Pliable Truths, page 6
It is inevitable that the Borg will cross our path again, Picard thought. Only then will we know if we—and Hugh—had any lasting effect.
The doctor released his hands, and he said after a moment, “This isn’t like my experience with the Borg. They’re an implacable single entity devoid of emotion. The Cardassians are individuals with a broad spectrum of feelings, beliefs, and ideals. We know, from experience, that not all Cardassians share the same outlook of their civilization’s place in the interstellar community. There are those who would vociferously protest what was done to me and what other Cardassians have done to Bajor. Do their voices not have value? Should I not attempt to see past my own experiences and look for common ground? Isn’t that one of the Federation’s guiding principles?”
Crusher regarded him, her expression sympathetic, then professional. “You’re saying you accepted this assignment to uphold and demonstrate Federation values?”
“I suppose I am,” replied Picard, “but also my own. We’ll be sitting across from representatives of a society very much at odds with ours. I need to demonstrate, to them as well as myself, that I will not be deterred from the duty I’ve done my best to carry out every day of my adult life. If I’m no longer capable of that, then I’m doing a disservice not only to myself but to the crew I command and the citizens I’ve sworn to represent and defend.”
For the first time since their conversation began, Crusher offered a small, understanding smile. “That is the Jean-Luc Picard I know. You may not realize this, but it’s the first time I’ve actually heard you sounding like your old self since you came back from Celtris III.”
Before Picard could object, she raised a hand. “I don’t mean while you’re on the bridge or carrying out your duties. You’re much too disciplined and proud to ever allow personal feelings to influence you.” She gestured to the room around them. “I’m talking about how you speak to me. I know you have your doubts, Jean-Luc, but I know you well enough to understand the depth of your resolve. I know you have it within you to win the argument you’re currently waging with yourself. You’ll do what’s right just as you always have, for yourself and for the crew, for the Bajorans, and even for the Cardassians.”
Realizing his body had tensed, Picard schooled himself to relax. “Thank you, Beverly. That means a great deal.”
Crusher’s smile faded. “I need you to remember not to push yourself too hard or set unrealistic expectations. We know from experience how shrewd and manipulative the Cardassians can be. They’ll want to establish dominance in those meetings. Captain Jellico understood this.”
“He was the right person in that moment,” said Picard. “His approach to negotiation stemmed from a more martial, tactical perspective, seeking avenues of attack in response to Cardassian methods. It was an effective strategy.”
“That was then, and this is now,” said Crusher. “The situation on Bajor is different. The Cardassians will be looking to avoid losing face on an interstellar stage, and they’ll worry about being cornered.” Once again, she smiled. “You’re an accomplished diplomat, but they’ll almost certainly know what you went through on Celtris III. Expect them to try exploiting it.”
Nodding in agreement, Picard replied, “I fully anticipate them trying to use that should discussions become heated. I’m hoping to avoid that.”
“All I’m saying is you should be prepared,” said Crusher. “Expect the unexpected, as they say.”
“I fully intend to.” Picard forced a small smile. “After all, the unexpected is one of the reasons why we’re out here.”
Even as he spoke the words, he felt a vestige of doubt, and he was sure Crusher sensed it.
7
Turning from the oversized screen set into one bulkhead of the engineering section’s main work area, Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge removed his VISOR. That simple action halted the direct and continuous flow of visual information from the prosthesis to his brain, and he saw nothing. He stepped over and laid the device on the master situation table occupying the center of the room. With both hands free, he was able to rub the sides of his head just above the VISOR’s neural connection points implanted in his temples. As the discomfort began to fade, he sighed with momentary relief.
The headaches, a minor yet constant presence from the moment he began wearing the prosthesis when he was just five years old, was something La Forge normally ignored. They worsened when he was tired or overworked, and as the Enterprise’s chief engineer, there were far too many days when that was true. It was not uncommon for him, once alone in his quarters, to seek solace in the unrelenting darkness that over time had become the gift offered by his blindness.
Without his VISOR, his other senses took over as La Forge had learned to let them. He heard conversations between members of his engineering staff, the soft tones of keys and other controls being manipulated on the room’s various consoles and workstations, and underscoring all of that was the constant, steady pulse of the ship’s warp core. In fact, he was sure he detected a minor warbling from it, deciding it sounded like a variance in one of the antimatter flow regulators. He was sure the deviation was still well within safety limits, but La Forge preferred everything in line with Starfleet specifications, except in those rare instances where experience and circumstances had shown him a better way. Once La Forge applied his modifications, he always made sure to submit a detailed report to Starfleet explaining his changes and suggestions for updating the specs. To date, none had been refuted or denied.
“Geordi.”
La Forge heard the approach of Lieutenant Commander Data, and was in the process of retrieving his VISOR before the android spoke. Fitting the device across his eyes and feeling the connectors at his temples take hold, he waited the extra heartbeat as the influx of visual information from across the electromagnetic spectrum resumed. He turned toward his friend, noting the aura the VISOR presented as an interpretation of the energy that powered him. Everyone La Forge encountered possessed their own unique radiance, and he used them to identify individuals from one another. This allowed him to pick out people he knew from crowds as efficiently as a sighted person.
“Are you feeling all right?” asked Data.
Nodding, La Forge blew out his breath. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” He gestured toward the wall monitor he had been studying. “I’ve been going over the technical schematics they sent us, hoping to have a handle on what we’ll be facing when we arrive at the station.” He shook his head. “What a mess that thing is.”
Displayed on the screen was a series of technical schematics for Terok Nor, the Cardassian space station orbiting Bajor. A circular outer ring connected to a smaller yet bulkier inner circle via hull sections that also acted to support three pylons that extended above and three below the ring. They curved inward, suggesting a crablike life-form. The station was designed to accommodate orbital docking of ships of varying size, which La Forge determined also included the largest Federation starships while supporting a population of nearly seven thousand people. The facility was massive.
The bulk of internal space within each of the station’s three pylons was devoted to the processing of uridium ore extracted and transported from the planet below. The foremost points of upper and lower pylon also served as a docking port for larger vessels. Additional spaces along its outer “habitat ring” supported the processing effort while also providing docking access for smaller vessels. The station’s operations and control, including its main computer, were located in the central core. An odd design, different from the space stations La Forge was familiar with, it appeared cold and uninviting. The longer he stared at the schematic, the more intrigued La Forge became with the station.
Data said, “It is my understanding Cardassian construction methods are rather efficient, with respect to design and resources, particularly with respect to their ships and space-based installations.”
“Efficient by Cardassian standards,” La Forge replied. There was a cold, almost ruthless competence to their construction techniques. Perhaps this was an outgrowth of the Cardassians, who seemed to place a premium on such concepts. “But there’s more to it than the differences in design methodology.”
“I have reviewed the formal request for assistance by the Bajoran Provisional Government,” said Data, “along with the status reports sent by the current leader of the team overseeing the transfer of the station’s operational control from the Cardassians to the Bajorans.”
Nodding, La Forge said, “Someone realized that over forty years of Occupation had produced people who learned how to maintain and repair many of the onboard systems.” The engineer suspected any expertise obtained was in spite of the Cardassians, but it stood to reason anyone forced to work within the ore-processing plants or any of the areas supporting those systems picked up some knowledge from their overseers. “I doubt there are many Bajorans who understand the station’s computer or command and control systems.”
“I have studied Cardassian computer hardware and software design as it relates to this class of space station,” said Data. “I believe I will be able to work with the onboard systems in a manner sufficient to assist in the transition.”
La Forge tapped on the screen and several areas of the schematic illuminated in red, indicating several different areas across the station. “According to the early reports, the Cardassians sabotaged a number of onboard systems and broke whatever they could before leaving. We’ll need teams to deal with the station’s infrastructure, everything from power distribution, environmental controls to the replicators, and waste extraction. They even damaged several of the docking ports. The latest report says the Bajorans on-site will have those fixed before we arrive.”
He stared at the diagrams and their status updates for another moment before adding, “I’ve done comparative studies of Cardassian ship and support-systems design. I know enough to get in and get my hands dirty, but this will be slow going.”
After standing silent for a moment, Data said, “Geordi, I have reviewed the Enterprise personnel files. There are seven crew members whose records include interactions with Cardassians, or their technology as a consequence of their service during the Federation-Cardassian War. Foremost among these individuals is Chief Petty Officer Miles O’Brien.”
La Forge was aware of O’Brien’s record of Starfleet service and that he was a veteran of the war, having seen combat on numerous occasions prior to joining the Enterprise. His technical expertise was also impressive, earning high marks while attending Starfleet’s engineering school for enlisted personnel when he was seventeen. As a chief petty officer, O’Brien oversaw a team of noncommissioned officers who maintained the ship’s twenty transporter rooms and attending systems, reporting directly to the transporter systems officer. La Forge had often inspected the work while it was underway, and O’Brien was always there, sleeves rolled up, hands dirty, and head and arms sticking into the bowels of a console or crawling through a Jefferies tube.
This team also crewed the transporter rooms, and La Forge had noticed when he became chief engineer that O’Brien scheduled himself for this duty whenever senior staff required transport, regardless of the hour, as well as whenever high-ranking officers or visiting dignitaries came aboard. Chief O’Brien conducted himself by that time-honored axiom of leading from the front and by example, and his personnel evaluations were always exemplary in all categories.
“It looks to me like the chief is criminally underutilized,” said La Forge. “His qualifications and experience should have earned him a commission a long time ago.”
Data replied, “I believe he is someone who prefers to work ‘in the trenches,’ as I have heard him say. A commission would almost certainly reduce the opportunities for hands-on work. He may be content with his role as a noncommissioned officer. Regardless of rank, someone possessing his experience and years of service is unquestionably an asset. This would seem to be especially true given the number of variables we are likely to encounter while conducting repairs on Terok Nor and assisting the Bajorans to return the station to full operational status.”
“Absolutely,” said La Forge.
* * *
“What could possibly be so interesting?”
Miles O’Brien glanced up from his desktop terminal to see his wife, Keiko, standing on the other side of the desk. Then he realized her hair was down, resting on her shoulders rather than pulled back into the ponytail she normally wore while working in the Enterprise botanical sciences labs. That led him to noticing she had changed out of her work clothes in favor of a cobalt-blue silken robe tied at the waist. When had this transformation occurred? Glancing at the terminal’s chronometer, O’Brien saw that it was now nearly 2130 hours, and he had been staring at the technical diagrams sent to him by the Enterprise’s chief engineer for nearly two hours.
Blinking several times in rapid succession, O’Brien replied, “I’m sorry, Keiko.” He looked around the room before asking, “I missed Molly’s bedtime, didn’t I?”
“Afraid so.” Keiko tilted her head toward the doorway leading to their daughter’s bedroom. “I read her the story she likes, but she told me she likes the way you read it better.”
“That’s because you don’t provide the sound effects. Or the music.”
Keiko laughed. “I’ll work on that.” Gesturing to the terminal, she asked, “What’s so interesting?”
“Commander La Forge picked me for a repair team to work on the Cardassian station. He sent me the specs for it.” He swiveled the terminal so she could see its screen. “It’s been a long time since I worked with Cardassian technology, but they don’t tend to change things that often.”
Studying the diagrams for a moment, Keiko said, “That doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“It may not have all the bells and whistles of Starfleet systems, but it works.” In his varied experiences with them, O’Brien observed that Cardassians preferred to stick with proven designs and methodologies when it came to technology. At first it seemed odd to him, given how much of their civilization’s resources were devoted to their military and their ability to wage war. Then he recalled from his studies of ancient Earth history how the great military powers of the world had created scores of weapons and machines for conducting battle in the air, the skies, and the oceans by sticking to straightforward designs that could be mass-produced in rapid fashion. With that in mind, it was easy for O’Brien to track the common threads through to present-day Cardassian technology, which was rooted in designs first conceived decades and even centuries ago. Good news, considering the assignment he was preparing to undertake.
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” said Keiko, smiling as he perched herself on the corner of the deck nearest his chair. “Are you that anxious to get off the ship?”
Smiling, O’Brien replied, “You know, even with what it suffered during the Occupation, Bajor is supposed to have some beautiful forests and jungles, and an abundance of diverse plant life. I bet if you asked your department head, you could get permission to beam down while we’re working on the station. I bet Starfleet would love some kind of updated site survey, since the Federation has already offered to help repair the planet’s environmental damage.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Keiko. She glanced at the computer screen once more before adding, “You seem pretty excited by this assignment.”
O’Brien shrugged. “It’ll be a nice change of pace. Transporter systems duty isn’t exactly crackling with excitement.” He smiled. “Avoiding excitement is the point.”
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” When he did not respond, Keiko said, “I know you’ve been thinking about a change for a while now. Are you getting bored with Starfleet?”
“Bored?” O’Brien shook his head. “No.” He paused, glancing toward Molly’s room. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking a starship in deep space isn’t the best place to raise a child.”
“Have you thought about talking to some of the other parents?” asked Keiko. “Maybe Doctor Crusher can offer guidance on being a Starfleet parent from a mother’s perspective.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Maybe Worf can offer you fatherly advice.”
The unexpected comment caught O’Brien off guard, and he could not stop the laugh that escaped him. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?” The moment passed. “But seriously, Molly deserves a life that’s stable, and maybe not so… dangerous?” Thinking back to the occasions when the Enterprise had encountered a threat to the safety of the ship, O’Brien blew out his breath. “And to be honest, a change like that might be good for us. Something a bit more routine, with regular hours and more time for vacations.”
“You’re not serious,” said Keiko. “I’d never ask you to do something like leaving Starfleet.”
Leaning forward in his chair, he placed his hand on her leg. “You don’t have to. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I had to remind myself that I’ve been in Starfleet for almost twenty-five years. That’s a career, especially for a noncom like me. I can put in for retirement and we can start a new chapter somewhere else. Anywhere you and Molly want to go.”
