Destiny: The Complete Saga: Gods of Night, Mere Mortals, and Lost Souls

by David Mack

  “Do you remember Judi and Adams?”

  Vicenzo thought for a moment. “You mean that nice couple who lived out on Dundee Ridge? Didn’t they move?”

  “Yes,” Kadohata said. “They started a farm on Kennovere.”

  “Right, Kennovere,” he said, nodding in confirmation. “That crazy, low-tech organic colony out past Typerias.”

  “Organic, yes. Crazy, maybe not. That’s a way of life I’d really like the kids to see.”

  He rolled his eyes and combed his fingers through his unruly dark hair. “Okay,” he said. “I’m not sure I can fit that in during spring break. Maybe when the semester’s over—”

  “They ought to see it as soon as possible,” Kadohata said, more sharply than she’d meant to. “Before the growing season ends on Kennovere next month.”

  She recognized the look of slowly dawning understanding that was changing Vicenzo’s face. “It’ll be tricky getting out there in time,” he said, doing a poor job of pretending to be nonchalant. “We’d probably have to hop a transport out first thing tomorrow to have a chance at seeing the harvest.”

  “Trust me, love,” she said, her eyes misting with tears as she fought to bury her fears. “It’ll be worth it.”

  The overhead comm beeped twice and was followed by Commander Worf’s irate baritone. “Commander Kadohata, report to the bridge immediately.”

  “On my way, sir,” she answered. “Kadohata out.” Then she looked back to her husband and touched her fingertips to his lips on the screen. “Duty calls, love. Safe travels.”

  He touched his screen and replied, “You, too, sweetheart.”

  The signal ended abruptly, and her monitor went black.

  Kadohata stood, tied her hair back in a utilitarian knot, and smoothed her uniform while looking in the mirror.

  It’ll be all right, she assured herself. He’ll get the kids out of Federation space. Out of the war zone.

  As she left her quarters and hurried to the bridge, she kept telling herself that everything would be okay, but she knew that unless the Borg invasion was halted soon, having her family flee their home wouldn’t be enough to save them. Because when the real invasion came, there would be nowhere left to run to.

  * * *

  Worf detested sitting still. All around him, the Enterprise felt as if it was shaking itself to pieces while making its transit of the subspace tunnel Elfiki had opened. At flight control, Joanna Faur fought to steady the Sovereign-class vessel’s passage, and from ops Commander Kadohata called out over the rumbling of the engines and turbulence, “Shields weakening.”

  Defying his instincts, Worf looked at the captain and said, “Sir, I suggest we route phaser power to shields.”

  Picard assented without hesitation. “Make it so.”

  Worf delegated the order with a glance at Choudhury, who nodded and entered the command on the tactical console.

  “Picking up speed,” Faur reported, reacting quickly to the changing data at the conn. “Full impulse plus ten percent.”

  Lieutenant Elfiki looked up from the starboard science station to add, “We’re reading an extreme-gravity environment ahead, past the tunnel’s terminus. We should be able to compensate for it with a low-power subspace field.”

  “Bridge to engineering,” Worf said.

  La Forge answered. “Go ahead, bridge.”

  “Stand by to generate a low-power subspace field, on Commander Kadohata’s signal.”

  “We’re on it,” La Forge said. “Engineering out.”

  Instead of the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, Worf saw a circle of darkness growing larger and emptier with each passing moment. Then the Enterprise shot out of the subspatial anomaly, and it seemed to be bashed in three directions at once. The force of the impacts hurtled Worf out of his chair onto the deck. As he struggled up onto one knee, a mournful groaning of stressed duranium resonated through the hull. Over the deep, metallic howls, Worf bellowed to Kadohata, “Initiate subspace field!”

  Kadohata was half on the deck, clinging with one arm to her station and manipulating its controls with her free hand. Seconds later, the banshee moans of the hull ceased. Everyone clambered back into their chairs. Once they were settled, the captain said with stern equanimity, “Report, Mister Worf.”

  “No damage, Captain,” Worf said, checking the status screen beside his chair. “A few minor injuries in the cargo bay.” He looked toward the conn officer. “Lieutenant Faur—position.”

  “Still calculating, sir,” Faur replied. “I’m not reading any of the nav beacons.” As she continued, Captain Picard got up from his chair and walked slowly toward the main viewscreen. “There’s a lot of signal interference, too. Background radiation’s off the scale.”

  Picard stood behind Kadohata and Faur and stared in silence at the image on the massive screen at the forward end of the bridge. Worf looked past the captain and realized why: There were practically no stars anywhere to be seen, just a few lonely dots of light separated by unimaginable reaches of icy void.

  “Where are we?” Picard wondered aloud.

  Worf stood and stepped forward to stand with his captain. “Perhaps we are in a region between galaxies,” he said.

  “Negative,” said Elfiki. “The gravimetric disturbances we’re reading are from massive numbers of black holes, including a few that are bigger than any ever seen before.” She tapped commands into her station’s controls. A false-spectrum image was superimposed over the emptiness on the screen, so that violet-hued rings of various sizes could represent the black holes. “In addition to the singularities, we’ve detected enough mass to suggest that there are billions of very old stars in this galaxy.”

  Kadohata gestured at the black screen. “So where are they?”

  Elfiki layered another computer-generated image over the first, this time stippling the view with brilliant points of light. “All around us,” said the science officer. “The reason we can’t see them is that they’ve all been shrouded.”

  Picard turned aft to face her. “Elaborate.”

  “If the nearest star is any indication,” she said, “the shells are some kind of neutronium composite. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific. The one shell within sensor range is proving resistant to most of our detection methods.”

  The captain glanced at Worf, as if to confirm that he wasn’t the only one hearing Elfiki’s report. Then he asked the young lieutenant, “What about planets?”

  She shook her head. “So far, we aren’t reading any. No nebulae or interstellar dust, either. It’s like someone vacuumed up all the loose matter in this galaxy—and probably from a few neighboring galaxies—to make those shells.”

  Dread and awe both showed in Picard’s eyes. “What is the purpose of these shells, Lieutenant? Energy? Concealment?”

  “Maybe both,” Elfiki said. “But I can’t imagine what anyone would need that much power for.”

  “Some acquire power for its own sake,” Worf said.

  Faur swiveled away from the conn. “I hope they didn’t do it to impress the neighbors, because it’s a long way to the next galaxy,” she said. “It’s hard to be certain, but this could have been one of the first proto-galactic clusters. It might date all the way back to first light.”

  “Remarkable,” Picard said, his voice reverentially hushed. “One of the universe’s first galaxies, completely harnessed.” He looked back at Elfiki. “Can you determine which galaxy this is, Lieutenant?”

  She shook her head. “I’d doubt it, sir. Our records of the early proto-galaxies are based on redshifted images that date back nearly thirteen billion years. Comparing those images to this shrouded galaxy would be like using a baby picture to try and identify an old man wearing a bag over his head.”

  “Lieutenant Choudhury,” Picard said. “Transmit a standard greeting hail, on all frequencies, and in all directions.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied Choudhury.

  Worf tensed as the security chief carried out Picard
’s order. It was difficult for Worf to suppress the urge to tell Choudhury to belay the captain’s command, but he knew it would be wiser to reserve such a blunt tactic for a moment when it was more critically needed. Instead, he stepped closer to Picard and lowered his voice. “Sir … discretion might be a more prudent choice, in this situation.”

  Emulating the XO’s muted tone, Picard replied, “What’s your objection, Mister Worf?”

  Before he could answer, Choudhury cut in to report, “No reply to our hails, Captain. Shall I try again?”

  Taking note of Worf’s clenched jaw and intense stare, Picard responded with a small shake of his head. “No, Lieutenant.” He met Worf’s glare and said, “This might be one of the oldest civilizations in the universe, Mister Worf. And it is the mission of the Enterprise—in times of both war and peace—to seek out new life-forms and attempt peaceful first contact.”

  “Perhaps,” Worf said. “But imagine what kind of a people would wield technology like this in such a brute manner. Then ask yourself: Is this the kind of civilization whose attention we want to attract?” While the captain pondered that, Worf added, “In any case, our mission is to seek out the staging area for the Borg invasion. This is not it. For the safety of the ship, and the sake of the mission, I suggest we reopen the subspace tunnel and return home as soon as possible.”

  The captain looked unhappy. “Very well,” he said. “Have the astrometrics teams continue their research until it’s time to head back. There’s no telling when a Starfleet vessel will get another opportunity like this one.”

  “Aye, sir,” Worf said.

  Picard wore a grim expression as he walked toward his ready room. “You have the bridge, Number One.”

  After the ready room door closed behind the captain, Worf settled into the command chair. He had just started reviewing the results of the ship’s last combat-readiness drill when Lieutenant Elfiki stepped beside his chair. “I wonder why there was no answer to our hail,” she said.

  “There are many possibilities,” Worf said.

  Elfiki tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Well, yes. Maybe they don’t listen to the frequencies we transmit. Or maybe they’re unable or unwilling to respond.”

  “Or perhaps they are extinct,” Worf said.

  The science officer looked taken aback. “Would that make you less anxious about being here, sir?”

  He looked at the great swath of blackness and imagined a hundred billion stars held captive inside dark metal spheres.

  “No,” he said. “It would not.”

  14

  Deanna Troi had thought that having Erika Hernandez stand beside her while she addressed the Caeliar Quorum might be encouraging. Instead, as Troi had feared, Hernandez said nothing while Troi stood before the eerily hovering throng of the Quorum and faced off in a futile dialogue with the Caeliar’s tanwa-seynorral, the officious Ordemo Nordal.

  “All of your suggested resolutions have been proposed here before,” Ordemo said, his stately voice resounding in the vast, crystal-walled, and pyramidal space of the Quorum chamber. “Interdicting our sector by means of your laws will only inflame others’ curiosity and draw the attention of precisely the sorts of visitors we most wish to avoid.

  “Altering your logs and even your memories would seem to be a viable tactic,” he continued, “until one considers that certain immutable laws of physics would inevitably give the lie to our ruse, and your subsequent investigation would, in all probability, lead you and your ship directly back to us.”

  The throng of Caeliar that surrounded Troi on three sides murmured in low concurrence with Ordemo’s statement.

  Troi looked to Hernandez for some kind of cue as to how she ought to proceed, but Hernandez stood with her eyes averted, staring down at the fractal pattern that adorned the chamber’s floor. Finding no help, Troi turned back toward Ordemo and waited for the Quorum’s susurrus to abate. “Answer me this,” she said to him. “If your people are so averse to contact with other species, why don’t you just leave the Milky Way? There must be a few million galaxies quieter than this one.”

  “Indubitably,” said Ordemo. “However, we have yet to find another that is blessed with the sheltering effects that this spiral formation takes for granted.”

  At a loss for understanding, Troi shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “Sheltering effects?”

  Hernandez interjected, “He means the galactic barrier.”

  “Correct,” Ordemo said. “We explored other galaxies as platforms from which we could continue the Great Work. However, all such efforts to establish ourselves met with resistance.”

  “By whom?” asked Troi. She couldn’t name many species that would be capable of mounting significant resistance against a people as technologically advanced as the Caeliar.

  Ordemo turned away to huddle with his colleagues. The teeming mass of Caeliar that was levitating several meters above the hall’s floor filled the cavernous space with a muffled, low-frequency groaning and rapid clicking noises. Then the tanwa-seynorral rotated back to face Troi and said, “We think it would be best to tell you only that, beyond the confines of this galaxy, there are many powers of varying degrees of malevolence. The only sanctuary we’ve found from their malicious interferences has been here, within the protective embrace of the galactic barrier.”

  Troi fought to hold the reins of her temper. “So what you’re saying is, since you can’t leave, neither can we?”

  “Well,” Ordemo said, slightly recoiling from her, “that’s a crude reduction of an extremely complicated situ—”

  “Yes,” Hernandez interrupted. “What he’s trying to say is yes. Whether you should think of it as ‘You’re stuck on this planet with them’ or as ‘They’re stuck in this galaxy with all of us,’ is entirely up to you.”

  A new, acute twinge of pain inside Troi’s abdomen made her wince just a bit, and she did her best to conceal it by putting on an exaggerated frown. “Thanks for the translation,” she said.

  “My pleasure,” Hernandez said, with a flicker of amusement.

  Troi realized that Hernandez’s mannerisms had become less stilted as she’d spent more time interacting with the members of Titan’s away team. Maybe I’m looking for allies in the wrong places, she speculated.

  “Deanna,” Ordemo said, “unless you have further proposals, we consider this discussion to be at an end.”

  “Fine,” Troi said, concealing her irritation at being addressed with her given name by a being who had no right to affect such a degree of familiarity.

  “Then, on behalf of this Quorum, I thank you for your input, and I hope that the rest of your residency in Axion, or on New Erigol, is pleasant and comfortable. You may go.”

  As Troi tensed in a prelude to a protest, Hernandez took Troi’s shoulder in a gentle grip and steered her away from the Quorum and toward the circle in the chamber’s center. “Trust me when I say they weren’t giving you permission,” she said. “They were giving you an order.”

  The two women stepped into the middle of the circle, which began its swift drop back to the entrance level of the pyramid. As the dark walls blurred past with just a hint of displaced air, Troi sighed. “You were right. They’re very stubborn.”

  Troi’s empathic senses felt Hernandez’s aura of sympathy as she cracked a bittersweet smile. “I told you so.”

  * * *

  Xin Ra-Havreii yawned. It had been twenty-four hours since Captain Riker had tasked him and Pazlar with finding a way to penetrate the Caeliar’s cloak of secrecy; in that time, the chief engineer had stolen less than thirty minutes for a nap, sometime just after eating dinner.

  He was certain that he was on the verge of a breakthrough. Somewhere in the flurry of subspace emissions and energy pulses, he knew there was a pattern. It was elusive, though. The harder he worked to pierce the clutter of noise to find the truth of the signal, the more chaotic everything seemed.

  Worst of all, it was so close. If only I could see it, he fumed, ru
bbing the itch of exhaustion from his eyes. Then he scratched his bushy white eyebrows and massaged the dull ache from his temples.

  A new bundle of data packets appeared on his lab’s status display. It was a wealth of new sensor readings compiled and annotated with painstaking precision by Pazlar. The answer’s in this batch, he told himself. This time for sure.

  He had drained the last dregs of iced raktajino from his insulated mug and had started browsing through the new data when he was interrupted by the buzz of the door signal. “Come in,” he said, too tired to mask his irritation.

  The door opened, and Dr. Huilan waddled in. The diminutive S’ti’ach blinked his large, black eyes and presented himself as the very picture of innocence. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Actually, Counselor, I’m in the middle of working on a priority assignment for the captain,” Ra-Havreii said.

  Ambling closer, Huilan replied, “I’ll be brief, then. I’ve come to talk to you about the holopresence system you built for Melora Pazlar.”

  Ra-Havreii turned away from Huilan, back toward his work, and asked in a dismissive tone, “What of it?”

  “I’d like you to shut it off,” Huilan said, sidling up behind the Efrosian. “Maybe even dismantle it.”

  A flash of temper spurred Ra-Havreii to pivot and loom angrily above his meter-tall visitor. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  Huilan reacted defensively, raising the fearsome spikes that lined his blue-furred back. “There’s no need to get upset, Commander,” he said.

  “Sorry,” Ra-Havreii said, feeling self-conscious. He took a deep breath, smoothed his snowy, drooping mustache through the loop of his thumb and forefinger, and backed off half a step. “What’s your objection to the holopresence module?”

  The counselor’s dorsal spines retracted gradually as he answered, “I’m concerned that it’s serving as a new kind of crutch for her—and another crutch is the last thing she needs.”

  Shaking his head, Ra-Havreii said, “That’s ridiculous. It’s not a crutch at all. It’s freedom from crutches.”