Star Trek: The Fall: The Poisoned Chalice (42 page)

The ornamental gardens outside the great sculpted curve of the headquarters building stretched out before him, and he started walking. Akaar's orders had not specified where Riker was to go, but now that he was here, he knew exactly how to find the admiral. Threading his way past flower beds, immaculately manicured lawns, and ornamental ponds, at last he came across the small stone lacunae where he had tracked the Capellan admiral before embarking on the journey that had taken him to Klingon space and back again. It seemed like an age had passed since then. With everything Riker had learned—and everything he now
suspected
—that moment felt as if it had happened to another person.

Akaar was waiting there for him, and this time he had eschewed one of his potent cigarillos in deference to the other party seated on the stone bench.

Deanna Troi turned and stood to meet her husband's embrace. For a moment the two of them forgot everything else, briefly losing themselves in the closeness.

Riker basked in her, feeling Deanna in his thoughts, a welcome and calming presence.
Imzadi. I missed you.

“I know,” she whispered. “It's good to be back.”

He broke away and studied her. “Tasha?”

“She's with Christine and the Andorians, out at the diplomatic compound in the city.”

“You both did well,” he told her. “Thank you.”

Troi's moment of joy at seeing her husband once again now fell away, as did Riker's emotions at seeing his wife—all put aside for now. There was still the job at hand to be dealt with.

The couple broke their embrace and turned back to Akaar. He stood like a towering sentinel, circumspect as he allowed the brief moment of reunion.

“So when should I expect to be arrested?” Riker began. “I ignored a recall order or two.”

“You're an admiral now, remember?” Akaar's reply was dry. “It's only captains and the lower ranks who get dragged away in manacles.” He beckoned them to sit near the muttering waters of the nearby fountain. “Rank hath its privileges, and one of those is discretion.”

“It
would
be unseemly for Starfleet's newest flag officer to be detained in full view of everyone,” said Troi. She nodded over Riker's shoulder, and he turned to see where she was looking.

A pair of security officers was loitering some distance away, making all effort to look anywhere but in their direction. “Are those your men, sir?” asked Riker. “Or someone else's?”

“I forget,” Akaar replied, feigning a frown. “I'm sure we'll find out soon enough.”

Riker studied the other man. The fatigue he had seen in Akaar before had deepened. He looked more and more like someone waiting out the clock. “Admiral, it appears that I and several of my officers are now one step ahead of an official warning, or worse. After what we found in the Nydak system—”

Akaar cut him off. “I've been doing what I can from here. If the worst happens, I can protect Commander Vale. There could be a demotion, a black mark
on her file. It might be a long time before she gets a shot at the center seat again, but she'll have her career.” It was telling that he said nothing about Riker or his wife. Akaar eyed him, his tone turning flinty. “What you did with Bashir . . . that was a big risk.”

“I acted on my own initiative, just as you told me to,” Riker responded, ignoring a flash of irritation at Akaar's reply. “So did Christine. I won't apologize for it, and neither should she.”

The Capellan ignored Riker, turning his gaze on Troi. “It was a good gambit, Commander Troi, bringing in ch'Nuillen like that. You forced Velk into a corner.” He looked away. “And now we'll see how that shakes out in the long term.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Bashir didn't give you anything, did he?” Akaar retorted. “We all know why that is. He's afraid to jeopardize the freedom of the other doctors who helped him with the Andorian cure.”

“I have faith in Doctor Bashir,” Troi replied.

“All well and good. But that doesn't count for anything right now.”

“And here we go again.” Riker's eyes narrowed. “Everything is playing out the same way it did before. Why is it whenever I talk to you,
sir,
I get the feeling that I am playing catch-up?”

“A lot happened here while you were chasing across the quadrant and back, Admiral Riker. Tensions in the Federation Council are high. This business with the Andorians intervening with Bashir has split them down the middle. Half the representatives are applauding it and want them back in the fold immediately, the other half are calling it reckless and bullheaded. Public support is going back and forth like a pendulum.”

“With all due respect, that's not our focus. You told me you brought me here and gave me this rank so together we could look into unsanctioned executive orders from the office of the president. I've done that. Ssura sent you all the data, all the reports on what we found.” He took a breath, marshaling his thoughts. “Picard was right, the Cardassians
were
the assassins. The True Way killed Nan Bacco. The Tzenkethi lead on Deep Space Nine was a fake trail, designed to point toward the Typhon Pact. And someone in our government knew about it.”

“Galif jav Velk,” said Troi. “At the very least.”

“Throk openly accused Velk of engineering the whole thing,” Riker added.

“Remind me again what proof we have?” Akaar matched his gaze. “The word of a dead man. A corrupted holoprogram. The unverifiable testimony of three Starfleet officers and one convicted criminal, all of whom could be implicated in illegal military actions themselves.” He shook his head. “It's not enough. We need cast-iron certainty. . . . We need a knife with blood on the blade.”

“Chancellor Martok—” Troi started to speak, but Akaar cut her off.

“The Klingons won't offer any more help. Martok has closed ranks. He has his own problems to deal with right now, purging his government of those working against him. The existence of Nydak II is an embarrassment to the Empire. Martok will expunge all trace of it, and all Klingon connection to this sorry business, for his own sake.” Akaar's expression grew stony. “That leaves us with nothing we can take up the line. . . .”

“No!” snapped Riker. “Even with Onar Throk and the others dead, we still have enough evidence to bring
this to the Federation Attorney General. It's enough to demand an investigation be opened, this time with Starfleet's full involvement as well as the Federation Security Agency.”

“If we can investigate Velk, we have a way to get to the heart of this,” added Troi. “We can have him arrested; we can bring him to account!”

Akaar gave Riker a level look. “You were right about playing catch-up, Will.” He sighed. “We can't go after Velk because he is
already
in custody.”

“What the hell?” Riker shot back, his decorum lost in the reaction. “How?”

“This morning, while you were both racing back here ahead of a reprimand, the president pro tem gave a press conference in Paris. Ishan Anjar went before the Federation Council and the whole quadrant to inform us that his chief of staff had come to him with an admission of guilt.”

“Velk . . .
confessed
?” Troi frowned. “Given what I know of him, that doesn't seem realistic.”

“It's more like he fell on his sword,” Riker replied. “He had to know that
Titan
was at Nydak II. After Julian Bashir was turned over to the Andorians, he knew that his time was running out. . . .”

“The Federation Council has ordered a special board of inquiry for Velk. Evidence about the existence of the Active Four group has come out, and all of it lays right at that Tellarite's feet. He's accepted full responsibility for running an unsanctioned covert operation, subverting the chain of command, illegal rendition . . .”

“But nothing about conspiracy to murder,” Deanna said quietly.

A burst of anger pushed Riker to his feet. “This is a
ploy,” he snapped. “They're trying to get out in front of us by taking Velk off the board. He takes the fall, and Ishan Anjar sails on, untouched!”

“We don't know that Ishan is involved,” warned Akaar.

Riker rounded on him. “
I
know,” he snarled. “A man in Ishan Anjar's position is not ignorant of abuse of power on this scale!” The sheer injustice of it all made him furious. “The Federation doesn't work this way. We didn't end the Dominion threat for this. We didn't endure the Borg for this!” He shook his head. “I won't . . . We
can't
accept it!”

A decision formed in his thoughts, and he saw his wife's eyes widen as she sensed his intentions. “Will . . . what are you going to do?”

He gave her a farewell kiss on the cheek. “I have someone to see.”

“Riker!” Akaar stood, towering over him. “We lost this round, understand that. But there is still—”

“We haven't lost,” he broke in, “not yet.” Riker reached up and tapped at the combadge on his tunic. “
Titan
? I need a site-to-site transport. Starfleet Headquarters to the Palais de la Concorde.
Energize
.”

R
iker always found it hard to estimate the age of Bajorans. They tended to mature at a slower pace than humans, so what one could consider a middle-aged aspect might be more senior in reality. Ishan Anjar inhabited that space, a man of distinguished good looks and a face that could be patrician in the right light. He was in the process of adjusting the sleeves of a dress shirt as Riker marched into the presidential office on the fifteenth floor of the Palais, a jacket of conservative cut folded neatly over a chair near the large, ornate desk.

“Admiral, this is an unexpected pleasure. Please, do come in, take a seat. I'm sorry, I don't have much time to spare.” Ishan smiled thinly, nodding in the direction of the window. “There's a meeting in Kyoto tonight, and I have to attend.” Behind him, the evening glow of Paris ranged out behind a broad panoramic window, like the light of stars from deep space.

Ishan's practiced attempt at a knowing welcome fell dead as Riker failed to take the offer of a chair, instead choosing to stand at attention. “We need to talk,” he replied. “
Sir
.”

“Yes.” The president pro tem stopped and exchanged a look with the members of his staff in the room—a
younger Grazerite woman and a Vulcan male from his security detail—dismissing them both without a word. “Yes, I rather think we should.” Ishan went to a server alcove, and Riker caught the perfume of
cela
tea as he poured himself a cup. The politician didn't make any move to offer any to the admiral.

The oaken door to the office closed and they were alone. Riker had a handle on his anger now, taking the reins of it in the walk across the plaza outside the Federation's seat of power. He was ready to direct it, sharp and unswerving.

Ishan's manner turned in a moment, changing from a kind of fatherly detachment to a stern, uncompromising façade. He was the hawk again, the man Riker remembered from the speech at Bacco's memorial on Luna. “We have a complex situation unfolding here,” he began. “I wish you had come to me first. There's division now, Starfleet versus civilian authority. That's bad for all of us.”

“You have no idea,” Riker told him, and he deliberately made it sound like a threat, throwing down the gauntlet. “It's hard to know where to start with the list of everything that's wrong. And I'm sure it will only get longer.”

Ishan sipped his tea. “I want all your reports and debriefings, of course. I'll add that to the materials that Galif provided to me.” He gave a slight shake of the head. “It's troubling, Riker, to know that someone so trusted could go so far off the path. But we have to take what we can from this disorder and make the best of it. There are a lot of questions, and there will need to be answers. The
right
answers.”

“A Cardassian national named Onar Throk, an aide to former Castellan Rakena Garan of the Cardassian
Union, was the shooter who killed Nanietta Bacco.” The words tasted ashen in Riker's mouth. “He confessed it to one of my officers. He was part of a terrorist group called the True Way. They committed this act to disrupt the Federation and fracture our alliance with Cardassia—”

“That is a strong possibility,” Ishan broke in, showing no sign that any of this was news to him. “It is hard to prove such allegations conclusively without evidence. I'm a son of the Occupation, Riker, and I have no great fondness for the Cardassians. But throwing around accusations that the Cardassian Assembly has sponsored terrorism inside our borders? That's very irresponsible.”

“That's not what I said—”

“That's what people will
think,
” Ishan countered.

“Just like they
think
the Typhon Pact are responsible for the assassination?” Clasped together behind his back, Riker's fingers tightened. “The discovery of Tzenkethi DNA evidence on Deep Space Nine was supposed to be kept secret, and yet somehow that information made its way into the public domain.”

“The truth will out,” snapped Ishan. “That's one of your human proverbs, isn't it? Once that was revealed, I had no choice but to comment on it.”

What Ishan called a “comment” had only been a shade away from an outright accusation laid at the Typhon Pact's door, but Riker saw no advantage in bringing that up. “And what will you say now, sir? Now we know that it was Onar Throk behind the trigger and possibly your own chief of staff who put him there!”

The Bajoran smiled without warmth. “We do not
know
that, Admiral. You're exaggerating the situation. I
had thought you would understand this, as a man who has to deal in certainties every time he stands on the bridge of a starship. Throk is dead. We have only his word that he was poor Nanietta's assassin. And even if that is so, it does not automatically make the Tzenkethi blameless! They are a perfidious people, Riker. I have no doubt a connection will be found between the True Way and the Typhon Pact.” He gave an airy shrug. “And as for his ridiculous assertion that Velk somehow masterminded the murder of my predecessor? I won't even dignify that with an answer. Have you seen the media feeds? Suggestions that the True Way was a Pact cat's-paw are already being publicly aired. I only hope we can find some measure of the complete truth in the days ahead. I'm sure the new Cardassian castellan and his cabinet will do all they can to help in that endeavor. If they value their membership in the Khitomer Accords, of course.” Before Riker could frame a reply, Ishan went on, putting down the tea. “I know you and Akaar are unhappy about these unsanctioned operations, as am I. . . . I am only just learning the full scope of Velk's activities. But the fact is, no matter what the circumstances are, the Federation captured and dispatched a group of terrorists responsible for a horrific act of aggression against us. I would call that a victory.”