Star Trek: Brinkmanship (15 page)

He took hold of her chin and, deliberately, lifted her face so that she could not help but look straight at him, at his too alien eyes. He gave her a small, sour smile. “Let’s face it,” he said, “isn’t that what being allies is all about?”

8

FROM:
Civilian Freighter
Inzitran,
flagship, Merchant Fleet 9

TO:
Ementar Vik Tov-A, senior designated speaker, Active Affairs, Department of the Outside

STATUS:
Estimated time to border: 20 skyturns
Estimated time to destination: 25 skyturns

Instruments indicate continued program of long-range scans.

FROM:
Captain Ezri Dax,
U.S.S. Aventine

TO:
Admiral Leonard Akaar, Starfleet Command

STATUS OF TZENKETHI FLEET:
ETA at Venetan border: 10 days
ETA at Outpost V-4: 12 days

B
everly Crusher drew back the blinds and looked across the Venetan capital. It was night. The sky was an inky blue, dotted with unfamiliar constellations, and she could see no moon. Did this world even have a moon? She was ashamed that she did not know. There was so little, really, that she knew about the Venetans. So little any of them knew. She had come on this mission believing that they could soon bring the Venetans back to their former friendship with the Federation, partly because she believed in Jean-Luc’s skill in forging bonds with other cultures, and partly because she believed that they would soon be persuaded of the reasonableness of the Federation’s requests. But at every turn, they had misspoken and miscommunicated, and now were barely speaking at all. Was this some Tzenkethi influence that she had been unable to detect? Or had they completely misunderstood the Venetans?

Take this city, although “city” was not the right word for it at all. No skyscrapers, no great roads cutting through, no bustle of nighttime traffic or the sudden scream of sirens. Instead, skeins of lamps running along the hillsides lit thoroughfares curving through quiet leafy districts. There was the gentle whisper of the river that wound through the valley and, distantly, the faint echo of a late-night tram rattling toward its
terminus. Otherwise, everyone slept. But the calm was illusory—or, at the very least, fragile.

Except here,
Crusher thought, hearing her husband and Jeyn in quiet conversation behind her. Here, in this room, time was running out. Here, two Starfleet officers and a Federation ambassador struggled to find a way to keep everyone talking before the chance to talk was lost for good.

Crusher drew the blind. There were no answers out there, only more puzzles. With a sigh, she walked back across the room and stood watching the gentle play of the fountain.

“You’ve been deep in thought, Beverly,” Picard said. “Have you come to any conclusions?”

“Here’s the problem as I see it,” she said. “The Venetans, for whatever cultural reasons, simply hadn’t considered the possibility that we might all be spying on each other. Put that way, it does seem crazy, but it’s what happens, and it’s what they’re taking exception to. I don’t know why it never occurred to them before, but it seems it didn’t.”

“They’re a quiet and neighborly society,” Jeyn said. “A society built on continuity and stability, and fairly isolationist for much of their history. Long-lived too. I bet there aren’t many secrets here. If you and your neighbors know each other well, why spy on each other?”

“Then there’s their somewhat disconcerting tendency toward complete frankness in their interpersonal relationships,” Picard added. “Truth telling might lead
to an open society, but it does make diplomacy surprisingly difficult.” He gave a short bark of laughter. “You think they’d like Detrek rather more than they do.”

Crusher sat on the arm of the couch next to him. “Ah, but they think Detrek is blustering,” she said. “They think all the noise is covering over something.”

“Who knows?” said Jeyn. “It might well be. I’m at a loss to make sense of her aggression otherwise. One cannot—one
should
not—say that it’s simply how Cardassians are. For one thing, it’s not true. I’ve dealt with many subtle individuals from their worlds.”

“And yet despite our own desire for friendship,” said Crusher, “we have somehow managed to convince the Venetans that we are hypocritical liars paranoid enough to spy on the Tzenkethi and ally ourselves with another set of paranoiacs who have been spying on them in turn.”

“Put that way,” Jeyn said, “it’s hardly surprising the Venetans haven’t warmed to us. But you hit upon the heart of the problem, Beverly: the Tzenkethi. Now that, surely,
is
a suspicious culture. Mistrustful of anything beyond its borders. It’s late enough and I am frustrated enough that I would even go so far as to call them xenophobic.”

Picard frowned. “Certainly they are hostile. But we know relatively little of the Tzenkethi as a whole.”

“We know that they are prepared to feign outrage at the presence of Federation spies on their homeworld,” said Jeyn.

“Unfortunately, I believe we would also be guilty
of that if it suited our purposes,” said Picard. “However, it’s sufficient to make the Venetans pull down the shutters and refuse to speak to any of us.”

Jeyn sighed. “Beverly, what of your own mission? Can you shed any light on this uncharacteristic hostility?”

“No,” Crusher said. “And, if I’m being frank, I’m increasingly at a loss to understand why the admiral insisted I came on this mission. How exactly can I test for biochemical influences in any meaningful way? The usual checks on food and water have thrown up nothing. So what am I supposed to do? I can hardly stop people in the street and ask them to submit to a medical exam. And before you say anything,” she raised a finger to stop Jeyn speaking, “I won’t scan in secret. For one thing, it’s unethical. For another, if I was caught, it would only reinforce the Venetans’ belief that we’re duplicitous liars.” She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t understand why Akaar sent me here.”

“And we’re beginning to run out of time,” Jeyn said. “Those ships are on their way to Outpost V-4, and we still have no real idea what’s on them. We need to get the Venetans talking again. To us and to the Cardassians. Because, given their current antagonistic stance, my feeling is that should the Cardassians detect any Tzenkethi merchant ships moving toward the Venetan base on
their
borders, they’re not going to wait to find out whether they’re carrying medical supplies or candy or enough biomimetic gel to kill every
Cardassian on Prime. They’re going to scream into Venetan space. And then . . .”

“And then we’re at war,” Crusher said softly. “Again.”
And with biogenic weapons.
She stood up and paced the room, trying to suppress her revulsion at the thought.

The room fell silent. At last, Jeyn spoke. “We need to get the Cardassians and the Venetans talking again. But how can this be achieved? I can’t see either Rusht or Vitig being willing to talk to Detrek.”

“What about Dygan?” Crusher said. “He’s the link between us all. He’s worked alongside us on the
Enterprise,
which associates him with us as much as with Detrek, whom he barely knows. Yes, I know we’re not exactly flavor of the month with the Venetans, but at least we haven’t been spying on them.” She raised her eyes upward. “Well, they haven’t discovered any Federation spies here,” she said. “I’m not even going to speculate what might happen if they did. But if they won’t speak to Detrek, they might speak to Dygan.”

Picard said, “And as long as they’re speaking to someone, there’s still a chance that we can find a way through all of this.”

•   •   •

Dygan arrived at the door of their suite within minutes of receiving the message from the captain. He looked doubtful when Picard explained how they hoped he would be able to help, but he immediately offered his services.

“Of course if you think I can help, Captain, then
I’ll most certainly try,” he said. “But I’m not sure a Cardassian face is what the Venetans want to see right now—”

“We have to try, Dygan,” said Picard. “Somehow, we have to keep on talking to each other.” He turned to Crusher. “Beverly, I want you to go with him.”

“Me? Jean-Luc, I think this needs someone more experienced at negotiations—”

“No. If Jeyn or I go, it will appear by sending our front-line negotiators that we are backing down. But sending you—a senior Starfleet officer—will make clear to the Venetans that we are taking this meeting very seriously.” He squeezed her hand quickly. “You’ll be fine. Keep it simple. Remember that you’re there as a diplomat, not as a doctor. All you need to communicate is that we want peace, but we also need proof that Outpost V-4 is not about to become a threat to us.”

Crusher was not entirely convinced that the nuances of Federation diplomatic hierarchy meant much to the Venetans, but it seemed simple enough when he said it. So when she and Dygan arrived at the atrium, she was dismayed to see that Vitig had brought Alizome Vik Tov-A.

“I thought this was to be a private meeting,” Crusher said warily.

“The Tzenkethi are our friends,” Vitig said, sounding exactly like a parent becoming impatient with a willful child. “We have no secrets from them. I would tell Alizome everything that happens here. Why then should she simply not attend the meeting herself?”

Crusher was appalled.
Nothing gets past Alizome.

“Besides, her people have been offended by you as much as we have been offended by the Cardassians.”

“You speak truly as ever, my friend Vitig,” Alizome said quietly and graciously.

“But come, Ravel Dygan,” said Vitig. “You wished to speak to me.”

Dygan nervously cleared his throat and stepped forward. He lifted his hand, palm forward, in the traditional Cardassian manner, a friendly and respectful gesture. Vitig, to Crusher’s surprise, responded correctly, pressing her palm against his. She seemed amused by Dygan but not in an unkindly fashion. Again, Crusher was left with the impression of someone very old watching children at play.

“Dygan,” said Vitig, “you find yourself in a difficult position, do you not? You’re caught between friendship to your Starfleet colleagues and loyalties to your homeworld’s representatives. None of us would care to find ourselves in such a predicament. But the way that you have conducted yourself during your time on this world has impressed us greatly. We are prepared to hear what you have to say.”

Dygan blinked. Crusher too was surprised. The Venetans had shown no sign of paying much attention to the junior members of the various deputations. How did they know so much about Dygan? They couldn’t be
spying
on them, could they?

Crusher shook herself. That was impossible. For the Venetans to engage in such a degree of underhandedness
while managing a seemingly genuine display of horror at the thought of Cardassian spies walking among them would imply a degree of psychosis that she didn’t want to contemplate. And Crusher was as sure as she could be that with the Venetans, what you saw was what you got. There would be nothing more behind Vitig’s knowledge of Dygan than the fact that the Venetans paid equal attention to everyone, regardless of title or function. It was to their credit, rather than something to arouse suspicion.
But suspicion is too easily aroused at the moment . . .

Dygan again cleared his throat. Vitig gave him an encouraging smile.

“I’ll try not to waste your time, Vitig,” Dygan said. “I’m from a culture that enjoys word games and wordplay, and that likes to leave meaning in the gaps between words, but I don’t think that will go down well here.”

Vitig nodded, and Dygan seemed to gain a little confidence.

“What I want to say is that it seems to me that we’ve misjudged you at every turn, Vitig, and it’s my belief—I’m speaking for myself, you understand,” he said hastily, “not my government—that we’ve represented ourselves in the worst possible light. We’re a people with a troubled past. I’m sure that you know this.” Vitig nodded again. “Not too long ago, we brought ourselves to the brink of destruction, and since then we’ve been learning to do things differently. We’re still learning, and sometimes we make mistakes.
But our hearts”—he gave a small smile and tapped his chest—“are in the right place.”

Vitig smiled back at him. “And what about the leader of your mission? Is it your opinion that her heart is in the right place?”

Crusher watched Dygan turn a slightly paler gray. “I’m afraid I don’t know the negotiator very well.”

Vitig’s smile deepened and her eyes were warmed by the slight amusement Crusher had seen before. “Your people chose strangely when they delegated her to speak for them here. They’d have been wiser to choose you.”

“Me?” Dygan looked genuinely startled. “I’m just a glinn—”

Vitig fell back in her chair. “Oh, these titles that you give each other and take upon yourselves! It’s as if you
believe
in them. Believe that they define you, rather than define a function that you perform. Whatever a ‘glinn’ might be supposed to do,” she said, “Ravel Dygan, I think, speaks truthfully and honestly, and with the desire to do good rather than harm. Yes, your government chose the wrong negotiator.”