[101] Raynr Sleven smiled. “You’re never too old to be fooled, if it can spare you heartache.”
A party from the Enterprise, consisting of Captain Picard, Counselor Troi, Commander Riker, and Commander La Forge, arrived on the Javlek and were conducted to what looked like a grand ballroom, with a cathedral ceiling, numerous green crystal chandeliers, and intricate mosaic-tiled flooring. It was empty except for hundreds of piles of sand arranged in lengthy rows. Lying upon each pile of sand were a number of small personal items: medals, rank insignia, and holographic photos. Seeing these stark representations of so many dead was a sobering experience for Picard, and it brought home how many had been lost upon both the Petrask and the Barcelona.
“Wait here,” said their escort. “Commander Kaylena and the rest of the funeral procession are on their way.”
The captain nodded. “Thank you.”
A moment later, the lights in the great hall dimmed, and they could hear a somber drumbeat and chanting voices from the open door. Picard and his party stepped aside to allow the procession of drummers and mourners to enter. The Romulans were dressed in scarlet robes emblazoned with gold trim, their traditional colors of mourning, and more than a few of them were weeping as they entered. It was always odd to see a race identical to Vulcans behaving emotionally, but Picard quite understood. He had buried too many comrades not to understand.
At the end of the procession came Commander Kaylena, bearing a golden scroll in her hand; she was dressed the same as the others, without any indication of her rank. Continuing their solemn chant, the mourners filed into the great hall, and each one took a position beside a pile of sand and mementos. Kaylena strode to the middle of the hall and halted beside a slightly larger funeral cairn. Picard suspected that it represented the captain of the Petrask.
[102] When everyone was in place, the drummers beat a resounding conclusion to their dirge, then they stood perfectly still on the periphery, along with the visitors from the Enterprise. Commander Kaylena surveyed the assemblage, then she lifted her regal chin and began to speak:
“Loyal citizens of the Star Empire, and distinguished guests from the Enterprise, we are gathered here to honor our fallen comrades from the Petrask and the Barcelona. They have given their lives in the pursuit of science, attempting to save others from death and destruction. As yet, we do not know the names or motives of their assassins—or if there was any intelligence behind this cowardly act—but we will never rest until we have avenged these brutal killings.”
For several moments, the mourners chanted and wailed, and the drummers beat a rapid tattoo. Then the great ballroom quieted again, and Kaylena went on, “We know one thing—that these heroes will be welcomed back to the Vorta Vor, where they will serve as honor guards as long as the stars shine in the firmament. The grief of their loved ones and comrades is shared by every citizen of the Empire, and of the Federation. We also honor the fallen heroes of Starfleet, whose spirits will accompany our companions to the world beyond this plane of existence.”
She turned to the visitors. “Captain Picard, would you like to speak?”
“Yes, thank you,” he answered, stepping forward. “So far, the Enterprise has lost only one comrade on this mission, Ensign Crago Wapot, and we cherish the memory of this brave officer. He gave his life so that others may live, and this is the highest calling of the security department, in which he was a squad leader. Eighty-eight beings perished aboard the Barcelona, and only one survivor lived to tell their story—but all of us will tell of their sacrifice many thousands of times. For every member of the Barcelona’s crew, we wish peace in the afterlife, in whatever form they believe, and we pray for [103] comfort for their loved ones in their hour of grief.” He nodded to Commander Kaylena to indicate he was through.
She continued, “Thank you, Captain Picard. With these witnesses present, we commit their ashes—in this case symbolic ashes—to the stars. As in the days of our ancestors’ arrival on Romulus, when they sought refuge in the Cave of Winds, we use the power of the wind to ferry our dead to the World to come. As I read the Roll of Honor, will the attendants release the mortal remains of our fallen comrades, allowing their spirits to depart.”
Kaylena unfurled her golden scroll and began to read names aloud. As each name was read, an attendant standing beside a heap of sand placed a small blinking device on the pile. At once, the sand and mementos began to swirl into a funnel cloud, like a dust devil. Within seconds, each one of these swirling funeral pyres rose toward the cathedral ceiling, where they commingled into a great, roaring circle of sand. Picard realized that the green chandeliers produced not only light but the energy needed for this impressive undertaking.
“I think those devices negate the artificial gravity on this deck,” whispered La Forge.
Some attendants had more than one comrade to honor, and they moved throughout the hall, taking new positions. As the amount of wind increased, it buffeted mourners and visitors alike, until it was as if they were standing in a storm. Finally, the last name was read, and Commander Kaylena raised her arms to the impressive cloud of dust whirling over their heads.
“May the void of space accept our legion of heroes!” intoned the commander. At once, the glittering chandeliers aimed white beams into the whirlpool, and the sand storm began to glow with a billion burning embers, like fireflies caught in a tornado. It took almost a minute, but all the sand and relics were eventually dematerialized—outside the ship, the captain presumed. It was an intricate burial procedure, but strangely effective and efficient.
[104] When the last speck of sand was gone, the wind stopped, and the drummers started a steady beat to accompany the mourners on their way out of the ballroom. There was no small talk among the Romulans—they were done with their service. Commander Kaylena remained behind to confer with her guests.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “It meant a great deal to us.”
“And to us as well,” answered the captain. “I believe you’ve met my officers.” There was a round of introductions, and the Romulan graciously welcomed each member of Picard’s party.
“I’m also thankful that you returned the radiation suits in your possession,” said Kaylena with the wisp of a smile. “Now, Captain, do you have a few minutes to discuss our next course of action?”
“I’m afraid we don’t need a few minutes,” answered Picard grimly. “Our new orders are to station warning buoys around the debris and the anomaly, then be prepared to leave here. The reinforcements we sent for are not coming either.”
The Romulan looked shocked. “You would abandon this extraordinary—and dangerous—situation?”
“It’s not my doing,” answered the captain, “but a direct order from my superiors. Apparently, this problem is more widespread than we thought, and there are other places to investigate. It should only take us about a day to set the buoys, and we’re going to start right now. Then we’ll assist you until we’re ordered to leave.”
Kaylena scowled. “By that time, my replacement will be here to relieve me.” The beautiful Romulan looked up at the glowing green chandeliers, and her eyes grew misty for a moment. “I will certainly lose command of this task force, but I had hoped to maintain command of my ship. Your presence to testify on my behalf, Captain Picard, would have been helpful.”
“Commander, it certainly wasn’t my intention—”
“Enough,” she barked, cutting him off. “We must proceed with our investigation, and do so immediately. The centurion will conduct you back to the transporter room. Good day to you and your [105] party, Captain.” Angrily, Kaylena stalked off, leaving the visitors in the hands of the escort who had brought them to the ballroom.
“This way, Captain Picard,” said the stiff-necked centurion, leading the way into the corridor. The guests dutifully followed, with Riker and La Forge discussing details of the buoy assignment.
“You seem troubled,” said Deanna Troi, falling into step beside the captain. “You didn’t
wish our collaboration with them to end like this.”
“No,” he said with a frown, “I didn’t wish it to end like this, not when it was just getting started.”
nine
Teska surveyed the humanoids hanging from the ceiling like the sides of beef she had once seen in San Francisco, where she had spent her childhood. She knew she would never forget that image, and she doubted if she would ever forget this one either. They were encased in transparent bags, which expanded and contracted at the rate of normal breathing. Shining a light into the morass, the Vulcan could see vines and clumps of moss snaking everywhere among the dark rafters. A thick green mucus dripped to the floor from many of the still forms. Here and there, the life-support system had been blasted away by disrupter fire, and there were scorch marks and burnt bodies among those in suspended animation. Even a perfunctory glance told her that many humanoid species were represented among the ranks of slaves in this underground chamber on Lomar.
Unfortunately, the Vulcan’s tricorder informed her that the vast majority of the bags in this section of the complex held corpses. In their battle to eliminate the moss creatures, the Romulans had decimated much of the life-support system, dooming those hanging in suspension.
[107] Although trained all her life to discount emotion, Teska almost wished she could muster some anger and indignation at what the moss creatures had done to so many innocent beings—not just the hundreds here but the billions who had perished during the Genesis Wave. Slaughter on such a grand scale was beyond intellectual comprehension—it demanded an emotional response, which she was unable to give. Her two escorts, who had come to Lomar days ago, looked benumbed by their experiences. To them, these now were slabs of beef, waiting to be catalogued and distributed.
“Staggering, isn’t it?” said the human medical officer, Franklin Oswald, as he gazed upward at the disturbing sight.
“Yes,” she admitted, “it is. They obviously did not consider humanoids to be their equals.”
“No, they considered us to be food, tools, and transportation,” said her other colleague, a female Tiburonian biologist by the name of Pokrifa.
“Not to mention raw material for their new planets,” muttered Oswald. He studied his tricorder readings as he strolled beneath the grim shapes hanging from the rafters. “You know, some of these bodies are centuries old, and so are the ships that were recovered. They must have needed them all to build this facility; but after that, they stored them, just keeping a few active. We’ve found whole crews that were listed as missing during the Dominion war.”
“Have you successfully revived many of them?” asked Teska.
“We’ve got eighty-seven of them on the hospital ship,” answered Oswald, “and only a few are any better off than these poor souls. The rest are like vegetables—alive, but nothing left of their minds. We’re still trying various techniques to revive them, but the Romulans made such a mess of things that it’s hopeless, in most cases.”
Teska nodded solemnly. “Have my predecessors retrieved any useful information?”
“No,” answered the Tiburonian, Pokrifa. “They’re too confused when we revive them, and they’re dying. I’ve never seen a Vulcan [108] look discouraged before, but I swear the last one did. Where do you want to begin?”
“Admiral Nechayev wants all of them liberated and interrogated as quickly as possible.”
“Well, that’s the problem,” said Pokrifa. “Do we hurry and do this efficiently, or do we take our time and do it with at least a small probability of success? Remember, each one of these slaves was infested by the moss creatures, and that parasitic relationship is the only thing keeping them alive. It takes time to remove the vines and tentacles without hastening their death.”
Oswald nodded his head in agreement. “I don’t think your admiral knows what she’s gotten herself into here.”
“She knows,” Teska assured her colleagues. “She warned me this would be an unpleasant experience.”
The medical worker gave a humorless chuckle. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
“We could spend a year just trying to identify these people,” said the Tiburonian. “And the autopsies are difficult with all the foreign bodies in them. We’re glad to see you, but we need more help.”
“More help is not forthcoming,” answered Teska. She reached up and touched the dangling foot of the closest humanoid, who appeared to be a Vulcan like herself. Or perhaps it was a Romulan or a Rigelian, both of whom were physically indistinguishable from Vulcans.
“Have you tried to interrogate them without cutting them down?” she asked.
Oswald and Pokrifa looked queasily at one another as if nobody would consider such a selfish course of action. “That won’t save their lives,” replied the human.
“True,” answered Teska. “But you have told me that saving their lives is virtually impossible, and that interrogating them in a confused and dying state is impractical. Therefore, the logical procedure would be to interrogate them first.”
“A bit cold-blooded, isn’t it?” asked Oswald.
[109] The Vulcan cocked an eyebrow. “The Romulans have seized everything of value from this facility, and our only access to information is these impaired witnesses. Would you sacrifice their doubtful future in order to find out if the Genesis Wave is about to be unleashed again?”
“Well, yeah, if you put it that way,” answered Oswald hesitantly.
“Get me a ladder,” ordered Teska.
On the bridge of the Sequoia, Admiral Nechayev gazed squarely at her first officer, the Benzite named Marbinz, wondering if he would ever accept the fact that this was not his ship anymore. It never was. If he were the captain of this vessel, she would cut him down at the knees, stuff him into a shuttlecraft, and send him home. But he was her first officer—her liaison to the rest of the crew—and how she handled him would determine how well she related to all the others. So she held her tongue and let him make his point.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” said the Benzite staunchly, “I can’t in good conscience let you to send ninety percent of our crew down to Lomar without objection. This ship has just been refitted—we have ongoing diagnostics, testing, and training that requires our engineering staff and other crucial departments. We’re here in support, not to take over this planet and leave ourselves shorthanded.”
“Objection noted,” replied Nechayev calmly. “You have every right to put your objections in your log and send them to my superiors. But be smart when you pick your fights, Commander. They’re not going to back you when they’ve charged me with bringing some order to this operation. I’ve just come back from Lomar, and believe me, we’re in far better condition than the people down there. They’re woefully shorthanded. Save your firepower until you really need it for a battle you can win. Now get those work crews together and get them down there.”
The Benzite blinked at her, stunned by her candor and bluntness. [110] “Yes, Sir.” With a brusque nod, Commander Marbinz strode toward the turbolift and exited the bridge.
Nechayev gazed at the rest of her subordinates as they snapped their heads back to their consoles. That was all the lessons on the chain of command they were going to get today, decided the admiral.
The Coridan on the tactical station looked up with a quizzical expression. “Captain,” he said, “an unsecured, anonymous, subspace message has arrived for you. It’s very brief and doesn’t make much sense. Shall I erase it?”
“No,” she barked. “I don’t wish anybody to screen my messages for me. Please remember that in the future. What does it say?”
“The eel-bird chases the sehlat,” replied the officer puzzledly.
Nechayev let a slight smile escape from her lips. “Thank you. Now you may erase it.”
Although there were quizzical expressions all around the bridge, Nechayev ignored them. The admiral was a wily poker player, and one thing she had learned long ago was never to show anyone her hole card.
The invita
tion, which was printed on reed parchment like the ancient Books of Prophecy, read:
“You have been chosen to receive the most important revelation to the Bajoran people since the discovery of the Wormhole. Through diligent research and years of archeological exploration, a former vedek has uncovered a previously unknown Orb. This is the most powerful Orb of them all—the Orb of Life. Our enemies are still active and still determined to prevent the Bajoran people from restoring spiritual health in the Alpha Quadrant. Therefore, secrecy must be maintained. We urge you not to reveal the contents of this message to anyone, not even your closest associates.
“If you wish to experience first-hand the incredible power of the Orb of Life, please report to shuttlebay 42 in the ancient city of [111] Tempassa one hour before dawn on the first Day of Redemption. In the cause of maintaining secrecy, we urge you to come yourself or send one representative with this invitation in hand. Each invitation has been coded with latinum filaments embedded on the cellular level, and duplicates will not be accepted. You will not return to Tempassa for forty-eight hours, so bring provisions for a two-day trip. This will be the most incredible journey of your life.”
The invitation was signed, “Protectors of the Orb of Life.”
Chellac reacted to his reading with a toothy grin and folded up the extra invitation. “Not a bad job of writing, if I do say so myself.”
“Do you really think they’ll keep it a secret?” asked the young shuttlecraft pilot, Cassie Jackson.
“No, of course not,” answered the Ferengi with a laugh. “If you want the word to get out, you tell people it’s an incredible secret. That stands to reason. There aren’t any latinum filaments in these things either, but nobody knows that but us. When our guests start arriving, we’ve got to make some sort of show of checking these invitations.”
Cassie looked thoughtful and pointed under the instrument panel of her shuttlecraft. “I’ve got a trash receptacle down here. I could stick the invitation in, press a few buttons, and declare it valid.”
STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Three Page 11