“Faellon, Chief Servant of the temple here in Our royal city,” Joakal began. “Our beloved Elana has spoken to Us of your wish to resign your office of Service. If this is truly your wish, We will not keep you from the years of rest you have earned. But We are sorry to see you go. You have served this people well and We bear you great respect and affection.”
“Thank you, Divine Majesty,” Faellon said, bowing. “But I am an old man and I am tired. The ways of our world are changing. Your Majesty will need a Chief Servant with the energy to help you.”
“If this is truly your wish,” Joakal repeated, inclining his head graciously. “Who would you name as your successor?”
Faellon motioned the two other Servants forward. “I present to Your Divine Majesty the two I believe are the most worthy. You must choose between them, for I cannot.
“This is Sambl, who has Served at the temple for thirty years.” The older man bowed to the King. “And this is Liiyn. Although she is young,” Faellon said as the woman bowed, “she is strong in the ways of the God. Either of these will serve Your Majesty and this world well.”
Joakal stared at the two applicants. Troi felt the discharge of psychic power and knew that Joakal was using his new abilities to read the Servants.
“You present us with a most difficult choice,” he said to Faellon after a moment. “And your words were full of Wisdom when you said that We will need the help of those at the temple during Our rule. In both We see the heart of dedication that would make a wise leader, but it is Our pleasure to name Liiyn to the Office of Chief Servant, to be so ordained at the date of your choosing. And may the God bestow to her the Wisdom and compassion that have so marked the years of your Service.”
The three Servants bowed and backed away. Once more Tygar stepped out and pounded the floor with his staff. But this time no people were waiting at the great doors. Instead a small door in the back of the room opened and Yesta, captain of the palace guards, came through. Behind him, bound by ankle chains, marched Beahoram, Aklier, and their accomplices, Tymlan, the boy who worked in the palace kitchen, and Benget of the guards of Aklier’s House.
Troi felt their emotions easily. Tymlan was frightened and a little bewildered by the rapid changes he had been through in the last two days. Aklier, alone among the prisoners, walked with his head bent. He was filled with contrition and yet resigned, accepting the fate he knew awaited him. Beahoram walked in defiantly. Both he and Benget held their heads high and Troi could sense no remorse from either of them.
The prisoners were brought before the throne. The people in the room waited in a hushed anticipation that was almost palpable. Would the new Absolute act with vengeance? Would the ruler who spoke of new ways still demand the deaths of the offenders, as was the law?
Joakal did not look at the prisoners for a long moment. He stared at his feet as though still struggling with the judgment that was to come. Finally, he raised his eyes, but still he did not look at the prisoners. He looked at Captain Picard. Troi saw that the captain was watching Joakal intently, and she felt an unspoken message pass between them.
Joakal motioned to Tygar who stood at the base of the throne. The Elder banged his staff.
“Beahoram I’lium, Aklier Ti’Kara, Benget Marta, Tymlan Krai, you are here charged with the following crimes: Conspiracy against the King, now Absolute, Joakal I’lium; the abduction and imprisonment of the King; treason; blasphemy; the abduction and imprisonment of the representatives of the United Federation of Planets in the persons of Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Counselor Deanna Troi of the Starfleet Flagship, the USS Enterprise, and Mother Veronica of the Little Mothers.
“Further, Beahoram I’lium, you are charged with the impersonation of the King, now Absolute, Joakal I’lium, and the twice traitorous actions of attempting to usurp his crown, powers and titles, and making false our most sacred and holy rite of coronation.
“The law demands your deaths. The manner of execution as set forth in our laws comes from the time of our fathers. On the thirteenth day of—”
“Stop,” Joakal commanded. Tygar swung around to look at him, but Joakal would not meet his eyes. He looked at the prisoners.
“Our world knows no more foul or heinous crimes, save that of willful murder, than the crimes with which you are charged,” he said. “The laws of this world call for your deaths. Yet, We believe there has been too much death upon this world. We would, therefore, be merciful.” He looked now at Tygar. “For true Justice must have room for mercy.”
Joakal turned back to the prisoners. “Yesterday it was Our great pleasure to abolish forever the old law that required the death of so many innocent children. This has been Our intention for many years and We have brought to this world the Little Mothers to help Our people learn to love those children the old ways would have destroyed. We understand that it was this law that sparked your actions. Because of this, We would offer you a choice. As punishment for your crimes, you may stay here on Capulon and devote your lives to Service with the Little Mothers, helping them in their care for our children, or you may leave this world and never again set foot upon Our planet. Choose now, but remember that this choice is a final one.”
Aklier was the first to speak. Troi could feel his sorrow slowly transmuting to wonder.
“Please,” he said slowly, as if hardly daring to believe what he had just heard. “I’ll stay. I’ll serve the Little Mothers and I’ll gladly work with the children. Thank you, Your Divine Majesty. Thank you.”
He bowed his head, tears running freely down his cheeks. But he smiled as well; he had been given a gift.
“I’ll stay too, please,” Tymlan said quickly. His voice cracked with nervousness and youth, but his fear was gone.
“And you, Benget?” Joakal asked.
“No, Your Majesty,” he said. “I bear no ill to the Little Mothers and I wish them good fortune with the work that they will do, but I will not serve another House, even theirs. I would rather take my own chances and make my own way elsewhere.”
Joakal nodded as if he knew, even understood, Benget’s decision. Then, finally, Joakal looked at Beahoram. “And you, Brother?” he asked. “Will you stay?”
“Oh no—Brother,” Beahoram said. His voice was hard and unrepentant and his eyes were still full of hate. “I made my decision long ago. Even without your ‘mercy,’ I would rather die than watch you rule.”
Joakal stood. He walked slowly down the dais steps until he was face-to-face with his Brother. He stared for several seconds into his mirrored face.
“You still don’t understand,” Joakal said softly. “I would have shared everything with you. I would have opened my heart and welcomed you. I would even have loved you.”
“What I understand,” Beahoram said through clenched teeth, “is that I lost and you won. I have the stomach to accept that even if you do not. No, Brother, this world has never offered me comfort. I leave it gladly. Sit upon your throne, Brother. Be called Beloved by your people, but remember that there is one among the stars who does not revere the name of Joakal I’lium.”
Joakal look sadly at Beahoram. “Very well,” he said. “You have made your choice, and though We wish it could be otherwise between us, We will grant your exile. And We will pray that someday, somewhere, the God will grant you happiness.”
Joakal turned and remounted the steps. He waved his hand and the prisoners were led away. He watched them go, and when the door had closed behind them, he closed his eyes and was silent for a moment more. Then he turned to the captain and smiled, and if the smile was a little ragged, no one but Picard could see it.
“Now, Captain Picard,” he said. “It is time for the treaty.”
Joakal stood. He held out his hand to Elana and together they descended the steps. Picard and the others followed. Tygar stepped behind the dais and brought forth a large silver tray that bore the copies of the treaty and two golden pens. He held the tray out to the King.
Joakal picked up one of the pens.
“Captain Picard,” he said, “it is Our great joy to put Our name to this paper as a symbol of this world’s new union with the Federation.” He bent and signed his name with a flourish to the bottom of the documents. Then he stepped back and waited for Picard to do the same.
Picard also signed the treaty and placed the pen back on the tray “On behalf of the worlds that make up the United Federation of Planets, I welcome the people of Capulon IV into our midst. We are all enriched by your presence.”
Joakal picked up the golden pen Picard had laid down and handed it back to him. “Please keep this, Captain,” he said, “as a small remembrance of your time among us. We hope that this day will begin a new era of exchange between Capulon IV and all other worlds of the Federation. Our home is open to all who would visit us in brotherhood and understanding.”
Joakal now turned to the Little Mothers. “It is time for Our surprise,” he said, smiling with delight. “Behind the palace is a stand of woods and in the middle of the woods is a lake. We believe this to be the most beautiful place in Our city. At dawn today, We sent a team of workers there to begin the construction of the home for the Little Mothers. This is Our gift to you.” He looked directly at Mother Veronica. “If you will tell Us what you require, it will be provided.”
Mother Veronica met Joakal’s eyes for a moment, then she turned away. She walked over to Sister Julian. Mother Veronica reached up and removed the cross from around her own neck and lowered it over the head of the surprised nun. Then Mother Veronica returned to stand before the King.
Two feet away, Troi held her breath. She hoped she knew what was to come.
“On behalf of our Order, I thank you, Your Majesty,” Mother Veronica said. “Your gift is a very noble and generous one. But I shall not be here to enjoy it. I will stay only until the other members of my Order arrive. Then Sister Julian—Mother Julian—will lead the Community.”
Joakal frowned. “You’re leaving?” he said. “But why?”
“I am leaving, Your Majesty, because God is leading me elsewhere. As soon as my Mother House can arrange it, I will be going to Vulcan to enter training in the mental disciplines they teach. I believe it is God’s Will that I learn to use these gifts that He has given me.”
Joakal reached out and took her hand. “We cannot argue with the Will of the God,” he said. “But it will remain Our great hope that someday you will return to Us.”
“The future, Your Majesty,” Mother Veronica said, “is in God’s hand. All we can do, is to have faith.”
An hour later, Picard and Troi again stood on the bridge of the Enterprise. On the planet below, the royal court would continue throughout the rest of the day, but it stood in recess now while Joakal, Elana, and the Little Mothers said their good-byes. Their faces filled the main viewscreen of the bridge.
“We are sorry to see you go, Jean-Luc,” Joakal was saying, “but we understand that duties are duties.”
“And we hope that those duties will soon bring you back to our world,” Elana added. “Capulon is an open planet to all members of the Federation, but we particularly hope that you and your crew will think of it as another home.”
“Thank you, Your Majesties,” Picard said. “And Joakal,” he added, “King Solomon, and King Joakal, would have been proud.”
Joakal smiled. He and Elana stepped back to let Mother Veronica say her farewells.
“Thank you, Captain Picard,” she began, “for all you have done for us and for me. Our community will keep you and your people in our prayers.”
“I hope the future will bring you the peace you desire, Mother Veronica,” he said. “You have certainly earned it.”
“The future, Captain, is in the hands of God—and it is full of promise.”
Captain Picard nodded his farewell then returned to the command chair, leaving Troi standing alone before the big screen.
“Counselor Troi,” Mother Veronica began, “you have taught me so much. How can I thank you?”
Troi looked at the image before her. She was no longer the haggard, desperate woman who had stumbled through Troi’s door three weeks ago. Gone were the dark circles of exhaustion around her eyes; her skin was no longer stretched tightly across her cheekbones and her expression was not filled with fear.
“You already have,” Troi said. Mother Veronica smiled at her. Troi started to turn away.
“Before you go,” Mother Veronica added. “May I speak with Mr. Data?”
Data looked up from his station at Ops. He stood to address the nun. “Yes, Mother Veronica?”
Mother Veronica smiled at him, also. “Don’t give up your search, Mr. Data,” she said. “Don’t stop asking your questions. Remember that the quest, like God, is eternal.”
“Thank you,” Data said. “I will remember everything.”
The three figures on the viewscreen raised their hands in farewell and communication was severed. “Course, Captain?” Riker asked.
“Back to Starbase 212,” Picard said as he took his place in the command chair. “We have a treaty to deliver.”
Troi turned to leave the bridge. There were duties she had neglected too long, like the final log entry on Lieutenant Salah; she was ready to face that now. And she needed to write a letter to her mother. She also had patients waiting for her. Among them was Ensign Johann Marshall. Troi knew what to say to him now.
It’s true, she thought as she walked up the ramp. The doctor is often healed by the patient, and the teacher learns from the student.
When she reached the turbolift, she stopped and turned around. “Data,” she said, “was Mother Veronica able to give you the answers you were looking for?”
“Not entirely, Counselor,” the android replied. “There are still many things for which I do not have an adequate definition. Although I have found some answers, I find those answers have only evoked more questions. I shall keep searching.”
“That’s all any of us can do, Data,” Troi said.
Epilogue
COUNSELOR DEANNA TROI stepped into her quarters on her way to the transporter room. The ship was currently docking at Starbase 079 where it would receive Ensign Johann Marshall back on board. He was returning from a trip home to visit his family, his first in over two years, and Troi wanted to be there to greet him. She had only stopped by her quarters because the first grade class she had visited this morning had presented her with some artwork.
She carefully placed the small collection of youthful masterpieces on the table and turned back toward the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blinking light on her computer terminal that indicated a private message. Quickly, she crossed the room and switched it on.
It was a communiqué from Mother Veronica. Surprised and delighted, Troi sat down to read.
Dear Counselor Troi, it began. I have been on Vulcan for six months now, and today my teachers announced that they were satisfied with my progress. I have learned that this is high praise from a Vulcan. I, too, am satisfied. I have learned far more than I ever imagined possible when I first left you, and I am learning more every day. The Vulcan dedication to nonemotional logic, which I feared would be an obstacle to our understanding one another, has proved to be quite the opposite. Their minds are so ordered that contact with them, even in deep telepathic rapport, is restful and makes learning a joy.
I have not written to you for all these months because I was not certain of my future plans. Until today. I have now realized that my place is back on Capulon IV. When I complete my studies, I shall return there and set up a school, as part of our Order’s work, to help the people of Capulon IV rediscover their psychic heritage. I have written to King Joakal for his permission, and to my Mother House, but I am certain the permissions will be granted. It is indeed true that all things happen for a purpose.
You taught me so much and I shall always be grateful. Although I admire my Vulcan teachers, the lessons you taught me are the most precious of all. It was you, my dear Counselor Troi, who taught me by both you
r words and your example, that peace is only found through accepting myself. Because of you, I am free of the fears that held me captive for so long. For the first time and for all time, I am free to be alive.
Troi turned off the screen. She sat back in her chair and smiled. She was glad for Mother Veronica and for all the people the nun would help.
Her communicator chirped. “Tuttle to Counselor Troi.”
“Troi here.”
“Counselor,” Tuttle said. “Docking is complete and Ensign Marshalt has signaled that he’s ready to beam aboard. Did you still want to be here to meet him?”
“I’m on my way. Thank you, Chief,” Troi said and she stood. Her step was jaunty as she walked from her room. She smiled at people as she strolled along the corridors on the way to welcome back her recovered patient.
All in all, it had been a wonderful day for Deanna Troi.
Look for STAR TREK fiction from Pocket Books
Star Trek®: The Original Series
Enterprise: The First Adventure · Vonda N. McIntyre
Final Frontier · Diane Carey
Strangers From the Sky · Margaret Wander Bonanno
Spock’s World · Diane Duane
The Lost Years · J.M. Dillard
Probe · Margaret Wander Bonanno
Prime Directive · Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
Best Destiny · Diane Carey
Shadows on the Sun · Michael Jan Friedman
Sarek · A.C. Crispin
Federation · Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
Vulcan’s Forge · Josepha Sherman & Susan Shwartz
Mission to Horatius · Mack Reynolds
Vulcan’s Heart · Josepha Sherman & Susan Shwartz
Novelizations
Star Trek: The Motion Picture · Gene Roddenberry
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan · Vonda N. McIntyre
GUISES OF THE MIND Page 23