“I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning, Admiral.”
“I’ll be blunt, then: Mister Quinn’s history of alcoholism and unstable behavior make him a security risk, especially in light of his recent relapse into binge drinking.”
“I’ve taken steps to help him control his addictions. Given time and support—”
Aziz shook his head. “It’s too late for that, Lieutenant. The intel to which he’s had access is too important and the stakes in the Taurus Reach are now far too high for us to risk Quinn being captured and interrogated by a hostile power or rogue political actor. And considering the current downward spiral of his life, I’m afraid he’s no longer useful to us as a covert asset, which means we have no compelling reason to spend time or resources rehabilitating him.”
T’Prynn said nothing. She just stared at Aziz and waited until he made it an order.
“Covertly neutralize Mister Quinn at your earliest opportunity. Aziz out.”
The admiral terminated the connection without brooking further debate, which was just as well, since there clearly was nothing left to discuss. Quinn’s life had been declared forfeit, and T’Prynn had been designated to collect it.
Seeing no other alternative, she began planning the end of Cervantes Quinn.
23
As a general rule, Admiral Nogura preferred to conduct official meetings inside his office. He tried to avoid visiting the other departments under his authority because, in his experience, the arrival of a commanding officer—especially one of flag rank—tended to have a disruptive effect on business-as-usual. Convening behind closed doors also provided the additional advantage of discretion. Put simply, people often seemed more willing to speak their minds in private.
Some matters, however, demanded to be addressed in person.
The secure airlock portal parted ahead of him with a pneumatic gasp, revealing the well-lit, antiseptic environs of the Vault. He lurched through the hatchway, trailed by a quartet of crimson-shirted security officers, and marched at a quick-step through the laboratory, following the shortest possible route to the object of his unbounded rancor. His broken-glass voice boomed inside the hushed hall of science. “Doctor Marcus!”
She casually stroked a lock of her golden hair from her forehead and turned to confront him with an infuriating, beatific calm. “Yes, Admiral?”
He was so enraged that he could barely compose sentences. “What in God’s name were you thinking? Going over my head to the Federation Security Council?”
Marcus crossed her arms and lifted her chin with haughty pride. “You made it clear my opinions weren’t going to be given due consideration here, so I did what I had to do.”
“Except that I did give your opinions due consideration, Doctor! Far more, in fact, than you realize or could ever know.” He stepped forward, invading her personal space on purpose. “I did all I could to be your advocate to my superiors, but I had to accept that there are larger issues involved than your conscience—or your ego. But that wasn’t good enough for you, was it? No, you had to cash in political favors and bring down a shitstorm on all of us. I hope you’re happy.”
“Far from it.” Marcus thrust one index finger in violent jabs toward Nogura’s chest, pulling back each time millimeters shy of contact. “What you and your people are doing here, with this array, is both dangerous and immoral! You’re enslaving the Shedai, in clear violation of Federation law, and—”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Doctor! I agree, this is an ugly situation, but—”
“Ugly! It’s unconscionable! It’s an offense against sentient beings who have just as much right to live in this universe as we do.”
Xiong, Theriault, and the legion of scientists who spent the vast majority of their waking hours inside the Vault gathered around Marcus and Nogura, all of them jockeying by small degrees for the best angle from which to observe and listen. Nogura tried to ignore the pressure that came with an audience and kept his focus on Marcus alone. “Tell me, Doctor, will you defend the Shedai’s rights this vigorously after they start slaughtering civilians by the millions? Because that’s what’s going to happen if one of these things gets onto a Federation world.”
“I’m not going to debate hypotheticals with you, Admiral.”
“Then I’ll tell you something that’s not hypotheticaclass="underline" I have my orders from Starfleet Command, and those orders are to bring this array on line and make it operational immediately. It doesn’t matter what I think of those orders, Doctor. I will see them carried out.”
“Even if it means condoning slavery?”
“I’ll do it because it means saving lives. But, yes, I think there might be a poetic justice in yoking the Shedai to the array after what I’m told they once did to the Tholians.”
Marcus radiated contempt. “Answering evil with evil doesn’t add up to an act of good.”
“Good and evil aren’t always options, Doctor. Sometimes all we have to choose from are varying degrees of bad, worse, and completely awful. But we still have to choose.” He shook his head. “It’s all a moot point now. Your complaint to the Security Council stirred up so much trouble at Starfleet Command that your security clearance for Operation Vanguard has been officially revoked. Ten hours from now, at exactly 2130 hours station time, you and your son will be transferred off this station aboard the transport S.S. Linshul.”
His proclamation left Marcus looking as if she’d been gut-punched. “You’re firing me and kicking me off the station?”
“Not me,” Nogura corrected her. “Starfleet Command. You took my prerogative out of the equation the moment you decided to circumvent my authority.” Looking around at the gathered faces spectating on their contretemps, he added, “Any of you who signed that letter Doctor Marcus sent to the Security Council had better start packing, as well. Because your clearances have also been revoked, and you’ll be joining Doctor Marcus at her new assignment.”
Angry voices assailed Nogura from all sides, and his security detachment moved closer to defend him, just as they had been trained to do. Over the din of shouting voices, he heard Marcus call for order. As the clamor died down, she yelled, “You don’t get to fire us, Admiral, and neither does Starfleet! We’re civilians, sent here by order of the Federation Council.”
“Starfleet welcomed you to this facility as a courtesy. Now we’re letting you know that you’ve overstayed your welcome, and it’s time to go.”
“You can’t do this!”
“It’s done. Be at Gangway Four on the lower docking pylon at 2130 sharp. If you’re not there at 2130, I’ll send armed security to find you and bring you there. Is that understood?”
She traded exasperated looks with several of her fellow soon-to-be-exiled colleagues, and Nogura could tell from their deepening mood of collective despair that the reality of the moment was finally beginning to take root in their minds. Bewildered and flustered, Marcus pressed one hand to her high forehead as she asked, “Where are we being sent? Back to Earth?”
“No, to a brand-new research station,” Nogura said. “A state-of-the-art facility where you can continue your work on your own terms—without Starfleet looking over your shoulder.”
That drew a bittersweet smile from her. “Your doing, I suppose?”
“I might have pulled a few strings,” he admitted.
She drew a deep breath and relaxed a bit. “Where is it?”
“Orbiting the planetoid Regula, in the Mutara Sector.”
All her fury returned at once. “Mutara Sector! That’s even more remote than the Taurus Reach! That’s practically the middle of nowhere!”
Nogura harrumphed as he walked away. “Don’t worry, Doctor. Even at the ass end of space, I’m sure you’ll still find something to bitch about.”