Pliable truths, p.3
Pliable Truths, page 3
“Welcome to the real reason for our presence on this world.”
The office’s door slid aside, and Havrel stepped out onto a raised walkway running along the second story of a nondescript building to survey the immense underground cavern in which he now stood. High ceilings rose and curved up and over a collection of buildings not unlike those of the labor camp. One- and two-story structures flanked enormous warehouses, and there were signs of activity around the buildings as Cardassians—some in military uniforms but far more wearing utilitarian work clothing, laboratory attire, and even environmental equipment—exited or entered the various structures.
“What is this place?” asked Trina. “It’s bigger than the camp. Where are we?”
Havrel replied, “Deep beneath the camp.” He gestured toward the cavern ceiling. “One of the reasons for its location was this cavern as well as providing an entrance to the uridium deposit in close proximity. There were other areas in and around the region that encompassed the vast mineral repository which in reality would have made a more attractive place to establish the labor camp. However, they did not offer the advantages of a suitable subsurface environment in which to establish this facility.” He smiled. “The entire complex is powered by geothermal energy thanks to natural wells located beneath us. Down here, we’re totally independent from the camp, and completely undetectable.”
Making no attempt to hide his disbelief, Trina said, “This activity has been here the entire time?”
Once again, Havrel smiled. “This planet’s only use to Cardassia is its location. The uridium we mine could be obtained from other systems closer to the homeworld, but the camp’s presence offers a plausible reason for our being here in the event it’s ever discovered by an adversary.”
Confusion replaced skepticism on Trina’s face. “It was my understanding that this planet’s location is classified.”
“Far more than that, my friend,” said Havrel. “You already knew this world has no name. It’s only given a number in our databases. Should an adversarial power ever gain access to our stellar cartography models and data, they’ll discover it listed as uninhabited and incapable of supporting life.” He smiled again. “Indeed, when you and everyone else assigned to camp were given your orders, your posting was listed for a completely different planet. So far as any official records are concerned, this planet doesn’t exist.”
Trina said nothing for a moment, choosing instead to stare at the scene before him. There would be many questions, Havrel knew, most of the sort he had asked upon arriving on this world. At first, he had thought he was being penalized for some unknown infraction that had angered some superior officer, immolating his career in the Cardassian Central Command and banishing him to this distant, all-but-forgotten rock to serve out his punishment running a mining camp. Only after meeting the officer he was sent to replace was the truth explained to him. Far from being castigated, he had been entrusted with a very singular responsibility.
“There are secret installations on numerous worlds,” said Trina. “Including Cardassia Prime. Why the extraordinary measures for this place?”
Havrel replied, “It’s by no means unique. You are correct such facilities exist elsewhere, and neither you nor I are ever likely to see them. The success and continued prosperity of the Cardassian people lies in how well they can be protected by those of us who commit our lives to their security. To achieve and maintain that security, we must sometimes carry out tasks others might consider extreme or distasteful.” He gestured to the sprawling underground settlement before them. “Such work is conducted here, and it must be protected at all costs.” Reaching over to Trina, he placed a hand on the younger officer’s shoulder. “Come. I’ll show you what I mean, so you can understand the importance of what occurs here beneath a thick, warm blanket of secrecy.”
Once more, he considered how he and his adjutant differed. Trina was young, and much closer to the beginning of his career than the end. Because of that, he still harbored a great deal of the optimism expected from junior officers who had not yet been exposed to many of the harsh realities that came from service to the Cardassian people. His head doubtless swam with the platitudes instilled during his training at the military academy, where young men and women were molded into instruments for the Cardassian Central Command, to be used, exploited, and discarded as they saw fit.
We are all but tools, Havrel reminded himself.
Shaking his head, Trina said, “Prefect, if secrecy is so vital to the success of whatever you’re about to show me, then why risk it by bringing Bajorans here?”
“They are unaware this place exists.” Havrel learned that when taking command. The labor camp on the surface was an almost perfect screen for the activities taking place far beneath their feet. So far as they knew, they had been interned on yet another planet to exploit its natural resources for the good of the Cardassian people. “The Cradis protocol is a directive from the Obsidian Order. It directs me to ensure we relocate this facility without ever exposing its presence, or leaving behind any trace it was ever here. None of the Bajorans will ever know. They will die here.”
3
Entering the transporter room, Captain Jean-Luc Picard nodded to the lone ensign standing behind the control console. Her posture stiffened upon his arrival, and he noted the young woman’s attempt to conceal her anxiety. He recognized her as a recent assignment to the Enterprise, but he could not recall her name.
“Ensign…?” he prompted.
The woman somehow managed to stand even taller as she replied, “Ensign Lindsey Bridges, sir. I came aboard two weeks ago.”
The captain nodded, now remembering her name along with the excerpts he had read of her understandably thin personnel file while reviewing the new arrivals. “My recollection from our initial meeting is that you requested this posting.”
Bridges smiled, pleased to be remembered. “Yes, sir. Competition for the Enterprise is fierce, but you know that.”
“Indeed. You managed to arrive at a rather interesting time, all things considered.”
Picard conceded his comment was an understatement, given the excitement surrounding the ship’s recent mission while under the temporary command of Captain Edward Jellico during his absence. Pushing away those memories before they had a chance to manifest, he instead took a moment to appreciate the feeling of normalcy that came with speaking to a member of his crew. He understood the expectations and reasonable tension a young officer might experience coming face-to-face with their commanding officer while carrying out their duties. With a crew the size of the Enterprise’s, it was not unusual for a new ensign to go weeks, months, or longer without ever seeing their captain after their brief welcome aboard.
“I hope you’re settling in well enough.”
Nodding, Bridges replied, “I am, sir. Thank you.” When she smiled this time, it was all Picard could do not to return it. “You’ve likely heard this a hundred times, but I’m excited to be here. This is a dream for me.” As if realizing she might be breaching protocol, she cleared her throat and composed her expression. “I’m sorry, sir.”
The captain schooled his features to remain impassive, despite his amusement at the ensign’s obvious nervousness. For a moment, it usurped his own unease. It was rare for him to harbor such feelings, but the circumstances surrounding this particular meeting were anything but ordinary. He thought he was prepared for this visitor, only to realize he was beginning to experience misgivings.
Lindsey Bridges was helping him. With all he had endured in recent weeks, Picard found himself comforted by this casual, even mundane encounter with the ensign, someone at the beginning of their career and with an entire galaxy awaiting them. It reminded him that he once was an anxious young ensign, driven to carry out his duties to the best of his abilities while avoiding any embarrassing mishaps in front of his commander.
Was it really so long ago?
Finally offering a small smile of his own, Picard replied, “No apologies necessary, Ensign. We’re glad to have you aboard.”
Her confidence restored, Bridges nodded before a signal from the transporter console got her attention. Checking her readings, she said in a controlled voice, “We’re being hailed by the Gorkon, sir. They’re ready for transport.”
“Make it so, Ensign. Energize.”
Picard had just enough time to pull down and straighten the front of his uniform tunic as a shower of energy appeared in the transporter alcove, within seconds coalescing and solidifying into the form of Vice Admiral Alynna Nechayev.
“Admiral,” said Picard, straightening his posture, “welcome back to the Enterprise.”
A trim, even petite woman several years his junior, Nechayev’s narrow, angular features gave her an almost hawklike appearance, an effect only intensified as she regarded Picard with piercing eyes he knew missed nothing. Despite her intimidating demeanor, which she used to great effect when the need arose—or when it suited or even amused her—Nechayev’s expression softened upon seeing Picard.
“Hello, Jean-Luc,” she said, stepping down from the transporter platform and extending her hand. “It’s good to see you.” As they shook hands, Nechayev placed her other hand on top of his, and he felt the slight extra pressure as she regarded him. “How are you feeling?”
Caught off guard by her gesture, and understanding the unspoken subtext behind her question, Picard replied, “I’m fine, Admiral. Thank you for asking.” Uncomfortable with the exchange in the presence of Ensign Bridges, he gestured to the exit. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me personally.” With a final nod to Bridges, he fell in step beside Nechayev as they made their way from the transporter room.
The admiral said, “Considering the gravity of the situation and the other factors in play, I felt an in-person meeting was best for all involved.”
Approaching a turbolift, they entered and Picard said, “Observation lounge.” As they began ascending through the ship’s upper decks, he returned his attention to Nechayev. “How was your trip from Starbase 375?”
“I’d say it was uneventful, but I’d be lying.” For the first time since Picard had known her, he observed her releasing a tired sigh. “I’ve spent the last thirteen hours reviewing more status reports than my last month as a ship captain. The past week hasn’t been much better. This business with the Cardassians leaving Bajor is causing no end of headaches at Starfleet Command. I thought we were past the worst of it when they pulled most of their forces from that sector in their misguided attempt to seize the Minos Korva system and we pushed them back. We’re trying to game out every possible scenario for what it means, not just for how their withdrawal affects the Bajoran sector as well as the surrounding region but also for how we deal with them going forward.”
Picard nodded. “I’ve been reading the reports. To say it’s a complicated situation is an egregious understatement.”
The turbolift halted, and Picard allowed Nechayev to exit the car first before catching up to her in the corridor. They said nothing else during the short walk to the observation lounge located behind the Enterprise’s main bridge. After procuring Earl Grey tea for the both of them from the room’s sole replicator, Picard offered one to the admiral where she had taken a seat near the end of the curved, polished conference table. He noted that she seemed to have conspicuously left open the chair at the table’s head for him.
“I’m going to hazard a guess you didn’t come all this way from Starbase 375 just to brief me on the Bajor situation,” he said, taking the seat nearest to Nechayev.
As she often did, the admiral offered a small smile that communicated she knew far more than she might say aloud. Taking a sip of tea, she placed the cup back in its saucer before replying, “You guess correctly, Captain. You’ve read the reports, so you know the situation on Bajor is fluid, to say the least. Their resistance movement, which gained momentum after the bulk of Cardassian forces were redeployed to the border, internal squabbling on Cardassia Prime, and the concessions we were able to force them to make following that business near Minos Korva have the Cardassians completely pulling the plug on their occupation of the Bajorans.” She sighed. “We have their civilian leadership to thank for that. They really stuck it to their military’s Central Command.”
“Internal squabbling,” repeated Picard. “The civilian Cardassian government doesn’t typically have that level of authority over their military forces.”
Nechayev said, “Times appear to be changing, at least in the short term. That means new headaches for Starfleet as we try to keep tabs on everything they’re doing in response to this upheaval. But it also means an opportunity for us to do right by the Bajorans, who as we speak are still coming to terms with the quantum shift their society is experiencing. That’s before we consider the impact of the Cardassian withdrawal. They’re leaving as quickly as ships can arrive to retrieve them, but they’re not going quietly.”
“I saw those reports as well.” Picard grimaced, recalling the litany of unsettling data points those accounts contained. “Environmental damage, an escalation of violence against the Bajoran people, and other acts of sabotage both on the surface and the Cardassian mining station orbiting the planet.”
Nechayev said, “If they can’t take it with them, the Cardassians are doing everything they can to render it inoperable or otherwise useless to the Bajorans. In a few extreme cases, they’ve even planted booby traps they know will cause injury or deaths.” Speaking of such acts seemed to be inflaming the admiral’s temper, but she held herself in check. “A number of these efforts have been discovered and neutralized, and of course the Cardassian officials blame the activities on ‘rogue operators’ disobeying the orders of their Central Command. While they’re being difficult with the Bajoran government, they are responding to Starfleet requests to keep their people in line. Because of this, the Bajorans have grudgingly requested our assistance to mediate the process as it continues.”
“A Starfleet presence in the Bajor sector?” Picard could not keep the look of surprise from his face. “The Cardassians will love that.”
“I suspect they’ll have a rather broad spectrum of feelings once they find out I plan to send you to oversee the process.”
Pausing in the act of lifting his cup, Picard regarded the admiral with surprise. “Me?”
“I’ll admit I was reluctant to consider this option, given your recent… experience… with the Cardassians,” replied Nechayev, her expression softening. “But an officer of your stature and diplomatic prowess is exactly what’s needed to help advise the Bajoran government through this very delicate situation.”
“Given his own recent successes against the Cardassians,” said Picard, “Captain Jellico seems like a more logical choice.”
He tried not to dwell on the fact it was while Jellico commanded the Enterprise that his fellow captain had completed the difficult task which had earned him well-deserved praise from Command. Nechayev had given his ship to Jellico after selecting Picard along with Doctor Beverly Crusher and Lieutenant Worf to conduct a covert mission on Celtris III—a planet just across the border separating the Federation from Cardassian space—after obtaining intelligence that a metagenic device was in operation there. In reality, the Cardassians engineered the entire affair after discovering Picard was considered an authority on such weapons, with the aim of enticing him to investigate so he could be captured and interrogated about Starfleet defense strategies for the Minos Korva system.
Nechayev said, “Captain Jellico is one of the most formidable tacticians I know. He was the right person for the situation along the border and forcing the Cardassians to capitulate to our demands, but what’s now required on Bajor is a defter touch. They’re demanding reparations from the Cardassians even as many in the upper echelons of their Central Command are already attempting to downplay their actions—crimes, really—that occurred during the Occupation.”
Picard grimaced at the report’s usage of such bloodless terms as “alleged improprieties” and “unsanctioned activities,” supposedly committed by individuals acting outside the boundaries of authority rather than being part and parcel of what was daily life on Bajor for five decades. “History will not be kind to the Cardassians, to be sure. Or to us, for that matter.”
Finishing her tea, Nechayev replied, “I know you believe the Federation didn’t do enough to assist the Bajorans during the Occupation. I sympathize, but we were bound by the edicts of the Prime Directive.”
Once more, Picard felt emotions stirring within him, and again he prevented them from undermining his bearing. “We were committed to the military mission against the Cardassians while at the same time turning a blind eye to their numerous war crimes, proven and otherwise.” He caught himself, clearing his throat. “I apologize, Admiral. It’s just that for the first time last year, I saw with my own eyes the true plight of the Bajoran people, at least those fortunate enough to escape their homeworld and seek safe harbor elsewhere.” Along with Ensign Ro Laren, he had visited Bajoran refugee camps in the Valo star system. “Perhaps if we’d taken a more active role assisting Bajor and other worlds affected by Cardassian oppression during the war, things might have turned out differently for them.”
“I agree,” said Nechayev. “Now we have an opportunity to right some of the wrongs perpetrated against the Bajorans. For this process to work, the Cardassians must abide by the stipulations to which they agreed. This means a peaceful withdrawal from the Bajor sector while respecting the Bajorans’ cultural heritage and property. It also includes the release of any and all Bajoran prisoners and laborers, no matter where they’re being held. Holding the Cardassians to these agreements is a challenging proposition, to say the least, but I know you’re the right person with the right temperament to see it through.”
