the colonists to evacuate, while taking steps to preserve operational security.”
Reyes nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked at Fisher. “Sound okay to you, Doctor?”
“I still think it stinks,” Fisher said, glancing at the data card in his hand. “But I can live with it.”
“Then you’d better get to work,” Reyes said, “because your report’ll decide what we do next.”
Dr. M’Benga shivered slightly as he entered the chilly confines of the morgue. Located on the lowest level of Vanguard Hospital, the morgue was a place that M’Benga disliked visiting—not out of superstition but to avoid being reminded of those times when all his knowledge and all of Starfleet’s formidable medical science simply wasn’t enough, the times when death bested them.
Hunched over an angled viewer in front of the morgue’s main computer bank, Dr. Ezekiel Fisher looked lost in his work, staring with unblinking intensity into the greenish illumination of the device’s recessed screen. He didn’t seem to register the sound of M’Benga’s footsteps as the younger physician walked over to join him. Even after M’Benga was right next to him, Fisher continued staring into the viridian glow. A half-empty mug of coffee sat to Fisher’s right; a semi-congealed swirl of artificial dairy product coated its surface. Fisher reached across the console without looking up, grabbed a blue data card from a stack of cards, and inserted it into a slot.