The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [3]
“I hope they are,” Nog said, interrupting Jake’s train of thought. “But as soon as I started to get into it, I thought ‘I know one hew-mon who would not only find this fascinating, but also might be able to write a bestselling book about it.’ So, here I am.”
Jake chuckled. “I see. Well, that certainly sounds intriguing. But do you really think this is important enough that people will care, two hundred years after all the facts and fictions have become part of dusty history?”
Nog looked surprised again, and then his features took on a conspiratorial, almost sinister, cast. “Jake, from what I’ve seen, this story involves hew-mons, Andorians, Vulcans, Denobulans, and Romulans. It has kidnapping, assassination, slavery, death, resurrection, and cover-ups. And it may just change everything we know- or everything that we’ve been told- about the founding of the Federation itself.”
Jake found himself grinning widely. It had been a long time since he and Nog had played detectives in the shadowy corridors of Deep Space 9, trying to solve the mystery behind some strange occurrence or other that they were naively certain would stump even the formidable deductive abilities of Constable Odo. And now, he felt the same surge of boyhood adrenaline rush into his system.
He held out his hand for the chip.
“So, let’s get to it.”
One
Day Five, Month Of Tasmeen
Unroth III, Romulan Space
DOCTOR EHREHIN I’RAMNAU TR’AVRAK stood before the research complex’s vast panoramic window, listening to the control center’s background wash of electronic chirps, beeps, and drones as he looked out over the remote firing site where the prototype would shortly thrum to life. For the past several days, every console in the cramped control center had shown reassuring shades of orange, with hardly a hint of the green hues that Romulans tended to associate with blood and danger. The only green the elderly scientist had seen since his arrival here more than ten of this world’s lengthy rotations ago was that of the carpet of forest that spread from the base of the gently rolling hillside beyond and below the control facility’s perimeter walls, all the way to Unroth III’s flat, eerily close horizon.
Unlike most of his research staff, Doctor Ehrehin was unwilling to keep his gaze perpetually averted from the sea of greenery that lay beyond the control room windows. But he also refused to allow the forest’s alarming hues to unnerve him, concentrating instead on the soothing, ruddy light of the planet’s primary star, which hugged the forest canopy as it made its preternaturally slow descent toward evening. Despite the low angle of the diffraction-bloated sun, several long dierha remained before the wilderness outside would become fully enshrouded in darkness.
“It is time, Doctor,” said Cunaehr, Ehrehin’s most valued research assistant. “Are you ready to begin the test?”
His gaze still lingering on the forest that sprawled beyond the window, Ehrehin offered Cunaehr a dry, humorless chuckle. A better question would be, Is the prototype finally ready to begin the test? he thought, leaving the query unspoken lest he draw the unfavorable attention of the malevolent cosmic force that sometimes caused field tests to go awry in new and unexpected ways.
“I have my instructions, Cunaehr,” Ehrehin replied, keeping his reedy voice pitched only barely above the room’s background noises. “The admiralty is watching from orbit, and they have ordered me to be ready by now. And so we are. Please prepare to initiate the test on my signal.”
“Immediately, Doctor,” Cunaehr said. Ehrehin knew without turning that his assistant was hastening back to his own console.
Ehrehin considered the bird-of-prey that now circled this remote planet, and wondered whether or not the admiralty truly expected today’s test to succeed. Then he banished the