Enterprise
In chase
"Helm, come to station keeping." Archer spoke the words with heavy weight as he commanded the great drivers of the starship to cease their thrust, to apply braking pressure, and stop the Enterprise dead in space.
Some days are worse than others, Archer noted inwardly.
On the screen—now visible, as the Enterprise settled in at close distance to their target—was the unmistakable shimmer of debris, the thousands and millions of shattered pieces of hull and bulkhead, duranium and tritanium, hair-thin conduits and massive power taps wider than a Tellarite. Some glinted in the light of a distant sun, others reflected the star glow of far-gone sources, and some lay black against space, noticeable only by virtue of blocking out the background fabric of light.
"Can you identify?" Archer asked softly, unconsciously rising from his command chair and stepping closer to the screen, as if he could identify the debris by simple sight. A nearly-palpable sense of dread pounded upon his eardrums as he waited, one second, then two, then three.
"I have it," Verena Jordan stated at last, having run the analysis on her console. "It's a Surak-class heavy cruiser."
From the other side of the bridge, Malcolm let out a low whistle. "That's no pushover," he added. The Surak -class cruiser—easily twice the mass of the Enterprise—was one of the most powerful warships in known space. "Are we sure the Augments did this?"
Archer glanced behind him. "Confirm the weapons signature, Verena," he ordered, feeling little hope. It would take a flock of birds-of-prey to so utterly destroy the cruiser—had the Augments done it on their own?
"Confirmed, sir," Verena replied. "Weapons signature is Klingon, all from one ship. No more than four hours ago. The ID of the Vulcan ship is—the Vralt," she added, contemplating the rundown.
"That's a kind of Vulcan goat," Hoshi added quietly.
Archer gave the linguist a curious glance even as he spoke. "Crew complement? Biosigns?"
"Standard crew complement of 142," Malcolm replied, not bothering to check the ship's library. Even the veteran tactical officer was starring at the viewscreen, in awe of the destruction.
"No biosigns," Verena reported. "Confirming—no, I do read one biosign."
Archer felt his stomach fall. "Just one?"
"Yes, sir," Verena confirmed. "But if my readings are accurate, sir…it's human."
Unlike Starfleet escape pods, their Klingon counterparts came with few systems, stripped down to the bare essentials of life support and basic communications. The pod had no external sensors, and even lacked a viewport to give the occupant a view outside of the pod.
Thus, when the pod was hit with a loud clank, Soong was alarmed. He had no way of telling what was going on outside the claustrophobic chamber, and as the cylinder was jolted back and forth, he could only surmise that he had been captured by grappling equipment. His captors were unknown—it could be the Enterprise, it could be the Ba'Sugh, it could be a random freighter crossing deep space.
The noises stopped, and the hatchway swung open. In the light stood Jonathan Archer, flanked by a phase-pistol-bearing Malcolm Reed and a MACO guard.
"Captain," Soong said flippantly. "What took you so long?"
Archer didn't ask the question foremost on his mind. What Klingon ship carries escape pods?
{An hour later}
Dr. Soong paced across the brig. It had only been a handful of weeks since he had last been imprisoned there, during the Enterprise's maiden pursuit of the exiles, but his world had changed since then. When once his goal was to escape the vessel, reunite with his children, and forge a new life on a distant planet, now he found himself needing the Starfleet crew to find the Augments and stop Maâlîk's genocidal mania.
"Captain!" Soong barked as Archer entered the brig's control room. "You have to alter your—"
The captain cut Soong off with a raised hand, and tapped the intercom button to open a channel between the control room and the cell. "You have to alter your course," Soong repeated, quieter, but no less forcefully.
"Is that so?" Archer replied skeptically, in no mood to trust a single word coming from the doctor.
"My children—" this time, it was a raised eyebrow from Archer that cut Soong short, and the doctor rephrased his statement. "The Augments…are planning to attack an Orion colony." Even now, it was hard for Soong to say, much less admit to a former adversary.
The captain didn't believe a word of it. "What were you doing in that escape pod?" he asked instead.
"What do you think?" Soong hissed. He couldn't believe that Archer wasn't willing to at least listen. "I was waiting for you! You're the only one who can stop them!"
Archer said nothing, replying only with a disbelieving glare. Tell me another tale, he silently communicated to the doctor.
"Captain, listen to me!" Soong pleaded. "I didn't come back because I missed our lively debates! Please, please, you have to do as I ask!"
"You've made it clear that you'll do anything for them," Archer retorted. "Lie, murder, maybe even sacrifice yourself." The captain leaned in closer, so that the two men were only inches apart. "Hell, every word you told us on the way out here was false! Story after story, lie after lie, misdirection after misdirection. Why should I believe you now?"
"If the Orions retaliate against Earth, it'll make the Xindi incident look like…a lovers' quarrel," Soong answered fervently, trying to make Archer understand.
Archer snorted and slapped the barrier, pushing himself away from the cell. "What do you care about what happens to Earth?" he sneered. "You believe your children are the future of humanity!" Archer turned his back on Soong and pushed the doorway button, opening the hatchway to the corridor.
"Captain. Captain!" Soong cried out, trying to get Archer to turn back and face him. "Contact Deep Freeze! They'll confirm it! They'll tell you that three hundred kilograms of biotoxins are missing from their inventory!"
Archer pulled to a stop, paused for a second, and turned around. "I know. They already told me about the missing toxins. And you're the only one who knew how to get them." His eyes shot daggers across the small room.
"You have to understand!" Soong implored the captain. "Maâlîk stole them! Without my knowledge!"
"I find that hard to believe," Archer rejoined. "Considering that they follow your orders."
"Maâlîk's beyond my command! I've lost control of him—he's going to use the biotoxins on the Orion colony!"
"I thought you bred them better than that, Doctor."
"You saw what Maâlîk did on the station!" Soong pleaded. "You know what he's capable of!"
Now Archer stepped forward, up to the barrier between himself and Soong, a new realization dawning on him. My god, Archer thought to himself. Was Soong actually that blind? "You didn't know?" he asked the doctor softly. "You actually had to see him murder someone in front of you?"
"What do you want me to say?" Soong responded. "That I'm a fool? That you were right about them, and I was wrong? Go ahead—that's what you really want to hear, isn't it? 'Off-and-wrong-Soong, fooled by his own children!' Fine—I'm a fool! Do you feel smart now, Captain?"
Archer let out a slow breath. "Tell me what happened."
Ba'Sugh
{Several hours previous}
From the clanking, duranium-clad doors of the lab, Maâlîk entered the makeshift laboratory, flanked by two other Augments, and followed closely by Pêrsîs. The two guards took positions on either side of the doorway, standing at attention, and Maâlîk stepped to the forefront.
Maâlîk addressed Dr. Soong with a steady command. "Father, please come with us." His voice made clear that it was not a request.
Arik Soong took his time to look up from his work. He had been expecting Maâlîk to make a move; Soong knew that the détente established after their confrontation on Deep Freeze was impermanent, and would only last until Maâlîk's ambitions outpaced his self-control. Soong knew, too, that the bulk of the Augments supported Maâlîk; he could see in their faces that he had lost the faith of his children, the trust that had once bound them to him. But there was one thing he hadn't expected.
"Pêrsîs?" he said softly, tilting his head. She couldn't meet his eyes.
Soong returned to Maâlîk, regaining his bravado. "Four of you to subdue me?" he scoffed.
"The crew is united behind me," Maâlîk stated firmly, giving no quarter.
"Is that so?" Soong turned his attention back to his work, picking up a flask filled with embryonic fluids. Every moment that he could stall, he could advance his plan that much further. "There's no time for this," he said derisively. "You all have work to do."
Maâlîk stepped forward, and took the flask from Soong's hands. "Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be," the youth said menacingly, secure in his knowledge that the guards would back him up. Maâlîk set the flask back on the desk.
"And if I refuse?" Soong retorted tauntingly, leaning forward. "Are you going to kill me? Like you have everyone else?"
"No one else has to die," Maâlîk declared, shaking his head in seriousness.
Soong nearly burst out laughing, but restrained himself to a snort. "What about the millions you plan to kill with that bioweapon?" he sneered scathingly. "Do they even count to you?"
Pêrsîs stepped up from behind to join the skirmish. "Please, Father," she said, holding her voice level. "There's no other way."
Soong only shook his head in disappointment, causing Pêrsîs to look away. The regret cut across her face like a monofilament blade, but she made no move to protect Soong.
"Lock him in his quarters," Maâlîk ordered to the guards. The Augment leader turned and left the room.
After the guards escorted Soong away, Pêrsîs stayed in the lab, and broke down into soft, hiccupping tears.
Arik Soong sat in his prison, pondering the wicked road of fate that had befallen him. He felt ashamed of himself, of his actions, his decisions, and his unwillingness to see the flaws of his children. I never taught them to disregard human life, much less despise it, he thought to himself. True, they are superior to ordinary humans, but I taught them to exercise their pre-eminence benignly, for the preservation of humanity. I saw the avarice, the ambition, when Maâlîk was still a boy, but did nothing; I didn't want to believe that my son was capable of such hatred and resentment. And how is it that the others have gone along so willingly? They're smarter than this, better than this!
The doors clanked open, and Pêrsîs entered the room.
"Don't tell me its visiting hour," Soong said scornfully, noticing his daughter's entrance. She crossed the room to stand in front of the doctor.
"I'm sorry, Father," Pêrsîs said softly. "If I didn't go along with him, he would've killed me."
Soong nodded in understanding. Months, weeks, even days ago, he never would have seen it, but now he knew that Pêrsîs was telling the truth: Maâlîk's ambition had blinded the Augment even to the bonds of his brethren, to their sacred responsibility to never shed another Augment's blood.
"You did the right thing," Soong told Pêrsîs, gruff pride in his voice. "If Maâlîk deploys that weapon," Soong continued, his voice rising in ire, "he'll be confirming everything they've said about Augments for the last hundred and fifty years! I've spent my life trying to show mankind that the problems of the past were anomalies, caused by imperfect gene therapy, and that we can weed out those genes! With a little care, we can create a physically and morally advanced human being! And now—has my life's work been a lie?" Soong's tone, which had reached a fevered pitch, dropped off into a whisper.
"Father," Pêrsîs responded pleadingly, "you raised us yourself! You know better than that! The only reason Maâlîk is this way is because humans rejected our gifts and chased us into exile! You're not responsible for that!"
"Pêrsîs!" Grasping Persis by the shoulders, Soong gently interrupted her. "If Maâlîk uses that weapon, they'll destroy all of you—not the genetic engineering program, not the notion of Augments, but you and your brothers and sisters! They'll hunt you down until every last one of you is dead! Lôchêsh, Pûrâh, even Maâlîk! I can't let that happen!"
"Neither can I, Father."
"You have to help me stop him," Soong said fervently, giving Pêrsîs a soft shake for emphasis. "We can sabotage the engines or the torpedo launchers, maybe—"
"No," Persis answered, wiping a tear from her check. "We'll never get to them, Malik's posted guards at every vital system. There's nothing we can do."
"Can you get me off the ship?"
The corridor was empty.
"I've disabled the internal sensors," Pêrsîs reported as she ducked around a dangling conduit. "It should be some time before anyone notices that one of the escape pods is missing."
As Soong followed closely, Pêrsîs came to the end of the corridor. In front of her was an escape hatch, shrouded in the shadows of the Klingon vessel. Punching the controls, she opened the inner door, allowing the doctor to reach in and pull open the hatch itself. The escape pod was small—a cylinder, barely two meters tall and less than a meter in diameter, just enough room for a humanoid to lay down. In keeping with Klingon design, no effort had been made to provide a carpet, or mattress, or any other padding: there was just bare metal. Without hesitation, Soong entered.
"Be careful," Soong said, turning to say goodbye to Pêrsîs. "He might suspect you." He grabbed her hand and gave her a kiss, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay.
"It's okay," she replied; as soon as her father was off the ship, Pêrsîs herself would be crawling in the second escape pod, leaving the Ba'Sugh behind to start a new life, somewhere out there in the borderless expanse of stars.
But she worried for her father, and with a scared look on her face, Pêrsîs stepped back, swinging the hatch door closed. From the belly of the Bird-of-Prey, the little tube dropped out, falling immediately from warp speed into normal space, where it lay in wait for a savior.
Soong stepped away from the barrier, his ire spent. "Things would have been different if I'd been there for them," he muttered ruefully. "If Starfleet hadn't locked me away, if I could have completed their education."
"You just don't get it, do you, Soong?" Archer replied. "None of that would have mattered in the end. You can't breed human nature out of us. It's not rooted in our genes—it'll always be there; it's a part of what makes us human beings!"
"Then humanity is doomed, Captain!" Soong barked back. "War, hatred, fear—if you put your trust in humanity to overcome its own nature, you're a greater fool than I am!"
Archer's temper flared back. "Where have you been for the last century?" he hissed. "We haven't had major war—any war—in over a hundred years! Hunger and poverty are almost gone! Humanity is working towards greater cause than its own greed and self-satisfaction!"
"It's a façade, Jonathan, a bloody façade!" Soong shot back. "Every time humanity starts making progress, it always lapses back into barbarity! Look at the Xindi attack—one terrorist strike, and people live in fear again, striking out at shadows behind bushes and under rocks, ready to condemn anyone who's different!"
Soong continued vehemently. "One century they burn 'them' at the stake, another century they torture 'them' in hidden prisons, and now, if the Xindi struck again—can you honestly tell me that Earth wouldn't give in, again, to its fear? That it wouldn't send its resident aliens to detention camps, and its leaders wouldn't preach that your principles must be sacrificed in the name of security? That the only way to secure peace is thru constant war, the only way to secure freedom is thru the abdication of liberty, and the only way to be strong is by refusing to listen, dwelling in ignorance?"
Soong snorted triumphantly. "All it takes is a little push, and inhumanity surfaces triumphant. Does that sound like your grand, enlightened society?"
"You know what, Soong?" Archer retorted scornfully. "I actually pity you. You're so obsessed with getting to the destination, that you've lost sight of the journey, of the progress we are making. You see, Doctor, I was on the Xindi mission—I led the Xindi mission. And when we found them, you know what we did? We didn't fire back. We didn't lash out and try to annihilate them. Even after what they did to us, we chose to hold out our hand and work with them to find a cooperative result.
"Yes, Soong, human nature is always going to be a part of us—but we choose how we react to it. We choose if we give in to it or overcome it. It's not easy, and we have a long road to travel, but I have faith in humanity's ability to grow past its worst impulses."
"But what if humanity fails?" Soong shot back.
"Superior genes breed superior ambition," Archer stated, as if an article of faith.
"Do you really believe that, Captain? Or are you just repeating something that makes you feel better?"
"What do you mean, Soong?"
"Just this, Captain: do you believe that human nature is determined by the composition of our genes?"
"Of course not, Soong. Some of it—"
"So why would altering a few genes alter human nature? It wouldn't. I know what Khan Noonien Singh and his supermen did—or tried to do. But I also know this: changing their genes didn't enhance their ambition. You can't have it both ways, Captain. You can't claim that human nature isn't a matter of genes—which you just did—and then blame Singh's ambition on his genes. And if you claim that baseline humans can overcome their nature, then why can't augmented humans? The differences are purely physical, after all.
"What it did was give them a justification to act upon their inherent nature—the same inherent nature that you possess, Captain. That's why baseline humans fear the Augments so much: because you're staring in a mirror, and you see something that upsets your delicate notions of who you are. So you try to demonize them, pretend that they're some perverse 'other.' But those Augments are every bit as human as you or me; sure, their physical attributes are somewhat different, but what lies inside—is fundamentally human. Now do you understand why I was imprisoned? That human nature—we can't change it.
"Think about this, Captain: twenty children, dozens of light-years away from Earth. What danger were they? They're children, Captain. What have they done to you?...And yet you're going to kill them anyway. Aren't you? Can you stand there, facing me, and honestly say that they'd be allowed to enter society, to walk down the street like normal people? No! I know what's going to happen, Captain. You're either going to seal them away for the rest of their lives, or you're going to flat-out kill them. You speak to me of enlightened ideals. But doesn't it sound like you're full of the same old bullshit?"
{Later}
Archer looked up from his data padd as Commander Reed entered the captain's ready room. "Malcolm, what do you know about Soong's trial?"
"Not much, Captain." Malcolm paused, just inside the threshold of the doorway, uncertain of the reason for his summons. "Just traces that I've picked up here and there. And there wasn't a trial, really; the prosecutors didn't want to give Soong a chance on the stand." He knew considerably more than that, albeit mostly word-of-mouth; the proceedings surrounding Soong's trial, conviction, and imprisonment were need-to-know, and Malcolm's old section of Earth Intelligence was not 'in the know.' "They gave him a favorable plea deal to keep him from talking."
Archer nodded somberly. "They gave him an incentive to keep him silent."
"I suppose so, sir," Malcolm agreed, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "If I may ask, sir…what can I do for you?"
"Malcolm…I've been thinking about giving him a recorder."
Suppressing his surprise, Malcolm resorted to the old soldier's default answer. "Sir?"
"Soong," Archer clarified. Pushing his chair back, the captain rested his hands behind his head. "I'm thinking of giving him a recorder, let him record some thoughts before we return him to prison."
"Sir, are you sure that's a good idea?" Malcolm queried cautiously, his tone embodying only a hint of the danger he felt. "I imagine Starfleet wouldn't approve."
"They haven't told me not to," Archer replied flippantly.
"I imagine that some powerful people would stop you."
"He has the right to tell his story, Malcolm," Archer answered quietly. "Are we going to conspire to silence him? Must we incarcerate his words as well?"
"Captain…he agreed to the terms of the deal." Malcolm could feel a sense of panic welling within. Was it concern for his duties? His values? The safety of his captain, who didn't understand the dangers of his proposal? Malcolm quashed the panic, harshly, seeking to give no hint of his inner fear. "To re-open it is…a veritable Pandora's Box."
"Something very wrong is taking place, Malcolm," Archer replied quietly. "And we're being asked to be a part of it. These—these kids—their actions have been consistent with someone trying to avoid illegal detainment, nothing more. And yet we're declaring them the outlaws.
"Think about this, Malcolm." Archer wheeled his chair back up to the desk. "Imagine that I took a ten-year-old kid out of an average school classroom, and told you that I knew, as provable fact, that the kid would grow up to commit a lifetime of heinous crimes; and I was so certain of it, that it justified arresting him today and locking him up for the rest of his life. What would you say?"
"I…would say that you're full of shit," Malcolm admitted. "But that's different."
"Is it?" Archer leaned across the desk, splaying his hands wide. "Now imagine that it's a twenty-year-old. And up to this point in his life, this person has committed no cognizable crimes. Wouldn't we consider that a gross violation this person's rights? So if we go to arrest him, and he fights back…aren't we the ones at fault?"
Malcolm shifted again, uncomfortable with the line of thinking. "But these are extreme circumstances, Captain."
Archer grunted in response. "Extreme circumstances can't justify extreme measures, Malcolm…if they can, then we'll soon discover that every circumstance is somehow extreme."
"So what do you propose, sir?" Malcolm asked, finally regaining some sense of balance. "That we let them go? That we take their word that they'll mind themselves? And five years from now, when we're following the trail of bodies…what do we say then?"
"On what basis are you assuming that they'll continue to attack and pillage?"
"Can we afford to take the chance, sir?" Malcolm rejoined. "They've already shown a propensity for violence."
"Yes, but under—" Archer grimaced. "Under extreme circumstances."
"They've been raised to hate us, Captain; us, our way of life, our values and traditions. They've been conditioned to destroy us," Malcolm added, cursing his own words even as he scrambled for additional footing. He was only trying to protect the captain from naiveté; not naiveté regarding the Augments…but about certain people back on Earth.
"And on what basis do you assume that?" Archer replied softly.
Unwilling to state the truth, Malcolm clenched his jaw shut, opting to say nothing at all; for he had no factual basis for such an assertion.
Archer nodded slowly, as if weighing the scales in his mind. "You're right, of course," he acknowledged. "At this point…we have to arrest the Augments. But I'll for damn sure make certain that the people of Earth learn of it." The captain shifted back, implicitly discharging Malcolm from the room.
Malcolm closed his eyes briefly. "There's one more thing, sir," he added, pained to bring it up.
"What is it, Malcolm?" Archer's tone conveyed brooding displeasure.
"When we catch the Augments…well, sir, even if we…kill them, we have to make certain that the Orions don't recover any genetic remains."
Archer's back went stiff. "What are you suggesting?" he barked out, shock beating temperance.
Hot air and burning eyes fell upon Malcolm, but he stood straight at parade rest. "We have to be prepared, sir. There's a lot at stake."
Archer's eyes narrowed. "And how do you propose we do that?"
"We should equip a torpedo with a radioactive warhead, and keep it prepped for launch. That way, if we kill the Augment ship, but can't recover the debris, we can launch the warhead into the middle of the debris field—and irradiate the remains." Malcolm cringed, waiting for the rejoinder.
The captain's voice fell dangerously quiet. "Something about that sounds…remarkably barbaric."
"But necessary, sir."
"Make the preparations, Malcolm." As the commander left the room, Archer sank back in his chair, drowning under the weight of self-disgust.
"How's the patient?" Captain Archer asked as he entered sickbay. He didn't need to be more specific; only one patient still remained under Doctor Phlox's care.
"He's not doing well," Phlox responded. The Denobulan's face looked unusually drawn and tired; his gaze, avoiding the captain, reached across the room to fall upon the shallow shape of Bêrîth. "The genetic damage is too severe. He's dying, Captain."
"How long, Doctor?" Archer asked softly.
Phlox gave a human shrug. "Two days, maybe three. Captain…" he added, hesitantly, "Dr. Soong stopped by. Under guard, of course."
The moment of silence stretched on, neither man willing to broach the question. "What is it, Phlox?" Archer asked finally, knowing—absolutely knowing—that he didn't want to hear the answer.
"Soong thinks he can save Bêrîth—or at least, give him a chance." The doctor found a fierce, unyielding strength as he spoke. "But it'll require genetic work."
It pounded in Archer's mind as he closed his eyes, debating what to do; but somewhere, welling up from within, came the answer. Sometimes all we can do is to do the next right thing. "Okay, Doctor," he answered softly. "I'll approve it."