“ Program complete,” the computer reported after several moments.

When no other information seemed to be forthcoming, Kirk frowned. “And that’s it?” he asked, making no effort to mask his skepticism.

“If Mister Spock did what I asked him to do,” Nogura replied. “Computer, search all memory banks for any instances of the following terms: Taurus Meta-Genome, Shedai, Operation Vanguard.”

There was a pause as the artificial intelligence processed the request, then the female voice answered, “ No records found matching any of the provided search arguments. Please enter new search parameters.” Meanwhile, on the display screen, an additional block of text data appeared.

Reading aloud, Nogura recited, “ ‘Warning: Unauthorized access attempt; eyes-only compartmented data. Access requires ultrasecret clearance. Notify Starfleet commander immediately.’” Pointing to the screen, the admiral said, “The protocol Mister Spock wrote covers a list of search arguments and accompanying context that’s about as long as my service record. The new procedure will allow innocent searches that just happen to use certain key terms, though when such requests are processed, any lateral references to Vanguard will be omitted. So far as the data banks are concerned, the materials we just stored here don’t exist.”

“And if the person making the request is really trying to dig where he or she shouldn’t?” Kirk prompted.

Nogura nodded. “Then he or she gets the ‘no records found’ message returned from the computer. Meanwhile, the computer executes a containment protocol ensuring that no project-related data or materials are released. At the same time, this other warning is transmitted to the facility’s commanding officer. The CO, in turn, will contact Starfleet Command for further instructions.” Shaking his head, he added, “I don’t want to be around if and when that happens.”

“I guess it’s over, then,” Kirk said. “For good.” His eyes lingered on the display monitor as Nogura purged all record of his interaction with the archive facility’s computer system before retrieving the data card from the reader slot. After months of debriefings in the wake of Starbase 47’s destruction, along with an endless procession of reviews, hearings, and boards of inquiry—not to mention mountains of accompanying reports and documentation—the only thing left to do was to forget all of it.

“Operation Vanguard—officially, at least—is a closed subject,” replied Nogura as he examined the data card. “The typical dormancy period for materials carrying an ultrasecret classification is a century. However, I’ve decided that might not be enough of a cooling-off period. This new protocol effectively buries any record or mention of the project under so many layers of compartmentalization and obfuscation that only someone who knows precisely where to look has even a chance of retrieving anything. Right now, you and I are the only two people who can access the information without triggering any alerts, and we have to do it together.” He held up the data card. “But we’ll need this. The protocol for retrieving the information is encoded here, and it’ll be stored in the files of the Starfleet commander.” Shrugging, he added. “For all I know, Admiral Comsol may decide to flush it down the nearest head.”

“I suppose one could argue that might be for the best,” Kirk said. Starfleet higher-ups had reacted with something less than restraint when faced with the possibility of harnessing the power represented by the Shedai. When considering that turn of events, the notion of containing and obscuring the truth behind Vanguard seemed at least to have some merit. On the other hand, and given the terrible costs that had been incurred, the losses suffered and the damage done—noble intentions notwithstanding—Kirk found it impossible to believe that Starfleet and the Federation Council would allow the data, artifacts, and other material collected by Nogura and his people to be forever relegated to obscurity. To Kirk, that seemed a waste of great potential and something of an insult to those who had paid the ultimate price in pursuit of the project’s goals.

“Despite everything that’s happened,” he said, “surely we’ll find a way to do some good with at least some of what we learned.”

Nogura replied, “In a manner of speaking. One or two new research and development projects are already in motion, but you can bet they’re on a tight leash and always will be.” The admiral seemed to ponder the possibilities for a moment before adding, “Even if those efforts bear fruit, any connection to the project will be disavowed.” He sighed as he placed the data card in his pocket, and Kirk saw the unease in the older man’s eyes. “I still worry that someone in Starfleet will want to take what we already know and try to do the same sort of stupid thing that ended up costing us the station and the entire project.”

“While I understand the need for security, sir,” Kirk said, “this just seems wrong. Deliberately destroying or simply suppressing knowledge isn’t what we’re supposed to be about, Admiral.”

“On any other day,” Nogura replied, “I’d agree with you. Actually, I agree with you today, too. However, what we’ve got under our thumb here is just trouble waiting to be unleashed. I’d almost call it evil, though that’s probably taking things a bit too far.”

Recalling similar conversations he had enjoyed with his former first officer over late-night chess games, Kirk said, “If Mister Spock were here, he’d tell us that all knowledge is for good; only the use to which it’s put can be for good or evil.”

“And he’d be right,” Nogura countered. “In an ideal universe, at least. Hell, we’ve already proved your former first officer quite correct in that regard, which is why we’re going to all this trouble. All we can hope is that if and when it’s finally dug up again, it’ll be by someone smart enough not to repeat all our mistakes.”

The pair made their way to the exit, leaving Captain Czerwinski and her staff to their duties. Neither man looked back as the door closed behind them, signifying the final shrouds of secrecy cast over the efforts and sacrifices of so many people. How long would the fruits of such labor lie dormant here, locked within the bowels of this place and waiting for someone to find them? Was it truly possible for Operation Vanguard, as well as everyone and everything associated with it, to remain a mostly ignored and perhaps forgotten part of Federation and Starfleet history?

Maybe, Kirk mused. At least, until we need to remember it again.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks very much to the folks at Pocket Books, who asked me to take on this story. To be honest, I thought my tenure with Star Trek: Vanguardhad ended with What Judgments Come, the series’ penultimate novel, so it was both a surprise and a privilege to provide this “coda” to the entire Vanguardstory. The last thing I wanted was for this novella to dilute any of what the four of us—David Mack, Marco Palmieri, Kevin Dilmore, and myself—had accomplished over the course of seven novels and four novellas. So my intention with In Tempest’s Wakewas to provide something of a capstone to the series without taking away from anything you might already have read. Whether I succeeded in that regard is up to you.

Speaking of David, Marco, and Kevin, I once again tip my hat to these friends and colleagues with whom I’ve had the pleasure of taking this journey for the better part of eight years. Bringing Star Trek: Vanguardto what we hope was a satisfying conclusion was a task we all took very seriously, and responses to this point have largely been very positive. Writing for this series is some of the most fun I’ve had writing Star Trekfiction for Pocket, due in very large part to their friendship.