The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [1]
That promise did not leave the First Among Equals much choice.
There was a transmitter on Kerajem’s desk, a direct line to the War Room. It suddenly beeped politely for his attention. Kerajem crossed the room and, thumbing a button on the side of the unit, spoke into the pickup. The eyes of everyone were on him.
“General, this is the First,” Kerajem said, seating himself at the desk, impossibly trying to make himself comfortable. “You are speaking to the entire Cabinet.”
“Yes, sir. I have a report.”
“Go ahead.”
“The test schedule has been completed. Results are nominal.”
“Very well,” Kerajem said quietly. “Please stand by.”
The First took a last moment for himself and then made his decision. Rikkadar saw the promise of doom in his friend’s haunted eyes. “Plan Blue doesn’t even represent a real defense,” the finance minister said, his voice cracking. “Bring them back, Kerajem. Recall them before it’s too late.”
“Blue sets a high price for our demise,” said Hattajek, the minister for defense. He rubbed his eyes wearily. “We’ve been all over this, First.”
“Indeed we have, Hatta,” Kerajem said gently, “but I would be disappointed if this order were to be given without objection.”
There were several small, neatly framed photographs set in a group near a far corner of Kerajem’s cluttered desktop. The foremost photo was a nice portrait of Kerajem’s only granddaughter—ravenhaired, freckled, unscarred by life and fate. Little Kara and her contemporaries had never known the inside of the mines and the factories. Kerajem and his fellow reformers had at least accomplished that much.
Of course, it was not nearly enough.
The First gazed at Kara’s picture for another moment and then he gave the order. “General, execute Plan Blue Ultimate according to schedule.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be there shortly with Minister Hattajek.” Kerajem broke the connection. “Thank you all,” he said to the ministers, dismissing them. “Hatta, you go on ahead. I’ll be along presently.”
“Yes, First.” Hattajek left and, one by one, the others began to drift out of the room after him.
Rikkadar was the last to leave. “Are you sure about this, Kerajem?” he asked softly, when they were alone. “Are you really sure?”
“Of course not, Rikky,” the First answered kindly, “but it’s all we’ve got.”
Rikkadar sighed. “I suppose so. I wish it were otherwise.”
“So do I. Go home. Get some sleep.”
“So should you, Kerajem.”
The First Among Equals shook his head. “I have to go to the War Room now,” he said quietly. “We’re at Blue Ultimate. I … won’t be home again for a while.”
“All right,” Rikkadar said, “but I’ll be back here later today. Sooner if you need me, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Be well, my friend.” Rikkadar closed the door gently behind him.
Kerajem was alone now. Closing his eyes, he reached far back into his childhood and muttered what little he remembered of the prayer his mother had taught him to keep him safe in the mines. Only a miracle could save the world. Though he did not believe, Kerajem bowed his head and prayed to his mother’s god for a miracle.
Chapter One
Captain’s log, stardate 45523.6. Our survey of this previously unexplored sector is now well into its second week. We have departed the star system we have temporarily designated 30452 Federation Astrophysical Survey and are on course for the next system on our list.
I am about to begin going over the various summaries of preliminary findings that have been filed by our department heads concerning 30452 FAS. Given the results of this survey so far, we are certain to make a rather hefty deposit in the bank of cosmological knowledge.
The work of our Science Division people is providing not only revelation, but respite. Many of those aboard who are not directly involved in survey work are taking advantage of this admittedly welcome lull in our usually hectic routine to relax a bit—oh.
THE DOOR SIGNAL SQUEEPLED, and Jean-Luc Picard put his log entry on hold. “Come,” he called,