Rise of the Federation: Live by the Code (28 page)

Vabion finally spoke. “We already have a countersignal,” he said. “Think about it.” His eyes fell on Travis Mayweather as he spoke.

The first officer’s eyes widened. “The shutdown command!”

“The one I helped you create, yes. With our improved interface protocols, it should be easy enough to adapt into a broadcast signal. No need for Mister Banerji’s probes.”

“But it only works,” Banerji pointed out, “with the cooperation of the sleepers. These sleepers are volunteers.”

“We know the Partnership’s protocols for notifying the volunteers it’s time to wake up,” Akomo suggested.

Mayweather shook his head. “That wouldn’t be enough. When I was inside, interfaced with the other sleepers, we didn’t just wake up. We actively made the Ware shut down.”

“Rather, you told one another to do so,” Vabion pointed
out. “A suggestion the others willingly accepted. The volunteers wish to serve the Partnership. Let us include a status advisory informing the sleepers that the system is in danger and needs to be shut down.”

“What if they aren’t convinced?” Akomo asked. “Most of them have missed the events of the past few weeks.”

“They don’t have to be convinced,” Mayweather told her. “Even revived, they’re half-asleep. It’s visceral, instinctive. Controlling the Ware is like controlling your own body. If they feel it’s in danger, they’ll react by reflex.”

At Reed’s querying look, Tucker nodded. “It could work.”

“Then get it done.
Now.
”

As the team bent to the task, Tucker addressed Vabion. “You may have just saved a whole lot of lives, you know.”

The industrialist raised his chin. “I have saved a great many lives in the course of my career.” He paused. “Though never, I confess, as an end in itself. Except in the belief that it provided some justification for the smaller number of lives I arranged to end.” His dark eyes were drawn to the tactical screen showing the approaching Klingon armada. “Not so small a number anymore.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do now? Balance the ledger?”

Vabion met his eyes. “It has never been as simple as mere numbers, has it? Every life sacrificed has consequences beyond itself. Net losses that have a way of compounding.” He looked away. “We can never balance them, I think, Mister Collier. We can simply try to live with them.”

Oceantop City, Rastish

To Samuel Kirk, Oceantop looked like a greatly enlarged, technological equivalent of the floating sea-hornet mounds
of Kaferia—a cluster of expansive, angular floating platforms with boxy protrusions extending both upward into the air and downward into the sea. Many of the lower protrusions, resembling uneven stacks of various-sized gray-white slabs, had openings and internal pools to allow the Sris’si denizens of the city to swim inside and interact with the Ware interfaces and replicators, as well as with the air-breathing inhabitants. Kirk had come here in search of a rarity: a Sris’si ex-volunteer who had somehow retained a degree of consciousness during his tenure inside a Ware data core. Captain Reed had sent him the day before in the slim hope that he could learn something new about the root-level operations of the Ware, something that could assist in bypassing the auto­immune reaction that had been the fatal flaw of the experimental control protocol.

Now that very autoimmune reaction was tearing the city in half. And Kirk was barely managing to stay ahead of it.

Val Williams and her team from
Pioneer
had found him and a dozen Oceantop residents trapped behind an unmoving hatchway as the corridors behind him flooded with water. The breakdown of the structure had flooded the subsurface bay where he’d been conversing with the Sris’si volunteer, breaking the balance of air pressure that had kept its pool from overflowing. Kirk and his interviewee had retreated in opposite directions, and Kirk hoped the Sris’si had managed to dodge the debris that sank around him. Kirk had run for the exit as quickly as he could, only to be trapped by the hatch. He had been overjoyed to see Val on the other side when she’d blasted it open. She was sweaty and bedraggled and covered in scrapes and bruises, and she was stripped to her tank top, having used her tunic as a makeshift sling for a Krutuvub evacuee (“It was torn anyway,” she’d explained). She looked magnificent.

Now they ran along a clear-walled subsurface walkway that connected two segments of the city, a walkway that was bending and threatening to rupture as the segment behind them slowly sank. It gave way at the far end just as they reached the new segment, and Kirk felt the pressure increase in his ear canals. Williams shoved him through the hatch, then waited to follow until all the evacuees and the rest of her team were out, with the inrushing water already up to her knees. She hit the hatch controls, but the force of the water kept it from closing all the way. “We have to move!” she cried.

“Is anywhere in the city safe?” Sam panted as the group ran for a ramp that spiraled around the walls of a rectangular airshaft within a tower rising well above the surface.

“The team on
Pioneer
sent the shutdown signal barely ahead of the Klingons’ destruct signal,” Val explained as they ran upward. “Most of the Ware on the planet got shut down before the destruct code took root. The team even managed to insert a code to beam the sleepers to safety—the one part of the last experiment that worked.”

“Obviously not all the Ware shut down,” Kirk pointed out, looking down at the ominously rising water below.

“About a third of the data cores in Oceantop were infected by the Klingons before shutdown. They’re tearing themselves apart, and every other bit of the city their transporters and robot arms can reach. The next segment should be far enough away.”

“It would be if it weren’t flooding!”

“There’s a Tyrellian shuttle on the roof. A relief ship on its way back to Etrafso rerouted here to assist. Its freight shuttles can hold hundreds. This segment will last long enough to evacuate.”

They were above the surface now, reaching a height where
the beveled corners of the airshaft became windows to the outside. Williams looked through and grimaced. “Or it would if it weren’t being strafed by Klingon fighters.” Gasping, Kirk ran to look out over her shoulder. Indeed, several angular, raptor­like craft were soaring by overhead, firing bolts of blinding plasma. “Come on, faster,” Williams said, urging the ­evacuees up the ramp.

“I have . . . to give the Klingons points . . . for improvisation, at least,” Kirk wheezed, trying to distract himself with banter. “As soon as the destruct code . . . gets interrupted . . . plan B!”

Williams, unfairly, was hardly winded. “Your typical ­Klingon warrior always has multiple backup weapons at the ready. And they’re determined to destroy the Ware completely.”

“The Ware, right? Not the people in it?”

“Oh, sure, they don’t care how many of us get away. The evac shuttles are free and clear, as long as they aren’t Ware-built.” An explosion sounded dangerously close, startling Kirk. Williams cocked a brow at him. “Then again, they don’t care how
few
of us get away either.”

Luckily, others cared. Through the windows, Kirk could see that shuttles from
Pioneer
and
Flabbjellah
were airlifting as many Partners as they could carry, prioritizing those unable to survive in Minshara-class conditions. Some groups were even being beamed aboard by transporter; the risk was surely minimal compared to the risk of remaining here. In the water, he could see the Sris’si inhabitants of the city carrying many of the Hurraait, Monsof, Enlesri, and others away on their backs, or towing rafts made from fragments of the disintegrating city structure. A small Balduk combat craft circled overhead, firing at the Klingon fighters. “The Balduk are helping too?” Kirk asked.

“Yeah,” Williams replied, “the Klingon privateers turned tail and ran, but the Balduk stayed to honor their agreement. So much for Klingon honor.”

Kirk noticed that the tower was starting to list to one side. Much of the module’s “ground-level” platform below was already underwater. He could feel the slope by the time they made it onto the roof of the tower. Several open, railed skywalks connected the roof to other adjacent towers, with Partners running across them toward the large Tyrellian shuttle on this roof.

Once the Starfleet personnel reached the shuttle and helped their group of evacuees aboard, Williams turned to Kirk. “Get yourself secured.”

“I’m a Starfleet officer. I can help.”

“You’re a historian, Sam.”

“At least I can help keep people calm. Guide them aboard the ship.”

“And risk getting strafed. Or falling into the water.” The deck was sloping somewhat sharply now. She stroked his cheek. “I won’t risk you again, Sam. You want to calm people, the ones waiting inside the shuttle will be pretty scared right now.”

A loud crashing sound drew her attention. The adjacent tower downslope from them had pieces of its superstructure dissolving, evidently within range of the infected Ware transporters. Chunks of its walls had collapsed over the archway to the skywalk, pinning several people beneath them and trapping dozens more behind. And their level of the tower was sinking closer and closer to the waterline. “Just get on board, Sam. I can’t afford to worry about you right now.” Williams ran off, her speed and power com­pelling to watch.

But frightening to watch as well. As always, she was putting the lives of strangers above her own, above whatever relationship they might have. What if this was the day he lost her?

How can I lose her if I never had her?
He watched how fearlessly she ran across the slanting bridge, dodging Klingon disruptor bolts, fixated solidly on her goal of rescuing innocent lives. If she could give everything for strangers, why couldn’t he take a chance for her?

Love is about risk,
he thought.
She risks because she cares. She cares more than anyone I’ve ever met.

So how can I do any less?

By the time he finished the thought, he was already running for the bridge. A disruptor bolt hit nearby, causing him to stumble. He slid down the tilted surface of the bridge, grabbing for the railings, sustaining several painful blows to his forearms before he finally caught hold, just in time to prevent himself from flying off into the roiling, churning water below. He gasped for breath, panicking—but then he thought of Val. A moment later, he was back on his feet, jogging down to her side. He grabbed onto the heavy slab she was struggling to lift and added his strength to hers.

Once it fell clear, she threw a glare at him. “I told you to wait in the shuttle,” she said, though there was admiration in her voice.

“The hell with that,” he cried. “We’ve got a job to do. Are we going to save these people or what?”

He bent to the task, and Val grinned as she joined him. Together, they cleared away two more chunks of debris, enough to let the evacuees clamber over the rest. Two of Williams’s guards had joined them, helping the injured to their feet and up the bridge that was now a steepening ramp. “Come on!” Williams cried as water began visibly flooding into the
corridor behind the crumbling arch. “The bridge won’t last much longer!”

Kirk checked his scanner. “Just making sure everybody’s out!”

“Damn it, Sam . . .” She grabbed at his arm and pulled. “If there’s anyone left in there, it’s already too late. I’m sorry. This is the job.” Wincing, he let her pull him away.

But the bridge was already starting to buckle and creak. “Come on!” Williams cried, grabbing his hand and practically pulling him up the slope. He ran as hard as he could to keep up, legs straining.

The upper end of the bridge gave way just before they reached it. “Jump!” Val roared, and with a final surge of adrenaline, he pushed off.

They tumbled onto the roof together, their bodies entangled. With the connection to the collapsing tower severed, their own tower started to level out a bit, at least for the moment. Kirk ended up on his back with Val’s firm body resting atop him. Gazing into each other’s eyes, they laughed together.

He started to pull her down into a kiss just a split second before she pulled him up into one. They met roughly in the middle, and the adrenaline rush surpassed everything he’d experienced in the past five minutes.

When it was over, Val propped herself up on her hands and glanced downward, smirking at what she felt. “Hold that thought, Sammy. For when we’re back on the ship.”

He flushed with embarrassment and excitement as she pulled him to his feet—and he ran a bit awkwardly beside her as she led him to the shuttle, still holding his hand. “Really? You move fast.”

“Sam, I’ve been waiting a year for you to make a move at all. About time you started catching up.”

“Good point.” They paused at the shuttle entrance, and he raised her hand to his lips and gave it a courtly kiss. “I’ll certainly do my best, my lady.”

She grinned, enormously charmed by the gesture. “Well, you’re off to a good start.”

The deck groaned beneath them and the tower started to sink faster. “Uh . . . we should go,” Val said.

“Good idea,” said Sam.

18

October 19, 2165

U.S.S. Endeavour

“Y
OU NEED TO GO
,”
Admiral Archer said.

T’Pol faced his visage on her ready-room desk monitor. “Admiral, I cannot accept simply surrendering the Partnership to the Klingons.”

“I’m sorry, T’Pol. I hate it too. But this is direct from the President. We’ve only just managed to avoid a war with the Empire. It might start up again if you take further action in the Partnership’s defense.”
He let out a slow breath.
“Besides—most of the Klingon fleet is heading your way. Even if you had devised a countermeasure to the destruct signal, you’d still lose against that many warships. There’s just nothing more you can do.”

“Except rescue as many Partners as we can before their life-support systems are destroyed.”

The admiral sighed.
“All right—do what you can. But only until the Klingon fleet catches up with you. Then you have to withdraw. That’s an order, Captain.”

She narrowed her lips, her displeasure tempered by her recognition that his own was just as strong. “Understood, sir.” She paused. “Have the Klingons revealed how they came into possession of the destruct protocol?”

“No,”
Archer said.
“But I got a call from Harris just before it all started. This is Section Thirty-one’s doing. Again.”

“As I suspected.”

He frowned.
“Please tell me you don’t think Trip did this.”

“He has assured me that he did not.”

A weighted pause.
“Do you believe him?”

“I do. He seems certain he knows who is behind the leak, and he has expressed his intention to deal with it personally.”

“I see. Even so, there will be an investigation.”

“I am sure the Section will do its usual efficient job concealing the evidence.”

“And in this case, we’ll probably have to let them,”
Archer said bitterly.
“After all, they ‘saved’ us from a Klingon war.”

“Indeed,” T’Pol said. “And all we had to do was sacrifice another civilization in our place.”

U.S.S. Pioneer

Olivia Akomo met Tucker’s furious gaze evenly as she let him into her quarters. “You lied to me,” he told her once the door closed. “You said you’d give us a chance to find another way.”

“Yes, I did,” the civilian scientist replied. “Because that was what I had to do to achieve my objective. Surely you can understand that.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he cried. “Tens of thousands of Partners have died already. Maybe many more.”

“Yes, I know. And the rest will lose their civilization. The magnificent thing they created will be lost forever.”

“And they’ll end up dead, or slaves of the Klingons!”

“Will they? Look at them. They can’t do anything without the Ware. What good are they as slaves? Odds are, once they’re no longer a threat, the Klingons will leave them alone.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’ll just hunt them for sport. Even if they do get left alone, how will they sustain their population without technology? They’ll go back to living like wild
animals. They’ll lose their knowledge, their medicine, who knows what else.”

“They’ll remember what they had. Maybe some will find a way to rebuild. And the Tyrellians may be willing to help them, like they have with the Pebru.”

“The Tyrellians can only stretch their resources so far. Don’t pretend nothing’s been lost here.”

“I’m not!”
Akomo shouted, her rounded features contorting with fury. Tucker was struck silent. “I know exactly what I’ve caused, Mister Collier. I know exactly what I’ll have to live with. It will be with me for the rest of my life.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because I had to. Because saving the Federation was worth it.”

“Worth hurting strangers hundreds of light-years from home.”

“And hurting myself too! Do you know what your Mister Harris had to agree to in order to convince the Klingons to leave the Federation alone?” Surprised, Tucker shook his head. “We have to destroy all our data about the Ware. Everything we’ve learned about transporters, matter replication, computers, life support, and medicine. Knowledge that could’ve advanced us by centuries!” She twisted her mouth as if at a foul taste. “I had to upload the worm into our computer memory myself. It should be taking effect even now, wiping out all the scientific breakthroughs we could’ve made. All the good I could’ve done for the Federation, not to mention Abramson Industries and my own career. All thrown away.”

“In the name of a greater good? Is that what you’re saying?”

She shook her head. “Don’t you get it, Collier? I did it for you!”

Tucker was dumbstruck. “For me?”

“You’re a spy. A career liar and cheat. But somehow, despite that, you’re one of the most principled men I’ve ever met. It’s amazing that you could hold on to your principles like that, given the work you do.” She smirked. “The work I now do, it looks like. I . . . I figured at least one of us should get to hold on to those principles. Somebody has to. Somebody needs to give your Section a conscience—at least for those times when a conscience isn’t a liability.

“And you’re much higher in the ranks than I am. You’re in a better position to make a difference. So I made the hard choice, took that weight onto me, so you wouldn’t have to. So you wouldn’t be so badly tainted that you’d lose the ability to act as their conscience.”

He stared at her for a long time, taking it all in. “Don’t look at me that way,” she said with a sneer. “I made a calculated, practical choice. The right tool for the right job. There was no other solution.”

Tucker wanted to hit her. She was forged from iron; she could take it. He wanted to scream at her, damn her for her cool, self-righteous smugness, for the hypocrisy in her moral scorn when they had first met. He wanted to drive home the guilt of all the deaths she was responsible for, all the deaths that were still to come because of her actions.

But he saw what was behind her stony, defiant gaze. So he reached out to her. And he supported her when she fell into his arms and broke down in abject, heaving sobs.

SuD Qav

“So I have you at last, Lokog,”
General Ja’rod gloated from the sputtering remains of the viewscreen. Lokog crouched on his
hands and knees beside his broken command chair, bits of hot metal from the sparking wreck of the gunnery console peppering his skin and hair. Kalun and Krugt lay dead at their posts, and Ghopmoq had curled up under his console and begun crying.

“You are truly a craven coward,”
Ja’rod went on, determined to grind his rhetorical boot into Lokog’s face before finally putting him out of his misery.
“You are a pirate and a parasite, unclean and unreliable. You call yourself a warrior for your misbegotten people, but you abandon them, then flee from your own allies. You run from battle like a human.”
Lokog smirked. He had battled humans; he knew he was hardly worthy of such accidental praise.
“And now your dishonor has sealed your fate.”

The privateer looked up at that, struck by the general’s words. Lifting himself shakily to his feet, he spoke. “Yes—I’m a pirate and a renegade. I scrape by on the fringes. I made . . .
one . . . mistake . . .
and I got a disease! I was deformed! And because of that, I lost my ship, my crew, my standing. I had to build myself back up again however I could—but I no longer had a place in the Empire. I was pushed out! And then the
khest’n
Federation came along and pushed me out again! And then my own bedmate tried to kill me for not being ambitious,” he went on, gesticulating in annoyance, “and when I killed her and tried
being
ambitious,
your
kind tried to wipe out everyone like me!”

Lokog put his hands on his hips. “So, yes. I cheat. I flee. I do what it takes to survive in a universe that seems determined to ruin me. No one else plays fairly, so why should I?”

Ja’rod gazed at him in disgust.
“It truly will be an honor to cleanse the universe of your stain.”
He ordered his gunner to open fire.

For once, now that he was out of options, Lokog faced his
death without blinking. “Your kind has no more honor than mine, Ja’rod,” he said as the disruptor bolts closed in.

“You just have harder heads.”

October 20, 2165

U.S.S. Vol’Rala,
Cotesc system

Malcolm Reed’s bearded face stared agitatedly from
the bridge’s forward viewer.
“Why are you still at Cotesc, Thenar? The Klingon armada will be there any minute!”

Sh’Prenni chuckled. “Why do you ask the question if you’re just going to answer it for me?”

“I’m serious, Thenar.”

“So am I, Malcolm.” She raised herself from the command chair, stepping forward. “The Partners on Cotesc have been working nonstop to replicate transport ships and evacuate as many people as possible before the Klingons arrive. Someone needs to run interference.”

“Ware ships? What’s the point? The Klingons will just hunt them down.”

“Not if I delay them long enough. What I need you to do is make sure they get to Etrafso.”

“Etrafso?”

“Yes.” Sh’Prenni lowered her eyes, then traded looks with the others on the bridge crew. “Thanks to us, its Ware is already shut down. And thanks to you,
Kinaph,
and the Tyrellians, its people have largely managed to re-establish their subsistence needs without Ware. It’s the one Partnership world that has the best chance of surviving this.”

“That’s a good thought, Thenar. Except you’re sending a whole fleet of Ware drones Etrafso’s way.”

Silash ch’Gesrit stepped forward from the engineering
station. “Which is why, as soon as the last of the refugees have been unloaded, we need you to transmit the destruct signal. And dismantle the Ware that’s already shut down.”

“If you cleanse the planet of Ware before the Klingons arrive,” Giered Charas added, “they will not see it as a target.”

“And at least one small part of the Partnership will survive,” Ramnaf Breg finished.

Reed thought it over.
“It’s a good plan. It could work. But it’ll have a better chance if you join us in carrying it out.”

Tavrithinn th’Cheen turned from his tactical displays. “The Klingon armada is nearing, Captain. All stations report ready. All particle cannons charged, torpedo tubes clear for firing.”

Sh’Prenni smiled at Reed. “We are joining you, my friend. This is our part in the plan.”

“Damn it, Thenar, you don’t have to martyr yourselves! There are other ways to do penance.”

“In principle, I agree,” she said. “I’d love it if we had one. But timing, circumstances, and Klingon ruthlessness have left none of them available to us today.” Her antennae took on a wistful bent. “This is what we must do. It’s not about punishing ourselves. It’s about protecting the innocent. It’s about doing what we came here to do in the first place.” She blinked away tears. “And doing it
right
this time.”

Reed held her eyes for a long moment.
“It’s been an honor, Captain sh’Prenni.”

“Ohh, Captain Reed.” She grinned with her mouth and her antennae. “It’s been a blast.”

Reed’s image faded before she could quantify the burst of emotion that began to sweep over his face. She could guess, though.

“Captain,” Antocadra sh’Thyfon announced from the science station, “receiving a hail from the Partnership fleet.”

Gathering herself, sh’Prenni nodded. “Onscreen, Cadra.”

Tefcem var Skos, Rinheith Chep, and Fendob appeared on the screen, the immaculate walls of a freshly replicated Ware control room behind them.
“Captain sh’Prenni,”
Rinheith said.
“We are the last ship to depart Cotesc. All the Senior Partners are in space, along with as many Nierl, Xavoth, and Krutuvub as we could find in time. The rest on Cotesc are fleeing the cities. They will survive in the wilderness, or in the oceans for the Sris’si, and hopefully be unharrassed by the Klingons.”

“The Partners of Avathox report that they are also doing . . . as you suggested,”
var Skos told her.
“Many of the aerial cities’ modules are being reconfigured into warp ships. They shall evacuate as much of the population as they can before
 . . . before the cities are destroyed . . . and then proceed to Etrafso. The Xavoth should be safe from the Klingons in the depths of their atmosphere, as long as they dismantle their Ware.”

“That is deeply gratifying to know, Partner var Skos,” the captain replied. “The task force will see that they make it there safely. We shall remain here to ensure your own escape.”

Var Skos fidgeted, kneading his clamplike mitts and blinking his large, round eyes.
“Captain . . . I have hated you and your crew for what you did to Etrafso. Yet now . . . it is the only thing that will save us. Your actions have made the difference—”

She shook her head. “Don’t. Please, Partner, don’t try to tell us that we’ve made up for our crime. Your civilization would not have been endangered—uncounted sentient beings would not have died—if not for our interference. That is the fact of it, and we all must live with its consequences.”

Fendob whispered a few isolated words in the ear of Rinheith, who interpreted and embellished, perhaps speaking for them both.
“Our civilization has been in danger from its neighbors for centuries. Perhaps, by attempting to tame a technology that has harmed so many others, we were always tempting fate. Sooner or later, some nation
would have devised this means to destroy the Ware, or another. And we would have had no one acting in our defense when they came.
”

“We are entitled to thank you, captain and crew of
Vol’Rala
,”
var Skos finished.
“To thank you, at least, for caring. And for trying.”

Deeply moved, sh’Prenni nodded in acknowledgment. “On behalf of my crew . . . I promise we will not fail you again.”