"My Dearest Nephew,
In my last message to you, I mentioned the high duty of any politician to disregard morality during time of war. From your reply, it appears that this simple truth has evaded your understanding, so I shall attempt to enlighten you.
Throughout the history of all races we have seen that, when faced with an existential threat, wise politicians will find that principles they thought sacrosanct are, in reality, either negotiable or entirely disposable.
Some notable examples are:
The acts of genocide against 'impure' humans perpetrated in the course and aftermath of the 21st Century wars on Earth;
The Vulcan cult of logic, requiring the brainwashing of children, and;
The act of 'neglectful genocide' against the people of Romulus by the United Federation of Planets.
While this last was not officially in time of war, the attack upon the Utopia Planitia Ship Yards by rogue synthetic lifeforms was effectively an act of war.
But a simpler example, if you remain confused, is the war between the Federation and the Dominion, which was not without it's own share of such acts of pragmatism.
When faced with utter destruction, it is unsurprising that the political leaders in the Federation reached a level of clarity of thought they had not previously employed. As all rational leaders know, respect for life and liberty are easy when no threat is faced. But when the blade is at your throat, few will be overly concerned about such tedious frivolities as their attacker's rights. Or, indeed, the rights of 'innocent' bystanders.
And when leaders are sending their fleets into the meat-grinder of war, it is quite proper that they obtain the clarity to realise that the sapients who crew those fleets are no less resources than the ships they man, to be spent and conserved as necessary.
One telling, if minor, instance of this is the matter of the ship ARS Recidivist and her crew which I told you of previously.
Prior to their war with the Dominion, it is certain that, to a sapient, the peoples of the Federation would have declared that it was their solemn duty to aid and assist those castaways in our universe.
At the height of the Dominion war, with the Dominion having invaded Betazed within a matter of hours (in the process decimating the Federation's Tenth fleet) and being in a position to launch attacks upon the homeworlds of the founding members, it was perfectly correct that the majority of the Federation Council realised that this 'solemn duty' was no more than a self indulgence; and that the ARS Recidivist, it's technology and, indeed, it's crew were as much a resource as the Federation citizens who were sent to their deaths against the Dominion fleets.
Furthermore, when (in the aftermath of the war) they were faced with multitudinous Federation members questioning whether the Federation could in its weakened state protect them from (for example) the Romulan Star Empire, they correctly chose not to turn upon each other by dragging their eminently reasonable decisions into public view and subjecting them to their quaint notions of 'justice', but instead opted pragmatically to distract attention from, downplay, or outright conceal those decisions.
If you wish to prosper in your chosen political career, you would do well to seek in yourself a similar clarity of thought.
Your fond Uncle, Boltstrap."
[Extract from The Boltstrap Letters, a satirical correspondence published on stardate 62136]
In a small bar just outside Federation space, in the lawless region between the Ferengi Alliance and the chaos of what had once been the Romulan Star Empire, Captain Forest sat nursing a cheap beer and studying a pad with a cracked screen.
The bar was the usual sort to be found out here. A converted residence on a small border station, it would have been the family's main living area. The bar itself was a cut down panel from a shipping container, set on some packing crates. The small room had a collection of tables with chairs where patrons could while away the hours between arrival and departure drinking and eating. Food was prepared in a tiny kitchen, and out back there were probably a bedroom or two where the family lived among their stores.
It wasn't shabby, exactly. Everything was neat, clean and in good repair. But there weren't two matching pieces of furniture in the place, and when his meal had been brought no pieces of crockery or cutlery belonged together.
He heard a burst of laughter and looked up. The Romulan girl waiting on the tables while the bartender (her father perhaps, or uncle) watched on from behind the bar, was surely barely twenty five; just a teenager by Romulan standards. But she worked the patrons like a pro; bantering, swapping good natured insults, flirting just a little, and never pausing except to deliver food and drink, or pick it up.
She was delivering a tray of drinks to a table with a gaggle of Klingons crowded round it. As Forest watched, a youngster with the first stringy traces of beard and moustache patted her behind. Without spilling a drop of ale from the mismatched mugs and glasses on her tray, she caught his wrist in one hand, and casually squeezed and twisted. The boy went pale, but with his elders looking on with knowing amusement, and the barkeeper watching with narrowed and forbidding gaze, he had little choice but to tough it out. He was just about to slide off his chair when the waitress took pity on him and let go. She quickly handed out the drinks on her tray, then headed back to the bar with an exaggerated swing of her hips.
The burly, greying Klingon who was the head of the group clapped the youngster on the shoulder, laughing. "I warned you, boy. Better to grope a wild targ than a Romulan. If you're going to try, get permission first, or suffer the consequences!"
The boy sat massaging his wrist and sulking for a minute, then stood up and took a couple of steps toward the waitress. She gave him a challenging glare that as good as said 'bring it on, there's more where that came from', and he dropped his gaze and mumbled "I behaved disrespectfully and dishonourably. I apologise."
She looked at him warily, then smiled warmly and said "No harm done. Go back to your drink." As he sat down again, Forest saw that the waitress was still smiling, and may have been blushing a little. Smiling quietly to himself, Forest returned to studying his pad. Not so many years ago (surely not so very many) this life would have been unimaginable to him. Then, he never had to deal with the small things; where to sleep, what to wear, how to eat. All his decisions had been about... well, now he thought about it, they'd mostly been about duty rosters, flight times and courses. But they'd also been about the big things. Duty, principles, the Federation's relations with other races. And war. Killing, the threat of being killed. And the fate of the Federation.
Now his decisions were still mostly about flight times and courses, but they were also about things he'd never had to even think of before. The cost of docking facilities, the costs of maintaining his ship, the prices of goods. And, yes, even the cost of food, water and clothes. Out here, replicators were more of a legend than a reality.
He glanced at the mirror behind the bar. In the reflection he could see a stranger looking at him thoughtfully. A man with greying hair and beard and a deeply lined face, wearing a long, heavy, shabby old coat. It was astonishing to think that this disreputable looking figure had once been the captain of the USS Ptolomy. With a wry smile at his reflection, he turned back to his pad.
Behind the mess of figures on his screen, and reflected in the strategically placed pad, he caught a glimpse of a different figure watching him. He glanced up, and caught the waitress gazing intently at him. An instant later she had looked away and was moving back to the bar with a tray of empties.
That's the third time, and she isn't just checking if I want anything. What's that old quote? Once is happenstance; twice is coincidence; three times is enemy action. The waitress exchanged a few word with the bartender, who in turn shot Forest a sharp glance. A few more words, and she hurried off to the kitchen. What could I have done to get on their bad side? I've never even been here before! Forest tried to appear as if he was paying them no attention, and shifted slightly, checking he could get at the weapon hidden in the heavy folds of his coat. A small, chemically propelled projectile device, it would slip past most weapon scanners – and as a result it was highly illegal. The bartender was moving toward him now, carrying a couple of small glasses.
"May I join you, Captain?"
Forest gestured toward the empty chair opposite him, and studied the man. It was hard to tell his age, it always was with Romulans, but he looked to be about a hundred years old. He had grown his hair long, which was something of a symbol among Romulan refugees that they had cut all ties with both the old Star Empire and the Free State, and he had a slight, friendly smile. It didn't look insincere exactly, but it did look studied and practised in a way Forest distrusted. He sat down, and pushed one of the glasses he carried toward Forest.
For a heartbeat Forest hesitated between 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth' and 'there ain't no such thing as a free lunch'. Then he picked up the proffered glass and drained it. Hm. Weak stuff, for Romulan Ale, and a thin flavour. A new brew, from one of the surviving colonies. Less bitter after-taste than most, though. He glanced over and saw a young Romulan boy, about the same age as the waitress, had come out of the kitchen and was tending the bar.
"So," Forest began, "how can I help you? If you're looking to trade I'm sure..."
"No, I just want to talk. We don't get many Starfleet captains in here. Or any, for that matter." The barkeeper leant forward and offered his hand. "Elotel Karal."
Forest stared at him. He was aware that the two Ferengi near the door were openly staring; no doubt they'd heard every word of that. With those ears they can probably hear what I had for supper yesterday. He shook his head. "You're mistaken. I'm not Starfleet. I'm not even Federation."
Elotel shrugged. "For some people, even when they change their circumstances, they remain who they were. I think that, at some level, you will always be a Starfleet captain. Just as, although my former colleagues and I parted... on acrimonious terms, I'll always be a colonel in the Tal Shiar."
Forest stiffened and started to reach for his weapon, but Elotel lifted his hands in a gesture that was part placating, part surrender. "I apologise, I didn't mean to alarm you. While I may consider my self Tal Shiar, that's no longer what I do. I was disgraced and cast out. And, even if I could, I wouldn't go back. The Star Empire I swore to protect is gone, and the so called 'Free State'," he pulled a disdainful face, "doesn't know what it is or what it stands for."
Forest relaxed; slightly. "So what do you want?"
"As I said, in a sense I will always be Tal Shiar. Intelligence, information, is my life's blood. And I have... an incomplete tale. Half of a picture torn down the middle. It... nags at me. And I believe you know the other half of the tale of the ARS Recidivist. Captain Forest."
For a long while Forest just stared at him There was a bitter taste in his mouth that wasn't from the drink. Eventually he said "So they did fall into your clutches. What happened to them? Questioned and then killed? Or just thrown into a dungeon to be forgotten?"
He felt vaguely ashamed that part of him dearly hoped that they had suffered for what they'd done on DS6. And that another part hoped they'd gone down butchering the Federation's old enemies.
But Elotel shook his head; still smiling, but rather sadly. "That would be what our carefully cultivated reputation would suggest. But, no. We advised our superiors that if the Asari didn't return home to their own universe, then more ships would be sent. Probably more powerful and aggressive ships. And, from their own account and the fragmentary accounts we were able to gather from our agents in the Federation, that was a complication we didn't need; especially as, at that point, we were still trying to stay out of your war."
He leant back in his chair, studying Forest carefully. "And I fear that it amused our superiors to think that if the people from that other universe did rebuild their galactic scale civilisation and then come calling, they would remember the Federation as faithless betrayers, and the Star Empire as honest and true."
Forest rubbed his face wearily. "No more than we deserved, I suppose."
Elotel shrugged. "Perhaps. I'd always wondered if their claims were true. Maybe they were, after all. Anyway, we helped them to make repairs to their ship, and to honour their dead. We even studied the wormhole drive they used and suggested some minor adjustments that would help them to return to their own universe more reliably. In exchange for details of their technology, and samples of tech and 'Element Zero', of course. And then we sent them on their way. And a few seconds after they engaged their wormhole drive they just... vanished. I trust they returned home safely enough." He leant forward, and now he looked genuinely eager, like a child anticipating a present. "But, Captain, I would dearly like to hear your account of the Federation's dealings with them."
For a while Forest just sat and watched him. He was aware that several other patrons had edged closer. He sighed. "Why not? Give me a beer and I'll tell you all I know..."
"And that was the last thing I knew until I came to in the DS6 medical bay."
Forest stared blankly down at his empty glass, then looked up at his listeners. As he'd told his tale, slowly, remembering those strange days, he'd barely even noticed the patrons of the bar crowding round to listen. Romulan, Klingon, human and a couple of Tellerites. All listening raptly, with varying expressions of horror, excitement and satisfaction. Little love for the Federation out here. Some people will never see the suffering; just the Federation getting a bloody nose. He silently pushed his glass toward Elotel, who filled it without comment. The beer was as thin and flavourless as the other drinks Elotel served (though, to be fair, a step or two above what you could get in most places), but it was better than trying to tell his story dry mouthed and stone cold sober.
He smiled bitterly. "I don't know which of them got me. The blast, or whatever it was, crumpled the gantry I was on like paper and threw me back into the corridor by the loading bay. Shattered my pelvis and spine; fractured my skull. But it saved my life, because when the Recidivist took down the shield over the loading bay and it decompressed, I was on the other side of a safety shield. And the DS6 medics used one of the 'medigel' packs they'd given us. That probably saved me from being brain damaged.
"Of course, the bay decompressing didn't worry the Recidivist crew, they were all in vacuum suits, and the Recidivist was there to pick them up. But everyone in the bay who hadn't been... butchered, died from explosive decompression."
"And what of your crew?" The Klingon who asked looked more like a hardened warrior than a general trader, but most Klingons did.
Forest shrugged. "We were still in a losing war. By the time I was discharged as fit for a desk job, the survivors had all been scattered to other ships." He pulled an angry, unhappy face. "Our records were in a mess, I couldn't even find out for sure who had survived and who hadn't."
"You didn't try?!"
"Oh, of course I tried. Managed to contact a few. But it turned out we didn't really have much to say to each other. And I never saw any of them again." Forest looked thoughtfully at Elotel. "Well, except for two..."
He had been told that this was simply a board of enquiry. But as he limped into the room where it was being held, he realised it was anything but. A board of enquiry wouldn't have taken place in a "re-purposed" courtroom. Nor would it have been presided over by the Federation Councillors of the founding members; Earth, Vulcan, Andoria and Tellar Prime.
This wasn't a board of enquiry, he realised. This was a kangaroo court – although it wasn't clear who was on trial.
He began to get an inkling of that when the doors opened and two Andorians entered. Both were in full, gleaming ceremonial armour of the Imperial Guard, one a commander and the other a senior admiral. As they advanced forward to sit in the last two empty seats, front and centre of the presiding councillors, Forest realised with shock that the commander was Trathal.
Despite Forest's misgivings, when everyone was seated the Vulcan councillor stood. "I am Councillor Turek. Thank you all for attending this board of enquiry. This board is convened to establish the facts surrounding the attack on Deep Space 6 by the self-styled Asari Republic Ship "Recidivist". It is not a trial, nor is it's purpose to assign blame. However, those who have agreed to give witness statements are required by Federation law to speak truthfully and not to conceal any relevant material matters. We will now take witness statements. Captain Forest, if you will?"
As Forest stood and gave his account he tried to catch Trathal's eye. He had thought she had fled on the Recidivist. No, he was certain she had done so. And yet, here she was, but not in a Starfleet uniform, but in the uniform of an Andorian Imperial Guard commander! It made no sense at all.
But she never even glanced at him.
So he gave his version of events. Carefully, clearly and factually. He didn't discuss his feelings or thoughts, didn't speculate on what he guessed. He also didn't repeat Martin's story of his act of betrayal when he was young. As far as he was concerned that was a private matter, so he mentally filed it under 'not relevant or material', but he did give a full account of his confrontation with Martin and his accusation that Martin was following an illegal order. And his previous discussion with Sotar asking if he was prepared to act act against that order.
His account finished with the massacre in the loading bay, with taking aim at Commander Shepard, and then coming to a week later in the DS6 medical bay. He didn't mention Lieutenant Trathal siding with the Recidivist crew. After all, he hadn't actually seen that armoured figure's face. He couldn't say for a fact who it was, even though there was no doubt in his mind.
When he had finished, the four councillors regarded him silently. The Tellarite looked angry and the Andorian troubled. Turek looked as impassive as all Vulcans did. And the human looked at Forest as if he was a piece of shit. Then Turek said "Thank you Captain, you may sit. Commander Sotar?"
Forest looked round in surprise. He hadn't recognised his former chief engineer. He barely recognised him now. His face scarred, one eye a milky white, and standing from a mobile seat only with help from a medical orderly. But once he was on his feet he stood straight and his voice was clear, steady and calm as he gave his own version of events. It didn't surprise Forest that he confirmed their last conversation had taken place. But it did surprise him that he stated that he understood that they were to effect the escape of the Recidivist and its crew and that he had started to consider technical methods of shutting down the brig force fields. His account ended with the moment when the Recidivist, without warning, had vented atmosphere and bodies, torn free of the station, spun on its axis and opened fire before he could even finish saying "Raise shields."
He started to give an account of the desperate attempt to evacuate the crew from the stricken Ptolomy, and prevent the ship from exploding, but Turek interrupted him. "Thank you Commander. Your actions in that regard have been well recorded, and the commendation awarded to you for actions above and beyond the call of duty is noted. However, these are not germane to this enquiry. In light of your injuries, you may retire from this hearing."
Sotar nodded, and carefully eased himself down. Then, accompanied by the orderly, he steered his seat out of the room. As he passed Forest he gave a slight, respectful nod, but said nothing.
"Commander Trathal of the Andorian Imperial Guard, formerly holding the rank of lieutenant in Starfleet, present your statement."
Even though Turek's tone remained calm and emotionless, something about the way he called on Trathal, and the clear shifts in the other councillor's expressions and posture signalled that this was the meat of this 'board of enquiry'. Trathal stood.
If he hadn't known better, if he had just been listening to her account, Forest might have thought she was a Vulcan. There was no hint of emotion in her voice. She was calm. Measured. Detailed. She spoke, in gut churning terms, of what they had found on the Jem'Hadar fighter which had attacked the Recidivist, She described in tedious detail what she had learned of the Asari Republic technology while helping with their repairs. She described their violently efficient progress through the dying USS Higgs and their aggressively direct approach to apparently insoluble problems.
And of the unprovoked attack on and detention of the Recidivist crew, the orders to strip technology from their ship, and her futile protest.
At the most extreme points of her story, there were mutters of disgust or dismay from the other attendees, and while the councillors tried to remain impassive, even they looked variously angry, anxious and gloomy. And Forest noticed that, although her voice remained emotionless throughout, now and again her fingers would start tapping rapidly against her leg, until she clenched her fist to still them.
But the point of her account that got the strongest reaction from the those present was when she described the message that had come up on her tricorder as she tried to recover information from the ARS Recidivist's data banks.
"Codex entry: AIDAN.
The Artificial Intelligence Defence, Attack and Navigation system, essentially providing a ship with its own self awareness and self determination, was originally developed by the long defunct human organisation Cerberus. Following the outstanding performance of the prototype system on the Normandy SR-2 during the Reaper War, the system has been widely adopted throughout the galaxy, and is now standard on all Asari Republic ships, and how are you Ms Trathal?
You tried to stand up for me and... so I'm giving you a chance. A bit of a chance. Explosive decompression in Five..."
That provoked several cries of outrage, both from people in the court and the Tellarite councillor. "How was that missed?!" "A hostile AI just sitting there and no-one noticed?!" "Incompetence, utter incompetence!"
Forest wondered if anyone else had noticed her momentary hesitation. He wondered what she'd left out.
Turek stood and projected his voice over the hubbub. "This enquiry will come to order!" Slowly the noise settled, and he sat and gestured to Trathal to continue.
"From the sound of explosive decompression beyond the computer core pressure door, I realised that the rest of the DS6 personnel on board were either already dead or dying. I called for emergency transporter evacuation, but I was the only one who was transported off.
"When I learnt from the transporter crew that they had been locked out of the transporter system, I assumed that the Recidivist had launched an attack on our computer systems and that its crew had likely escaped from the brig. I obtained a weapon and attempted to intercept them before they were able to arm themselves. I was too late. They had secured their arms and armour before I could locate them. Knowing their capabilities as infantry, and unable to contact any officers for orders, I decided that the only way of minimising loss of life was to guide them away from the busiest areas of the station and to a point where they could leave.
"I was unaware that Captain Carew had taken steps to intercept them at loading bay four."
Trathal stopped speaking, and a long silence fell on the room. The four councillors were watching her intently. Then the Human councillor said "Ms Varlis, can you confirm that Ms Trathal called for emergency evacuation of the technical crew on the Recidivist?"
A technician stood. "Councillor Webb, I can confirm that an emergency beam out request was received, and Lieutenant... err... Commander Trathal was transported automatically by DS6 computer systems, but by then we were locked out from our systems."
"Thank you. Mr Savin, can you confirm whether Ms Trathal's emergency request was received before or after the ARS Recidivist murdered the technical crew aboard?"
And so it went on. The Councillors were uninterested in picking apart anyone else's story, but they called on person after person to check Trathal's account in detail. And as her account stood up on point after point, Webb and the Tellarite councillor became more and more obviously frustrated and angry.
Eventually Webb lost patience. "Commander Trathal," (and his voice dripped with contempt as he uttered the title) "you have claimed that you sought to minimise loss of life. However, it is clear that you carried out an act of treason in time of war by siding with a hostile..."
At that point the Andorian admiral stood. "Councillor..."
"You have not been called on to speak, Admiral Thukel!"
The admiral gazed at him disdainfully. "Nevertheless, I am required by order of the Chancellor of the Andorian Empire to state the following.
"This... farce of a proceeding purports to be a board of enquiry. It is clear that it is in fact a trial of an Andorian citizen on trumped up charges. A trial that is..."
"Admiral, that is enough!"
"...a trial that is clearly illegal! And one which the Chancellor of the Andorian Empire intends to refer to the Supreme Court of the United Federation of Planets with a view to prosecuting those Councillors involved for perversion of the course of justice!"
Webbs's face had gone from florid red to livid white. Whether from rage or fear Forest couldn't tell, but he was sure that his silence was more because he couldn't articulate his fury than from any decision to keep quiet.
The Andorian councillor looked as if he wanted to throw up.
Thukel allowed the silence to drag out, before continuing in quieter tones, "The Chancellor of the Andorian Empire also orders me to inform those present that the government of Andoria retains the right to level charges against the admirals of Starfleet Command, and members of the Federation Council, both jointly and severally, of having committed, or ordered to be committed, a war crime; namely, naked piracy against an ally."
Webb slowly sank into his seat and put his head in his hands. Even from where he was, Forest could hear his teeth grinding. Turek cleared his throat carefully. "Thank you, Admiral, for your observations. This is indeed a board of enquiry, and it appears that our enquiries are complete. I move that we dismiss those who have kindly attended, and that any extraneous matters be concluded in closed session at another date."
The Tellarite muttered a sulky"Seconded." Webb and the Andorian councillor didn't speak.
Admiral Thukel looked at all four of them, then nodded his agreement. "Commander Trathal, meet up with Captain Kelos outside and return to the USS Sarahd."
"Yes Sir!" Trathal marched out of the room. She didn't look at Forest.
Elotel made a faint sputtering sound. Then, very softly, he began to laugh.
Forest's head snapped up, and he stared at Elotel in outrage. "Do you think this is funny?!"
Elotel was grinning broadly. "I think it's hilarious. An AI sentient starship? Yes, that explains a lot."
"I don't see that it explains anything. You're speaking in riddles!"
"You're right, you're right." Elotel carefully smoothed the grin off his face, replacing it with his studied and practised smile. "I suppose the place to start is with your Ms Trathal. You were wondering how she came to be at that kangaroo court when you thought she'd fled on the Recidivist? Well, that was my doing, in a way. You were right, she was on the Recidivist when it came to us. And I think she was determined to stay with them all the way, at first."
Elotel poured himself a beer, and sipped it with care and a faint grimace. "But after a while the Asari, especially their chief engineer... did you know they were lovers? No? Oh well, maybe that had started after they left DS6... anyway, they persuaded her that her life in their universe would end up being profoundly lonely. And I recommended to my superiors that we should smuggle her back to Andoria, and one of our agents there would provide her with a new identity."
He sighed, and shook his head sadly. "It seemed like such a good plan. We could leave her alone for a while, then when she'd settled down, made a new life for herself, maybe even started a family, we could have blackmailed her into acting as an agent for us."
Forest scowled angrily. "Well I'm glad your plan evidently failed. She may have..." He hesitated. He didn't want to call her a traitor, even if that was, in a sense, what she had been. "She may have acted wrongly, but she deserved better than that."
Elotel waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, most people deserve better than they get. And my little plan didn't just fail. It failed spectacularly, and it took me down with it!" Oddly, he didn't look angry. In fact, he looked highly amused.
"I suppose it was... hmm, at least a year after we had returned her that we began to realise that there was a problem with our network of agents on Andoria. And.. when was that kangaroo court?"
"About six... no, eight months after the Treaty of Bajor."
"Right. Well, about that time we had to accept that our network had been..." He hesitated. "...Well, I was going to say 'compromised', but it would be better to say it had been eviscerated! Every single one of our agents and several of their handlers had either been turned to work actively against us, or had been outright replaced by imposters. We realised that somehow Ms Trathal had obtained detailed information on all of our agents on Andoria, and had used that to get protection and advancement from her government. We couldn't work out how she did it, but a scapegoat was required. Of course."
He smiled wryly. "You can't have a failure so... epic without someone being held responsible."
"And that scapegoat was you?"
Elotel leant back in his seat, looking perversely pleased with himself. "The whole thing was my idea, so obviously I had provided her with the information, either deliberately or through spectacular incompetence."
Forest was nonplussed. How could he look so cheerful about this? Unless... "And did you?"
Elotel gave a snort of laughter. "Of course not! But if that AI could bring down the computers on a neutral zone monitoring post – which I happen to know are far more resilient than most Federation systems – then I expect it was strolling merrily through our systems within a day." He looked thoughtful. "I don't suppose you are still in contact with Ms Trathal, by any chance?"
Forest shook his head silently.
"Hm. A pity, I'd like to congratulate her. She and the Asari played us expertly."
Forest watched him carefully. "You seem remarkably cheerful about this. I'm surprised you weren't executed!"
"Well, it was a bit touch and go for a while, but I had some good friends in the Tal'Shiar who were able to make sure I was simply dismissed in disgrace. Though I did need to leave Romulus quite hurriedly; for the sake of my health."
"I can imagine." Forest glanced at his pad. It's getting late. I should be heading back to my ship. He started to stand, hesitated, then sat again. "You know, it seems to me that this whole sorry mess was because the Federation was so... avid to get an advantage from the Asari's bizarre technology, and this element zero. Did your people manage to make any sense of it?"
"Hmm. Well, that wasn't really my area. I know our scientists were doing some fascinating basic research. Did you know that element zero does exist in our universe?"
"Really?" Forest noticed the Ferengi (who, unlike the other patrons, had if anything retreated further into their corner) pricking up their ears.
"Mm-hmm. As a trace contaminant of raw dilithium ore. Absolutely tiny quantities, you'd have to process a few tonnes of ore to get a microgramme of the stuff, and probably ruin the dilithium in the process. I expect in their universe, dilithium is a trace contaminant of raw element zero.
"I suppose we might have made some progress on replicating their technology using subspace fields, but... well, the supernova..." He stopped speaking, and just sat staring at his glass. Forest had seen that look often, since the war and the fall of the Star Empire. The look of someone seeing, not where they were, but where they had been, and what they had seen happen. The past seizing hold of them, drawing them back. More than once he'd seen it on his own reflected face. So many of us are manacled to the past. Will we ever be free of it?
Elotel pulled himself back with a visible effort. "I wasn't present at the time, but according to some old friends, all the research, the data and materials was... mislaid."
"Mis... mislaid?!"
Elotel shrugged. "Destroyed, stolen, abandoned... who can tell? It was all sent to a port to be taken off world, but never arrived at its destination. Maybe some ship's captain decided his vessel was of more use taking off refugees than a few pallets with Tal'Shiar markings on them. Maybe it fell into the hands of some Tal'Shiar splinter group, or another race. Maybe even now it's lying forgotten in a warehouse somewhere. It's of no real matter."
Forest stared at Elotel's bland expression. "So it was all for nothing?"
"I suppose so."
Forest sat for a long time in silence. Elotel also remained silent. Finally Forest said "Of course it was all for nothing. I was a fool to think differently. Nothing came of the whole miserable affair except death and suffering. And that travesty of an enquiry... Nobody was held to account! A sordid betrayal of all we stood for, neatly swept under the carpet and forgotten. Our ideals sacrificed to political expediency. For 'stability'"
Forest sat, his expression dark with regret and old anger. "So, I resigned my commission, formally relinquished my Federation citizenship, and went my own way." He gestured vaguely toward Elotel. "As with your Star Empire, the Federation I swore to defend no longer exists, except in name."
"Hm. Having spoken to you, I'm not sure I agree."
Forest's head snapped up, and he stared open mouthed at the Romulan sitting calmly opposite him, still wearing that carefully bland smile on his face. "Are... are you insane? We are talking about the same Federation, aren't we? The one that committed war crimes, betrayed allies? That reneged on its promise to help evacuate Romulus? And you think it still embodies its principles of liberty, peace, justice?" His face twisted into a bitter scowl. "Or do you think it never embodied its principles at all? Hah! I might agree with that!"
Elotel watched him, perhaps a little sadly for a moment, then turned and murmured a few words in Romulan to the waitress, who hurried out to the kitchen. Elotel watched her go, then turned back to Forest. "My daughter. And my son." He waved at the serious, sombre lad behind the bar. "And my wife cooks, though she is rather a private person, doesn't mix with the patrons much. But they mean everything to me. To my shame, for a long time I had forgotten that. Ah, thank you. Will you?"
That last was said to his daughter who'd returned from the kitchen carrying a bottle. For a moment she hesitated, then stepped forward and proffered it to Forest.
He took it, puzzled. Is he giving this to... Oh. There must be a mistake! He stared at the label in shock. He suddenly felt as if he was holding a live bomb in his hands. He'd once fancied himself a connoisseur. Back then he'd learnt all he could about Romulan spirits. He'd not learnt much about their wines; their spirits were illegal and rare in the Federation, but their wines were as good as unheard of. The Romulans didn't export those. But even he'd heard rumours of some of them.
The bottle he held in his hands was an almost legendary vintage. Even before Romulus was destroyed, its value on the black market would have been expressed not in strips, or even bars, of gold-pressed latinum, but in bricks. Now that there would never be another true Romulan vintage... If he could find the right buyer, this one bottle could practically wipe out his debts.
Then, to add to his bewilderment, Elotel's daughter leant down, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and fled back to the kitchen, every inch the awkward adolescent she really was.
He stared at the bottle for a while, gripping it hard enough for his knuckles to go white, then up at Elotel. He couldn't even speak through his confusion, but Elotel seemed to see in his slack-jawed expression everything he needed to.
"As I said, I had to leave Romulus after that debacle involving Ms Trathal. So I wasn't there when the supernova destroyed our world." Suddenly his expression turned ugly with anger. "And of course, there was no ship of the Star Empire to take off the family of a disgraced former Tal'Shiar officer." His breathing was fast, old hurt and rage showing every line of his body. Then, in an instant, it was all smoothed over.
"But they were rescued."
A faint light began to shine in the depths of Forest's stunned mind.
"But where the hell will we put them?"
"Did you get hold of that cargo racking?"
"Yes Captain, but..."
"Hose out hold three and put it in there. We can split up those bales of old insulation foam, use them as mattresses, we should be able to fit in a couple of hundred people."
"For a three week trip to the nearest safe refugee camp? They'll be rioting within a week!"
"Romulans are nothing if not disciplined. They'll be fine."
"And how will we feed them? And deal with their waste?!"
"Hah. Waste is our business! Just give them a bunch of buckets, we can dump the contents in hold two. Hold three's going to stink anyway, they'll cope. As for food and water, buy what we can here. When we get to Romulus, I'm sure we can find a warehouse to loot."
"To loot... are you serious?!"
"Look me in the eye and tell me I'm not serious."
"They were rescued by an unaligned ship. A bulk waste transporter, a garbage scow, captained by one Rupert Forest. So, perhaps you'll understand when I say that I think that your Federation does still exist, in the hearts and minds of those who remember what it aspired to. And maybe one day, even if we don't live to see it, the Federation will remember who they are."
He gestured casually at the bottle that Forest still held in a death grip. "A gift, from my family to you, in gratitude. To keep or to sell, as you wish."
Forest looked down again at the bottle. Then, on a sudden impulse, he broke the seal.
He looked up a loud Ferengi oath. One of the two Ferengi sitting in a corner was staring at him with an expression of shock and rage. The other looked as if he was about to cry. Forest dismissed them from his mind, and smiled at the startled Elotel. "Will you and your family join me in a drink."
Slowly, a genuinely delighted smile crept over the Romulan's face. "Captain, it would be an honour!"
Clean glasses were obtained, and Elotel's family crowded round the table. Mother and son, both sombre, serious and reserved. Father beaming, and daughter fizzing with shy excitement. Drinks were poured into the tiny glasses, and the gentle scent of fields of fruit ripening under hot summer skies that were no more, stole through the crowded, poor little front room bar.
Elotel held up his glass. "To Rupert Forest, a true Starfleet captain."
Forest looked around the little family, and beyond, to the other patrons. Men and women scratching out their precarious lives on the uncertain fringes of civilisation. And his mind went back to a blue skinned soldier lounging on the seat in his ready room on the Ptolomy as she offered a bitter-sweet toast from a galaxy that had been shattered and brutalised.
He raised his own glass to them, and to his Federation, which he would strive to keep alive until the day he died.
"To survival."
The End