Chapters 26-30

Chapter 26

Sielox and I spent a lot of time together on the trip, and by the time we arrived at Vulcan I did truly think of her as a friend. We exchanged com ids and I told her that I would host her and introduce her to my girlfriend next time she was on Earth. Sielox said she planned to bring her purfahls (which, as far as I understand, is something in between a close friend and a mate) with her on her next trip, and would visit me when she did.

“But don’t worry--we will stay in a hotel,” she said. “There are five of us!”

That opened up a lot of questions, and I thought it smart not to ask any of them.

Vulcan was what Vulcan always was: hot, bright, dry. It was not a popular planet for most humans, being a place where emotions are shunned and life is spent thinking, debating, and working. For the few ambitious who went to Vulcan to learn more about science, philosophy, and logic, it was a hard place to endure, and the human expatriate camps were notorious for being very insular and full of melodramatic inpolitics.

This was all the reason why I was eager to get to Tuvok, make my case, and get back home, but that was easier said than done. Tuvok was now a professor at the Vulcan Science Academy, which meant he was extremely busy. He would not reply to a message from a stranger for no reason--especially if Chakotay had told Tuvok not to talk to me.

I honestly did not know if he had done so and, even if he had, there was no guarantee he would comply. Tuvok and Chakotay had an awkward relationship on Voyager. No one admitted it, but if you read enough about the crew and you know the stories that Voyager crew has disclosed to the public, it doesn’t take long to realize the two were not friends. Tuvok had at one point been a spy when Chakotay and he were in opposing camps; on Voyager they might have been a family, but Chakotay obviously never forgot Tuvok’s betrayal--and he probably never forgave him, either.

For Tuvok, being passed over by his friend and long-time mentee so that Chakotay could be first officer could not have been pleasant, even for an emotionless Vulcan. The fact that it was a logical choice may have mollified Tuvok, since it symbolically united the Maquis on an equal footing and helped the two integrate at an unbelievably fast rate, but it had to have been a pebble in Tuvok’s shoe for seven years.

I ultimately decided to be optimistic about my chances of meeting Tuvok and getting him on my side. Of course I was wrong to feel that way, but at the time such a conclusion felt...logical.

On my second day on Vulcan I took a public transport to the science academy. With padd in hand I translated the directory and found Tuvok’s office--a large one in the corner of the Martial Arts Faculty Building.

As you’d expect, the layout of the academy is extremely logical, so it took me little time to find his office. He wasn’t there.

My research told me Vulcan institutions were similar to human ones, in that higher education institutes like this had professors give lectures and hold office hours for students. I’d assumed their office hours would be publicly listed or made available, but when I inquired, staff told me they were not. And nothing was on Tuvok’s door except its number and his name.

This was bothersome.

Not an insurmountable challenge, though. I’d wait.

I spent three days waiting outside that door, arriving in the morning and leaving in the evening. I sat on the floor and tried to ignore the Vulcans who looked puzzled at my presence as they walked by. Luckily no one complained, so I was allowed to keep watch.

Finally, on the third day shortly before the fourth morning hour, Tuvok arrived. He looked exactly as he’d appeared in the many videos I’d seen of him, so I recognized him immediately.

He recognized me, too.

“May I help you, lieutenant?” he asked as I got to my feet. He began unlocking the door.

“Sir, I am sorry to bother you--may I have five minutes of your time?”

“Unfortunately I am unable to provide you with more,” he said. “I must be teaching soon.”

“That’s fine. I want to talk to you about Voyager.”

He raised an eyebrow. Vulcans weren’t ones to play mind games or use deceit as a conversation tactic, so his surprise told me that Chakotay had not in fact gotten in touch with him. I wondered wryly if Chakotay had gotten in touch with everyone else but him.

“That is an interesting topic of discussion,” he replied. “May I inquire what exactly you would like to know?”

Absolute candor was best when dealing with Vulcans. They respected humans who could think logically and avoid the illogical phatic strategies and oblique small talk typically used to blunt hard topics of conversation. Thus my response was curt.

“I believe a crewmember may be guilty of murder.”

Again, surprise. “That is a very serious accusation. And who would be the victim?”

“That is...complicated,” I said, unwilling to give myself away yet.

“That is not terribly helpful,” he said. “But I cannot deny the importance of hearing out such an issue, particularly when the issue is so grave.”

A pun? I realized he was speaking Vulcan and the universal translator was working; just an unfortunate coincidence. That also made me realize how odd it was that he hadn’t chosen to speak English with me--he knew it. Was he trying to keep the linguistic advantage of using his mother tongue?

“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I want to make it absolutely clear that I am only interested in justice.”

“That is your reputation,” he said flatly. I didn’t know if that meant he sided with me or against me on the Romulan case. I’d assume Vulcan sympathy, particularly among the Unification Party and its sympathizers. But I did not know Tuvok’s politics; maybe he was a Separatist?

Why were Vulcans so damn hard to figure out?

“As I said,” he continued, “I must be teaching a class. Let me scan your padd; you can visit my house tonight for dinner. We can discuss the matter then.”

I have to admit, from the moment I saw Tuvok I was starstruck. Even if I’ve never been the type to care for celebrities, Tuvix had become a monumental part of my life, and it made both Tuvok and Neelix quasi-obsessions. I knew everything there was to know about this man (including where his house was, but I didn’t want him to know that), and the thought of being invited to his house--it just felt like an incredible honor.

“Sir, I am deeply honored,” I said, my emotion betraying me. I was acting like a human, which most Vulcans would find off putting. But if Tuvok was annoyed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps his tolerance for emotion had strengthened after years of being on a ship with Neelix?

“Likewise, I believe my son will be honored to meet you,” he continued. “Please be there tonight at the third evening hour.”

I promised I would. I took my padd, took my leave, and practically skipped down the hallway and out the building.

Chapter 27

I arrived early. Knowing the importance of punctuality of Vulcan culture, that was a good thing, but in all honesty I was early because I was so giddy. Meeting Tuvok, his family, and visiting his home? I felt like I’d hit the jackpot, and for the first time since I’d learned about Tuvix, I was actually having fun.

T’Pel, Tuvok’s wife, met me at the front door. A stately and beautiful woman, with typical high Vulcan cheekbones, she was intimidating in just about every way. “Live long and prosper,” she said, gesturing for me to enter.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said. I’d planned this out carefully--it was hard to know whether to use the native greeting or your own, and I’d ultimately decided using an Earth greeting somehow seemed more respectful than mimicking the Vulcan phrase.

“This is my son, Sek, and my daughter, Asil.” Both were there, and both nodded to me.

Tuvok’s house was massive--made of orange terracotta and in the classic Vulcan style, with curved arches above the doorless entryways that connected rooms and large domed roofs that helped dissipate the heat. Modern cooling systems made these unnecessary, but most Vulcan homes kept them for aesthetic reasons as well as to minimize use of power--a logical choice. The house was set at around 25 degrees celsius, an act of hospitality I immediately noted.

“There’s no need to set the house to human temperature,” I said. Vulcan room temperature was around 32c and, while not exactly comfortable, I could bear it for an evening.

T’Pel shook her head. “You are our guest and your comfort is important to us. Please, the living room is this way.” I followed her into the house, noting the many paintings on both walls of the hallway. That opened up into a large living room with several couches and a large viewscreen above a hearth; to the other side of the house was a massive window, perhaps five meters tall and twice as long, showing a massive backyard full of trees that, thankfully, blocked the now setting sun’s strong rays.

“Tuvok will be with us shortly,” she said. “Would you like a drink?”

“Water would be great, thank you.”

She nodded. “We also have Romulan ale, brandy, and human beer,” she said. That surprised me--Vulcans do not drink alcohol. More hospitality, or did they want to disarm me with booze?

I decided on the less paranoid interpretation, but still kept to water just to be safe.

“You are Lieutenant Li?” Sek asked. He was a handsome man, perhaps 30, with the same haircut as Tuvok and a slightly higher voice despite being much more burly than his father.

“I am,” I replied.

“Your case was significant news,” he said.

“I didn’t know it was well known on Vulcan.”

“I was at the Academy at the time,” he replied. A student? Had he joined late? “But, yes, the story is somewhat well known here as well.”

“Really?” I said, surprised. “I suppose it’s Vulcan diplomacy that no one has stopped me on the street here. I get that a lot on Earth.”

“Perhaps--or perhaps because the video feed was not broadcast on Vulcan.”

“It wasn’t?”

“The case was summarized in text by the Vulcan news authority,” he said. That was a relief--it also meant the chances of word spreading that I’d been on Vulcan were low. That was good; I was worried news of collusion between Tuvok and me could get me taken off the investigation after he filed his complaint. Now I know that probably won’t happen, so after Tuvok files his case there won’t be anything tying me to him.

Of course Tuvok could complain of my connection after the fact, but by then it’d be too late; the case would be in the courts and there’d be too much evidence for my biased input to matter anymore. I’d probably get fired and stripped of my commission (but, luckily, this misconduct was not a jailable offense), but the case would not get thrown out (and even if it did, another prosecutor would just refile it). Sure, my career would be over, but Tuvix’s murderer would have to face justice for her crimes.

“May I ask, do you think I did the right thing?” I asked. Maybe it would’ve been too rude to ask so bluntly to humans. Socializing with Vulcans was not fun, but it was definitely efficient. And easy.

“From a legal point of view, obviously yes,” Sek said. “The ethical questions invite greater debate. But I believe that on ethical grounds you must also be lauded.” This was a big compliment from a Vulcan, especially one I’d just met. Now I began to see why Tuvok was so willing to let me talk to him; his son was a fan.

“That’s very kind of you,” I said.

“It is the only logical position,” he replied. “It is a well known fact that individuals make better choices when they are given as much information as possible, and information was removed specifically germane to these Romulans’ future, forcing them to make distorted choices.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. “A particularly concerning decision if one believes the Romulans should be welcomed into the Federation.”

Was Sek an advocate of reunification? That wouldn’t surprise me; it had become an increasingly popular viewpoint on Vulcan, especially among the younger generation.

“I’m just glad I could have helped.” I felt my response was quite lame--I was still getting used to people knowing about my career, let alone having an opinion on it. “But I think many people would’ve done what I did.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Sek said. “Many did not.”

“Had they known the law, they probably would have,” I said, unsure if my humility was genuine or not at this point. “I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble--and I mean that. I was downright shocked when they arrested me.”

At this moment, TPel and Tuvok entered the room. “Dinner is served,” Tuvok said.

At the dinner table, it was T’Pel who spoke first. Now that I was here I was nervous--how could I possibly tell Tuvok I wanted him to file a complaint against his former captain? And in his own home? I suddenly started to get cold feet; not only did what I was doing seem like a rude, barbaric intrusion (thus fitting with how Vulcans perceive us humans, perhaps rightly), but it seemed pointless. Tuvok wasn’t just Janeway’s officer, he was her mentor and a close friend. How could I imagine that he’d help me, whatever the logic of the matter?

“I hope we Vulcans have been hospitable during your stay,” T’Pel said, as Asil ladled plomeek soup for us. I was a provincial human, sure, but I knew of the Vulcan custom of the youngest member of the family over aged ten serving at the dinner table--a logical practice, so that the healthiest and most energetic family members would do the most work during mealtime.

“Yes,” I said, having the soup--it was popular in Malaysia, where it had been incorporated into traditional rendang. I was raised on plomeek soup, and was really excited to try the authentic version on Vulcan.

Unsurprisingly, it was blander than the Malay derivation.

“I’ve spent my time visiting temples and museums across the two major continents,” I replied, lying through my teeth. I’d seen the arrival hall at the interstellar travel station, my hotel, and the Vulcan Science Institute. That’s it. “It’s been an extremely educational experience.”

“And why have you come?”

This was it--my chance to bring up Tuvix in a straightforward and honest way. So of course I didn’t take it. “I’m hoping to learn more about Vulcan society and history, so that I can learn more about how it has influenced the Federation charter and legal system,” I said.

“Asil may know something of that, as she wishes to be a magistrate.”

I turned to the young lady, who nodded. “It requires a lengthy course of study and rigorous discipline, but I shall try my best.” She sounded a mix of humble and scared--not the most logical position. Maybe because of her age?

“Sounds unlike Earth,” I replied with an involuntary chuckle. I let the smile disappear. Displays of emotion were tolerated and inconsequential to Vulcans--or so was the party line. I couldn’t help but think the Vulcans found them annoying. “I can’t say my course was as hard as quantum mechanics or warp theory.”

“The intersection of fact, analysis, and morality is arguably the backbone of justice,” Tuvok said. “And they must be combined differently in each instance. That was especially apparent in my time as a security officer.” Then why didn’t you make the right mix when Janeway-- “Justice embodies,” he continued before I could finish my thought, “the Vulcan maxim of infinite diversity in infinite combinations.”

“That’s why justice is at the core of the Vulcan philosophy and its greatest goal,” Asil said, as if continuing Tuvok’s thoughts. It was clear this was not a family of much animosity, with parents passing down wisdom to their children, who accepted it readily. I knew not all Vulcan families were so harmonious. “And why it is the most difficult profession to enter.”

“There’s a good reason why humans consider Vulcans the most enlightened species in the galaxy,” I said.

T’Pel replied, “that is most complimentary. But one should not forget humanity has its own strengths.”

“Indeed,” Sek said. “After all, if it weren’t for humanity rightly chastising Vulcans’ dishonorable behavior at P’Jem, there would be no Federation today--and, perhaps, no Federation.”

“I must admit,” I said, genuinely surprised, “I have never heard of a Vulcan giving humanity so much credit.”

“Perhaps Sek’s generosity has led to a slight indulgence in hyperbole,” Tuvok replied. There it was--I knew some generational disagreement had to be here; but Sek felt any loss of face from his father, he didn’t show it. “It is nonetheless unquestionable that the Vulcans owe a great deal to humanity.”

“And likewise,” I said, having had enough experience with diplomats to know this dance. “Arguably our debt is greater; had Vulcans not initiated First Contact, I have no doubt in my mind that humanity would no longer exist. And that’s something most humans can agree on.”

We continued eating with similar conversation peppering the decidedly unpeppered food. I struggled to keep up; while references to high school topics like the Vulcan/Andorian war, the birth of the Federation, and First Contact were well within my scope, a few references to more esoteric concepts in philosophy and history were simply a struggle. But I can say with confidence that you’ve never lived until you’ve heard a Vulcan explain Nietzsche.

The conversation was genuinely enjoyable, and I found myself liking Tuvok and his family, although I found it weird. As beings who did not experience emotions, did they like me? Were they capable of liking me? Did they even like each other? Just how does not having emotions work? These questions were the sort of around-the-bong fodder of first-year cadets, and as cliche as they are I have to admit they remain unsolved in my head. But that doesn’t mean I felt detached from Tuvok and his family--if anything, I felt that I didn’t need to have answers to these questions, just a sense of gratitude that I’ve met such good people.

Thus was my mood when dinner ended and Tuvok invited me to their living room for Vulcan mochas. It was just him and me, fortunately, so I decided it was time to shoot my shot. If I didn’t ask for his help now, I never would.

“Thank you for the invitation, sir,” I said, suddenly feeling like a lieutenant talking to a superior officer. “But I feel like I must tell you why I’m really here.”

“I did wonder,” he said, with an eyebrow raised, “when you would be ready to make that disclosure.”

“About Tuvix,” I said biting my lip, the words trailing off as I spoke them, “I really think this whole story demands a reconsideration.”

“What do you mean?”

I took my padd out of my pocket. “Have you seen the video of Tuvix’s final moments?”

He raised his eyebrow again. “A curious phrase, but, if you are referring to the moments before I was restored, I have not.”

“Please indulge me--and all I ask is that you remember justice is at the core of Vulcan culture, like Asil said.” Was I pulling on his heartstrings? Yes. Does this strategy work with Vulcans? I had no idea.

I played the video--it was not the greatest quality, being a recording of the video from Chakotay’s padd when he’d shown it to me (of course I’d recorded the entire dinner in the hopes I’d have hard evidence to use; I didn’t, but at least I had a bad copy of Tuvix’s final moments of life). Tuvok watched with, of course, a neutral, unmoving face.

After Tuvix silently went into the turbolift and the doors closed, the video ended. Tuvok looked at me.

“I am not certain what is the significance of this record,” he said flatly.

I knew then that this was a hopeless cause. Of course that wouldn’t stop me, but even as I carried on I knew I was wasting my time. But justice demanded it.

“At the time of this recording, Tuvix had already asserted his refusal to be separated into...you and Neelix,” I said awkwardly. “Thus he had made an explicit assertion of his individuality and desire for life. Cogito ergo sum--and since Tuvix thought of himself, therefore he was himself.”

Tuvok listened patiently, still looking neither annoyed nor convinced.

“If he was a sentient individual capable of thinking of himself, thinking for himself, and rejecting a medical procedure that ended his life, and if Janeway coerced him to endure that procedure, this is by definition non-consensual euthanasia--or, in crude terms, murder. And a premeditated one, as Janeway ordered this and enforced it after carefully planning it in advance.”

“I am not so sure,” Tuvok said. “One must first establish what Tuvix was. He was the result of a transporter accident which merged the egos of Neelix and myself. When the accident was reversed, we were unmerged. Thus a unique ego called ‘Tuvix’ never existed, as much as did a combination of two separate egos for a brief moment of time,” Tuvok said.

“But that combination had its own personality and desires, isn’t that an ego? And it’s an ego that is no more.”

“No more, correct, but retrievable,” Tuvok replied calmly. He was not being defensive at all but coldly, coldly logical. I admit his dispassionate demeanor both comforted me into thinking I’d not stepped my bounds while also making me start to doubt that, maybe, just maybe, I’d been wrong all this time. “If Neelix and I were to return to that planet and retrieve the orchid that caused this accident, we could in theory recreate it and thus recreate Tuvix. A murdered person cannot be recreated.”

“Maybe a new Tuvix would be created, but it wouldn’t be the same Tuvix. You don’t remember what happened when you were Tuvix, correct?”

“I do not.”

“And neither does Neelix?”

“He asserted as such following the event.”

“So,” I said quickly, “the being that did those events and has memory of those events is gone--and would not come back if we recreated Tuvix. Another way to say it--the memories created in that time span are gone and cannot be retrieved.”

“I am not certain the continuation of memory is a necessary definition of a coherent and cohesive self, either legally or scientifically,” Tuvok replied. “For instance, if an alien force were to cause you to lose your memory--as once did happen to me--and you never had it restored, you would still be the same person with the same ego, the same soul, even if your memories of before were permanently lost.”

“But Tuvix’s memories weren’t just lost!” I protested, my voice raising with incredulity. “The man himself was gone! His body is gone!”

Fortunately my heightened state didn’t perturb Tuvok. “It is not,” Tuvok said. “His DNA, his subatomic particles, still reside within Neelix and me. Tuvix was the combination of two life forces; when Tuvix ceased to be that combination ceased, but the two life forces did not. No killing transpired,” he said cooly. Then, he added, as if pondering a curiosity, “One could argue that, in a way, Tuvix lives forever as a part of me.”

“Even if you don’t remember him?” I retorted. “Would you say your experience as Tuvix changed you in any way?”

“Every experience I have had has changed me,” he replied.

“Let me put it this way,” I said. “Did you being melded with Neelix change you at all?”

For the first time in the conversation, he seemed annoyed. “I would say with a high degree of certainty that it did not.”

“So being Tuvix didn’t change you--which means it stands to reason that Tuvix is gone.”

Asil entered the room, and if she were aware of the growing tension in the room, admittedly one sided, she did not show it. She handed both of us Vulcan mochas.

It was clear that Tuvok had his mind set, and Vulcan stubbornness what it was, I could not deter him with my clearly logical and justice-minded argument. Justice the center of Vulcan society my ass.

“I guess,” I said, knowing full well what the answer would be, “that you won’t be willing to file a complaint against Janeway, then?”

“No.”

Sek and T’Pel entered the room. I stayed for another few minutes and we chatted, but I have no memory whatsoever of that at all. We could’ve talked about Vulcan pornographic holoprograms and Klingon narcotics for all I knew. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Tuvix and how I’d let him down.

I left crestfallen and defeated. I wasn’t angry at Tuvok; I was angry at myself. Enough logic and I could have convinced him. Maybe I was too young of a lawyer; maybe too dumb. Maybe I used the wrong tactics. Whatever it was, I failed.

Should my time with Tuvok’s family have deterred me from seeking justice? After all, Tuvix’s death meant T’Pel had her husband back after seven years apart--Sek and Asil had their father back, and this family was now united because Tuvix was no longer alive. Sek clearly respected me, Asil was an ambitious young woman, and T’Pel an incredibly kind and friendly person--adjectives not often used for Vulcans. They were as close to a happy, loving family as Vulcans can be, considering they are incapable of happiness or love.

Had Tuvix’s sacrifice been worth it, after all?

Not that he chose that sacrifice.

No, Tuvok’s family benefitted from Janeway’s killing, but that didn’t justify the murder. Seeing them together did not hinder my resolve one bit, and no amount of hospitality or thermostat adjusting could stop me from doing what apparently no one else in the galaxy was willing to do: speak up for Tuvix.

Chapter 28

On the trip home, this time on a Vulcan transport ship where I had no chaperone and no one to really talk to (the Vulcans on the ship seemed very uninterested in engaging the only human on board, which suited me fine), I spent my time contemplating the next move. Obviously, it was a desperate move doomed to failure, but there were two other people I thought might, just might, help me.

Samantha and Naomi Wildman.

If I wanted to appeal to anyone who knew Neelix, they were the only options this side of a wormhole. The two lived on Ktaris and neither had replied to my messages before--whether that was Chakotay’s doing or not, I had no idea.

But Chakotay’s meddling didn’t matter. I knew that intellectually. Neelix had practically raised Naomi as an uncle of sorts, and in all of the interviews spoke of him with a deep love that told me, whatever he had been, he had been a good father figure to the child.

That wasn’t surprising. Of course I didn’t know what Neelix had been up to since Voyager lost contact, but all of the stories made Neelix sound like an eternal big brother. Of course I knew the story of how he valiantly defended Dexa and Brax, becoming a father to the latter and a loyal, protective mate to the former.

And I knew the other stories of how Neelix had done everything in his power to protect Kes from just about anyone--Paris in particular loved to tell stories of how Neelix was obsessed with caring for the helpless and the weak.

“What you need to remember about Neelix,” Tom had said in an interview I watched several times, “is that he was haunted by the memory of his sister. Alixia sadly died on Rinax, one of Talax’s moons. And I think Neelix had survivor’s guilt. So he tried to make up for it by protecting anyone he could--that’s why he hung around the Ocampa, and how he met Kes.”

“Did his relationship with Kes unnerve the Voyager crew?”

“Yes, for a long time,” Tom said. “And Neelix was very stoic about it. He had to know about the rumors and gossip, but he never let it get to him or let it stop him from being our morale officer. But the rumors were all nonsense.”

“What do you mean?”

“So,” Tom replied, eager to get into details that most people would desperately shy away from, so much did he want to have history side with Neelix, “Ocampans have a nine-year lifespan, and hit puberty at four or five. Kes was less than two when she joined Voyager, and had already been Neelix’s--partner, I guess?” Tom said with an inflection--he clearly still hadn’t figured out all the details in his head. “As Starfleet we try to be open minded, and although Kes was fully grown in appearance by human standards, the age difference did bother a lot of us. Some complained to Janeway, and they got an earful about respecting other cultures and alien species.”

“But surely there’s a limit to respecting other cultures.”

“The abuse of children is just one of many things we can’t tolerate,” Paris agreed. “But there was no abuse.”

“No?”

“It took a long time for many to realize, and maybe longer for me, but people who thought Neelix was manipulating or grooming Kes were wrong. Not only was she a willing companion, but they’d never had sex. They never even lived in the same quarters!”

“So why did they stay together?”

“When I learned this it was hard for me to figure out, and I kept mapping the older-brother and younger-sister dynamic to both of them, which meant flirting with Kes and coming on too strong. I have to confess I hate myself for that--neither of them deserved me disturbing their loving relationship.”

“So Kes stayed with Neelix because he protected her?”

“And took care of her after she got out of the underground Ocampan city,” Tom added. “She always loved Neelix and was grateful that he helped her see the universe, and he stayed close by her for as long as he thought she needed protection, which admittedly was probably too long. But he wanted to make sure, because it was too late to do that for his sister.”

“That is a very different figure than Voyager must have seen at first. Did the crew figure all of this out like you did?”

“Oh yeah, and Neelix quickly became beloved by the entire crew. A few apologized to him, but a lot more just didn’t have the guts to confess they’d judged him to be a pedophile.”

“How did he react to the apologies?”

“He looked them in the face and replied, with big wide eyes, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ as if he’d never heard of the rumors and didn’t know people were making them. But he knew. He always knew.”

“That was very kind of him.”

“It’s what a morale officer does,” Tom said. “Neelix cared for all of the children of Voyager--Naomi, Icheb, Mexoti, Azan, Rebi. And he never asked for anything in return.”

I replayed the interview several times on the trip home, agonizing over how I could possibly make Naomi file a complaint--but I thought there had to be a way, especially if I appealed to her love of her godfather. It was obvious that Neelix had cared for her when she was so young (even with half-Ktarian physiology, she was just six when Neelix left Voyager). And at sixteen, I could surely leverage that somehow to get her to care about Tuvix, even if she’d never met him.

If that failed, Samantha was another option. She’d known and worked with Tuvix--and possibly she liked him? Obviously she had loved Neelix, if only for the simple relief he’d provided as a babysitter, but did she have residual feelings about Tuvix I could use, too?

I got home. Lauren was there. I immediately looked up Samantha Wildman on my computer and read all of the public records I could. She hadn’t given many interviews about Voyager, and now lived a quiet life as a private citizen of Ktaris. That would be a problem--Ktarians loved their privacy, so finding Samantha on Ktaris would be easier said than done, even if I flew out to Samantha’s new homeworld.

Despairing that I had hit a dead end, I went to bed and fell asleep, I think Lauren was there too. The next morning I got up and dragged myself to work.

For five weeks I struggled. I will be totally honest--I did not take this impasse well. I started drinking, alone, and when I wasn’t drinking or working I was reading and scheming.

The obvious shortcut was just to bribe someone to make the complaint for me--but I’d have to find someone who could be bribed, and then I’d need to keep bribing them. Forever. If they ever blabbed at what I’d done, Janeway would be freed from prison and I’d be put in her cell instead.

And this is why I was drinking.

Over a month passed and I’d not forgotten about Tuvix nor given up--I was in despair, and I was getting increasingly desperate, but I did not stop using every waking moment I could to find some way to get justice for Tuvix.

Then, one day, Lena showed up.

I had spent the morning processing forms while drinking some coffee I’d quickly made, hoping to free up some spare time during the day so I could slip out of the office and access some records at Starfleet. This was why I decided to take the shuttle, so I could try to clear my head before my early morning meeting, where I’d likely get even more work. I was still processing Fenris ranger conviction records, very technical and boring work, and the workload meant less time focusing on getting justice served.

Thus I went to the shuttle transport station in Guatemala City that morning, something I didn’t rarely do. And that’s where a Cardassian walked towards me.

I admit that I had been on autopilot and paid attention to nothing going on around me if I didn’t have to, but getting a Cardassian visitor on Earth was enough to shock anyone into paying attention.

“Greetings, Jason.”

It is unnerving when someone you don’t know already knows your name--I had not gotten used to it. I still haven’t. But there was more about her that made me anxious--not just that she was the first Cardassian who’d ever spoken to me. There was something more to it. At first I tried to think of how this was related to Tuvix--I couldn’t think of even the hint of a connection. I immediately dismissed that she could know me from the Romulan case--had the news spread to Cardassia? I found that unlikely, a ridiculous indulgence of egoism. So I really was a blank slate, standing like an idiot silently for a good few seconds.

“May I help you?” I was about to say, but she beat me to it, “Mister Li, I do hope you can forgive my forwardness.”

“Um, sure,” I said. “How do you know my name?”

“You are quite well known, Mister Li,” she said slyly. So I guess the Romulan case had reached Cardassia? “I have read much about you here on Earth.” Or she’d been here for a while. That made sense, too.

“Oh, well, nice to meet you,” I replied, feeling quite dumb.

“Likewise. It is the greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do hope you are free for lunch. Say, 11:30 am today?”

That would be just thirty minutes after my morning meetings ended--perfect timing.

“Can I ask what this is regarding? If it is about an open case, I’m afraid--”

“No, no, not at all!” she said dismissively with a light chuckle. “The last thing I would ever want to do is get in the way of justice, which, as you know, is a very important virtue in Cardassian society. No,” she continued, changing her tone to sound more assertive, “it is in fact an entirely separate issue that I have recently discovered that I hope I can discuss with you, something that I think you would find quite interesting.”

She was saying a lot, but nothing at the same time. “What was your name?”

“I am Lena,” she said.

“Lena…?”

“Yes. Lena.”

“Okay, and I’m Jason Li,” I said, extending my hand.

“A pleasure indeed. So, does that mean you are in fact available for lunch, today?” she said. She was charming--very charming.

I will now confess that I have never had sex with an alien. Sure, there were a couple of Vulcan holograms when I was a teenager, but that’s about it. In reality, I had only been with humans, which, I must admit in what may be a distasteful opinion, had always been my preference.

But I would be lying if I said Lena lacked sex appeal.

I’m not going to get into it. You don’t need me to tell you what a beautiful Cardassian woman looks like--I’m sure you’ve seen plenty in your time. Even if they had been enemies to the Federation, they weren’t anymore, and I’m sure more commingling between our races was down the pike. Maybe she was a trailblazer? In any case, she was definitely desirable, enough to make me think my preferences were probably worth tossing away.

I would go to my meetings, slip out, hear her out, and get back to work. It’s not like I ever ate with anyone anyway. Of course I wouldn’t let myself be seduced and, good lord, I wouldn’t sleep with her or try--I was a man of honor, after all, and I had a girlfriend.

But I would hear her out.

So we met later that morning at a restaurant--an Andorian/Tellarite/Thai fusion restaurant in the Tenderloin, which was small enough and far enough away from HQ that it probably wouldn’t have too many Starfleets about. I made the choice more for Lena’s comfort than my own; even if our peoples were technically on friendly terms, I couldn’t imagine being at the nexus of Federation power was a great place to be for a Cardassian. Especially in light of the barbarian totalitarian system they lived in, which probably made all of them bundles of constant anxiety and fear.

She elegantly slid into her chair across from me and ordered a cup of Jasmine tea. I nodded to the waitress, said “me too,” and took the menu. I knew the food on order here, but I wanted to buy time to try to get my thoughts in order and figure out how to deal with this woman.

For weeks I’d not socialized with anyone, and I felt very out of practice.

“Surely the food is not so important as what I have to say,” Lena continued.

“Let me just get something,” I murmured, flagging down the waitress, who flickered as she came--had this place always had holographic serving staff?

“I’ll get the pad thai,” I said. “That’s it.”

“May I have pad krapaow Andorian eel and stir fried vegetables with a side of yamok sauce, if you have it. Oh, and a bowl of fruit.”

The waitress nodded, slipped away.

“So you read about me in the news and decided to reach me?” I asked, incredulous. A lot of people read about me--but that was old news and made me less powerful in the Federation, not more. What did she want with me?

“I should tell you that you were highly recommended by a good friend of mine,” Lena said. “A Rigelian who said you were keen on righting the wrongs of the galaxy.”

“Sielox,” I said, stunned. “And how did you find me in Guatemala?”

“The location of your home is not exactly a state secret,” Lena said. “Articles on your story have included pictures of you at your home--and the location of that building was not hard to find.”

I grimaced--fortunately this hadn’t led to any other encounters.

At the same time, I felt relief--this meant Lena wasn’t some super spy or anything like that, a fear that comes naturally when dealing with a Cardassian. That didn’t answer why she’d sought me out, however.

“So why did you seek me out?” I asked.

“There is a situation brewing that can best be described as...unfortunate,” Lena said. “In fact, it has been brewing for quite some time, and it seems that the Federation is completely unaware of it. And that is a problem, because it is not something the Federation would like to see fully develop.”

“So it’s bad for the Federation? Why would a Cardassian care?”

“Why, Mister Li!” she said, putting a hand to her chest. “I am shocked. Do you not think we care for our Federation friends and neighbors?”

“No, I don’t,” I said flatly. The charm offensive worked--up to a point.

“Very well,” she said, sighing. “But do not forget that your interests and those of my people can and very often do align. Such was the case with the Dominion War--”

“Well, not for the whole war--not when you sided with the Dominion,” I said.

“All’s well that ends well, as one of your more celebrated poets once said,” Lena replied smoothly. “And since then, it has been apparent that Cardassian and Federation interests have aligned. And now they align once more.”

“So what’s going on that the Federation should be so worried about?”

She passed me a data rod, which I affixed to my padd. Security clearance: no viruses, and it appeared authentic. I downloaded the contents.

In it were a collection of maps, reports, ship plans, biochemical research papers, and other various bits and pieces--a variety of multidisciplinary documents, not unlike a collection of evidence for a trial. Was this why she sought me out, my legal background?

“The executive summary should give all the detail you need,” she said helpfully.

I opened that file. It was already written in Cardassian, English, Vulcan, and Andorian. Whoever wrote this was eager to have it read by the Federation.

Nulrek-C17H13ClN4 Conspiracy

Stardate: 67113.1

For All Eyes

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

A conspiracy has been developing on Cardassia among some rogue actors who wish to destabilize the peace with the Federation. These misguided individuals, who are working outside of the official Cardassian government and without the authority or approval of Cardassia’s leaders or the vast majority of its people, have developed a new drug called “Nurek” which they plan to ship to the Federation as soon as it is fully completed.

Nurek is an odorless and tasteless mild sedative compound that, when ingested in several humanoid species, creates a chain reaction in the digestive system that results in the mutation of some bacteria into a new parasite. This parasite can then leave the digestive system and bind itself to the nervous system, creating permanent psychological and behavioral changes in the host organism.

In clinical trials, a broad number of types of changes were observed, but in over 80% of cases one consistent result was discovered: a newfound fondness for reptilian species of all sorts. In the most extreme cases, an obsessive love of reptilian species was observed.

This effect was found to occur with the greatest frequency and intensity in humans (effective in 90% of observed cases), but was also effective in Andorians (70%), Tellarites (50%), Deltans (45%), and Vulcans (20%).

The criminal conspiracy to develop and implement this drug intends to surreptitiously upload it to the food replication system at Starfleet HQ, where it will be ingested by admirals, politicians, and senior members of Starfleet. Once the bacteria in their systems have adapted to the Nulrek, the bacteria will begin to grow and spread, ideally infecting all of Earth in a matter of months. From there, it can spread to the entire Federation.

END OF SUMMARY

I looked up to Lena, who didn’t give me a chance to speak. “As you can tell,” she said, “a group of people are working hard to make the Federation have a more favorable attitude towards Cardassians--and not by making us more lovable, a task that is surely impossible.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Would this really do that?”

“Reptilian,” Lena said, accentuating the word carefully. “Think about it--if suddenly there’s a greater affinity for species such as Cardassians, couldn’t that encourage friendlier terms for treaties? Trade pacts? Maybe even a retreat from nearby territory--perhaps even leaving Deep Space Nine?”

“That sounds like a stretch,” I said doubtfully. “From making people like lizards to abandoning the Bajorans--”

“Might we continue this conversation...somewhere else?” Lena asked.

I looked around. I definitely did not feel comfortable in this restaurant anymore. “Of course.”

We left, went back to my house; Lauren wasn’t there, so we were alone and far from any eavesdroppers.

“I think you miss the Order’s strategy,” Lena said quickly. “They do not think a plague of herpetophilia will result in changes to official policies. They bonded the particle to an old Earth sedative for a reason--so it would be detectable on scans.” Now I was confused, but Lena continued. “That way, the Federation would discover what had happened, start combating it, and then investigate where it came from. Cardassia will be a likely suspect, whether evidence points to them or not.”

“So then what’s the point?”

“Blaming Cardassia for such a strange plot when the government knows of no such thing and is not involved? The only response would be to categorically deny and accuse the Federation of saber rattling. Soured relations between the two would cause extreme political unrest on Cardassia, ‘forcing’ the Obsidian Order to launch a coup and take over the civilian government.”

“But the Obsidian Order is part--”

“Of the civilian government? Oh no, not at all,” Lena said. “They are a force unto themselves, sometimes helping the government, sometimes opposing it. Often, sadly, making its own plans that it thinks will be better for Cardassia than whoever happens to have power at the time.”

“And you know this plot isn’t condoned by the civilian government?”

“They have no knowledge of it,” she replied.

“How do you know that?”

“I am a deputy secretary to the Prime Legate.”

Well, that would explain it. I quickly took out my padd and did a search.

“It is quite true,” she continued, and my search showed that it indeed was. “But don’t think that means I am here on official business--the Prime Legate and government would rather stay as far away from this as possible.”

Which means she was on official business, but off the record and off the books. My head was starting to spin. Why did Cardassians make things so complicated?

“So you want me to help you tell Starfleet what is going on so they can arrest the smuggler and expose the conspiracy?” I asked.

Lena shook her head. “Not quite. It would be much more expedient for all parties concerned if the Obsidian Order’s involvement were not exposed, because of the sensitivity of their somewhat delicate relationship with the civilian government. That also is why I am reaching you and not going to Starfleet directly,” she continued. “If you bring the smuggler to the Federation, the plot will be exposed and put to an end, and the Order will be distant enough to deny any involvement, and hopefully give up trying such a stunt again. And since the civilian government isn’t involved, the Order cannot blame the civilian government or try to overthrow it.”

“If I bring Starfleet the data rod you gave me,” I replied, “they’re going to go straight to the Prime Legate and implicate the government or the Obsidian Order. Probably both.”

“Yes, and that’s why you’re not going to do that. Instead, you’re going to bring them the smuggler himself. The smuggler is a paid hand, a Cardassian, sure, but when he is captured and confesses, all the Federation will have is a mercenary hired by another mercenary--far from sufficient evidence to implicate a government conspiracy.”

I was stunned. “You want me to kidnap the smuggler? What?! How?”

“I have a Klingon shuttle armed with a cloaking device that we can use to ambush the ship.”

“And when we get there?”

“Easy,” she said. “We decloak, beam out the smuggler before they have a chance to notice us, and go to warp before they can react.”

That did sound easy--and terrifying. “But wait,” I replied. “Why should I help the Obsidian Order escape justice?”

“Do you think their exposure would result in any form of justice?” Lena said, laughing. “You do know little about Cardassian politics.”

I sighed. I had learned enough in the last two hours to know there was no way I could outsmart these people.

“Plus,” she said, “if you hand over that data rod, you’ll get a pat on the back. Bring the smuggler and the evidence of his actions, and you’ll become a hero.”

That was true. Starfleet rewarded closure--you could expose a risk to the Federation and get commendation for the initiative. But if you saved the Federation from that risk, you’d get front page coverage, a promotion, and ceremonies with admirals.

The adulation didn’t appeal to my vanity, but the thought of restoring my reputation did. Many in the Federation sympathized with me, but the top brass hated me--and if I saved the Federation from such a wide-ranging conspiracy in a way that did not endanger the peace with Cardassia, they would have to have a change of heart. I could finally be forgiven and get my career back on track.

And that meant a promotion. Which, in turn, meant getting close to the General Prosecutor, who would then see me as his star.

And that would change everything. Close to the GP, I could ask him to order an independent investigation about Tuvix and urge him to bring charges against Janeway. Such an order wouldn’t trigger a conflict of interest complaint--I could get Janeway charged without a complainant to get the ball rolling.

This also meant I could abandon my admittedly desperate and half-baked plan to get Samantha or Naomi Wildman to testify--if I could ever find where they were.

Since I’d made no progress on that, helping Lena out so that I could get to the GP seemed like my best course of action. And with a bit of reputation restored, my arguments about Tuvix being murdered would at least get a fair hearing.

At this point I was convinced that was all it would take for Janeway to face justice. Tuvok was motivated by logic, but he was still Janeway’s friend and, at the end of the day, a beneficiary to her homicide. All of Voyager’s crew owed her something, but no one in the GP’s office did, nor did the man himself. They’d see it my way. They’d agree with me.

They’d bring Janeway down.

“As a hero,” Lena said as if reading my thoughts, “you’d have a lot more friends in the Federation than you do now. Powerful, powerful friends.”

That was it. I was onboard. My fear of spaceflight, especially on a small Klingon ship, would have to wait. The risks of being vaporized or spaced on this mission were very real, and I was just as terrified of them as ever, but the clear pathway to justice meant I had to take those risks and stop thinking of my own mortality.

For Tuvix.

“Okay, I’m in. When do we start?”

Chapter 29

I left a note for Lauren saying I’d be back in a few days and took the next two weeks off of work; Lena insisted we leave immediately, which I was happy with--the sooner I got this done, the sooner I could come back, sit through whatever ceremony they gave me, and have a little chat with the GP about Janeway.

We beamed to Orbital Station 3, where her shuttle was docked. A cramped and uncomfortable ship, it was what you’d expect from the Klingons: low lighting, the red and green glow of panels, metal everywhere. I tried not to look outside at space, a sense of vertigo already starting to drown my feet and legs. There were two cots in the back of the ship, fortunately well padded--I wouldn’t have to sleep on a Klingon slab.

“How long until we reach them?” I asked.

“We’ll need to get a pattern scatterer first,” Lena said, tapping on the panel in front of her. “If we don’t, they’ll detect the subspace distortion wave when we enter their sensor range even if we’re cloaked, and they’ll immediately go to warp to avoid us.”

“And how will we do that?”

“Going to warp,” she said. The stars blurred around us. “We’re going to Xendi Sabu--I have an appointment with a merchant there.”

“What?” I said incredulously. “That’s over three days away at maximum warp.”

“A week, actually,” she said. “This isn’t the fastest ship in the fleet.”

“Tell me you have more than gagh on board.”

She laughed. “I promise a gourmet experience.”

A week on a Klingon shuttle is not fun. Fortunately she’d installed a Federation replicator, so there was passable food for the trip. Also fortunately, the week was uneventful--I did get to know Lena during that time (or so I thought), and I tried my best to keep our conversations to small talk as much as possible.

Lena came from a prominent Cardassian family that had worked in government for generations; it was only natural that she would follow her father’s footsteps. She told me she loved her family very deeply--her brother, a year her senior, was her best friend, and the two had grown up adoring her father. Sadly, the father died five years ago of an ailment he contracted while being stationed as the head administrator of a research colony, and since then Lena and her brother had been living with her mother, who herself withdrew from her work as a councilwoman for their home province as she grieved the loss of her husband.

A sad story--and a bitter reminder that Cardassians, while not human, share many emotions with us. It made me hopeful as much as I was saddened by the story; maybe this meant we could truly be allies with them for a long time, not just temporarily friendly until the next opportunity to expand their empire showed up.

Maybe we had underestimated the Cardassians’ capacity for good?

These were the thoughts in my mind when we got to Xendi Sabu.

Just a few million kilometers from the last planet around the star, we came across a Ferengi ship that was pointing in our direction. It seemed they were expecting us.

The screen lit up and I saw three Ferengi--two males in the background, and a female in the fore.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Caradassian!” the female said.

“Cut it, Remis. I have the latinum, do you have the scatterer?”

“Of course--it’s three bricks, as we already agreed.”

“Wonderful. My partner and I will be delighted to make the trade. You can see him here,” I turned and looked at the viewscreen. “Lieutenant Jason Li of Starfleet Headquarters.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Li,” Remis said.

I stayed quiet, frankly confused.

“So remember if you fail to deliver, Starfleet will not be too happy with you. Or if you try to take it back after the exchange.”

“Why, I am deeply hurt that you would think so lowly of me, Lena,” Remis said. “Whatever would make you think--”

“Rules 10, 17, 47,” Lena replied without a beat.

Remis blushed. “Is my dress that nice?”

“Consider it a high compliment. We Cardassians value a fine garment above all else.”

Just what the hell was going on? I later looked up rule 47, “Don't trust a man wearing a better suit than your own,” which explained Remis’s response, but didn’t explain the repartee. Lena later told me she was feeling Remis out, trying to see if anyone else had paid Remis to give them Lena’s location or any information--but she concluded Remis hadn’t.

And, I later realized to my irritation, she had made it clear that I was there as insurance. Remis might, like some Ferengi, try to steal the product back after getting the latinum or even try to blow Lena’s ship up and take the parts--but she wouldn’t dare try that with a Federation citizen on board, let alone a Starfleet lieutenant. I was a prophylactic against Ferengi greed.

“In that case, if you are willing to transport the latinum, we will transport the pattern scatterer presently.” The smile that followed this creeped me out on several levels. Lena wasn’t phased.

They made the exchange, and to my surprise a small spherical object materialized behind us. Lena immediately scanned it, nodded, went back to the console, and went to warp.

“I guess it’s good?” I asked.

“It’ll work. At the very least, Remis hasn’t double crossed us.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Now that female Ferengi are allowed off-world, doing business with them is much better,” Lena said, expressing a kind of gender preference that one rarely hears in the Federation. “Male Ferengi are ruthless and dishonest, but the females seem better suited for business--they know the intrinsic value of a repeat customer.”

I nodded. Ferengi have only allowed women to engage in commerce for about a decade and, from what I’d heard, their entrance to the labor market had destroyed the economy. A massive depression followed, as a doubling of the workforce literally overnight had caused havoc that I didn’t understand, as pre-scarcity economics was a field I’d never bothered to study.

It was another five days until we’d intersect the transport ship, and on the way I should have started asking myself just exactly how Lena knew where this ship was going so far in advance, and what she needed me for. Sure, I was a bit of insurance to smooth out her getting the pattern scatterer, but that couldn’t be enough. And I eventually did learn that was the cherry on top of a very sweet and very large sundae--for her, that is.

Instead, I started making flowcharts. I realized that my efforts to get the legal apparatus to work in my favor and start targeting Janeway had depended on a lot of pieces falling perfectly into place--a frustrating conundrum, since it depended so much on the will of many other people, all of whom didn’t see things as I did.

So I needed a plan--or, rather, several plans. I needed to create a matrix of various boolean statements, with answers to the questions “if I fail at this, then I’ll try that.” Thus I could avoid the mistakes I made with Tuvok, Paris, Kim--hell, I could even revisit them.

With a complex enough algorithm, I could fix this problem. I could fix the world.

I spent my days working on mapping out nodes of events, counterevents, and responses to each conditionality. I knew if I got this right, Janeway would be in jail.

After a few days at this work, Lena snapped me out of my haze. “Probe with scatterer deployed,” she said. I looked up from my cot, saw beeping on a terminal, went to it. On the panel was a monitor displaying the probe, less than a meter in length and width, ahead of us and flying towards another ship on long-range scanners.

It was the Cardassian cargo vessel.

A large vessel, about double the size of an Antares class ship, it looked like it could transport a massive amount of cargo. “That seems excessive to send some code,” I noted. Since the plan was to upload the genetic instructions to create Nulrek into Starfleet HQ’s replicators, which takes no more than a data rod and a crewmember of a Federation species to beam down to the visitor’s center, I didn’t see why they'd use such a big ship.

Yes, I was stupid. I know that now.

"They are excessively fond of self-protection," Lena said. "I assume the ship is stocked full of artillery in case they are intercepted."

And we were on our way to intercept them. I swallowed, and in a cold sweat I tried to scan them. Inconclusive, despite their shields down.

"Deflective hull," Lena said. "Scans don't work."

I'd been distracted enough on this trip to ignore the inherent risks, but as we closed in on the ship I was terrified. Would it be painful to die in space?

"Engaging cloak."

We cloaked and the ship went from long-range to short-range sensors. We were seconds away from arrival.

"I'll focus on piloting, so all you need to do is beam the captain out as soon as we arrive, and when he's materialized in our brig, I'll jump to warp. They won't know what hit them."

I nodded, despite the fact that I was behind her with my back turned to her. "Yes ma'am," I said belatedly, so she knew I was alert.

I kept my eyes fixed on two panels in front of me: one monitoring weapons and shields of the Cardassian ship, and the other that would engage the warp program Lena had designed. And, no, I did not check what was inside that program, being it was written in Cardassian on a Klingon ship, even if I had thought of doing so, the task would’ve taken too much translating and hands-on work than I had time for.

“50,000 meters to rendezvous,” I said.

I heard Lena say, “I know...in ten seconds.”

My heart felt like it was jumping on a trampoline, trying its best to burst through my ribcage and skin. The closest I’d been to a space battle was in the Qiris sector, but even then I was safely ensconced on a heavily armed ship within a heavily armed armada facing many smaller factions, none of whom wanted to wake the sleeping dragon that the Federation has quietly become. So while my anxiety may have caused butterflies to appear in my stomach sometimes, there was no rational justification for the fear.

But now terror was very much a rational response to this situation. A freighter it may be, but the Cardassians were manning a ship several times our size and, according to my scans, they had several photon torpedo bays and at least five phaser banks. We had no torpedos and two phasers; even the Klingons don’t make shuttlecraft for war.

Stealth was our weapon, and my panel told me stealth was being maintained. Our cloak was still up, the probe was still scattering any detection signals looking for cloaked vessels. But even if you’re invisible before a massive death machine, you never truly feel safe.

Especially when the plan required perfect timing, with a window of four, maybe five seconds to make it work.

“10,000 meters,” Lena said. “Get ready.”

I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Just looked at the “execute” button on my panel, my finger hovering above it.

“NOW!”

I pressed the button, immediately saw we had decloaked and, at the same time, heard the sound of a transporter beam, but it sounded slightly out of phase somehow, like it was echoing. That could mean a problem, but there was no time to check that now. After being decloaked for about two seconds, the program then recloaked us and went immediately to warp.

Had I heard the sound of a phaser lighting up just before the stars fell behind us in a blur as we broke the light barrier? Must have been my imagination playing tricks on me.

It didn’t matter. Adrenaline still surging, fear was not only no longer an option but a physical impossibility. Then came a rush of euphoria--we’d done it!

As we continued to warp, I quickly ran to the back of the shuttle to check--and, yes, our prisoner was there, a young cardassian male, about the same age as Lena. He was sitting on the floor, crosslegged, amused.

“I admit I am very impressed,” he said.

I looked at the panel, the color dropping from my face because I couldn’t understand it. I quickly looked around for my padd, dashed back to the main cabin, found it, went back. “Force field is up, right?!” I yelled in a panic, my voice breaking. I didn’t wait for Lena to reply--I dashed back-cabin and translated the panel with my padd.

I felt my shoulders fall and my muscles unclench as I read: “FORCE FIELD ENGAGED. ENERGY: 100%”

I fell to the floor in relief. I just sat there for a few moments, waiting to catch my breath.

“Let me guess,” the Cardassian said, “you’re new at this.”

I looked at him. “What’s your name?” I demanded.

“I’m not sure that information is terribly important at this stage,” he said.

I was starting to really dislike Cardassians.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” I said like an angered child picking up his toys and leaving. I half expected the prisoner to respond, but he didn’t. So I went back to the front of the shuttle.

“Lena?” I called out.

She was gone.

“Computer, locate Lena.” I felt like an idiot doing this on a tiny ship.

“Lena is not on board.”

“How many humanoids are on board?”

“Two--one Cardassian and one human.”

Where was she?

I went back to the pilot’s con, saw it was all in Cardassian. Grumble. “Computer, translate all shuttle consoles to English.” It was done. I quickly scanned the records and saw that, when we’d picked up our prisoner, there’d been a second transporter event--a beam out to the same coordinates.

What?

Equal parts confused and angry, I realized I’d been played, but I didn’t fully understand how or why. Perhaps five percent of my subconscious indulged the fantasy that the Cardassian ship had kidnapped Lena as a countermeasure, but the rational part of me knew I’d been betrayed. For what or why--and what exactly was going on--that all remained a mystery.

The only way I could know was to go back to where we’d just been. We hadn’t retrieved the probe, so it should still be where we left it--meaning I’d be safe cloaked. There was a risk that they had seen the probe and deactivated or destroyed it, but it was so small that there was a good chance they hadn’t. Still, this was risky, but I was too full of fury and adrenaline to care.

I returned to where we had just been a few moments ago, where the freighter had been--it was gone. So too was the probe. Had they vaporized the probe? If so, the ship might be keeping a sensor sweep on this location to see if I’d returned to the scene of the crime--and without the probe they could find an anomaly, if not my precise location.

That bought me some maneuvering. I could set an algorithm to immediately go to warp in the direction of Federation space if long-range sensors detected the freighter or any Cardassian vessel coming. The closest Federation ship was a couple parsecs away, so with subspace communications I could at least let them know I was there and get some protection.

First I did a preliminary search for a warp signature. Nothing. “Computer, do a multispectral analysis and report any residual warp signatures originating from a quarter of a light year from this location.”

“Processing time: approximately fifteen minutes.”

Fine. I could wait.

I sat there for a while thinking of what had happened. At first I couldn’t understand why Lena would beam to the ship of her own accord--surely the crew would be angry that she had beamed out their commanding officer, right? Unless they knew her somehow.

Which meant the prisoner would know her or of her.

I went back to where the Cardassian was sitting, looking serene as he sat cross-legged on the perforated metal floor.

“Can I make you more comfortable?” I said. Lawyer mode: engaged.

“Some kanar, perhaps?” he said, in a tone that made it clear he was joking.

“Not a problem,” I said. I went to the replicator, “one large bottle of kanar, high-quality vintage.” It appeared.

I set it on the food conduit, set the force field to let it through, and it went into the small cell, which was really just a corner of the small back-room of this small shuttle. I sat on a bench just outside of the small cell, looking down at the Cardassian who remained quite still on the floor.

“That should be about 30% abv, I believe,” I said. “I can’t say I’m an expert on kanar. But by all means, cheers.”

He looked straight at me, eyes never once veering to look at the bottle.

“I don’t drink.”

“Then I find it very odd that you would ask for kanar,” I replied, feeling suddenly like a Cardassian myself. “Did you just miss the smell of the stuff?”

He smirked. “What is your name?”

“I am Lieutenant Jason Li of Starfleet,” I said. I was wearing civilian clothes, as I almost always do, so while he must have known I was human, he probably didn’t know just how much trouble he was in.

But if that fact upset him, he didn’t let it show.

“And why, Lieutenant Jason Li of Starfleet, are we not going anywhere?”

There was no window here; how could he know we weren’t going anywhere? Klingon inertial dampeners weren’t that bad.

The talents people develop over careers in space travel will always amaze me.

“We’re waiting for answers,” I replied. “The wait can be truncated if you give me some.”

“Then it is a shame that I have none to give,” he replied.

“How can you say that when you don’t know the questions?”

“Oh, but I do,” he replied. “What was my ship’s business? That is the only question you really care about--and perhaps not even so much, as you likely have a theory already in your mind.” He sighed. “Alas, it is a question a mere deckhand cannot answer.”

A deckhand? This was getting bizarre. Why would she beam out a deckhand and stowaway on a freighter? And implicate me in all of this?

“Fine,” I muttered, growing frustrated. Lawyer mode disengaged. “I’ll figure it out. Lena can’t have gone far,” I said, mostly to myself as I got up and began walking back to the con.

“Was that Lena you said?” the Cardassian said to me, suddenly his voice raised in excitement.

“You know her?” I demanded.

“My name is Larem,” he replied. “And I believe you have been the victim of a fraud.”

I sat back down. That was entirely possible--and, I suddenly realized, I had no evidence connecting his ship to the documents Lena had shown me. And although I had verified those documents, now I was starting to panic that maybe it was an exquisite fake I couldn’t see through.

“Go on,” I said, still somewhat doubtful.

“Lena is my sister,” he said, “my younger sister. She has wanted control of the freighter ever since our parents died and bequeathed it to me three years ago. I assume she told you I was engaging in some criminal conspiracy that could harm the Federation, and only you could help save your world?”

Suddenly I had a massive lump in my throat and my voice went dry. “Yes,” I croaked, suddenly horrified.

“I am impressed at her guile,” Larem said, suddenly smiling. “And unfortunately now she has control over the ship--the crew is paid by our family, so they will do whatever anyone in our family tells them to do, if there isn’t another family member there to override them. And now that our family has a population of two, that means only I can override her.” He paused for effect. “But I admit I’m finding it difficult to override her due to my present circumstances.”

So I’d been played, I thought, and I could use Larem’s help to get unplayed. Or would Larem play me? Was he lying? He’d already lied about being a mere deckhand, but I admit I couldn’t blame him for that lie, given the circumstances. Still, it pointed to just how Cardassians use the truth and lies to get what they want--this was not a species that valued integrity.

I needed to get more proof, objective proof. No more Cardassian manipulation.

My brain raced through my options. I couldn’t go back to Xendi Sabu; even if I could trust Ferengi, there was no guarantee Remis would be there.

I’d have better luck with Sielox--Lena was a friend of hers, so presumably Sielox could give me something to go on. But that assumed Sielox hadn’t been manipulated herself--or, if she hadn’t, that Sielox would side with me and not Lena. Plus, it would take time tracking Sielox and getting a response--and by that time, Lena could be long gone.

Or worse.

What if the Nulrek planting conspiracy was real, and Lena didn’t want to stop it--she wanted to be the head of it? What if she was on her way to rendezvous with another ship, maybe even Remis’s, to transport her operative and the Nulrek code to spread the pathogen on Earth?

I had to act fast--and I had to get Lena.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I said, jumping up from the bench, “but I need to intercept Lena and make sure she isn’t on her way to destroy my homeworld.”

“Then might I suggest freeing me?” Larem said as I was walking away. “I can easily locate my own ship, and my crew is sworn to protect my life, so seeing me next to you will guarantee your safety.”

I admit I was very tempted. But the risks outweighed the benefits, so I simply walked back to the pilot’s con and waited for the sensor sweep to run its course.

“Multispectral analysis complete. No warp signatures detected.”

That seemed impossible--even if they’d gone to impulse, moved away from here, and then started to slowly ramp up to warp speed, the signature would be detectable somewhere.

And the chances of them doing that seemed very unlikely. Given the risks of lingering, I’m sure Lena would have gone to warp immediately, so why--

That’s when I realized it.

“Computer, do a level 5 diagnostic on all sensors, prioritizing any indication of an external scatterer being deployed.”

“Acknowledged. Estimated time to completion: three hours.”

In fact, in two minutes the computer announced: “Residual effect of a pattern scatterer detected in the vicinity.” A fast response because we were right on top of where the scatterer had been used.

Aha! “Gotcha,” I murmured.

“Now, analyze the particle density of the scatterer and determine whether there is a vector that the particles are moving along.”

“Completed. Results onscreen.”

And there it was--a conical shape coming to a point precisely where the ship had been before Lena commandeered it and leading into Cardassian territory.

Well, that was a relief. At least she wasn’t on her way to poisoning Starfleet HQ.

“Set course to match the vector of that pattern, maximum warp.” And we went to warp, just like that. I heard Larem from behind the ship yell something to me--probably an attempt to free himself. I ignored it. Now I was in control, and I had a plan. For some reason, despite the fact that I was a tiny defenseless ship going into Cardassian territory, I felt no fear.

The rage had overpowered it.

As my ship continued to race into Cardassian space, I felt more and more determined to reach my goal. I was only faintly aware of the risks to my safety there were in being in Cardassian space; I pushed those down, wallpapering over them with the thought that I could cloak and go to warp back to the Federation, if need be.

Until suddenly I got a message.

“Thank you, Jason, you’ve been most helpful.” It was Lena. “But I think you should go home.”

I was enraged at her calm demeanor, adding insult to injury. “Lena, you’re going to prison, no matter what.”

“I think you will find it more difficult to find us than you think,” she said. “But even if you did find us, it would not be in your best interest.”

“No need to threaten me,” I replied. “You can kill me--and your brother--but the Federation will still be after you.”

“No one is going to kill you!” she said immediately, laughing. “Such a barbaric thought. We aren’t Klingons. No,” she continued, “rather, you will be committing suicide if you do not turn around immediately. Career suicide, that is.”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded.

“Let’s say you found me--you cannot overpower my ship. There is no way for you to capture me. And at the same time, Remis is on her way to the closest Starbase to warn them of a rogue human who has gone quite literally insane and is plotting to plant a bioweapon in HQ. It is really sad that Lieutenant Jason Li has descended to such madness and such dastard acts of treason. And with my testimony, tearfully explaining how a madman had imprisoned my brother and nearly caught me too, if I hadn’t escaped at the last minute--well, it will look like a solitary madman has tried to frame us innocent Cardassians in a rampage of felonies that will see you in a jail cell for decades.”

I realized just how complex the game was. She’d made contact with Remis to make the connection so that she could bribe Remis to falsely accuse me of transporting Nulrek. I was implicated.

“There’s a flaw in your plan,” I said. “Larem will corroborate my version of events.”

“Oh will he?” Lena said, laughing. “All he knows is that you beamed him out of his ship and that you know my name. During the depositions, he’ll quickly realize it makes no sense to support your version of events, especially since you’re claiming he is a bioterrorist. But he can tell them the bare truth--that he was on the bridge of his ship one moment, on your ship the next, and that you were making wild accusations about his beloved sister that made no sense. The Federation will have to let him go.”

“And is that what you want?” I demanded. “Surely he will get revenge on--”

“Cardassians are not fans of revenge,” she replied. “You truly do not understand how we work.”

I admitted I did not understand what was going on. Not out loud--but I was beginning to feel that I had lost and it was time to go home.

“I admit having him back home and you in jail is an imperfect ending for me,” she continued. “But it isn’t as bad for me as it is for you. Of course, you could give me a perfect ending by going back to Starfleet and turning Larem over to the authorities. And it’d be a perfect ending for you--you would be a hero.”

“But,” I said, now less demanding and enraged and more pleading, “what if he’s innocent?”

“I promise you that part of my story was true,” Lena said. “My brother was hired to smuggle Nulrek to Earth by a proxy hired by the Obsidian Order--one of many business deals my dear brother and I have had a difference of opinion on.”

I felt rudderless, stunned, slumped in my chair.

“I assure you, having me in charge of the family business is for the best--the best for you, for me, for Cardassia, and for the Federation.”

Talking to Lena was like dancing to music only she could hear. It was like this with most Cardassians, I’d been told, which was why Bajorans hated them so much. It wasn’t just that Cardasissans stole, raped, and murdered--they embraced the sophistry that didn’t just justify their evil, but argued it was angelic.

Lena was no Gul Dukat, notoriously the most evil Caradaissian in history whose reputation had transcended that of men like Khan Noonien Singh, Adolf Hitler, and Xi Jinping. But she was Cardassian, and that meant the only moral action was staying loyal to Cardassia, no matter what suffering that meant, either to aliens or Cardassians.

I realized at that moment just how outgunned I was--in intellectual terms, in strategic terms, in terms of sheer ruthlessness.

It was time to go home.

Chapter 30

I did not speak to Larem on the journey back--he tried to get through to me, but I ignored everything. To his credit, on the second day he gave up.

The journey back was uneventful, as I stayed alone near the con, my sleeping cot just behind the pilot’s chair. I admit to falling into despair at what had happened.

I did not know whether I was harboring a criminal or not; it was still uncertain if Larem had done what Lena claimed. And I realized I could not find the truth on my own--I had to have faith in the Federation to investigate this man, and determine whether he was guilty or innocent.

The cruel irony of my need to rely on a system I had been losing faith in for over a year made my retreat to Earth all the more painful.

I channeled my rage elsewhere, deciding finally that I needed to have a talk with Sielox.

She got back to my query within a day.

“Jason, it is good to hear from you!” she said with a cheery smile that looked either entirely innocent or cruelly mocking. I could not tell.

“You betrayed me, didn’t you?” I couldn’t control myself. “You told Lena she could use me for her own damn ends, because our friendship clearly means nothing to you.”

“Whoa, whoa,” she said, “calm down. Firstly, what are you doing in a Klingon shuttle?”

I decided to tell her everything, honestly, as embarrassing as it was and despite the fact that it might give her more latitude to lie to me. But, frankly, I saw no other option--and, I thought, getting witnesses to my story sooner rather than later would keep me on the offensive in case Lena tried to frame me.

“That is just crazy,” Sielox said with a sigh. “But not surprising. Cardassians.”

“So explain to me why you betrayed me, and why I shouldn’t hate you.”

“I met Lena three years ago,” she said, “at a journalist conference. She had wanted to be a journalist herself, before her parents died. Then she and her brother had a bitter fight over the family business--she told me he wanted to use it to smuggle drugs, she wanted to use it for less profitable but more humane tasks.”

A plausible--and consistent story.

“When did she say this?”

“Shortly after her parents died,” Sielox said.

“If she’s such a good person,” I demanded, “why would she let her brother rot in jail for a decade? It’s doubtful they’ll keep him for less, considering what the conspiracy was.”

“Well, he was committing a heinous crime,” Sielox said. “And Cardassians are loyal to their family--which sometimes means sacrificing a bad sheep to protect the flock. And who is the greatest family of Cardassia other than the state itself?”

I was flustered, I scratched my head viciously and let out a guttural scream. “She could’ve just asked for my help!” I demanded. “If she’d told me the truth--”

“That she wanted you to help her get her family’s ship back? Even if the Federation was on the line, you wouldn’t have, you know that.”

It was true. If she’d told me the ship was captained by her brother and she wanted to get it back and stop this smuggling, I would’ve handed her over to the Federation as a co-conspirator. She might’ve been released if the evidence exonerated her, but knowing Larem, he would’ve made sure it didn’t.

“I’ve been played,” I said finally.

“Well, don’t feel bad,” Sielox said. “So was I. Friendship with Cardassians has its limits--and now we’ve found the limit with her. I suggest we let this friendship end.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I think that ship has sailed.”