Mosaic (24 page)

and we hope to return to Earth with a greater understanding

of halo objects. If we accomplish nothing more than that,

we will have expanded the field of galactic inquiry to a

significant degree."

He turned to them, his kind eyes finding, and holding, a

look with each of them in turn. "But that isn't the sole

purpose for our venture. There is an additional, covert,

mission to be accomplished during our journey." Paris

paused here, as though thinking how best to introduce the

subject he was leading to.

"First, I must remind you that this is a matter of the

highest secrecy. Not everyone on the ship will be aware of

it. It is essential that you speak of it to no one-not even

among yourselves. I am telling you because, as the senior

scientific staff; you might question some of the procedures

we'll be choosing in the future. You will be curious as to

some of the destinations we select. And it's essential that

those questions not be asked. It may be that some decisions

will interfere with your scientific explorations; it is

imperative that you accept those disappointments."

Kathryn was staring at Admiral Paris, mind racing. What

was going on? What could be of such magnitude that it was

treated with this heavy cloak of secrecy? This was

uncharacteristic of Starfleet-at least of the Starfleet she

had experienced-and it made her uncomfortable. "We are also

an information-gathering mission," continued Paris. "We

will be traveling near Cardassian space, at times quite

close to their borders, and at those times we will be

actively uploading intelligence about their troop

movements, weapons depots, fleet size, and other data

necessary to insure the defense of the Federation."

A long, solemn silence blanketed the room as he spoke

those words. Kathryn found her heart pounding. The ship was

on a spy mission. Her first venture into deep space wasn't

an innocuous assignment to gather scientific datait was an

urgent military operation, crucial and dangerous.

Admiral Paris absorbed the stunned silence that greeted

his announcement, and continued.

"There are those on this ship who are part of an elite core

of Starfleet's finest: a highly trained, disciplined group

of Rangers who will also function as members of the

scientific expedition. They will work among you without

your knowing their identity. I am the only person on board

who knows who they are."

He eyed them once more. "Now is the time for any

questions. I will answer what I can. But after today, there

will be no further mention of this matter. Are you clear on

that?"

Several people nodded. Sally Rhodes raised a hand, as

though she were back in school. Kathryn understood the

feeling. "Sir," said Ensign Rhodes, "are we going to war

with Cardassia?"

"I hope not. That's part of the purpose of missions like

this-to prevent war. But I'm afraid that's more up to the

Cardassians than to us." Kathryn felt Justin Tighe stir

next to her. "Sir,"

he asked-and he didn't sound quite so confident now-"do

these . . . Rangers . . . know each other? Or are they all

in the dark as much as we are?" "They know each other. It's

important that they be able to function as a unit, and

they've been training toward that end for over a year. But

I assure you they are also so grounded in scientific

technique that you will be unable to single them out."

Commander T'Por fixed the admiral with her dark eyes. "It

would be logical to assume that we will be in situations of

danger. Am I correct?"

"Again, there's no way to predict that. But I would have to

share your assumption." He paused, as though turning 181

over a thought in his mind. "We don't know as much about

the Cardassians as we'd like. They've kept their borders

closed for decades. But what we're beginning to hear,

unfortunately, isn't encouraging.

They're mean ones. We believe they intend to expand their

territory and they have no qualms about how they do it."

He stopped and looked down at the table for a moment.

"Reports we've gotten about their treatment of some of our

colonists they've captured aren't-pretty. They have some

particularly advanced technology for producing pain, for

example. It's been a great many years since we've

encountered a culture which not only employs torture as a

means of intimidation, but has elevated it to a

nearreligious status." Kathryn felt queasy.

She didn't like to think of people inflicting pain on each

other; it was the most primitive kind of violation she

could imagine. She knew her people's history was rife with

equal cruelty, but it hadn't been practiced for hundreds of

years. Now she was hearing that people like herself were

being subjected to this most inhumane treatment. "However,"

Admiral Paris continued, "there's no reason to believe we

will encounter any Cardassians at all. Our surveillances

will be technological in nature. The plan is to get the

information we need without coming face-toface with any of

them."

He faced them, waiting for more questions. There were

none-not, Kathryn suspected, because they didn't exist, but

because everyone had been caught so off guard that they

were still in a state of shock. "Any further questions?"

queried the admiral, looking from one to the other. "If

not, we'll proceed. But let me try to reassure you: If all

goes as we hope, this will be the last time you'll be aware

of our other mission.

If it's successful, it will be carried out without

disrupting our scientific inquiries and without 182

noticeable interference in our day-to-day activities. It

would be my profound hope that this will be the case."

He looked around the room one more time, then put the

matter behind him and began giving short-term assignments.

Admiral Paris was a mature and experienced officer; he

clearly had the capacity to shed one subject completely and

move on to the other.

But Kathryn didn't have that ability, though she

determined at that moment to develop it. She was still so

stunned by the admiral's revelation that she had no

reaction at all when he assigned her to work with Justin

Tighe in developing sensor-array modifications.

Like a panther, she thought. Like a powerful, sinewy

predator, sleek and assured.

She was watching Justin Tighe move around the science lab,

tapping commands into a padd, running his hand through his

hair, occasionally staring off into space, then turning

back to the padd.

What he didn't do was to include her in any of his

musings. He asked no questions, requested no opinion,

shared no thought of his own. He was a man working

exclusively with himself.

She considered what to do. On the one hand, he was her

superior officer; it was his right to proceed with their

assignment in any manner he chose. But she resented being

treated as a silent piece of the background; she was an

official member of this team and she should not be frozen

out. It was always dangerous to confront a predator, she

knew; but unless you did, you would never gain his respect.

"Lieutenant," she began mildly, "if I knew what kind of

sensor modifications you were considering, I might be able

to help out." Tighe looked over at her as though he had

forgotten she was in the room. He blinked, coming out of

some deep level of concentration. "What?" he said.

"1'd like to be able to contribute. But I can't unless you

give me an idea of how you're proceeding."

He ran his hand through his hair in a manner that now

demonstrated exasperation, rather than absentmindedness.

"I appreciate your offer, Ensign, but it would frankly take

more time to explain what I'm doing than it will just to do

it myself. Once I've figured out a plan, I'll go over it

with you."

And he returned to his pacing, his gazing, and his

computing. Kathryn felt her cheeks sting. The rebuff was so

blunt, so total, that she felt physically misused. She

forced her mind to clear and quiet. Don't act without

thinking, she reminded herself, objectifying the anger she

felt at the rude behavior of the man who was supposed to be

her partner. Justin Tighe was faced away from her,

studiously tapping on the padd. She rose and circled so she

faced him.

"Excuse me, sir." He looked up with mild irritation.

"Permission to speak freely?"

He let out a breath of vexation and fastened his blue eyes

on her. "Granted," he said dryly.

"We're going to be working together for the next year.

Working closely together. I think it's important we

establish some ground rules at the beginning."

She paused and looked at him, trying to gauge the impact of

her words. He revealed nothing, his features neutral, eyes

icy. "I realize I'm the most junior member of this team.

But I am a member of the team. I think I can make a

contribution-even if it's just as a backboard, someone to

bounce ideas off. I don't care how I participate-but I

insist that I do."

He didn't reply, just kept looking at her with those 184

otherworldly eyes. "I'm not willing to be shut out," she

continued, "to be treated as though I'm less important to

this mission than that padd you're using.

I think you'll find that if you'll just let me in, I can

help. At least give me a chance to prove that."

There was a very long silence then, with Tighe's eyes

boring into hers, she holding his look steadily, willing

herself not to blink, feeling her eyes grow dry in the

effort.

And then he slumped, tossed the padd down on the table,

and sprawled into a chair.

"Let me tell you about me, Ensign," he said, but there was

a long pause before he did so, as though he were

unaccustomed to self-revelation and unsure how to proceed.

"I was born on Klatus Prime.

Ever heard of it? I didn't think so. It's a small mining

colony in Sector 22309. My family had been miners there for

generations. It wasn't quite as easy a life as you have on

Earth.

When I was ten I decided I wasn't going to spend the rest

of my life like my father and my grandfather." He glanced

up at her as though to see her reaction to what he was

saying. Kathryn tried to reveal nothing, just listened

patiently.

"Twenty years later, I've managed to become a respected

member of Starfleet. I had to earn every step of that

journey. Nobody gave me anything, nobody made it easy for

me." She heard no self-pity in his voice, no plea of

victimization. He said what he did as neutrally as though

he were reciting the table of elements.

He took a breath and leaned forward on the table, looking

up at her. "I'm not easy to get along with. I know that. I

wish it weren't so, but I don't know if there's anything I

can do about it." He put his head down and ran both hands

through his hair. "I'm not trying to shut you out, Ensign.

I'm just . . . used to doing things on my own."

Kathryn moved to the table and sat opposite him.

"Thank you for being honest with me," she said. "It helps

a lot. But try to understand: This mission is important to

me. And my way of working is as valid to me as yours is to

you. I'm willing to compromise, but I'll ask you to do the

same."

There was a silence between them. Kathryn half expected

him to go back to his padd, excluding her and enveloping

himself in his work. Instead, the hint of a smile tugged at

his lips, and to her dismay, she found her fingertips

tingling-that old, familiar, treacherous sensation. No, she

thought. No, no, no, no, no.

Not again.

"You're a tough one, Ensign. I like that. Weak people

annoy me. But-are you as tough as I am? I guess we'll have

to wait and see."

And without further discussion, he swung the padd around

and began to give her the notes on sensor resolution and

sensitivity that he'd been assembling.

Her response was so deeply ingrained that it was barely

conscious. Somewhere, deep inside, a voice was saying,

"I'll show him. I'll win him over."

But far below that was another small, wounded voice with a

cry that had never surfaced, one that Kathryn had never

heard and yet had guided her through most of her life.

Six months later, she sat next to Admiral Paris in the

two-person shuttle, and reflected on that initial encounter

with Justin Tighe. She'd been proud of the way she'd

handled the situation, and confident that the going from

that point would be smooth.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Lieutenant Tighe had proved to be an infuriating partner, a

stern and demanding perfectionist, rigid in his work habits

and intolerant of human error or frailty. There had been no

change whatsoever in the way he treated her, which was