“How do you know?” said Gomez.
Em-Lin ran her fingers lovingly over the rows of glowing, multicolored controls. With practiced precision, she pressed a sequence of buttons in rapid succession.
When she finished, the giant tank changed instantly from a reddish glow to a bright blue one. The tank’s rotation slowed, and the clumps suspended inside it reversed the direction of their spin.
“I know,” said Em-Lin, “because my sister and I helped build it.”
Chapter
25
Em-Lin had a very special medal. It was permanently attached to her body, on a spot just below her left clavicle. It shifted shapes, camouflaging itself against her skin when anyone but Em-Lin set eyes on it.
It was a changeling medal, affixed to her chest by one of the Vorta. Or-Lin had received one, too.
Em-Lin remembered the ceremony well. It had been the proudest day of her life.
“Em-Lin,” the Vorta had said solemnly, holding out the crystalline medal before him. “In recognition of your extraordinary service to the Dominion, I bestow upon you the Order of the Gods.”
Em-Lin’s heart had pounded like a giant drum. A tear had descended her face as the Vorta tugged her top down just enough to expose the skin below her clavicle.
“Your efforts and those of your sister have helped to ensure the future glory of the Miradorn people.” Slowly, the Vorta had pressed the medal against Em-Lin’s bare skin. “The Fuser that the two of you have built will bless your people with a unity and divine fulfillment that few species have ever experienced.”
As the medal melted into her flesh, Em-Lin had felt a sharp, burning pain. She had clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.
She felt a similar pain today as she pushed her hands through the smooth, shape-shifting casing of the huge tank, immersing them in the hot, thick liquid inside.
“You helped build this thing?” said Gomez.
Shut up, lady! said Or-Lin, who was standing close to Em-Lin at the base of the tank. Can’t you see she’s trying to concentrate ?
Em-Lin caught one of the floating clumps inside the tank. She kneaded the clump with her bare hands, feeling the fizzing of a static electric charge in the gritty, claylike mass.
“My sister and I were psycho-engineers,” said Em-Lin. “The Dominion put us to work in a weapons lab at Rasha Nom.”
“Starfleet knocked out Rasha Nom early in the war,” said Stevens. Like Gomez, he stood nearby and watched Em-Lin’s every move as she worked on the Fuser.
Em-Lin nodded. “Twenty-three Miradorn died in that attack,” she said. “All of them noncombatants.”
“Noncombatants building a cannon that fired killer nightmares,” said Stevens.
Em-Lin ignored his remark. “After the attack on Rasha Nom, my sister and I were glad to be transferred home to Mirada to work on the Fuser.”
“Is that what this is?” said Gomez. “A ‘fuser’?”
Or-Lin slammed her hand down on the control panel. As always, Em-Lin was the only one who heard her do it. Tell these people to shut up ! Tell them to leave us alone if they want us to fix this thing!
“It’s a gift from the Vorta to the Miradorn,” said Em-Lin, “and yes, it’s called a Fuser.”
“Some gift,” said Stevens. “It’s wiping out your entire species.”
“Shut up,” said Em-Lin. “Just shut up.”
Sometimes, Em-Lin still thought about the day when they had added the final ingredient to the Fuser.
It had happened on the last day of the war. According to the Jem’Hadar, a Starfleet strike force was on its way to liberate Mirada. Never mind that the Miradorn hadn’t wanted to be liberated.
The Vorta who had supervised the construction of the Fuser had stared up at the device alongside Em-Lin and Or-Lin. All that was left to do was to add the morphic plasma in which the processor meat would be suspended.
“Time to make history,” the Vorta had said. “We have to switch it on and seal it in before Starfleet gets here.”
“The Fuser on Mirada has already been activated and sealed off,” Or-Lin had said. “The process has begun.”
The Vorta had nodded. “Low power transmissions will lay the groundwork. Then, the system will gradually boost its output. The self-determining AI will monitor conditions and take appropriate action. Someday, when the AI decides that the time is right, the system will connect every Miradorn mind in a new Great Link.”
“I only wish that we could live to see it,” Em-Lin had said.
“We will see to it that you are remembered for your role in this great leap forward,” the Vorta had said. “When the day of final joining arrives, your story will be fed to all minds in the Miradorn Great Link. All will know that you built this device and that you watched over it by tending the shrine above after the Dominion’s departure.”
“I still wish that we could see it,” said Em-Lin, “but I guess it’s enough to know that we’re helping to make our world a better place.”
“As their reward for loyalty to the Dominion,” the Vorta had said, “your people will know the ecstatic, never-ending joy of complete unity.”
“What a time that will be,” Em-Lin had said, “and the Miradorn will have you to thank for it.”
“Your people always had it within them,” the Vorta had said. “The telepathic links between Miradorn twins would have eventually evolved into a specieswide network without our help. We’re just accelerating the process.”
Or-Lin had sighed. “I guess we’d better add the morphic plasma and get the Fuser online.”
“No,” the Vorta said. “No plasma.”
“I don’t understand,” Em-Lin had said. “The Fuser won’t work without the plasma.”
“I have a substitute,” the Vorta had said. “Something even better.”
“This is the first you’ve mentioned it,” Or-Lin had said. “What is this substitute exactly?”
With that, the Vorta had simply smiled.
I miss him, too, said Or-Lin, resting a hand on Em-Lin’s shoulder. These Starfleeties will never understand.
Em-Lin nodded and kept working.
But still…
Or-Lin cleared her throat. You missed a node, she said. X-7 on the dark side.
Em-Lin realized that her sister was right. “Thanks,” she said, mashing a nub on the bottom of the clump that she was handling, then pressing it through to the top and folding the clump around it. “I got it.”
Just then, after several moments of silence, Gomez spoke up. “Any idea how much longer you’ll be? We still have to deal with the device on New Mirada.”
Em-Lin did not answer her. She was not feeling particularly charitable toward Starfleet personnel at that moment.
Do you wonder if the Vorta can still feel us? said Or-Lin, resting a hand against the tank. Do you wonder if he knows we’re working with the enemy?
“I hope not,” said Em-Lin, releasing one claylike clump inside the tank and grabbing another. “He was like a father to us.”
“Father to who?” said Gomez. “All I asked was how much longer you’ll be.”
Or-Lin went on talking as if she couldn’t hear Gomez, as if Gomez were the silent and unseen dugo tenya. I know what the Vorta would want us to do here, she said.
“No you don’t,” said Em-Lin. “Times have changed.”
Yes, I do, said Or-Lin. One of the advantages of being dead is that I get to talk to other dead people.
Em-Lin turned, but the only dead person she saw was Or-Lin. “He’s here?” she said.
“Who’s here?” said Gomez.
You can’t see him, but yes, said Or-Lin. He’s here. He wants you to save our people…and turn the Starfleeties into carriers.
“Carriers of what?” said Em-Lin.
Or-Lin crouched alongside her and tugged her hands free of the tank. A killer psycho-virus, said Or-Lin, beaming with beatific delight and wrapping Em-Lin’s hands in her own. A virus that will obliterate every sentient
mind in the Federation of Planets.
Chapter
26
Em-Lin stared silently at her sister for a long moment. “The Fuser can do that?” she said.
Or-Lin nodded. It’s one of the functions I worked on. One last booby trap for an occasion like this.
Em-Lin frowned. Apparently, Or-Lin had been even better at hiding things from the link between them than Em-Lin had known.
And the Vorta, their beloved Vorta, had not been solely motivated by altruistic impulses. Even if his dugo tenya were not speaking through Or-Lin right now—and Em-Lin tended to think that it was not—he must have approved the addition of the viral option to the Fuser’s systems.
Either that, or Or-Lin had devised the viral option herself—but Em-Lin had a hard time believing that Or-Lin, alive or dead, would want anything to do with massacring the Federation. Or-Lin had been difficult from time to time, and at the end of her life, she had threatened to seek Division from her sister, but Em-Lin could not believe that she was a mass murderer.
Suddenly, another possibility occurred to Em-Lin. She realized that she should have thought of it before, but she had been so traumatized by recent events that she had readily accepted certain things at face value.
Things like the dugo tenya.
Well? said Or-Lin, still beaming and clasping her twin’s hands. Shall we follow the Vorta once more, my beloved sister?
It could not have been more obvious, now that Em-Lin had finally managed to see through her own veil of shock. Why had Or-Lin gone from, I think I want Division whether you want to go with me or not to calling Em-Lin her beloved sister?
“Let’s do it,” said Em-Lin. It would be better to play along until the time was right. For now, it was enough that Em-Lin had regained a measure of awareness and self-control.
Or-Lin released Em-Lin’s hands and leaped up to give her a quick hug. Oh, sister, I just knew you’d do the right thing!
Em-Lin nodded. In the distance, she heard Gomez’s voice calling to her, and she tuned it out. The only voice that mattered now was Or-Lin’s—but not because Or-Lin was a dugo tenya.
It was because she was something else altogether—yet another application of changeling technology.
All right then, said Or-Lin, swiping a tear from her eye. You need to reconnect with the plasma matrix.
Em-Lin pushed her hands through the morphic skin of the tank and back into the hot, fizzing plasma.
Let’s reconfigure the Fuser to reduce the transmission levels, said Or-Lin. Go to Polyp L3.
“Wait,” said Em-Lin. “First, tell me which polyp controls the viral option. I don’t want to risk activating it by accident.”
Or-Lin leaned close and pointed a finger at a crescent-shaped clump floating upward in the convex tank. “Right there. Polyp Q90. We’ll engage it when we’ve finished resetting the transmitter and eliminated the threat to our people.”
“Thanks,” said Em-Lin, and then she grabbed hold of the Q90 polyp with both hands.
Em-Lin, let go of that for now. I just told you, it controls the viral option.
“I know what you told me,” said Em-Lin. She plunged her thumbs into the claylike meat of the polyp. Immediately, its resident intelligence pinged her mind with fuzzy-feeling thoughts like those of the changeling multitool that she had used to deactivate the quantum bomb.
What do you want me to do? said the polyp.
Em-Lin! Or-Lin’s voice became loud and angry. I said leave that alone and reset the transmitter!
Hello, Em-Lin said to the polyp, remembering her father’s advice.
What do you want me to do? said the polyp.
Stop it, Em-Lin! shouted Or-Lin, her voice boiling with rage. Do what I tell you!
The louder her sister got, the more Em-Lin knew that her theory was right—and the more she knew exactly what she wanted the polyp to do.
Please deactivate the Fuser, she thought.
The Fuser on Zasharu or the Fuser on Mirada? thought Polyp Q90.
Em-Lin had not expected to be given a choice, but she was grateful for it. The sooner the two devices went offline, the greater the number of Miradorn lives she would save.
Both, thought Em-Lin.
No! said Or-Lin, shaking Em-Lin by the shoulders. Stop it or I’ll kill you!
“Shut up,” said Em-Lin. “Just shut up.”
She smiled to herself as she felt Polyp Q90 shut down the system. She had been right about Or-Lin.
Or-Lin was not a true dugo tenya. She was not a remnant of Em-Lin’s dead twin, and she was not a trauma-induced hallucination or dream.
She was the Fuser’s last defense. She was a booby trap.
“The self-determining AI will monitor conditions and take appropriate action.” That was what the Vorta had said.
Em-Lin now knew that that was exactly what the Fuser’s AI had done. Created with adaptive changeling technology, sophisticated enough to manage an accelerated planetary psychic evolutionary process, the Fuser’s AI had been equipped to defend itself against any threat.
Even the threat of Em-Lin herself.
It had conjured the image of her dead sister to distract, confuse, and mislead her. How else to stop someone who had helped build the device from shutting it down? Em-Lin’s guilt at not soon enough recognizing the trap that had killed her sister had given the image more than enough power to twist her.
And in the end, to prevent her from finding the “off” switch, the AI had lied to her, telling her that it was the one thing that it thought she would never touch: the controls of a psychic virus that would murder trillions.
But Em-Lin had seen through the deception.
The Fuser on Zasharu and the Fuser on Mirada have been deactivated, said Polyp Q90.
Thank you, Em-Lin said with her mind. It wasn’t easy to concentrate with Or-Lin shaking her by the shoulders and then beating on her back with her fists, but Em-Lin managed to send another message to the polyp.
Are you capable of permanently deactivating the Or-Lin simulacrum? she said.
Yes, said Polyp Q90.
Stand by, said Em-Lin, and then she yanked her hands out of the plasma matrix. Whirling around, she grabbed Or-Lin’s hands, stopping the pounding on her back.
Or-Lin shivered and sobbed in her grip, her face twisted in an expression of mixed fury and agony. She looked like someone who had lost everything, someone who was completely and irreversibly shattered.
Em-Lin knew that she was not her sister, that she was not anyone at all and never had been. But she looked like Or-Lin, and she sounded like Or-Lin, and she felt like Or-Lin. It was enough for now.
Em-Lin released one of Or-Lin’s hands and reached up to stroke the side of her face. “I’m sorry that I didn’t always do the right thing,” she said. “I’m sorry that I didn’t notice the trap that killed you sooner.”
Or-Lin choked on a sob and shook her head wildly. Don’t do it, she said. Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it.
“I forgive you for hurting me,” said Em-Lin. “I will miss you and love you forever.”
No, please, whimpered Or-Lin. Don’t do it.
Then, though the woman before her was nothing but an illusion, Em-Lin leaned forward and pulled Or-Lin into her arms. As she hugged her, Em-Lin shut her eyes tight and began to cry, too.
“Good-bye, my sister,” said Em-Lin.
Then, she cast her thoughts to Polyp Q90: Please permanently deactivate the Or-Lin simulacrum.
Done, said Polyp Q90.
“Done,” said Em-Lin, opening her eyes to see Gomez and the other Starfleeters staring back at her. “I’m all done.”
Chapter
27
Tev welcomed ten pilgrims to the shrine of Ho’nig before the first near-fistfight broke out over his bad manners, which was a lot better than Vance had expected. Vance was impressed that the Tellarite had exercised such admirable restraint in honor of the official start of the Chala Ho’nig festival.
Nevertheless, Vance tip
ped off Gomez, and Gomez substituted Lense for Tev. No use starting an interstellar holy war if it could be avoided.
Especially after the ordeal of the last two days. Everyone on the Starfleet team was thoroughly exhausted after dealing with the toys that the Dominion had left behind after the war—and their hands were still so full dealing with the aftermath that Vance thought they would be hard-pressed to handle any more surprises. Indeed, it seemed like that—even though the war had ended over a year ago—that they kept having to clean up after it. Kharzh’ulla, Luaran, Coroticus, Sachem II, and now this…
Right now, in fact, even as pilgrims arrived for the Chala Ho’nig, S.C.E. teammates and da Vinci crew members worked alongside Miradorn volunteers to repair damage to the shrine. Even Captain Gold was among the cleanup crew, sleeves rolled up and sweat beading his forehead as he helped to clear debris from the altar area.
Vance and Lauoc pitched in here and there as they patrolled the crowd, looking for lapses in civility among the diverse and pious pilgrims. So far, as disruptive to prayer and meditation as the cleanup crew must have been, not one pilgrim complained or caused a problem.
Not a single pilgrim failed to pitch in and help, either. Miradorn, Brikar, Damiani, Phylosians, Benzites, Xindi, and members of many other species worked side by side to restore the place they revered to its original state.
And as they worked, the pilgrims sang a beautiful and complex hymn they created on the spot. Vance had never heard anything like it in his life.
He was actually slightly irritated when someone interrupted his enjoyment of the singing by tapping on his shoulder.
“Excuse me.” Vance turned to see Pika Ven-Sa looking back at him. The Miradorn priest, once so snarky and vigorous, looked downcast and defeated—with good reason. His twin brother, Chi-Sa, had died during the Overlobe Syndrome outbreak less than a day ago, just minutes before Em-Lin had deactivated the Fusers.
“I’m looking for Commander Gomez,” said Ven-Sa. He looked about ten years older than he had a day ago.
Vance nodded. He felt sorry for Ven-Sa. “Right this way, sir,” he said, and then he led Ven-Sa across the shrine to Gomez.
The Cleanup Page 9