Star Trek(66)
“Oh, I would hope not,” Hemnask replied. “With luck, merely the threat of Starfleet’s wrath would be enough to deter the Families. And I have no doubt that if any other power abetted the Families, then the combined power of Starfleet and the Rigelian Defense Forces would make short work of them.”
Hemnask’s words were poorly received by the Planetarists. Kamenev made his distaste for being drawn into a foreign war clear with his usual verbosity, with Fell chiming in to profess support for each world’s right to fight its own battles. Sh’Rothress said nothing, but her expression was concerned.
But none of this affected their existing stances on membership. What might make a difference, thought T’Rama, was Solkar’s reaction. Though her husband’s-father had excellent emotional control, she was familiar enough with him to deduce his thinking from subtle somatic and facial cues. Moreover, she shared much of his knowledge and views, and took her responsibility for representing the consensus of the Vulcan people as seriously as he did. Thus she could anticipate his reasoning. The recovery of Surak’s true writings and the dissolution of the warmongering High Command a decade ago had led the Vulcans to recognize how far they had strayed from Surak’s founding principles—and to be reminded of the danger if they ever reverted to their ancient savagery. Vulcan needed to commit itself to peace more than ever now, at least until it had purged the remnants of the High Command’s values from its thought and custom. And for Vulcan to be at peace, the Federation must be at peace.
True, at some point, a new enemy would surely emerge or an old one would strike anew. But one could not concern oneself unduly with possibilities outside of one’s control. Yet what if one had foreknowledge that admitting a new member risked embroiling the Federation in a conflict already under way? Solkar would have to rethink his position on Rigelian membership in light of this new information.
And that was what puzzled T’Rama. Throughout this conference, Sedra Hemnask had struck her as an intelligent, capable negotiator. The Zami woman had reached her position of authority through her career in business, no doubt gaining much experience at persuading others to take positions or actions that she favored. Thus, it seemed an amateurish mistake for her to put forth an argument that would not only solidify the positions of the faction opposing Rigel’s admission, but potentially flip a pro-admission vote to the other side. T’Rama could find no answer in her diplomatic training for why Hemnask would have made such a move.
But her security training made her very, very interested in investigating further.
U.S.S. Endeavour, orbiting Rigel VII
“We managed to image the impact site,” Lieutenant Cutler said, displaying the overhead shot on the situation table as Thanien and Sato looked on. “Looks like all our people are alive, but at least two are injured. They aren’t mobile, and as you can see, the shuttlepod is even less mobile.” Ortega had somehow managed to bring it to a skidding stop on a reasonably flat peak, coming up just a few meters short of a cliff edge. “There’s a relatively easy slope down from where they are,” Cutler went on, indicating it, “but that means it’s also an easy climb for these guys.” She shifted the image several kilometers to the southwest, where a group of some twenty massive figures marched in close formation. “Kalar warriors,” she said, “and making good time. They’ll reach the shuttlepod in just under two hours at their current pace.”
Thanien’s antennae curled inward in displeasure. He looked at Cutler. “Is there any chance of punching a transporter beam through their jamming?”
The lieutenant shook her head. “Even without the jamming field, the minerals in the area could scatter the beams.”
The first officer contemplated for a moment. “Very well. Continue monitoring the area. Look for options.”
“Aye, sir.” Cutler returned to her station.
Taking a deep breath, Thanien turned to Sato. “Commander, with me.”
He led her into the captain’s ready room. Rather than offer her a seat, he simply faced her. He felt he should do this on his feet. “Commander Sato . . . I find I must apologize to you.”
The human woman frowned. “Sir? For what?”
“My . . . judgment has been compromised by an unfair assumption. I should have heeded your advice, pursued other options before sending the shuttlepod down. But I was . . . biased against your suggestions.”
Sato still looked puzzled, merely confirming the conclusion he’d finally reached about her. “Why, Commander?” she asked very softly.