Available Light, page 25
Picard replied, “We certainly can’t offer you anything that can replace your lost people and ships, but there are other compensations we can offer.”
“As can we,” added Yidemi. “We would be more than happy to show our appreciation for your assistance.”
“Surely we can come to some agreement,” said Picard, “but time is of the essence. If you do intend to help us, then it has to be now. We have much work to do.”
“Then we should begin,” said Brinamar. “We can discuss the other matters later, once the work is complete.”
Smiling, Picard nodded. “Agreed. Thank you, Brinamar.” Buoyed by the conversation and the Torrekmat captain’s pledge, Picard allowed himself to savor the moment. Out of tragic misunderstanding, he along with Brinamar and Yidemi had managed to find consensus. Could something more substantial grow from this tenuous accord? There was no way to know for certain, and more immediate concerns demanded their attention.
One thing at a time, Jean-Luc, Picard reminded himself. One thing at a time.
• • •
“That is one damned big ship.”
T’Ryssa Chen almost laughed at Joanna Faur’s comment as she stared through the Araguaia’s cockpit canopy at the Osijemal. The massive ark ship dwarfed the runabout, crowding her field of vision to the exclusion of all else. It was difficult to look at the vessel, which made even the Enterprise seem small and weak in comparison, and not feel insignificant. Even the viewscreen images she had studied did not properly convey the ship’s sheer mass.
“The inside’s just as impressive,” said Chen, dividing her attention between the cockpit’s instrument panel and the view outside the runabout. “And that’s before the whole computer-generated, simulated life thing.”
Faur asked, “Was it really as impressive as you described? I guess I’m still trying to equate it to something like our holodecks.”
“In a way, the Haven is a holodeck,” replied Chen, “but it’s so much more. The Nejamri exist, work and play, love and hope and dream, living out their lives just as they would if they were back on their planet. Only the computer keeps them from acknowledging the true passage of time, and their lives keep them occupied to the extent that it’s so easy to forget it’s not real.” Catching herself, she smiled. “But it is real.”
Behind them, a voice said, “For us, it is real in all the ways that matter.”
Chen shifted in her seat to find Yidemi standing at the back of the cockpit. The Nejamri engineer was smiling, his gaze fixed on the Osijemal as the Araguaia closed the distance.
“It was an amazing experience,” said Chen, “even for the short time I was there.”
“And I am thankful you suffered no ill effects,” replied Yidemi. “Given the complexity of properly mapping and supporting the processes and needs of the brain, the scientists and engineers who created our technology never anticipated its use on someone of another species, but the computer’s ability to process and adapt to new situations and inputs is one of its many strengths.” He paused, his smile widening. “It is amazing that despite the vast distances that separate our worlds, and that of the Torrekmat, we have so much in common.”
Faur replied, “We’ve found that to be the case when making contact with all manner of new species. And the similarities extend beyond physical characteristics. More often than not, we discover numerous shared values and beliefs, or they’re at least something we can recognize. Bridging the gaps is a lot easier when each side is committed to understand the other.”
“Do you encounter those who are more difficult to understand?” asked Yidemi. “Or perhaps they are simply unwilling.”
“Unfortunately, that happens from time to time too,” replied Chen. She paused, reaching up to rub her temples. It was only a small bout of dizziness, but enough to make her collapse a bit into her seat. Despite her concentration on her console, Faur noticed the gesture.
“You okay?” she asked.
Chen swallowed. “Yeah. Doctor Crusher told me to expect a little lag here and there, more as an effect of the meds she gave me than anything else.” The Enterprise’s chief medical officer had released her from sickbay under the condition that she return if she felt it necessary, but the truth was that despite the fleeting sensation, Chen was feeling more like her old self.
“La Forge to Araguaia,” said the voice of the Enterprise’s chief engineer over the intercom. “We show you on final approach.”
Tapping a control on her console, Faur said, “Affirmative, Commander.” She paused, checking her instruments. “I’m preparing to orient us for the docking maneuver. Or whatever you want to call it.”
“Unconventional insertion?” offered Chen.
Both women heard La Forge chuckling in response to the comment, but he otherwise chose not to acknowledge it. “The hole they’ve cut in the hull doesn’t leave you a lot of room to maneuver, Lieutenant, but the computer should be able to handle it, if you want.”
“I prefer to do my own flying whenever possible, sir,” replied Faur. “That said, this isn’t the sort of thing I usually do. We’ll see how it goes.”
Working to restore power to the Osijemal or at the very least arrest its accelerated energy loss, La Forge and Taurik had collaborated with the five Nejamri engineers who had transitioned out of the Haven’s virtual realm and returned to their physical bodies. Between them, the group concluded that Taurik’s original idea of using a shuttlecraft or runabout’s main drive system offered the most stable source of energy with sufficient means to meet the ark ship’s immediate power requirements. Disassembling, relocating, and reassembling such a system would prove a time-consuming process. Even drawing or replicating all the requisite components from the starship’s expansive supply stores would take longer than La Forge preferred, coupled with the additional burden of having to run diagnostics and fine-tuning adjustments on the untested equipment prior to bringing it online. From a time and safety standpoint, simply slaving a shuttlecraft or runabout directly to the Osijemal’s main systems to serve as a substitute power source was the option that would take the least time and present the fewest risks.
All that was needed was to cut a hole in the side of the Nejamri ship. This unusual strategy would allow the Araguaia, chosen for this special assignment, to maneuver inside and in close proximity to the larger vessel’s central power-distribution hub. This would bypass the various safeguards and other protective systems, thereby avoiding issues the Enterprise had already experienced.
“Once we have completed the installation, the immediate danger to my people is removed,” said Yidemi. “We will be able to complete our repairs and continue our journey, but not before our people can thank you for all you have done to help us.”
Faur turned in her seat. “Yidemi, I have to ask what made your people decide to make the voyage in this manner.” She gestured toward the canopy as the runabout continued its approach. “We’ve encountered ships where the crews travel in suspended animation, and others where the crew and passengers who embark on the journey eventually leave the vessel and its mission to their descendants. In some cases, several generations pass before the ship reaches its destination. What motivated your people to decide on creating the Haven and making the trip that way? Given how large the Osijemal is, you could’ve easily supported your population.”
“Those and other theories were considered,” replied Yidemi. “However, the consensus among the populace, even before people were chosen to embark on this or one of the other ships, was that we did not wish to travel in hibernation, unaware of what was happening around us as we moved among the stars. Neither did we wish to spend the remainder of our lives simply maintaining our vessel and preparing to give it to successive generations, who would know of our planet and culture only what we could teach them during the voyage. Like everyone else aboard the Osijemal, I wanted to help establish our new home and live my life there. Then I could rest knowing the future of our people was secure for those who would come after us. The Haven provided us the best solution for all involved.”
Nodding, Faur smiled. “When you put it that way, it makes perfect sense.”
“I’m telling you,” said Chen, “you’re going to love these people.”
“I hope I get to meet more of them.” Faur returned her attention to her console as an alert tone sounded in the cockpit. “Okay, we’re lining up for final maneuvering.” She tapped several controls in rapid succession. “Araguaia to Commander La Forge. We’re ready when you are, sir.”
Over the open communications channel, the chief engineer replied, “At your discretion, Lieutenant. See you inside.”
Beyond the canopy, Chen now could see a large hole cut through the Osijemal’s dense outer hull. Maintaining station just to the left of the runabout as it made its final approach was the Utenla. The salvage vessel commanded by Brinamar had done an exceptional job utilizing a pair of laser cutting torches mounted on omnidirectional swivels just beneath the ship’s bow. According to the sensor readings Chen now studied on her own console, the opening was large enough to accommodate the Araguaia while providing limited clearance on all sides. Beyond the hole, support structures, conduits, and even a section of passageway had been cut away, also by the Utenla, so that the runabout could maneuver into the Osijemal and position itself at the location designated by Yidemi and his team of Nejamri engineers. To make the hole any larger was to introduce unwanted structural issues within the ark ship, something all parties wished to avoid. Though a sound plan on the face of it, this meant Faur and the runabout’s computer now were tasked with guiding the Araguaia through very tight quarters on the way to its destination. While Chen had to admit to a bit of nervousness at the unorthodox methods in play here, she detected no such anxiety from Faur.
“Please tell Brinamar and her crew it looks like they did an outstanding job with the preparations,” said Faur into the open link. “This is going to be a piece of cake.”
“I’ll pass that on,” replied La Forge.
In truth, the same job could have been performed either by the Enterprise or a team of engineers in work pods, but Captain Picard instead used the opportunity to solicit the assistance of Brinamar and her crew for the effort. Chen knew he hoped to establish a bond with the Torrekmat ship captain and hopefully wipe away the remaining tensions between them. The strategy seemed to be working, and it was obvious during her interactions with Picard that Brinamar appeared grateful for the opportunity to move beyond the unpleasant nature of their introduction to each other, and Senthilmal’s behavior before her arrival.
Completing her final adjustments using maneuvering thrusters, Faur brought the Araguaia to a position just before the gap in the Osijemal’s hull. The runabout’s nose was close enough that Chen was sure if she reached through the canopy she could touch the ark ship’s surface. Then, without waiting for further instructions, Faur tapped the thruster control and held for the briefest of moments, edging the Araguaia forward.
“Here we go,” she said.
With the runabout now in motion, the flight control officer ceded control of it to the onboard computer, and Chen tried not to tense her muscles as they entered the gap. She watched as the inner hull and support structure drifted past the cockpit canopy, noting how sections of severed access conduits and other passages had been sealed off to prevent loss of atmosphere. Indeed, this entire area of the Osijemal had been cordoned off from the rest of the ship so that both Nejamri and Enterprise engineers could work without risking danger to other personnel elsewhere onboard.
“Told you,” said Faur after a minute of flying in silence. “Easy as pie.”
“I thought you said piece of cake?” asked Chen.
“Well, now I want pie.”
Their giggles evoked a confused look from Yidemi, who said nothing from where he stood behind the women. His own gaze remained fixed on the view outside the runabout, watching as the craft maneuvered deeper into the ark ship.
“Don’t worry, Yidemi,” said Chen. “We’re almost there.”
Ahead of them, the makeshift tunnel ended and expanded to a larger compartment, a chamber that had just about enough room for the runabout to hover in as Faur oriented it according to La Forge’s instructions.
“Rotating forty-seven degrees starboard,” Faur called out, her attention once more on her instruments.
Rising from her seat, Chen looked through the cockpit and down to the deck where eight figures stood near a hatchway, watching the Araguaia’s landing. Four wore Starfleet environment suits while the others sported gray, bulkier garments with larger, bulb-like helmets and small rectangular packs strapped to their backs. One of the Starfleet figures, likely Commander La Forge, waved toward the runabout as Faur made the final tweaks and the craft settled to the deck.
“And that, gentle beings, is how we do that,” said Faur, her fingers busy entering commands to power down the Araguaia’s engines.
Yidemi offered, “Excellent piloting, Lieutenant Faur.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “We aim to please.”
“Nice job, Lieutenant,” said La Forge over the comm link. “Suit up and come on out. We’re on a short timetable.”
Chen frowned, exchanging glances with Faur and Yidemi. “You mean shorter than we thought?”
“You got it,” replied the chief engineer. “Captain Picard just told me there are five more Torrekmat ships inbound, and they’re not answering hails. Things are about to get crazy all over again.”
27
Regardless of identity or relationship with the person elected to serve that role, one did not simply drop in on the President of the United Federation of Planets. Beaming into the chief executive’s office literally was impossible, owing to the multiple, redundant transport inhibitors monitoring it and its adjacent rooms. While the option was available for other offices within the Palais de la Concorde, it was a privilege restricted to a very small list of approved individuals, and that access varied depending on the person and destination.
The Federation Security Agency had removed such options for the president, without exception. Anyone with business in those chambers underwent a thorough vetting and screening at three different checkpoints before any meeting began. In the event of an emergency that brought with it a need to evacuate, a personal escape transporter was hidden behind the west wall of the president’s office. It could only be enabled by the president, her chief of staff, or the head of her personal protection detail. Once employed, the system was programmed to direct the president to one of seven different secret locations scattered around Earth, with the location changed at random intervals by the on-site, non-networked computer system overseeing encrypted communications and data transmission throughout the premises.
The elaborate security measures exempted no one, not members of the president’s own family, or close friends, and not even the admiral commanding all of Starfleet.
Passing through the third checkpoint, Leonard James Akaar was permitted to board the turbolift that carried him to the building’s presidential level.
“Good morning, Admiral,” said Rasanis th’Priil, the Andorian thaan who was weathering his first year as the president’s chief of staff, upon the lift doors parting to reveal the lavishly decorated foyer to the executive suites. He wore a dark gray suit that complemented his vibrant blue skin and shoulder-length, stark white hair. As was almost always the case when Akaar saw him, th’Priil carried a padd tucked under one arm. So far as the admiral had been able to determine, it was the Andorian’s constant companion. Noting the admiral’s gaze, he patted the device.
“A chief of staff’s work is never done,” said th’Priil. “Even before entering politics, I prided myself on my organizational skills, but my life prior to all of this was nothing compared to what I now deal with on a daily basis.”
Akaar suppressed a smile. It was common knowledge that the chief of staff’s very existence revolved around the nonstop stream of messages, news releases, and other detritus through which he must sift in order to prioritize which information was delivered to the president. Akaar had three young Starfleet officers charged with that duty for him, and they in turn received information from a larger pool of even younger officers who reviewed and arranged the incoming chaos into some semblance of order. When imagining himself toiling in such a thankless capacity, Akaar decided he would rather dive naked into an active volcano. It would be a less painful torment, with an ending far more merciful than being sentenced to that particular flavor of administrative purgatory.
“The president’s ready for you,” said th’Priil, leading the way from the foyer and past the outer offices where assistants and other staff members worked. Th’Priil’s own office was the last one, and Akaar noted the cluttered desk and large viewscreen segmented into eight different displays, each broadcasting feeds from different news organizations either on Earth or other prominent Federation planets. There was time for little more than a cursory glance before he found himself standing before the ornate wooden double doors through which he had passed more often in the last year than the rest of his career. Standing with th’Priil, he waited as they were scanned by the door’s locking mechanism and cleared for entry by the room’s prestigious occupant. Once the doors opened, th’Priil gestured for him to enter first.
“Good morning, Zha President,” said Akaar, striding into the room and moving toward the wide, curved desk at the room’s far end. Behind it, framed by the bay windows behind her and the breathtaking morning view of Paris it offered, stood Kellessar zh’Tarash, President of the United Federation of Planets.
Extending her hands in greeting, zh’Tarash offered a practiced, professional smile. “Admiral Akaar. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope I haven’t disrupted your schedule too much, but I thought this a conversation best conducted in person.”
