Open Secrets

“How’s your lawyer treating you?” he asked. “He seems like a decent enough fellow.”

“Spires?” Reyes nodded. “He’s a good man, very committed to the cause and so on and so forth. It’s a shame he’s got no chance of wi

Reaching up to stroke his short, trimmed beard, Fisher said after a moment, “Well, maybe not to some people. Even Jetanien, as by-the-book as he can be, isn’t ready to give up. I can’t believe he hasn’t punched his way through the wall to see you by now, Starfleet order or no.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Reyes replied. Shrugging, he added, “Well, yeah, he would, if it were anyone else but Rana who’d told him not to. They both know what’s coming, and Jetanien’s no good to anyone sitting in here next to me.”

Fisher knew that the Chelon ambassador was one of the few individuals who had known from the very begi

Now that pretty much anyone in the galaxy capable of reading Federation Standard was aware of at least some aspects of what was going on out here, Fisher knew that the problems facing Vanguard’s crew would only get more complicated.

“You’d think they could at least let you out of that box,” he said, indicating Reyes’s cell with a wave of his hand.

Reyes shrugged. “Be it ever so humble.”

“You’re still a flag officer,” Fisher countered, his irritation begi

Pushing away from the wall, Reyes moved to the edge of the cot so that his boots rested on the floor. “Rana said she put in that request about five seconds after I was locked up, but she never got a response from Starfleet. I’m guessing no one back there wants anything to do with me these days, so here I sit.”

Fisher frowned as he surveyed the commodore’s living arrangements. Other than the cot on which Reyes sat, there was also a straight-backed chair, bolted to the deck before a narrow shelf that might charitably be called a desk. A small viewing screen was mounted to the bulkhead above the desk, equipped with a rudimentary interface that Fisher knew would allow the cell occupant to access a very limited section of the station’s library computer banks and permit communications—all overseen by security perso

“So, you just sit in here until they decide what to do with you.” Fisher shook his head, snorting in disgust.

“Until after the trial, anyway,” Reyes replied, reaching up to scratch the side of his face. “After that, well, most Federation penal colonies have pretty decent accommodations these days.” Pausing, he said nothing for a moment before offering a tired shrug. “Of course, they might hold the court-martial in San Francisco, and the brig there is first-rate.”

“And that’s the other news I brought you,” Fisher said, leaning forward in his chair. “The court-martial is going to be held here.”

Reyes seemed to take this revelation in stride. “Makes sense. The lawyers will have to interview damn near everyone on the station. Easier to do that here than shipping everyone back to Earth or another starbase. After all, we’ve still got our oh-so-secret mission to keep up with.” He rose from his cot and began to pace the width of the cell—all six paces of it. “Then there’s convening the trial board. They’ll all have to be flag rank, commodores or better. Getting four of them who can be pulled away from their regular duties will take time. Hell, just getting them out here could take months.”

He halted his pacing and turned to look at Fisher.

“So, what it boils down to is that my fate will be decided by four desk jockeys with nothing better to do for the next six months.” Nodding toward the door, he added, “I’d rather Beyer just finish her lunch and come put me out of my misery.”

It would be easy to interpret Reyes’s remarks as simple fatalism, but Fisher knew better. The commodore had made no effort to deny or diminish his responsibility in the face of the charges against him. He fully expected to face harsh penalties for his actions and seemed ready to welcome whatever fate might be in store for him. Though he looked tired, Fisher could see that in spite of everything his friend had brought down upon himself, Reyes appeared more at ease than he had been in years.

It was his curious calm that worried the doctor.

5

T’Pry

As always, this place did not seem familiar, though it reminded T’Pry

T’Pry

Feeling the weight in her hands, she looked down at the lirpashe wielded. A staff of dark polished wood, it featured an oversized curved blade at one end, offset by a blunt metal weight on the other. The weapon’s heft offered a measure of comfort, which T’Pry

Movement in the dunes caught her eye, and she looked up to see a lone figure approaching her. Clad in dark robes from head to foot, the new arrival also carried a lirpain his right hand, its blade gleaming even in the weak indigo light that surrounded it and him. He covered the distance between them with long, assertive strides, and as he drew closer, T’Pry

The figure stopped when less than ten meters separated them, reaching up with his left hand to push back his hood, revealing the face that had haunted her every moment since she had held his head in her hands and broken his neck.

Sten.

“We meet at the appointed place, T’Pry