by Dayton Ward
Looking up from the tricorder as she worked while regaining her breath, Cruzen eyed Chen. “You’re not even winded.”
“Thank my cursed Vulcan constitution.”
“I need to get one of those.” Aiming her tricorder at the control pad, Cruzen executed the signal that should have unlocked the hatch. Instead, nothing happened.
“Uh-oh,” said Chen.
“Shit. Something’s different.” Cruzen attempted the sequence a second time, but achieved the same result. “The damned computer must be overriding the locks or something.”
Chen looked around the hallway but saw no alternatives for bypassing the hatch. “Not for nothing, but we’ve got about two minutes.”
“Thanks.” When the unlock sequence failed for a third time, Cruzen tossed aside the tricorder and drew her phaser. “To hell with this.”
Holding up a hand, Chen said, “Whoa, hang on. It’ll take too long to cut through.” She rapped the hatch with her knuckles. “They’re reinforced pressure doors, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Cruzen tapped the phaser’s power setting and Chen saw its level indicator increase to maximum. “You might want to find cover.”
“What if that doesn’t work?” Chen asked, watching Cruzen finish setting the phaser to overload before jamming the weapon into the door’s latch.
Grabbing Chen by her arm and pulling her along as she ran back to the intersection and rounded the turn, Cruzen said, “It’ll work.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if it doesn’t, we’re screwed.”
Both women dropped to the deck and covered their heads with their hands just seconds before the phaser detonated, the concussion from its explosion radiating down the narrow corridor. Chen felt the rush of displaced air on her exposed skin as her ears popped, which was followed by a ringing sensation as the blast faded.
“Let’s go!” Cruzen said, dragging Chen to her feet before they both ran back to the junction. Turning the corner, Chen was relieved to see a gaping hole where most of the hatch had been. Scorch marks defaced what was left of the pressure door, and the floor, bulkheads, and ceiling were peppered with rents and tears from shrapnel. Beyond the newly created opening, the Arrow’s landing bay beckoned.
“Hot damn.” Cruzen clapped Chen on the shoulder. “We’re out of here.”
Chen tapped her combadge as they entered the bay. “Enterprise, we’re here. Stand by for transport.”
“Acknowledged,” replied Captain Picard. “All due haste, Lieutenant.”
“That’s captain-speak for haul ass,” Cruzen said, leading the way into the landing bay. The Golvonek transport ships Chen had seen earlier were gone, as was the Jefferies. All that remained where the shuttlecraft once had sat was the very welcome sight of the field transporter pad. Without ceremony, Cruzen and Chen dashed onto the portable platform.
“Enterprise, beam us out!”
Over her communicator, Chen heard Picard bark, “Transporter room, beam them directly to the bridge!”
* * *
There was nowhere to go. There was nothing left to do except wait.
Jodis stood before the console, watching the image of the Landorem moon’s surface loom ever closer. Gravity had trapped the Poklori gil dara in its implacable grip. There would be no reprieve, and no chance of the computer or its contingency protocol to assert final control. He had calculated the time required to traverse the distance separating the engineering deck from the landing bay or even one of the emergency escape vehicles and concluded that either destination was beyond reach. The end, he suspected, would come quickly and without pain. He would not suffer, and neither would Bnira. Rather than fear, he instead felt relief, and he took comfort in knowing that when death claimed him, he would not be alone.
He felt Bnira take his hand in hers, holding it tightly and pulling him toward her. Her body pressed against his as her other arm wrapped around his waist. When he turned his head, their eyes met, and in hers Jodis saw no panic or worry, but instead only peace.
“This is but one stage of being.” Bnira glanced toward the screen, her smile never wavering as she returned her gaze to his.
Jodis said nothing, unwilling to detract from her calm resolve. Unlike Bnira and other members of the crew, Jodis had never believed in an afterlife, but at this moment, he understood the serenity others seemed to find in accepting such possibilities.
“I have no regrets,” Bnira said, reaching up to stroke the side of his face.
Jodis smiled. “Neither do I.” Despite the impediments time and fate had seen fit to place before them, he and his crew had accomplished their mission, at least in some respects. He could take solice in that, and also in the knowledge that those who had followed him and Bnira—Ehondar, but also the others, who had never known the true nature of what Jodis had set out to do—had not died in vain. He trusted the human, Picard, to see to that.
To the side of the monitor displaying the moon as it filled the screen and drew ever closer, a smaller indicator cycled through remaining moments, dwindling toward nothingness. For the last time, he turned to Bnira, who clutched his face in her hands and pulled his forehead to hers.
“I hope yours is the first face I see.”
Jodis smiled. “I look forward to that.”
* * *
Despite preparing himself for the sight, Picard still flinched as Armageddon’s Arrow—the Poklori gil dara—plunged like a tremendous spear into the moon’s surface. As planned to exacting degree by Jodis, the weapon ship struck the construction site of its past self almost dead center, the entire installation disappearing in a flash of light and energy. The blast wave expanded outward in seconds, washing over the dead gray soil and consuming everything within its radius. Without an atmosphere to sustain it, the detonation was snuffed out almost instantly, leaving behind an expanding cloud of dirt and ash thrust away from the surface.
“Damn,” said Lieutenant Dina Elfiki, turning from her science station and watching the scene with wide, disbelieving eyes. Her reaction was mimicked by nearly everyone else on the bridge, and even Picard felt himself moved by what had just taken place.
Standing near the bridge viewscreen where they had been materialized, Lieutenants T’Ryssa Chen and Kirsten Cruzen stared at the unsettling imagery. Chen was the first to react, and when she turned from the screen, Picard saw the tears running freely down her cheeks.
“It’s good to have you back,” the captain said, his voice low and quiet.
Chen nodded, but said nothing, her gaze shifting between him and the viewscreen. Where the installation had been seconds earlier now was nothing but an enormous crater. Part of the mountain forming one end of the construction base had collapsed, with mammoth pieces of rock falling into the crater.
“Sensors show it was an overload of the ship’s engines and the power plant for the particle cannon,” reported Lieutenant Šmrhová, who had resumed her duties at the tactical station after returning with the away team. “I also picked up secondary detonations of materials inside the mountain. The result was total obliteration of the build site.”
Picard asked, “So, there’s nothing at all left of the Arrow?”
“There’s debris and other residue, but the blast pretty much wiped out everything.” Šmrhová shook her head. “Whatever’s left of the artificial structures are in the crater.”
Worf said, “Captain, we are receiving an incoming hail from Envoy Dnovlat, as well as the commander of the Raqilan fleet. They seem eager to speak to you.”
“I can imagine,” Picard said. Had the events of the day sparked new motivation in the envoy and by extension the Raqilan government? What of the Golvonek? Surely, knowing the fate their world had avoided would renew their own desire to seek peace? Though buoyed by some of the initial reactions from Dnovlat and Mynlara, he remained cautious in his optimism. The captain
hoped this was but the first of the steps necessary to bring the Raqilan and the Golvonek once more—and perhaps for the final time—to the negotiating table. “Notify the envoy that I’d welcome the opportunity to speak with her, once we have stabilized our situation here.”
Without turning from the screen, Cruzen asked, “What about Jodis and Bnira?”
A new wave of sadness threatened to rush forth, but Picard forced himself to maintain his composure. “They stayed aboard.”
“They never hesitated,” said Chen, “never once thought about abandoning ship. They knew all along.”
“Yes,” Picard said. “They knew.” He was certain that the fleet of Raqilan ships that had assumed orbit around the moon had observed the Arrow’s end. It was likely that images of the weapon ship’s final moments already were being transmitted back to Henlora and perhaps Uphrel, as well. Within hours, every Raqilan and Golvonek would know what had happened here today. He hoped that was the case.
I will personally see to that.
34
Just as she was sure would happen, T’Ryssa Chen’s mood brightened the moment she entered sickbay and saw Rennan Konya sitting up in bed.
“Well, look who it is,” Konya said, smiling upon seeing her walk into the room. “Talk about your welcome sights.”
Crossing the patient ward to stand next to his bed, she reached out and placed a hand on Konya’s arm. “How are you feeling?”
“Like ten credits,” replied the security officer without missing a beat. “Doctor Crusher patched me up, good as new. There aren’t even any scars, even though I asked her to leave me just one.” He offered a mock frown. “I even told her I’d let her pick her favorite.”
Chen rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot. You know that, right?” Despite his silly comments, it was wonderful to see him more like his old self. “You had us worried there, for a while.” She looked across the ward to where Tamala Harstad also sat on a bed, though unlike Konya she was dressed not in a patient’s pajamas but instead casual civilian attire. “What about you, Doctor?”
Harstad replied, “I’ll be fine. There was some ligament damage from the shrapnel, but Doctor Tropp made short work of it. I’ll be back to full duty in a day or two.” Nodding toward Konya, she added, “I opted against trophy scars, though.”
“Coward,” said Konya, his eyes narrowing in the mischievous manner he summoned all too infrequently, but which Chen had noticed was on the increase even before this mission. Before she could remark on that, the doors opened again, this time to admit Commanders Worf and La Forge.
“There she is,” said the chief engineer, his face brightening upon seeing Harstad.
“Here I am,” replied the doctor. “Where have you been?”
“Fixing the ship.”
“It’s always something.”
La Forge gestured to Worf. “Like having to repair and clean up the shuttlecraft other people leave with the aliens who capture them.”
The Klingon’s expression remained fixed. “The Siouxsie was returned reasonably intact.”
“Yeah, but not for their lack of trying,” replied La Forge, and it required physical effort for Chen not to laugh at the glare Worf directed at him. Following the Arrow’s destruction, the Raqilan had returned the Siouxsie to the Enterprise, but it was evident that their engineers had attempted to access the shuttlecraft’s systems. The security lockout programmed by Lieutenant Elfiki into its onboard computer had thwarted those efforts, but repairing the damage the craft had sustained during its encounter with Raqilan patrol ships would keep La Forge and his team busy for the next few days.
“The damage was as unavoidable as it is regrettable,” said Worf. “However, if I am not mistaken, all of the shuttlecraft were due for scheduled maintenance anyway.”
La Forge offered an expression of mock annoyance. “Yeah, that makes it all better.” He moved to Harstad’s bed and she shifted her position so the pair could greet each other with a warm embrace that made Chen smile.
“Lieutenant Konya,” said Worf as he moved to stand at the foot of the bed, “it is good to see you recovered from your injuries. Your actions aboard the Arrow were noteworthy, and I am pleased to inform you that I have submitted a request for commendation to Captain Picard.”
“Thank you, sir,” Konya replied, and Chen noted how he now sat a bit straighter in the bed. “I appreciate that.”
Turning to Chen, the Klingon said, “I have made a similar request on your behalf, Lieutenant. Your actions were well above the requirements of duty, in keeping with the finest traditions of Starfleet officers.” For the first time, he smiled. “And with the heart of a warrior.”
Surprised by the news but also the unexpected compliment, Chen felt a surge of embarrassment. “Thank you, Commander. I don’t know what to say.”
“I will notify the captain of your response,” said Worf. “I am sure he will take great pleasure from that.”
“Wow,” Konya said, unable to stifle a laugh as he reached to tap Chen on her arm. “Maybe you should ask Doctor Tropp for an analgesic cream or something to treat that burn.”
Appearing satisfied with himself, Worf turned and walked away without another word, leaving Chen once more alone with Konya.
“Is it me, or is he getting funnier?” Konya asked.
Chen replied, “It’s you.” Looking around to see if anyone else might be within earshot, she turned back to Konya reached for his hand. “Listen, about before.”
“Before what?”
“Don’t make me smack you,” Chen said, grinning. “You know what I mean. Before, on the Arrow. You, me, the apology.”
“Oh, right,” Konya said, drawing out his response. “That. I seem to recall suggesting we might discuss it later.”
Chen nodded. “Well, it’s later.” With everything that had happened, she had not had time to process their brief encounter on the Arrow. Like anything else not pertaining to the matters at hand, she had pushed aside those feelings, forcing them into their own little sealed compartment in the back of her mind until she could revisit them without distraction. Now, it seemed, was the right time.
Squeezing her hand, Konya smiled. “Look, I know I sprang that on you, but I meant what I said. I’m sorry about everything. No matter what, Trys, you’re my friend.” He paused, his gaze shifting to the sheet covering him from the waist down. “When I heard you were staying behind to help Jodis and Bnira, I was scared.” Bringing over his free hand, he rested it atop hers. “Scared I’d never see you again, and worried that I’d never get a chance to make things right between us.” As if sensing her hesitation, he added, “I’m not asking for anything. I’ll respect whatever you tell me, and I promise that we’re still friends, no matter what else might happen.”
Feeling the warmth of his hands on hers, Chen said nothing. Instead, she leaned toward him and kissed him. They held the kiss for several seconds before Chen pulled back, her eyes meeting his.
“I’m not sure I understood you,” said Konya, his expression deadpan.
This time, Chen did smack him, playfully and on the arm. “Idiot.”
“Hey, you two,” said Harstad. “Let’s keep it professional here.”
Chen and Konya looked over to see that the doctor had risen from her bed, and Commander La Forge now was escorting her to the door.
“Wait,” Konya said, “you got released?”
“Good behavior,” replied Harstad, “which means you’ll be here for a while yet. I’ve been given bed rest for a couple of days before I return to duty.” She nodded to La Forge. “So he gets to wait on me hand and foot until then. Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m regretting this already,” La Forge said.
Konya said, “Thanks for taking care of me on that ship, Doc. I owe you one.”
“Oh, no,” replied Harstad. “You saved my life over there. We’
re even. You just take care of yourself, and you’ll be back to regular duty in no time.”
“Maybe I’ll ask for some of that bed rest.” The lieutenant smiled, nudging Chen with one finger. “I just need somebody for that waiting on hand and foot thing.”
Chen slapped him again. Harder this time.
* * *
“Captain Picard, I cannot thank you enough for all you have done on behalf of the Raqilan people. We eagerly await your address to our peace delegation, and feel that with your guidance and wisdom, we finally will achieve the peace which has eluded us for so long.”
Sitting at the desk in his ready room, Picard studied the image of Envoy Dnovlat on his desktop monitor. Unlike during their previous conversations, the Raqilan diplomat was brimming with enthusiasm, which she allowed to penetrate her otherwise composed, even detached façade. Her unfiltered emotion was contagious, and Picard found himself smiling in response.
“The honor will be mine, Envoy. I have already received authorization to meet with your delegation, and our Federation Council anticipates a constructive dialogue. Perhaps it will be the first step toward a longer, cooperative relationship between all our peoples.” Though the Enterprise was scheduled to continue with its exploration mission, Starfleet Command had approved his request for a brief extension of their time in the Canborek system. As Admiral Akaar had put it, there was much to be gained by establishing formal relations with the Raqilan and the Golvonek, the first potential Federation allies in the Odyssean Pass.
“That is my hope, as well, Captain.” She paused, her expression softening. “If I have one regret, it is that Jodis and Bnira cannot be with us.”
Picard nodded. “They will be there, at least in some sense, as the dream they held for peace is shared by many Raqilan and Golvonek. Pursuing that dream honors their memory.”
“They are being called ‘Ambassadors of Destiny’ in some circles,” Dnovlat replied. “It seems an apt title. With your help, we will see their dream realized.” Something or someone off screen made her turn, and after a moment, she returned her attention to Picard. “I am afraid that duty summons me, Captain. I look forward to meeting you in person and perhaps sharing with you some of the delicacies of our people.”