Stardate 520601.2

Caenelm City, Beta Circini II

 

Dr. Keth En’ves, celebrity scientist, renowned scholar and secret fraud, strode through the lobby of the Science Council administrative offices with an air of self-assurance, betraying not a hint of the turmoil taking place within him.

The black-furred Caitian’s plasma-blue eyes swept over the artistic murals of great scientific discoverers, acutely aware of the gazes that followed him, those curious glances of students and fellow researchers who had admired his work for years. Each pair of eyes that followed him was a testament to his ability to manipulate the truth. Only now, the truth was closing in.

Anyone who had ever read the history of the Lohalian Sector had heard of Keth En’ves. His early work on the subject, made when he was but a fledgling xenoarchaeologist, had become the seminal work on the subject, launching him into interstellar acclaim. He had become a revered figure in the scientific community, the equal of a Sutar or Galen — the current generation’s greatest archaeological pioneer. The only problem: it was all based on a lie. Driven by an insatiable desire to be seen as something greater than he was—or, as he put it in his more charitable moments, a desperate wish to live up to his family’s expectations—his younger self had falsified the data on which his findings were based. The universe had rewarded his fraud beyond his wildest expectations. Every professional door had been thrown open. Endless research opportunities, and the adoration of a gullible public, were his. His unearned fame had eclipsed anyone in his family’s history. But he had known from the first moment of his newfound scientific acclaim that a reckoning would someday be due.

For years, he’d staved it off, playing a dangerous game of scientific deception. But the weight of his counterfeit achievements haunted him, stalking his conscience like a relentless predator. And the falsity of his past work, once a desperate bid for recognition, now loomed as an inevitable exposure waiting to strike.  Every day, he felt it getting a little closer.

The message that had summoned him to the Council offices today had been vague to the point of alarm—a classified meeting with a review board. His heart had skipped a beat when he’d read it. Could this be the reckoning he’d so long dreaded? The beginning of the end of his fraud-tainted career?

Very little else, he reflected, could have led them to summon him in such a way. There was only his longstanding request for a starship grant, but that had been pending for years, with no results, despite his lobbying.

That request for a starship had been a faint, flickering hope in recent years, a potential lifeline to scientific redemption. His earlier findings were destined to be overthrown, he knew. But if he himself made the discoveries that overthrew them, there was at least a chance of professional salvation. If done properly, he might even avoid having to expose his past falsifications altogether. Such had been the fine thread of possibility that passed for hope amid the dismal gambit of his life. But such an expedition would need a well-equipped starship, resources and backing that was hard to come by in such a remote sector, even for someone of his unearned credentials.

Exposure, though—that was always in the cards. All it would take to set it off would be one question he wasn’t prepared to answer. One misstep. One anonymous rumor. One ambitious intern probing just a little too deeply.

Yes, he reflected in the elevator, it was much more likely that today’s meeting was connected with his looming exposure than with the faint smidgeon of hope he’d occasionally deluded himself with.

But, fear had never deterred him before. He’d spent a lifetime crafting the image of the esteemed scientist, and he refused to let it slip away so easily. With an effort of will, he suppressed his anxiety. He smoothed down his pelage, straightened his uniform, and schooled his features into the look of accomplished confidence that he wore so well. Then, with practiced swagger, he strode through the doors and into the designated meeting room, a defiant gleam in his eyes.

Inside, he found himself facing a conference table with half a dozen members of the ever-formidable Council. They flanked Councillor Palk, a greying Tellarite made up of craggy lines and perpetual dissatisfaction—a man with a reputation for shooting down ambitious proposals from scientific upstarts. A veteran of the corridors of power.

Keth had often sensed in Palk a certain skepticism towards him and his accomplishments. Perhaps it was nothing more than the pugnacious Councillor’s basic desire to tear down every scientist who had ever made a name for himself. On previous encounters, he had noticed Palk observing him closely when he had been faced with a pointed question, as if the Councillor had been trying to read his mind. But, then as now, Keth had remained unperturbed, secure in his awareness that no Tellarite could read anything in his Caitian features that he didn’t wish them to see.

“Doctor En’ves,” Palk began with his customary gruffness, “You’ve made quite a name for yourself. Some might say too big a name for the likes of this Council to ignore.”

Keth allowed some genuine amusement to slip into his chuckle. “A little luck, and a little passion.” He bowed.

Palk’s bushy brows knitted together, and he snorted derisively. “Passion?  I’ve read your work, Doctor. Flowery language and poetic prose—quite unlike the rigorous science I like to see.”

There was a smattering of indistinct murmurs around the room, including a few pointed glances at Palk, silent pleas for him to get to the point.

“Still,” Palk continued, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, “It seems we’ve ignored your work a little too long.  In light of recent advancements in xenoarchaeology, the Council has decided to revisit one of its earlier decisions.”

The statement hung in the air for a beat. This was it. The moment where Palk would drop the axe, revealing the council’s suspicion.  But he was prepared, and replied with the most innocent question he could think of.  “You mean my application for a starship grant?”

To his actual surprise, Palk nodded. “That’s right.  The Council is greenlighting your request for a ship to support your upcoming expedition.  Congratulations, Doctor.”

Only a lifetime of dissembling kept him on his feet amid the applause that followed.  The rest of the meeting passed in a blur.  The Council staff outlined the details of the coming expedition—resources, personnel, and the formidable U.S.S. Tanjura at his disposal.  Keth kept waiting for the other shoe to drop—for Palk to say, Oh, and by the way, it’s just a formality, but we’ll be reviewing your earlier work—but, to his astonishment, it never came.  They still believed in him.  The Council still bought every fabricated word he had ever published. How was it possible? The magnitude of official credulity astonished him now more than ever.

Still, he kept his guard up.  He submerged all outward signs of surprise or relief, showing only excitement and gratitude.  He was outside, standing on the sun-drenched steps of the building in the stark white light of a spring day on Beta Circini, before he finally allowed himself to relax and to begin to accept the reality of what had just happened.

With trembling hands, he opened his PADD and scrolled once more through the documents he’d been given.  There was the ship, just as real as before.  There were the personnel, the mission plan, waiting for his input.

Lohalian Sector.

A maelstrom of emotions swirled within him, a tempest of hope and fear.  This voyage into the unknown would test him like nothing had before.  It would bring him right up against what he most feared in life, and it could end in only one of two possible outcomes: either he would return with the answers that had eluded him so long ago, or he would be unmasked as a fraud and his career destroyed.  From the moment he stepped on that ship, he would be on a course toward either redemption or total ruin.

A peculiar glimmer danced in his blue-jade eyes as he scanned the documents for the final time. A snicker bubbled up from within him, one of relief, with just a touch of madness.

“Let’s make history,” he grinned.