by David
to Meramar by the Preservers, just like the ancestors
of the Tenarans. Except that the Tenarans
apparently came from somewhere in Asia, and we
came from western Hispania."
Gaius' ears pricked up at the familiar
name. "During Roman times?"
"Toward the end, when the barbarians were
overrunning the area. My ancestors survived
for quite a while, because they were even more warlike than
the barbarians who were attacking. Thanks
to Servado"--she made a curious gesture
over her heart with her right hand--"who took
human form and organized us so that we could hold
out. However, in the end there were too many of them for
us, so Servado called the Preservers to take
us away. Well," she added apologetically,
"that's what my ancestors all believed,
anyway. And then he sacrificed his mortal
self in a one-man stand against the barbarians
while the Preservers took away my
ancestors."
"A beautiful myth," Gaius said.
Jenny stared at him angrily for a moment,
until she realized that he had meant it as a
compliment. "If you look at it th at way," she
said, feeling a bit foolish.
"The Preservers," Gaius said thoughtfully.
"I wonder if we'll find them someday."
"If they still exist," Worf said. "The last
trace of them is more than a thousand years
old."
Gaius laughed. "To a Roman, a thousand
years is the blink of an eye."
"The long view," Jenny said.
Gaius nodded. "We Romans always take
the long view."
By noon, there was little left of the commander's
body. The squad leader stood up, stretched,
andwitha smug little purr of satisfaction kicked
the thick, heavy bones of his late commander,
scattering them among the trees. "Now I'm in
command," he announced, and no one was willing
to argue with him. But they were all thinking that this new
commander, like the previous one, would have to sleep
eventually.
Chapter Ten
What I need, Will Riker thought,
looking out over the plains surrounding the Tenaran
capital city of Zhelnogra and yawning,
is a good night's sleep.
The last few days of traveling, and
surveying settlements in the surrounding
countryside, had provided him with little chance for
that. And now, with the M'dok somewhere out there ...
Well, he didn't expect things to change
soon.
He and the rest of the Enterprise's survey
team had arrived in the capital only a few
short hours ago; Riker had sent the
agronomists to sleep immediately, and joined the
security force patrolling the city.
It was ironic that the massive ground-based
security installations and the entire satellite
system they'd installed could do them absolutely
no good now; the crashed M'dok ship confirmed
that the satellite network, with its immensely
powerful network of long- and short-range
sensors, could be misled. And the ground-based part
of the system, the great sensor dishes constantly
sweeping the sky, had been set up to detect
metal ships in space, not bodies of warm
flesh on the ground.
So they had to depend on foot patrols for
their security. Characteristically, the Tenaran
capital city was unwalled and unguarded.
Riker and his men were using hand-held
tricorders, but they would be effective only
once the M'dok got within range--which might be
far too late.
He yawned and turned back toward the city
--just as his tricorder began beeping madly.
Riker glanced at the tricorder's display
screen, then quickly slapped his communicator
insignia.
"Lieutenant Worf ... I'm picking
up a concentration of bodies just outside the city
and heading this way."
"Understood, Commander. Sending reinforcements
your way. Worf out."
Riker drew his phaser and stepped into the long
prairie grass that surrounded the city.
"Who's out there?"
No answer.
"Who's out there?" Riker repeated. Now he
could hear shuffling in the grass. He adjusted the
settings on his phaser to heavy stun, wondering
if even that would be enough to slow down a charging
M'dok.
"Don't shoot!" A young man stepped
into view, followed immediately by several others,
including one person Riker
recognized immediately.
"Gretna!" He put away his phaser and
stepped forward. "Where have you been?"
She paid him no attention, striding by him as
if he wasn't there.
"Wait a minute," Riker said, grabbing
her arm and spinning her around to face him.
"What's the matter with you?"
"Let go of me," Gretna said, jerking her
arm free.
"Keep away from her, Commander." Larten, the
man from Carda who had been so rude to Riker
and Gretna before, moved between the two of them and
faced him threateningly.
Not wanting to provoke a confrontation,
Riker took a step back. "What's he
doing here?" he asked Gretna sharply. "And
who are all these people?"
"I am Anka," an older woman said,
stepping forward. "We are here to demand new
elections to the Great Saavta."
"New elections?" Riker shook his head,
dumbfounded. "Gretna, what's going on?"
"Don't play innocent with me," she said,
"after what Marcus told me the other night."
"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.
"Marcus who?"
"Marcus Julius Volcinius. The teacher
from the Centurion."
"Teacher? He's no teacher." Riker shook
his head. "He's Captain Sejanus' cousin
--a special diplomatic envoy."
"Well, he's teaching Magna Roman
history to Tenaran children," Gretna said
angrily. "And don't pretend you don't know
about it! Your captain--"
That was as far as she got before the screams
started.
No stranger to Federation technology or to the
advantage of surprise, the new M'dok
commander had kept his troops close behind
Gretna's party until they were well into the
tall prairie grass that surrounded the city,
within sight of the largest building to be seen, the
Hall of the Great Saavta.
A few growled commands, and the horde of
M'dok burst from their well-chosen concealment,
moving faster than any human could possibly
have run, sprinting for the building.
They ignored the Tenarans who screamed and
scattered out of their way as they ran; despite
their hunger, this was an elite, perfectly
disciplined company. The new commander had told his
troops not to deviate from the previously
agreed-on plan they were to be allowed a very
/> brief indulgence, a bit of rest and
recreation, and then they must gather their cattle,
who would also serve as hostages. Finally, they
would commandeer native ground transport and
make for the spaceport.
One Tenaran was foolish enough to stand his ground.
Tall and strong, Yavam Poroviki had
been deeply impressed by the visitors from
Starfleet, and had dreamed of joining it one day.
If I can do something like this, no one can deny
me the chance.
He stepped into the street, both nervous and
exhilarated--but feeling more nervous by the second
--as he watched the ordered formation of M'dok
sprinting toward him.
"Stop!" he shouted, holding up his hand in
what he hoped was an authoritative
gesture. "You have no right--"
The commander understood no human language,
and he wouldn't have cared if he did. The young
Tenaran's body was hurled aside with incredible
force, blood gouting from his mouth as he landed.
He lay quite still.
Then they were at the Hall of the Great
Saavta, breaking formation as they jumped in through
windows and doors; a few leapt onto the
walls, scaling them with literally inhuman
agility, to enter through openings on the second and
third stories. They were all inside within
seconds.
Then began a one-sided battle such as the
Tenarans had never imagined in their worst
nightmares.
Most of the administrative personnel within the
building, generally old and completely
nonviolent for all their lives, were killed
without resistance as they begged for their lives. The
few who tried to resist were slaughtered just as
easily. Soon the walls, the furniture,
and the M'doks themselves were covered with drying
blood.
The famine had lasted too long, too many
young and females had died, and the warriors'
fury had risen too high, along with
their hunger.
This slaughter was far from over.
Melkinat's office was in a relatively
isolated wing on the third floor, so it took
some time for the noise of the battle to reach him.
When it did, he looked up from his paperwork,
shook his head, and tried to dismiss it, until the
sound became too loud to ignore.
He set down his pen and listened, with
irritation, and then, growing fear. At first it had
sounded like workmen; now, as he listened more
closely, it seemed that he could hear screams
and growls, and other noises he didn't even
want to begin identifying.
Suddenly very afraid, he rose from his
desk, the candles casting a flickering shadow of
him upon the wall. His shadow looked larger than
he was. Is this what I've become? A
shadow?
No!
For the first time in years, he looked at himself.
He had never been especially tall; it was his
powerful orator's voice, not his physical
presence, which had made him such a successful
politician. Though he was growing old, he was
still strong--the years of hard work on his
family's farm having left their mark on his
muscles. His appearance of frailty was just an
appearance, not reality. Now, after decades,
he realized that he was not a weak old man, but
a powerful one--and, therefore, potentially
dangerous.
His peers on the Central Council would have
been surprised to see the grin that appeared on
his lips then--a hard, dangerous smile, the
tips of his teeth showing from beneath thin lips. With a
single stride--and how good it felt to walk again,
instead of shuffling!--he was at the opposite
wall, lifting the great ax from the brackets that
held it. Then he opened his door and ran out
into the corridor.
There was blood splattered on the wall.
A M'dok warrior stood there, and clenched
in each paw was a Tenaran. Melkinat could no
longer recognize the faces, but he was quite
sure that he had known both those men.
With a shout that drowned the warrior's growl,
he rushed at the great cat, swinging the ax
two-handed. The M'dok was more than a
bit surprised to find a Tenaran who actually
fought, and he hesitated for a fraction of a
second. That brief hesitation cost him his
life.
Just as the M'dok was beginning to move, the keen
steel sliced deep into his side, crushing
both the inner and outer set of ribs. Melkinat
tightened his grip on the haft as he felt the
force of the impact run up his forearms.
He pulled the ax free, and the M'dok
commander crumpled, blood spilling out across the
floor.
Melkinat stared down into its eyes, and what
he saw there suddenly sickened him.
The creature was in agony.
The M'dok shuddered once and lay still.
Merciful God, Melkinat thought in
silent shock, standing there over the body, fighting
the urge to vomit. A living being--and I
killed it.
Yes, and I will kill many more, and I will go
on killing until my w orld is safe. He
knew something fundamental had changed inside
him, and it would never change back again.
He turned to go down the stairs, toward the
sounds of battle below, ax in hand.
Gretna watched Will Riker's face
closely as he listened to the disembodied voice
coming over his communicator.
"They're inside the Great Hall, Commander.
Ensign de Luz reports heavy fighting.
I'm on my way there now."
"I'll be there quick as I can, Worf.
Riker out." He turned back to the Tenarans.
"The M'dok are attacking the city. Stay
here, and stay together. You should be safe."
With those words he was off and running. He was
fifty feet from the entrance to the Great Hall
before he realized Gretna was following him.
"What are you doing?" he yelled, coming to a
stop.
"My father could be in there!" Gretna said.
"And if he is, his life's in danger!"
Horrendous sounds of battle, of screaming
and yowling, and phasers firing, could be heard from
within.
"In danger?" Will bent over to catch his
breath. "Did I ever tell you how
perceptive you are for a naive
Tenaran girl?"
Gretna tried hard not to smile, but
failed.
"Will," she began. "I--"
The front door to the Great Hall flew
open, and a M'dok warrior sprang out at
them.
Will had no time to draw his phaser. He
simply threw himself in front of Gretna, and
met the charging M'dok head-on. The two of
them fell to the ground, the M'dok's yowling
mixing with Riker's shouts.
Gretna screamed. "Will!"
Riker
fell silent. The M'dok gained
its feet, and stood poised over him, its
claws unsheathed to strike.
Simultaneously, a beam of light shot out
of the doorway and struck the M'dok. It
crumpled to the ground and lay still.
A tall alien in a Starfleet uniform,
almost as fearsome-looking as the M'dok, stepped
out of the doorway.
"Are you all right?" he asked Gretna.
"I'm fine, but Will ..."
The alien knelt by Riker's side and
turned him over.
He took one look and slapped his
communicator.
"Worf to sick bay ... Emergency!
Beam Commander Riker aboard immediately!"
When he lifted his hand off the communicator,
blood stained his uniform.
"Will he be all right?" Gretna asked.
Worf nodded hesitantly. "Yes. His
injuries do not seem severe."
She turned back toward the Great Hall.
The fighting within seemed to have stopped. "I've
got to find my father."
"Wait," Worf said.
Gretna turned.
"You are Gretna Melkinata?"
"I am."
"Your father is not in there." Worf
hesitated. "I regret to tell you he is
already aboard the Enterprise. He is very
seriously injured."
Just outside Zhelnogra, where the city
disappeared into prairie that had remained
unchanged for a length of time beyond
understanding, the burial party was hard at work.
Jenny de Luz, Lieutenant Worf,
and a few Tenaran survivors were digging
graves for those who had fallen in the attack
on the city. In places, the giant sensor
dishes of the defense system rose above the
prairie, metal gleaming in the midst of the
tall grass. The system was perfectly
set up, Jenny thought. And yet it failed
miserably. And I'm the one who certified that
the satellite web was complete and sufficient.
I am responsible for much of what happened.
She straightened briefly, breathing in the
cold, clean air, stretching her weary back.
A few hundred yards distant, Worf
continued digging, working at a relentless pace.
Gaius had beamed back scant minutes
ago to the Centurion, to tend to one of his own
men injured in the attack.
Luckily, none of the Enterprise
personnel (save Commander Riker, of course)
on the surface had been caught in the attack
--only the Tenarans. And many more of them would have
lived, had they bothered to pay attention
to Worf's self-defense lessons.