Trek It!

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Together, they had saved a civilization in spite of itself…at least for now.

  Turning, he handed one multiterpreter to Mariko and the other to J'Tull. Then, though he knew the Hephaestan wouldn't like it, he hugged both women at once.

  "We made it," he whispered, hoping that he was speaking for Zeke as well. "We made it."

  *****

  Part Three: Mariko

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Gently, Mariko placed the crimson seedling in the hole that she had dug, then scooped in red soil with a trowel. When the hole was full, she used the trowel to smooth the earth around the base of the seedling; as a finishing touch, she put the tool down and patted the dirt with her bare hands.

  Even before the applause started, she felt a wave of congratulatory relief and resolution. In spite of setbacks and suffering, she not only had survived a terrible ordeal, but had helped stave off an invasion and unite two alienated species. Throughout most of the gauntlet, she had been deprived of the gift of speech and the aid of her crewmates; silenced, imprisoned, and manipulated, she had descended to the depths of despair…only to resurface with renewed strength and determination.

  And now, here she was, helping to add the story of the crisis to the botanical records planted in the Garden of Yesterday.

  As the assembled crowd applauded, she leaned back and surveyed the patch of history before her. When fully grown, the cluster of tiny red seedlings would bloom with flowers of many colors and fragrances. Miraculously engineered by the lexicon gardeners, the flora would tell a story with their scents, recounting the arrival of Exogenesis, the attack of the Free Speakers, the second coming of the Mazeesh, and the inception of the historic agreement between the Mazeesh and the Vox.

  Most of the other shoots had been planted by the revised lexicons who inhabited the underground garden. They had extra reasons to celebrate this day: those who had been permanently silenced during revisions had had their gags removed by Doctor Plog's team, as had Mariko; and all exiled lexicons were now free to come and go as they pleased, to travel to the surface without fear of capture or worse.

  Mariko's Exogenesis crewmates, who likewise were all too happy to celebrate the end of the recent turmoil, had also planted seedlings in the patch. Captain Swift, Commander J'Tull, Commander Turner, and Lieutenant Simon had all taken part in the ceremonial planting; Mariko, however, had been given the honor of putting the final seedling in place, the shoot whose bloom would emit the scent concluding the story of recent events.

  As she gave the dirt around the seedling a final pat, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning and looking up, she saw Giza gazing down at her. His blonde fur, which already had been crowded with elaborate painted designs, now included one more marking: a triple tongue of flame on one side of his snout, his badge of office as newly elected regent of Vox.

  As Mariko got to her feet, Regent Giza chattered away in the spoken language of the Vox. Mariko did not bother to draw the multiterpreter from the hip pocket of her uniform; during her time among the Vox, she had learned enough of the language to follow what Giza said.

  "You have made history," he told her, "and now you have preserved it. I hope you will return to breathe the scent of the flower you have planted when it blossoms."

  "I hope so, too," Mariko said in the Vox language, and she meant it, though not so long ago she had wanted only to leave this planet and never come back.

  As Giza bowed and stepped aside, Mariko's shipmates pressed forward.

  "Nice work, Mariko," said Captain Swift with a smile, shaking her hand.

  "Thank you, Captain," said Mariko, "but all I did was plant a flower."

  "I meant the work you've done on Vox," said Swift. "I want you to know you'll be receiving a commendation from Astrofleet, along with J'Tull, Zeke, and Martin."

  "If I'd known all I had to do to get a commendation was spend a day in a coma, I would've done it a long time ago," said Zeke, rocking on his crutches.

  "A commendation is illogical, in my case," J'Tull said evenly. "I abandoned my commanding officer in the midst of an attack by hostile forces."

  "And if you hadn't, we probably wouldn't be standing here right now," said Swift. "If you hadn't retrieved the shuttle, we might not have rescued Mariko and stopped the invasion."

  "I respectfully ask that you withdraw my commendation as well, Captain," said Martin. "In my opinion, I deserve a reprimand, not a commendation, for my performance while in command of Exogenesis."

  "Not a chance," said Swift.

  "I waited too long to try to send down an extraction team for you and the others," said Martin. "I brought suicide bombers onboard Exogenesis. I kept the ship in orbit when the fleet arrived, in direct violation of your orders."

  "Tell me, Martin," said Swift. "How many crew members did you lose? How many dead?"

  "None, sir," said Martin. "But there were quite a few serious injuries."

  "And did you lose the ship?" said Swift.

  "There was quite a bit of damage, sir," said Martin.

  "And did you start a war?"

  "No, sir," said Martin.

  Swift grinned and clapped a hand on the tactical officer's shoulder. "In my book, that merits a commendation."

  "But, sir…" said Martin.

  "That's my last word on the subject," said Swift, casting stern looks at both Martin and J'Tull. "You're getting commendations whether you like it or not."

  "I don't know whether to congratulate you or offer my sympathies," Zeke said sardonically, offering a hand to Martin. "Either way, put 'er there."

  Martin looked decidedly unhappy but reached out to shake Zeke's hand. "Congratulations to you, Commander," he said reluctantly.

  "Congratulations to all of you," said Doctor Plog, bowing in the general direction of his crewmates. "I think you've all done exceptionally well under extremely challenging circumstances." Plog wore a silver mesh sensor suit that enabled him to avoid obstacles, but he would remain sightless until he could undergo surgery at Exogenesis's next stop, a Hephaestan medical facility.

  "So, Cap'n," said Zeke. "Now that we've established how wonderful we all are, how about filling us in on when we're due to ship out? Not that I haven't had a lovely time here on Vox, mind you."

  "As soon as the communications system is complete," said Swift, turning to Mariko. "And that won't be much longer, will it?"

  Mariko shook her head. "Just one more day to work out a few bugs," she said confidently. In the week since the resolution of the crisis, she and J'Tull had worked tirelessly on devising an interface to allow the Vox and Mazeesh to communicate directly. The system was similar in conception to the makeshift interface utilized in the Ministry tower; video pickups would scan Mazeesh written language, which then would be converted by multiterpreter into audible Vox speech. Though the system would only be needed until the Vox learned to read and write, its performance would be vital to the success of the Vox-Mazeesh agreement.

  Not that it would take long for the Vox to master the intricacies of written language. In addition to setting up the communication interface, Mariko had overseen the initiation of a literacy education program on the planet, with startling results. The

  multi-lingual Vox gained command of the Mazeesh written language in no time at all; learning and teaching it had become something of a worldwide craze, especially among the young.

  One of the best students, in fact, approached Mariko now, eliciting a happy welcome from Captain Swift.

  "Lyra!" he said with a huge grin. "It's great to see you!"

  "It is great to see you, too, Captain," said Lyra in perfect English, whiskers twitching. In less than a week, the quick study had mastered spoken English as well as the Mazeesh written language, demonstrating natural linguistic ability beyond even that of her fellow Vox.

  "Thank you again for everything," said Swift. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

  "I say the same to you, Captain Swift," said Lyra. "To all of you. We will mi
ss you when you go."

  "We'll miss you, too," said Swift. "I hope we can visit someday."

  "Only without all the drama," Zeke said with a smirk.

  Lyra looked as if she did not quite understand Zeke's remark, then seemed to shrug it off. "I hope so, too," she said. "We will never forget what you have done for us.

  "You, especially," she said to Mariko, "as you will see when you read this."

  Lyra handed over a scroll of reddish parchment, tied with a silver cord. When she untied the cord and rolled out the scroll, Mariko was surprised to see lines of recognizable text…English text, neatly printed in scarlet ink.

  "Who did this?" said Mariko, running a finger over the parchment.

  "I did," Lyra said brightly. "I have been working on it in my spare time."

  Mariko stared at her in amazement. "Do you mean to tell me you've learned written English, too? You've learned two written languages and one spoken language in one week?"

  "I wanted it to be a surprise," said Lyra.

  "Looks like she could give you a run for your money in the translation department, Mariko," said Zeke.

  "There's no contest," said Mariko, gazing at the parchment and slowly shaking her head. "She's incredible."

  "Are you going to read it?" Lyra said eagerly.

  "Yes," said Mariko, scanning the lines of text. She started to say something about the neatness of the printing…then stopped as the meaning of the words in front of her took shape.

  By the time she got to the end, she felt a lump in her throat. Completely caught off guard, she frowned at the scroll, unable to believe what was printed there.

  "Well?" said Zeke, nodding at the parchment. "What's it say?"

  Tears welling in her eyes, Mariko looked at Lyra, then back to the scroll. As she read it a second time, she felt so overcome with emotion that she thought she might burst.

  Everything she had been through had led her to this. She had been caught up in a nightmare but had persevered, tapping unexpected stores of strength…and now, she held the proof of her triumph in trembling hands.

  For a lover of language, it was an incredible honor. For an explorer, it was an unforgettable milestone.

  For a woman who only a week ago had courted death with a slip of the tongue, it was the ultimate redemption.

  "Come on, Hosh," said Zeke. "Let us in on the big secret."

  Mariko bit her lower lip and dabbed at her eyes. Captain Swift went to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  "Let me see," he said softly, sliding the scroll from her grip. When he had read it for himself, he smiled warmly at her.

  "It's a proclamation," he said. "The Vox have officially added a new word to their language."

  "The word is 'Mariko,'" said Lyra. "It means 'bringer of truth.'"

  "Well, how about that," said Zeke. "You're the first member of the crew to have a word named after them on another planet."

  "You might be the first human that's happened to, Mariko," said Swift, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Congratulations."

  He handed the scroll back to her, and she read it again. Her eyes burned and blurred, and she felt moisture on her cheeks.

  In years to come, whenever she saw the splash marks left by her tears on the scroll, she would think of this perfect moment in the garden, grown like a flower from the aftermath of the most terrible storm imaginable…and she would smile, and sometimes another tear would fall onto the parchment, leaving its mark.

  *****

  Trek It! Part Seven:

  Trek You!

  *****

  Forty Days and Forty Nights

  Chapters 1-6

  An Adventure of the Star Cruiser Infinitude

  By Robert T. Jeschonek

  *****

  NOTE: Presenting the first six chapters of a lost weekly serial created for an online Trek on the 40th birthday of the original scifi saga. This epic tale crash-landed due to website and staffing cuts and appears here for the first time anywhere.

  Chapter 1

  Earth Year: 2270

  Personal Journal, Captain Matthew Horn recording. En route to our next assignment, the Infinitude crew has found enough free time to celebrate a very special occasion: the wedding of Lieutenants Nabokov and Zahara. Before the wedding, we've arranged to salute Mr. Nabokov with a noble and time-honored tradition.

  *****

  "Vhere are the Sensulon dancing girls?" Anton Nabokov, navigator of the star cruiser Infinitude, looked all around the crowded mess hall. "I thought you said there vould be Sensulon dancing girls at my bachelor party."

  "In your dreams, maybe," said helmsman Hachiro Sanu.

  "Some best man you are," said Nabokov.

  "Laddie! Perhaps I can help!" Grinning, chief engineer Duncan MacDuff swung an arm around Nabokov's shoulders. "A little a' this magic elixir..." MacDuff dangled a bottle of scotch whiskey in front of Nabokov's face. "...and ye'll be seein' Sensulon women poppin' out of every Jeffries tube on the ship."

  Standing in front of a counter that had been converted into a makeshift bar, half-Hephaestan science officer Mr. Sark raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see the benefit in allowing alcoholic beverages to be consumed at this event."

  "Now there's a shocker," said ship's doctor Leonard McKee, who stood at the other end of the bar with a mint julep in his hand.

  Matthew Horn, captain of the Infinitude, leaned forward from behind the bar and raised a glass of bright blue liquid. "On a special occasion like this, I think even a captain's allowed one Byzanthion ale."

  McKee clinked his glass against Horn's. "I'll drink to that."

  Across the room, Nabokov threw himself down in a chair and sighed. "No Sensulon vomen. No Nebulon dancing girls. Not even a Quillian geisha. Maybe I should've had the bachelor party on Fantasy World and the vedding in the mess hall."

  "That reminds me." Horn stepped back and switched on a comm panel. "Horn to bridge. What's our status?"

  Lieutenant Uzuri's melodic voice flowed from the speaker. "Steady on course for the Theta Trianguli region, Captain."

  Horn nodded. Theta Trianguli was home to what had become known unofficially as "Fantasy World"--a world where advanced alien technology brought wishes and deepest desires to life. Luckily, the Infinitude's next assignment was in the same general direction, and her schedule would make Nabokov's dream wedding possible.

  "Thank you, Lieutenant. Horn out." As he switched off the comm panel, Horn smiled. Uzuri had made great strides professionally in the past year. Horn felt completely at ease with her in the command chair.

  Too bad she was transferring off the ship in a week.

  "Our family is breaking up." Horn turned back to the bar. "Uzuri's leaving. Nabokov's getting married."

  "Seems like only yesterday we were changing their diapers," said McKee.

  Horn smirked. "Eleven months till the end of the seven-year mission, Doc. Then we'll all be leaving the nest."

  "And I'll finally be out from under your thumb." McKee grinned. "I'm countin' down the days, Matt."

  Just then, Nabokov leaped to his feet, in the process knocking over the chair he'd been occupying. "But I vill be heppy! I love Zahara!"

  "And what about yer freedom, Laddie?" said MacDuff. It was the latest round of a debate that had been going on between them for weeks.

  "I still say marriage isn't the end of the vorld!" said Nabokov.

  The end of the world.

  That was exactly what Horn saw looming in the distance. The end of the five-year mission. The crew going their separate ways. Then what?

  I'm Matthew Horn. I've faced monsters, alien weapons, anomalies, and alternate selves of every stripe.

  Why is this bothering me so much?

  "I've always had trouble with endings," said Horn.

  "Yet another quality that makes you completely different from everyone else in the galaxy," said McKee.

  "It's just...this ship. This crew. This mission." Horn smiled. "How can life possibly get any better?
"

  Sark cleared his throat. "There is a Hephaestan fable that might apply here."

  McKee rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

  "A noskah master climbed to the summit of Mount Seleya," said Sark, "only to come nose to nose with a hungry zavakh. In his haste to escape, the noskah master ran off the edge of a cliff...but was able to catch hold of a vine."

  McKee narrowed his eyes. "This sounds familiar."

  "If the noskah master climbed back up to the summit, the zavakh would devour him," said Sark. "If he let go of the branch, he would plunge to his death. 'What will you do, master?' said the zavakh.

  "The noskah master saw a ripe, purple paka fruit growing within arm's reach from the side of the cliff. He picked the fruit and bit into it, tasting its rich sweetness."

  "Now I know I've heard this one before!" McKee said angrily. "A tiger chases a Buddhist monk off a cliff, and he eats a strawberry!"

  "How does your story end, Sark?" said Horn.

  "The monk finds true joy," said McKee.

  "Incorrect," said Sark. "The noskah master was satisfied that he had attained true noskah, the banishment of all emotion, because he was unable to experience any enjoyment of the fruit."

  McKee stared at Sark for a long moment. "Leave it to you to suck the joy out of anything," McKee said finally.

  "Thank you, Doctor," said Sark.

  It was then that the mess hall door slid open, admitting someone new to the party.

  The look on Nabokov's face was one of surprise...and panic. "Z-Zahara?" he said. "Vhat brings you here?"

  Even in a standard-issue blue uniform tunic and black trousers, Lieutenant Zahara looked stunning. Light glinted from her silvery skin, and her eyes and flowing hair shimmered with a golden glow. She was at least a head taller than anyone in the room, her lean body perfectly curved and carved and cut. She moved with a fluid, gliding grace, as if she were always in slow motion.