Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Plagues of Night Page 13

  “What do you hope to accomplish by this?” Ventel asked, working to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “I mean, other than compassionately offering aid to a population in need?” Corskene had already suggested the goal of the Tholians in taking the action they had, but Ventel wanted to hear it spelled out.

  “We believe that this could broaden the call for the expulsion of non-Andorians from their planet,” Corskene said, “as well as lead to a mass exodus of Andorian officers from Starfleet as they return to their homeworld.”

  “The percentage of Andorians serving in Starfleet is significant?” Skorn asked.

  “Yes,” Corskene replied. “Enough, at least, to have an impact.”

  The idea met with general consent around the table. Ventel stayed silent. He could not tell with certainty which of the representatives present sought military superiority over the Federation for the sake of maintaining the peace, and which saw war and conquest as an ultimate goal. But it seemed clear that most, if not all, of them favored might over diplomacy in dealing with the UFP.

  Ventel also took note of Corskene’s mention of the Tholians’ possession of a “complex library of scientific information,” which clearly originated beyond the borders of the Assembly. To the best of the proconsul’s knowledge, no such repository of advanced technical data had been made available by Tholia to Romulus. Even from their allies, it seemed, the Tholians kept secrets. So too, Ventel suspected, did every other member of the Typhon Pact—including, he knew, the Romulan Star Empire. Praetor Tal’Aura had provided cloaking technology to each of its Pact allies, but she had done so only after Romulan engineers had developed the next generation of such technology, to which Tal’Aura had zealously clung. Even though the existence of the phasing cloak no longer remained a secret, Praetor Kamemor had continued Tal’Aura’s policy. That had not become an issue since the other Pact members had yet to perfect the implementation of even standard cloaking technology on their ships.

  After Ambassador Corskene finished speaking, the time came for Ventel to address the gathering. He did so by conveying a relatively innocuous report on the status of Romulan affairs. After the dissolution of Empress Donatra’s Imperial Romulan State, the reintegration of the Romulan breadbasket worlds into the Empire had allowed the praetor to slow the distribution to the people of medicines and foodstuffs from other Typhon Pact nations. Ventel provided a timetable to completely halt the transfer of such emergency provisions within the next fifty days. He also spoke about a recent decrease made to the number of Romulan forces built up along their borders with both the Federation and the Klingons. Seemingly as a direct result of Kamemor’s reductions, the Romulan Imperial Fleet had seen a commensurate drop in the activity on the other sides of the Neutral Zones.

  After the meeting, as Ventel made his way toward the Romulan arm of the space station and Khenn Onahj, the vessel that would carry him home, he studied the new problem that faced Praetor Kamemor. As she strived to keep order among the various spacefaring powers, many of those powers worked essentially for the reverse. Although the reduction in Romulan forces along the Empire’s borders had seemed like an important and momentous action when she’d ordered it, Proconsul Ventel realized that it would require a great deal more than that to lead the Typhon Pact along the path to peace.

  11

  The tall stone doors—one engraved with the cobralike symbol of the Cardassian Union and the other with a stylized representation of Cardassia Prime—parted at President Nanietta Bacco’s approach. She entered the room alone, with neither aide, nor escort, nor security detail. She considered her unaccompanied status a luxury, one typically reserved for her home and office in Paris, though even in those places, she often found herself attended by members of the Federation’s or another power’s government.

  Bacco knew that she would not remain alone for long, so she spent a few moments taking in her unfamiliar surroundings and reveling in her transitory solitude. As the doors closed behind her with a noticeable thump, she resisted the temptation to continue straight ahead, to where bright sunlight streamed into the large room through a wide opening in the far wall. Beyond it, she could see a low, ornamental railing bounding a richly tiled deck.

  Instead, Bacco stood in place and turned. Beneath her lay a woven rug, its material matted down from long use, one of three such pieces in the room. But for the doors through which she’d entered, the opening to the balcony, and a large fireplace off to one side, shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Thousands of books marched along those shelves, interspersed in numerous places by works of art and history: paintings, sculptures, flags, the ancient-looking fragments of a carved panel of striated wood. On each wall, Bacco saw, a movable ladder allowed access to the higher shelves, which reached upward perhaps six or seven meters. Above, a lattice of aged timbers formed the ceiling.

  On one side of the room sat a massive wooden desk. Books and papers cluttered its surface, though Bacco saw no padds or computer interfaces. She wondered if the castellan actually used this room in her residence as a workspace, or if the desktop had been arranged just for show.

  On the other side of the room, the fireplace stood surrounded by sofas. Fresh wood had been assembled within the firebox, but not set alight, no doubt because of the warm temperatures outside. Above the unpolished granite mantel hung a framed painting, not of the current castellan or any of her predecessors, but of the ancient fortress that had long been a second home to the leader of the Cardassian government.

  Bacco finished a complete turn and decided to walk out onto the balcony after all. She hadn’t noticed from afar, but up close, she saw that the balusters supporting the railing tapered upward, resembling the webbed appearance of Cardassian necks. Out beyond the balcony stretched a grassy courtyard. Bacco heard birds chirping and saw several flitting about the grounds. Past the outer wall, the green-blue waters of a beautiful lake filled the near vista, while a line of jagged peaks ran across the distant horizon.

  Placing her hands on the railing, Bacco took some time to appreciate the view. A light breeze ruffled her short, white hair, which she wore pulled back from her face. She closed her eyes and looked skyward, allowing the rays of the Cardassian sun to warm her.

  She stood that way for several minutes, until she heard the sound of the library’s stone doors closing. Bacco did not move at first, preferring to wait for the castellan to come to her. The Federation president had traveled a great distance to meet with the Cardassian leader, in the hope that Rakena Garan would in turn travel politically. Bacco would let the castellan’s first few steps of their meeting symbolize that.

  At the sound of shoe heels on the balcony tiles, Bacco remained still. The footfalls stopped briefly, then continued on until the castellan stepped up beside her. Neither woman took her gaze from the view of the countryside.

  “It is a lovely land,” said the castellan. “It pleases me to have visitors here with whom I can share it.”

  “Thank you,” Bacco said. “This is my first time on Cardassia.”

  “Really?” Garan asked, turning toward Bacco. “I was not aware of that. As the head of your government, I just assumed that you had been here at some point.”

  “I’ve only been in office for three years,” Bacco said, finally turning to regard her counterpart, “and it’s a very big galaxy.”

  “So it is,” agreed Garan. “Though it seems to be growing smaller all the time.”

  Bacco laughed, though it sounded more like a grunt of disgust. “A hundred thousand light-years in diameter, a few hundred billion stars, fifty billion planets, maybe five hundred million habitable planets … you’d think there would be enough to sate even the most avaricious desires.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Garan. “Not even the Ferengi Alliance seeks to expand indefinitely.” She stepped away from the railing and pointed toward one end of the balcony. There, two chairs sat next to two of three sides of a triangular table. “Would you care to sit, Madam President?”

&n
bsp; “Thank you, Castellan.”

  The two women moved to the table. It almost always surprised Bacco when she saw Garan. For a woman with such a streak of iron in her, she had a slight figure, her height barely topping a meter and a half. Still, she carried herself with an air of resolution and strength.

  At the table, three covered, pewter-colored ewers filled a tray, along with matching cups. As Bacco sat down, Garan offered her a choice of beverages. “I’ve had my aide replicate Terran coffee and tea for you,” she said, indicating two of the pitchers. “We also have ravat, a sweet nectar squeezed from the fruit of the ravala tree.”

  Bacco craved a cup of coffee, but she wanted to be able to sleep on the first leg of the journey back to Earth. She also doubted the quality of Cardassian replicators. “I’ll try the ravat, thank you.” She reached for the pitcher to serve herself, but Garan lifted it and poured them each a cup. The beverage came out pink and thick, and looked as though it might taste cloyingly sweet. When Bacco tried a sip, though, it had a delicate, agreeable flavor.

  Once Garan had sipped at her own cup, Bacco said, “It’s interesting that you should bring up the Ferengi Alliance. I’ve just come from there.”

  “Are you touring prospective allies?” Garan asked. The castellan spoke, as she often did, with an informal tone that made it difficult to assess her intentions.

  “Not merely ‘prospective’ allies,” Bacco said. “Grand Nagus Rom has agreed to have the Alliance join the Federation and the Klingon Empire as a signatory in the Khitomer Accords. The Congress of Economic Advisors has already ratified his proposal of membership.”

  “I’m sure that is welcome news for the Federation,” Garan said. “The Treasury Guard has a serviceable number of vessels and officers.”

  “Not as many or as impressive as does Cardassia,” Bacco said, aware of how much the Union had rebuilt its forces since the war. “The addition of Ferenginar is welcome news, though. It is also overdue.” A year and a half earlier, still in the throes of the immediate aftermath of the Borg invasion, the president had first learned of the formation of the Typhon Pact. Fearing that the alliance of such powerful states could pose a threat to the Federation, Bacco sought an expansion of the Khitomer Accords as a means of tamping down any possible aggression. She and the Klingon chancellor, Martok, invited the leaders of several neighboring nations to a summit on Zalda to explore that possibility; many of them agreed immediately to meet and consider such a proposition. Castellan Garan had been among the last heads of state to consent to the gathering, though she did attend that and several subsequent meetings.

  “The defining of such allegiances can be complicated and require time,” Garan said.

  “So it can,” Bacco allowed. As talks with the Cardassian Union and other nations had continued, a steady, if uneasy, peace had emerged with the Typhon Pact. The urgency for strengthening the Khitomer alliance decreased across the span of a year, until the Breen and Romulans conspired to conduct an espionage mission and steal the plans for the Federation’s quantum slipstream drive. Bacco then called for renewed discussions to swell the ranks of the Khitomer Accords, though when Starfleet operatives destroyed the Breen’s prototype vessel and their copies of the slipstream schematics, the political situation in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants again appeared to stabilize. Within the past few weeks, though, the peace once more had become threatened. “It is my opinion—as well as that of Chancellor Martok and Grand Nagus Rom—that we may be running out of time.”

  “Such a dramatic pronouncement,” Garan said. She drank from her cup, then set it down on the table. “I assume that your call for exigency derives from Andor’s secession from the Federation.”

  “It is not just the loss of a founding member of our union that concerns me,” Bacco said. “It is also the role that the Tholian Assembly played in bringing about that turn of events. It is quite clear that the Typhon Pact intends to continue working to weaken the Federation. Considering the natural inclinations of any nation or alliance to protect itself, and therefore to fear those that they deem adversaries, such efforts are understandable; in a vacuum, they might even be acceptable. But the fact is that, over time, several of the Typhon Pact states have demonstrated their continuing antipathy for the Federation in the form of open hostilities. If the scales of power tip too far in favor of the Pact, I fear that our region of the galaxy will again be plunged into war.”

  “Again, very dramatic, Madam President,” Garan said. “Am I to gather, then, that you are here to rekindle your attempt to persuade me that the Cardassian Union should join the Khitomer Accords?”

  “I am here for your signature on a treaty,” Bacco said. “I am here for you to expedite endorsement of that treaty by the Detapa Council.”

  Garan smiled. She lifted her cup from the table, considered it for a moment, then set it back down without drinking. She stood up and walked to the near corner of the balcony, to where two railings met at an odd angle. Peering out over the countryside, she said, “My world is a beautiful world, Madam President. My people are a beautiful people.” She paused, and then said, “I imagine that all leaders must believe that—all true leaders.” She turned back to face Bacco. “Regardless, it is what I believe. And as the leader of this beautiful world and these beautiful people, I am responsible for their safety and happiness.”

  “And the Federation supports you in those endeavors,” Bacco said, likely interrupting, since it seemed that Garan wished to say more. “After all, how much aid have we sent to the Cardassian Union since the end of the Dominion War?”

  Garan’s teeth clenched and her jaw hardened. “And are you suggesting that my people owe your people a debt?” she asked coldly. “Are you trying to tell me that because of the Federation’s munificence, I should agree to place my people at the heart of an unstable and dangerous political situation?” She stalked back over to the table, her diminutive frame unable to mitigate the fervor she projected. “Are you saying that the loss of more than eight hundred million Cardassian lives in the war wasn’t enough? That we should willingly march into the line of fire and hope that you can keep the peace?”

  Slowly and with the utmost care, Nanietta Bacco rose to her feet. Somewhere, she suspected, a surveillance team monitored the castellan, and considering the nature of the Cardassian culture, it would not have surprised Bacco to find out that a security squad had the Federation president targeted in the sights of their weapons. She had no interest in challenging Rakena Garan, but she also had little time to waste.

  “I’m saying none of that,” Bacco told the castellan. “I was not in charge of our government when the Federation fought the Dominion and the Breen and the Cardassians, but I do know that we didn’t start the war. And yet when hostilities finally concluded, we demonstrated our principles by helping to elevate the very people who made war against us. We strived not only to heal the physical and emotional wounds of the Cardassian Union, but to befriend its people so that nothing like this could ever happen again.”

  Garan glared at Bacco. “And yet you would place us squarely in the middle of your confrontation with the Typhon Pact,” said the castellan. She turned and paced away, as though barely containing her indignation.

  “Garan,” Bacco said, softening her tone. “Rakena. Please. I do not intend an alliance between the Cardassian Union and the Federation to be an empty one, or one that unnecessarily endangers your people, or anybody else’s. I am desperately trying to maintain the peace, to fortify and extend it, to ensure that there will be no new war.”

  “That may well be,” Garan said, looking back, “but what you intend and what will be may be two quite different things.” Despite her words, Bacco could see that the castellan’s anger had subsided.

  “Make no mistake, Castellan,” Bacco said. “Even without a treaty between Cardassia and the Khitomer Accords, if the Typhon Pact ever does go to war with the Federation, they will not differentiate you from us. But even if they do, this section of the galaxy will be deva
stated. Your eight hundred million dead in the Dominion War, and even the sixty-three billion killed by the Borg, will pale in comparison, because an interstellar battle between the Typhon Pact and the Khitomer Accords will last far longer, and destruction and misery and death will be brought down upon all of us. Even if you do not participate in the war, you will have assets that will attract conflict to your shores: planets strategically located, worlds abundant in natural resources, power plants, starships, soldiers.”

  Garan’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a threat, Madam President.”

  “It is a threat, Madam Castellan, a threat to you and your people,” Bacco said. “But not from me, and not from the Federation. It is a threat leveled by the Typhon Pact, made plain by the actions they have taken and the course they have pursued since their establishment.” She waited for Garan to respond, but the Cardassian leader said nothing. Finally, Bacco added, “I am here to implore you to help me end that threat before it becomes reality. I’m trying to avert a war.”

  Garan walked back over to Bacco until only centimeters separated them. In a low voice, she said, “Why should I believe you? Why should I trust you?”

  “Why shouldn’t you?” Bacco asked. “The Cardassian Union sided with the Dominion and launched a war against the Federation. And when it was done, we came to your rescue.”

  Garan took a step back, but kept peering at Bacco. “As I recall, it was Cardassia who came to the rescue of the Federation.”

  “Yes,” Bacco said. “The Cardassian Guard changed allegiances at the end of the war and helped defeat the Dominion. But it should never have come to that point; it wouldn’t have come to that point if the Cardassian Union hadn’t thrown in with the Dominion in the first place. And still, afterward, we sent you food and medicine for your ravaged population, we sent doctors and nurses to treat the injured, we sent engineers and architects to help rebuild your civilization. Is that not the mark of a friend? Or at the very least, is that not the action of a people who can be trusted?”