Declassified

“What are you wanting to do?”

“Ask.”

“Leave me alone.” Her eyes dropped to the tabletop as my words seemed to sting her at least a little. “Meryl? Sorry. That was my idea of a joke.”

“Then this is my idea of a laugh,” she said stone-faced.

“I deserved that. And I’m just a little wrapped up in myself, it seems. My responses to the contrary, I do appreciate your asking.”

“Then I’ll ask again,” she said, offering a small smile. “If nothing else, just to make sure you haven’t died.”

“If I need to move along, just let me know.”

“I could,” Meryl said over her shoulder as she walked from the table, “but it would be more fun just to call Security.”

I returned my gaze to the tabletop, choosing to chase my sip of water with a nip from my whisky glass. I swallowed, knitting my eyes shut as I did to savor the burn of the single-malt spirit, thankful for the familiar sensations that helped to cover my memory of whatever it was I had been served on the Orion ship that led to my disorientation and my inability to keep any harm from befalling Amity.

“Mister Pe

The low voice prompted me to open my eyes, and as they focused, all I could discern before me was a field of red that began to coalesce into the outline of a man in a Starfleet tunic.

“Wait,” I spoke quickly to the red shape, “the woman’s remark about calling Security was merely a joke, I assure you.”

“I wasn’t called to take you away,” the man said. “At least not yet.”

My eyes unblurred enough to see the face of who addressed me. “Lieutenant Ginther.”

“I have some information for you, but we’re not talking in here,” he said. “Follow me out.”

I complied, but not before settling what small bill I had with Meryl. Ginther left Tom Walker’s place and strode ahead of me, eventually turning into an alleyway between buildings in Stars Landing. I stepped in as if it were a natural path to take rather than hesitating and looking around to determine whether I had been observed. I simply took it on trust that Ginther had a good idea of the area’s discretion.

The broad-shouldered man seemed to examine my current state of appearance, but extended the grace of not making a verbal comment. “I did some follow-up on your report and I wanted to tell you what I found,” he said, “but what I tell you doesn’t leave this alley. Are we clear?”

“Of course,” I said. “But what report?”

“Your missing-persons report on Amity Price.”

“What? You filed a report?”

“No, I didn’t file a report. But I did some checking, and I found something. Well, someone.”

“You found Amity? You’re kidding?” I felt a wave of relief and joy start to wash over me.

“Calm yourself, Pe

“Who was it?”

“I can’t tell you that. Just know that we were able to plug a sizable security breach as a result of your call, so I thank you.”

“That’s fine,” I said, my joy giving way to some confusion. “And that led you to Amity?”

“Not directly,” Ginther said. “We have reason to suspect foul play, but that investigation has been sealed.”

“What? Why?”

“It has become a matter of Starfleet Intelligence.”

“Wait,” I said, trying to sort these new facts. “You’re telling me Amity was in Starfleet Intelligence?”

“No,” he said. “Slow down and listen. The perpetrator of the computer work revealed himself as employed by someone outside the Federation as an intelligence gatherer. In return for leniency in prosecution from the Judge Advocate General’s office, he has agreed to offer information about his employer’s operations and all details on what Federation secrets have been leaked to this point.”

“Leaked to who?” I had asked the question out of reflex, but I knew full well who lurked behind it all without being told. That did not stop Ginther from revealing the information as my disgust at the situation mounted.

“The Orions,” he said.

“Damn it,” I spat. “So now you get to hear who has been whispering what to whom, and who has been secretly moving whatever piece in any number of the political games everyone plays on board this goddamned station. Meanwhile, a young woman is dead—or worse—and the bastards responsible get away clean. That’s bleeding brilliant!”

“Pe

I was livid. “If you quote that ‘needs of the many’ shit to me right now, I’m going to gobsmack you.”

In a flash, Ginther snatched my wrist in his grip and held it firm. “You don’t want to be hitting anyone, and you don’t want to be raising your voice to me. Are we clear?”

I glowered at the security officer. Despite my rage at learning how Amity’s fate would go undetermined and unpunished, I knew that moment was not the one to seize in the name of justice. “We are,” I said as my deep breathing began to slow. “We’re clear.”

“And I offer this information to you with my appreciation for your help,” he said. “It will not be acknowledged officially, and should any hint of it appear in a news report, any further cooperation in your work from Starfleet officials will be greatly discouraged. And I will be greatly disappointed. Is that also understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” I said as he released my wrist.

“Qui

“One of the good guys,” I said, rubbing my wrist a little. “Then tell me how one of the good guys just leaves someone’s story unfinished when I can’t report it and I bloody damn well can’t go vigilante against the Orion Syndicate.”

Ginther looked at me and paused a moment. “When I’m where you are, and I’m there more than you might think,” he said, “I find someone I canhelp. Maybe the opportunity just pops up, or maybe I look up someone who my business isn’t finished with, as you say. When I get someone back on track or settle an account that I’ve left open too long, it goes a lot farther toward filling that hole you’re feeling than a grudge or a bottle ever will.”

I let go a somewhat cynical laugh that part of me immediately regretted. Ginther shrugged his shoulders and extended his hand. I took it. “I appreciate your letting me know. And your advice.”

“Let me know how it turns out, if you like. I’d offer the same, but, well, I can’t.”

“Right.”

As I turned to leave, he spoke my name to get my attention. “Tim, you may do it with your words or your actions, but whatever it might be, I suggest you do it. We all have unfinished business. You’ll know yours when you see it.”

My mind replayed Ginther’s words. I’ll know it when I see it? As I walked back to my apartment, and back into the reporter’s life I once again felt fated to lead, I hoped to hell the guy was right.

THE RUINS OF NOBLE MEN

Marco Palmieri

For Jem and Ben:

Dream big, my sons.

HISTORIAN’S NOTE

This story is set primarily in early January 2368, in the days following the final chapter of Star Trek Vanguard: Precipice.

1

2268

Vanguard groaned as another piece of its hull tore free and fell into the void.

The creak of rending metal vibrated through the bulkheads as if the station were in agony, but Rana Desai took little notice. Even the sight of Starbase 47’s open wound was lost on her. Less than two hundred meters above the viewport at which she stood, EV-suited engineers dotted the curved underside of the station’s immense saucer, surrounding the hideous gash in the enormous doors of Docking Bay 4—damage inflicted just days ago by a being of incomprehensible power.