Demands of Honor (5 page)

Admiral Solow had been right, as had his aide—the far too arrogant and far too young Lieutenant West. The Klingons were preparing for war and using the talks as a pretext to stall. Now, Fox was doing the same.

So each side argued, advocated its positions to buy time to kill each other more spectacularly when war came. Fox had seen many failures in his long career, but none as bitter as this one. And in no negotiation had the stakes ever been higher. Fronde might have been the
first to die because of Fox's failings, but he would be far from the last. And that was only if the Federation won. Loss was too horrible to contemplate, yet it was a real possibility. And the specter of Federation defeat kept Fox at the table, trying to buy Starfleet time to make sure it didn't come to pass.

The Klingon demanded a change on procedure for negotiating trade disputes. “Completely unacceptable!” Fox shouted, on his feet again. The Klingons respected strength and anger, even in this mock, fraudulent situation. Fox found that he was happy to accommodate them.

EARTH

L
IEUTENANT
W
EST ENTERED
Admiral Solow's office and stood for a moment in silence. The admiral studied his computer viewscreen and gave no indication that he had heard West enter, but the lieutenant had no doubt the admiral knew he was there, so he waited. After about two minutes, Solow got up, acknowledged West with a nod, and said, “Let's go.”

Anyone who didn't know the admiral well would have thought he looked distracted, but West knew better. Solow was incredibly focused on the problems he was working out in his mind. He had no time for petty matters, and it had become his staff's job to take care of as many details as possible. The admiral needed his concentration. Hell, the entire Federation needed the admiral's concentration.

There was no conversation as they walked to the transporter pad. Small talk had completely disappeared. And besides, there was nothing to discuss. Both men had read the reports. And the reports had been clear. The meeting to come was a formality. In other circumstances, Admiral Solow would simply have sent West, or one of the other staff; the person they would be meeting with was possibly the only man in the galaxy that Solow would engage in a discussion that was mere formality.

“Energize,” Solow ordered the transporter operator, and West felt the beam take him. He had traveled by transporter more times in the last two weeks than he had in his first twenty-three years. The novelty had disappeared.

West and Solow materialized on the Federation president's transporter pad on the fifteenth floor of the Palais de la Concorde. Waiting for them was the president's chief of staff, an Andorian named Shrel, who said, “Welcome,” and led them down the hallway.

No other staff met them. Everyone else was too busy. Protocol had become less and less important, even in the president's office. There was no conversation. They were quickly ushered through the president's office doors, and West saw President Wescott sitting at his desk, looking over a communication intently. He looked up for a moment and nodded at them.

Wescott was alone in his large semicircular office and West knew why: the staff were all busy. Things were too hectic for any of them to make an appearance at this meeting. West had stepped into this office for the first time just two weeks ago. Then, he had been impressed by the panoramic views of Paris. Now, he felt nothing
but impatience to get back to the work on his desk, the work that might still make a difference.

For the moment, though, the admiral needed him here. While every moment of the meeting would be recorded, regulations required a live witness. West would do this duty.

President Wescott stood and walked around his desk to greet them. He shook Solow's hand and then West's. “Admiral, Lieutenant,” he said formally. The president looked older than he had in their last meeting. A few days seemed to have put years on his face.

“Admiral Solow, please make your report,” the president said.

“Given recent events, reports from Starfleet intelligence, and the more recent report from Ambassador Fox, it is the opinion of Starfleet Command that war with the Klingon Empire is inevitable. Moreover, a de facto state of war currently exists. We believe that open hostilities will begin in short order, most likely with a Klingon strike on one or more Federation systems.”

“What is our current state of readiness?” Wescott asked.

“With work on the
U.S.S. Constellation
finished, our starship refit program is complete. Additional ships have been recommissioned, including
Icarus
and J-class vessels.”

Recommissioned is one way to put it,
West thought.
Dragged out of mothballs would be another.
The
U.S.S. Yorkshire
had, literally, been a museum piece. The ship that had fought the Battle of Donatu V to a draw had for years been part of a traveling display touring the Federation. A few weeks ago, it had undergone a quick refit,
and the admiral had signed an order declaring it ready for active duty.

Solow continued, “Seventy-eight percent of planetary defense upgrades are in place and the work is continuing. Key command and technical personnel have been reallocated with contingency protocols in effect.”

That was a polite way of saying that Admiral Nogura and other people in key positions had been moved to secure locations throughout the Federation so that in the event of a Klingon invasion the command structure could be preserved in the event of a successful attack on Earth and Starfleet headquarters.

The president nodded. “With respect to hostilities with the Klingons, what is Starfleet's status?”

“Full readiness, Mister President,” Solow said.

The president thanked the admiral. There was silence in the room for a moment before the president said, “Stop recording.” The readiness report was now official and complete. Now all that was needed for a formal declaration of war was a war powers vote by the Federation Council, which would take place later in the week.

“Well, you were right, Lieutenant West. War was inevitable,” Wescott said without any bitterness in his voice.

West had counseled that war was inevitable since before the incident at Starbase 42. He had railed against Ambassador Fox and had argued his position to the president himself. Now, he felt an irrational urge to apologize to President Wescott.

In the end, he said, “I was sorry to read Ambassador Fox's report.”

“We all were,” Wescott said. Fox had made it clear
that he believed the negotiations with the Klingon ambassador were a sham designed to buy the Klingons more time. West had believed he would never see the day that Fox would admit that the Klingons were not serious about seeking peace. But things had changed and Fox had lost a man in the negotiations.

“Can we win this, Herbert?” Wescott asked.

“We can, Mister President,” Solow said.

“
Will
we?”

Solow gave the president a thin smile. “The simulations are inconclusive. Vulcan teams are working around the clock, but there are too many variables. And no war plan ever survives the first few minutes of actual battle, sir. I do think we have a chance, at least even odds.”

“So only a fifty percent chance that everything we have built, everything we know, will be destroyed,” Wescott said.

“I'm sorry I can't offer you better than that right now,” Solow answered, genuine regret in his voice.

“I will not fire the first shot in this war,” Wescott said, his eyes meeting West's for a moment, as if waiting for a challenge.

“I think that's wise, sir. My cultural research says that the Klingons will fight even harder if their government can claim that they have been attacked.”

“Well, we wouldn't want to make them mad,” Wescott said drily.

“Sir, I have a recommendation. I strongly suggest that you pull Ambassador Fox and his team out of the negotiations. When the Klingons finally abandon the pretense of talks, they will no doubt take the diplomatic
team and try to extract information from them. If the team is captured, they will be
interrogated.
” West felt a chill run down his spine as he said that word. He and Fox had had their differences, but he respected the man and wouldn't wish torture at the hands of a skilled Klingon interrogator on anyone.

“I made the offer through coded transmissions, but Fox and his people have volunteered to continue the charade as long as they can. Once we pull them out, the Klingons will know that we are ready to go to war. And we also need time.”

It was a brave thing to do. Facing death was one thing, but facing a slow death at the hands of the Klingons was something else entirely. West was sorry that he had not gotten to know Fox better and that their few meetings had been so antagonistic.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” President Wescott said.

“Thank you, Mister President,” Solow said. The admiral and West turned and headed for the door.

West was anxious to get back to his work. He was finishing his report on Klingon cultural traditions and their approach to ground fighting. When he reached his office, a woman was waiting for him. She stepped forward and told him, “I'm Lieutenant Katherine Lei, reporting for duty, sir.”

“Reporting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Reporting to me?”

“Yes, sir,” she said evenly, though the firm smile disappeared from her lips. “The admiral assigned me to you.”

“I see. The admiral, however, didn't mention you to me,” West said.

“I can get my order confirmation,”

“Not necessary. I've been making a case for a staff and a full tactical xeno-studies department since I got here. It seems like you are the first step in that direction.” West realized that Lei was young, no older than himself. He had never seen her before, but her name was familiar. And, he realized, she was attractive. Olive skin. Straight black hair. Hawaiian perhaps? Certainly somewhere in the Pacific.

“I just graduated. I've read your declassified reports. Some of your Klingon cultural analysis is really quite good,” she said pleasantly.

“Some?” he asked with genuine surprise. He had quickly become the resident expert on Klingons and had literally written the book on Klingon culture and its relationship to tactics and strategy in warfare.

Suddenly, he remembered where he had seen Lei's name. “You wrote a thesis on the cult of Kahless.”

“Yes. Have you read the paper?” she asked with genuine interest.

He nodded. “I found
some
of it quite good.”

“Thank you,” she said evenly. “Do you have any initial orders?”

“Come with me and tell me what you know about Klingon customs and norms with respect to ground fighting,” West said, ushering her into his office.

U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

FEDERATION-KLINGON BORDER

“M
ISTER
S
POCK,
what have you learned?” Kirk asked.

The Vulcan hit a button on the console in front of him. Immediately, the briefing-room viewscreen showed the image of a civilian space vessel. “The
Harmony
is a
Marquis
-class private vessel that can accommodate approximately eight passengers and crew.”

Kirk knew the ship. “It's a yacht.”

“Aye. Fast enough for a private vessel, but it doesn't even have proper navigational deflectors, let alone defensive shielding,” Scott said, shaking his head.

Spock shook his head. “The craft is designed primarily for short trips through charted systems along known spaceways.”

“I presume, then, that it doesn't have any weapons?” McCoy asked.

Scott shook his head. “Not this model. The main energizer would never support them.”

“And due to their ideological bent, it is unlikely that the Anti-Federation League would perform the dramatic upgrades necessary to allow for weapons of any kind,” Spock said.

“So they marched into Klingon space on a pleasure craft?” McCoy said.

“Apparently,” Spock said.

“Anyone with any experience in space would know that the Klingons would see the arrival of an unarmed ship as an insult at best,” Scotty said.

His statement hung in the air for a moment until Security Chief Giotto broke the silence. “Captain, the crew of the
Harmony
chose to enter Klingon space. They were aware of the risks.”

Kirk nodded; he knew how the lieutenant commander felt. “However, we are under an obligation to provide assistance in this case. Though they are members of the Anti-Federation League, they are still Federation citizens.”

“Captain, with all due respect, we also have an obligation to get to System 7348 before the Klingon battle cruiser arrives. If we don't, the Klingons will have time to fortify their position,” Giotto said.

Kirk saw the serious concern in the chief's face and understood it. He also knew that more than one of his department heads and the other assembled staff were thinking the same thing. “The issue we have here is do we take a significant risk to save the lives of people who
should have known better, or do we attend to a larger duty to protect the Federation from a bigger and graver threat: Klingon incursion. Now, we do know that right now civilians are in custody of Klingons and no doubt have a very short time to live.” Kirk waited a moment for that to sink in. “They are in real and immediate danger, but we might be tempted to ignore the situation to concentrate on the problem posed by the Klingon warship approaching System 7348 because of what they may and likely
will
do when they get there. Certainly, no one would blame us for continuing to the system because of the grave threat that ship poses. However, I will not trade the lives of civilians for what might happen, or even what probably will happen. We will not compromise who we are even if it means risking our larger survival.”