by Dayton Ward
“Dear lord,” Leone said, looking at first as though he wanted to run from the effect, but then it reached where he stood and continued past him, washing over the rock without regard for the doctor or Khatami herself, as well as everyone else moving about the village.
Hearing the whistle of a tricorder, Khatami saw that Klisiewicz was conducting a scan, and when he looked away from the device, it was to stare at her with wide eyes and a half-open mouth.
“Captain, this is incredible. My tricorder’s showing this as an energy field, but it contains . . . it contains elements of the viral agent Doctor Leone created and administered to Seta and the other volunteers. It’s reacting with the rock at an astronomical rate.” The science officer paused, his brow furrowing as he continued to consult his tricorder. “It’s as though it’s rewriting its molecular structure, and the effect is accelerating. It’s like wildfire.”
“He’s right,” Leone said, now working with his own tricorder. “The agent’s not just being absorbed by the rock; it’s being transmitted along with the wave as it expands.” Looking up from the readings, he shook his head. “Son of a bitch. The stone’s actually acting like an inoculating infuser. I’m scanning some of the nearby Tomol who were caught up in the effect, and I’m seeing signs of the agent entering their bloodstreams.” Stepping past Khatami, he was immersed in his tricorder readings. “This is the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Look!” Klisiewicz pointed to the ground. “It’s starting to break down!”
Beneath their feet, the red-brown stone was dissolving before their eyes. Its color was fading and Khatami felt it compressing under her boots. Within moments, soil and grass were visible, everything still saturated by the sparkling glow of the golden energy wave.
And at the center of the miracle unfolding before their eyes was Seta, silent and unmoving, perhaps not even breathing. The glowing energy was continuing to emanate from within her, but the girl showed no sign of strain or discomfort. It was as though she had been destined for this moment.
Perhaps she was?
“The closest comparison I can come up with is that the rock is sublimating,” said Klisiewicz, “and at a staggering rate. In a couple of hours it will have swept across the entire island.” He looked to Leone. “Did you count on something like this?”
“Hell, no,” replied the doctor. “If I thought I was that good, you think I’d still be working for Starfleet?”
The science officer’s expression was one of utter disbelief as he waved his tricorder. “I can’t even begin to explain this.”
“That’s medicine for you, Lieutenant,” Leone offered. “Sometimes shit happens, and you just roll with it.”
* * *
Life had returned to the village.
The Tomol moved about, crowding the paths winding through the settlement or gathering at the village square. Hundreds of people, each of them appearing—to Khatami, at least—to embody the renewed promise and joy that now seemed to permeate the restored community. Khatami knew that was wishful thinking, of course, and that even with the incredible events of the past days as well as what Seta had accomplished, there would remain distrust and fear from many of the Tomol as they struggled to adapt to the new paradigm that was reshaping not just their lives but also their very reason for living.
Nearly two hours had passed since Seta’s remarkable demonstration, and as far as Khatami could tell, there remained no evidence of the Preservers’ petrification effect. As the process had continued to unfold, sweeping across the ten-kilometer area that had been encased in the astounding living rock, she had received reports from the Endeavour detailing the progress of the energy wave Seta had set into motion. The village was as it had appeared from orbit, as idyllic, alive, and full of warmth and beauty as it had been before outsiders had seen fit to encroach upon its unfettered tranquillity.
“I’ve just given Sotol and the others a quick once-over,” said Doctor Leone over the open communicator frequency, “and I’m not seeing any detrimental effects of the hibernation, but I’m taking them back to the ship for a complete physical just to be on the safe side.”
“Excellent news, Tony. Keep me informed.”
As she closed her communicator, Khatami saw Seta at the front of a small group of Tomol, walking up the path leading from the village square. A male and female were flanked by two males who were dressed in what Khatami recognized as the vestments worn by village Wardens, and each wielded a lance. The female Tomol was cradling a swaddled infant in her arms. As they drew closer, Seta offered one of her wide, contagious smiles, which forced Khatami to do the same.
“Captain,” said the priestess, stopping before her and gesturing to her two charges. “These are Nimur and Kerlo.”
Despite knowing that none of the Changed posed a threat, thanks to Doctor Leone’s viral agent, Khatami still tensed at Seta’s mention of the names. A nervous lump formed in her throat as she regarded the new arrivals before focusing her gaze on the priestess, and she now realized that, like Seta’s, their eyes burned with the heat of the Change. “I see.” She gestured to the infant. “You have a child.”
Nimur smiled. “Yes. This is Tahna.”
“She’s beautiful,” Khatami said, “like her mother.”
The compliment seemed to make Nimur uncomfortable, and she shifted her feet while casting her gaze toward the ground. “I wish to apologize to you, Captain. I am told I brought pain and suffering to you and your people, and that I also brought death to my own people.”
Khatami was surprised. “You don’t remember what happened?”
“No. The Change robbed me of my memories, just as it took my body.” She adjusted the child in her arms. “I cannot ever atone for the crimes I committed, or the pain I caused.”
“Nor can I,” added Kerlo. His features were clouded by sadness. “Our regrets are many, Captain, and we will spend the rest of our days attempting to redress the grief we have caused.”
“I understand that your actions were not your own.” Looking to Seta, she asked, “What will happen to them, and the other surviving Changed?”
“That is a matter for our forum to decide,” the priestess replied. “There will be much to discuss. Though the crimes committed by the Changed are numerous and severe, Nimur was an instrument of our long-overdue transformation, rather than a cause. This, too, must be considered if we are to justly resolve this matter.”
Khatami smiled, impressed by how much Seta seemed to have grown not only in the short time since she had assumed the mantle of priestess but also in the hours that had passed since the liberation of the Tomol from their stone prison. “You speak wise words, Holy Sister. I hope they will be heard by all who need to hear them.”
Instructing the Wardens to escort Nimur and Kerlo back to the village, Seta waited until they were out of earshot before turning back to Khatami. “Before, we did not concern ourselves with the past to any great degree, as our lives were short and without the luxury of dwelling upon past transgressions. Things are different now, of course, so this demands a new way of thinking. Nimur and Kerlo will be treated with all fairness. The forum almost certainly will recommend some penalty, but I suspect that they will be lenient. After all, Nimur and Kerlo did not ask for what happened to them, and neither did the others.”
“You’re going to be a wonderful leader to your people, Seta,” Khatami offered, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Seta attempted a small smile. “It is difficult.”
“You’ll manage. Great leaders always do.”
“That is not what I mean.” The priestess held up a hand. “My Change continues. I find my thoughts are so great that they feel as though they wish to escape my mind. My senses are aware of everything. I am . . . growing in so many ways, but I do not yet grasp it all, and I feel that I will soon find it difficult to be . . . of this life.”
Alar
med, Khatami said, “I don’t know what you mean. Are you . . . ?”
Seta, her face as calm and bright as it had been the first time Khatami met her, reached out to touch the captain’s hand. “No, I am well. Please do not worry. I am becoming more than I was, as are we all.”
“The Change?” Khatami asked.
“Yes. I can feel it flowing through me, yearning to grow, longing for release. I do not know what the future holds for me, but I know that we will strive to live in peace, as our ancestors did before the Dark Gods came for us.”
Khatami nodded. “I think I understand. Is there anything more we can do?”
“You have already done so much,” Seta replied. “Please know how grateful we are, and always will be, but I believe it is time for you to leave us. You are our friends, and we would welcome your return, but we must find our own path toward our new lives.”
“Of course,” Khatami replied. After contacting the Endeavour to stand by for transport, she let her gaze rest once more on the extraordinary young woman standing before her. “We will leave you in peace. I can’t speak for other parties, but I can promise that my people will not return to your world without your permission.”
Seta smiled. “You will always be welcome.” She paused, her gaze turning away from Khatami for the briefest moment as though studying something only she could see. “Though I cannot promise that we will be here when you return, at least not as you now know us.”
The young Tomol’s final words, along with all the promise and even wonder they carried, rang in Khatami’s ears as the transporter beam whisked her away.
33
“Thank you for your assistance, Captain. I truly appreciate it.”
Standing before the viewscreen on the wall of her office, Atish Khatami regarded the visage of Captain Kang, who glowered at her as she spoke. Then, to her surprise, his features softened and he almost smiled.
“The honor was mine, Captain.” The Klingon appeared to be seated in some sort of private office or other room that most certainly was not the bridge of the Voh’tahk. Hanging behind him on the stark gray metal bulkhead was a painting depicting dozens of Klingon warriors engaged in fierce combat, each wielding what Khatami recognized as bat’leths and mek’leths, traditional bladed weapons of the empire. The uniforms and armor worn by the soldiers suggested an ancient battle, doubtless one of the many campaigns peppered liberally throughout Klingon history as well as being of some particular significance to Kang, but Khatami reasoned that her relationship with her fellow captain had not yet progressed to the point where she could ask him about such things.
Someday. Maybe.
“And thank you as well for your assistance with our repairs. They will be sufficient for us to travel to a support base.” Kang paused, as though studying her for a moment, before continuing. “You are the second human to defy my preconceptions regarding your people. Your science officer and doctor did so, as well. That they were willing to risk their own lives in order to save that of a Klingon—even one such as Tormog—earns them my respect.”
Smiling, Khatami repressed an urge to chuckle. “I’ll be sure to convey your message.” She paused, clearing her throat before reminding him, “Of course, there still remains one other matter of importance.”
“The Tomol. Rest assured, Captain, that my interest in these people is concluded. Now that your doctor has restored the Tomol the gift of their advanced evolution and abilities while retaining their intellect, it is obvious that they are a people who will not so easily be . . . enlisted to serve the empire.”
“That’s an interesting way of putting it, Captain,” Khatami said.
Kang shrugged. “I see no reason to deny the empire’s interest in the Tomol.” He leaned closer to the screen. “However, I gave you my word that I would leave them in peace. I will honor that promise, but I cannot speak for my superiors. They may well decide to revisit this planet, and either conquer or destroy it as they see fit.”
“The Tomol will probably have something to say about that. After all, this race was at one time powerful enough to stand toe-to-toe with . . . well . . . some former inhabitants of this region.” Khatami was certain that Kang knew she was referring to the Shedai, but neither captain was going to say that on an open communications frequency. There also could be no denying that the Tomol, now free of the madness that had consumed them upon the onset of the Change, would continue to grow stronger as their abilities developed. Even without a ship, they might one day find a way of leaving their planet, though she suspected their peaceful nature would compel them to remain on the world that they now truly could call “home.”
For the first time since the start of their exchange, Kang’s ominous expression softened and he almost smiled. “I suspect that you are correct, Captain, and I will convey that observation to my superiors. What they decide to do with that information is beyond my control.”
After explaining the situation with Seta, she had convinced the young priestess to request her world be granted Federation protectorate status. As a side benefit of such an arrangement, Federation and Starfleet science teams would be allowed to return to the planet in order to further study the Tomol and the Preserver pyramid. A formal request was already on its way to the Federation Council, who in turn would inform the Klingon High Council of the Tomol’s desire to be so recognized. Would that be sufficient to convince the Klingons to leave Arethusa and its people well enough alone? Only time would tell.
I guess it’ll have to do, Khatami mused. For now, anyway. Besides, if Seta’s predictions were true, she and the rest of the Tomol who underwent the Change might well be gone from the planet by the time anyone decided to return for a visit. How far would their evolution take them? Khatami had no idea, though she was certain it was something she would want to see for herself.
One day, hopefully.
Sensing that the conversation had served its purpose, she said, “I don’t wish to keep you from your duties any longer, Captain. Thank you again, and safe travels to you and your crew.”
Kang seemed to ponder this, and for a moment Khatami wondered if she may have given inadvertent offense by not wishing the Klingon captain glorious victory or heroic death or some such thing. She relaxed when he laughed.
“Safe travels to you and your crew, Captain. Perhaps we will meet again one day, in honorable battle.”
“Let’s hope not,” Khatami said, offering a wry grin. “Endeavour out.”
The viewscreen’s image of Kang faded, replaced by a view of space as the ship continued on its journey away from Arethusa and toward Starbase 71. With the communication ended, Khatami allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She suspected that the Klingon Empire’s interest in this world and the Tomol would not soon fade, as Kang had warned, but she was certain they at least would think twice before attempting any further “research” here. There were other worlds in the Taurus Reach that could be claimed—or conquered, in the empire’s case—with far less trouble. Khatami held little doubt that this would not be her last run-in with the Klingons, or even Kang himself.
Won’t that be fun.
She turned from the viewscreen as her office intercom beeped for attention, followed by the voice of Anthony Leone. “Sickbay to Captain.”
She keyed the control to open the channel. “Khatami here. What can I do for you, Doctor?”
“Just an update on Ensign Sotol and the others. I found no indications of any long-term effects from their ordeal, and I’m releasing them back to full duty.”
“Excellent news, Tony. Thank you.” She paused a moment before adding, “And thank you again for the work you did on the planet. If not for you and Lieutenant Klisiewicz, all of this would’ve turned out quite differently.”
“So that means I’m due for a promotion or something, right?”
Chuckling, Khatami said, “Duly noted.” Then her tone turned serious. “
Even with everything you and Klisiewicz accomplished, we only just scratched the surface of the technology the Preservers left down there. It’s too bad we might not get a chance to study that complex any further.” Seta and Nimur had made plain their people’s wish to be left undisturbed as they worked to restore—and in some cases restart—their society.
“They didn’t rule out inviting us back, one day,” Leone said. “And even if they do, that’ll likely be someone else’s problem. You’ve done your duty, Captain. There’s not much else for you to deal with until we drag the Sagittarius back for repairs, so how about you call it a day, skip whatever horrible sludge you’re about to order from the garbage recycler you call that food slot in your office, and join me for a drink? I promise I won’t mention your overdue physical even once.”
Leone’s comments elicited another laugh as she eyed the food slot on her office’s far wall. It had been her intention to eat her evening meal here while working on one of the backlogged reports for Starfleet Command, but the offer by her ship’s doctor held much greater appeal. He was right that the journey to Starbase 71 with the Sagittarius in tow via tractor beam likely would prove uneventful. The repairs to the scout ship would take at least a couple of weeks, and Captain Terrell and his crew were looking forward to a well-earned shore leave.
Her door chime sounded, making Khatami glance at the chronometer on her desk to confirm that her next appointment was right on time. “Thanks for the offer, Tony, but I’m not quite done with the day’s duties. I’ll get back to you.” Severing the communication, she called out, “Come in.”
The door slid aside to reveal Stephen Klisiewicz, his arms clasped behind his back and his expression passive, though Khatami detected in his eyes any number of unspoken questions.