He stared at the rocky outcropping that enclosed the uneven desert terrain and asked, “Could this be ... ?”
“Yes, Captain,” the raspy voice answered. “There hasn’t been a human on this planet since Kirk.”
Sisko turned to see the Gorn a few paces off, studying him with ambiguous crystalline eyes. The Gorn’s green, reptilian skin was considerably more wrinkled than what Sisko recalled of the species from the Enterprise log. Pronounced ridges circled his eyes and earholes, and several spikes were missing from the row that ran from the crown of his head down through his thick upper neck. He wore a faded [254] gold-and-red torso garment with leather wrist protectors and steadied himself with an ornate ebony staff. He appeared very old, and very tired.
The Gorn raised a hand. “Welcome.”
Sisko folded his arms, finding no reason to return the greeting.
“This is a secure location. No one can monitor us here,” the Gorn said. “If anyone has followed our ships, they are hundreds of parsecs away.” He bent slightly and jabbed the base of his staff into the dirt behind his clawed foot. A small stone stool materialized below him. He carefully lowered his massive frame to the seat.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I’m weary from the journey.” The alien’s voice sounded rough, his breathing labored.
Sisko stiffened. “What is the reason for your unprovoked attack?”
“Unprovoked?”
The Gorn looked out at the desolate panorama, moving his reptilian head from point to point as if watching some unseen event. He gestured to a sharp ascent of rocks.
“I would have killed Kirk there given the opportunity,” he said.
Sisko’s eyes slowly brightened at the revelation. “You were the one? You were here with Kirk?”
The Gorn lowered his head in a single nod.
“I didn’t think your species could support that kind of life span.”
“I have an advocate.”
“I’m listening,” Sisko said.
“My life changed on this planet,” the alien said, still staring off in the distance. “After my combat with Kirk, I [255] returned to the Gorn Alliance and helped negotiate the Frontier Accord with the Federation. Unfortunately, a final treaty was never established. There was too much civil strife among the Alliance. I grew weary of the bickering and bloodshed while the great houses struggled to control the Autarchy. So I left.”
The alien turned to Sisko. “At first they ignored my ship’s repeated incursions into their space. But after several decades of time they took notice of my diligence. They gave me aid. They taught me. And now they’ve asked me to bring you here.”
“Who?” Sisko asked. “The Metrons?”
The Gorn paused for a moment as if to gather his strength then said, “They’ve been watching you for some time now.”
“Me?”
“You are the Emissary,” the Gorn said, using the title bestowed on Sisko by the Bajorans. “Your accomplishments have been distinguished, if not brilliant. You’ve remained at the forefront of the Alpha Quadrant’s recent history in spite of your own personal tragedy at Wolf 359.”
“What has all this to do with the destruction of the Amhurst?” Sisko asked, feeling strangely off guard.
“Simply this: they believe they can trust you.”
“Who?” Sisko asked again.
The Gorn looked to his left. An initial glowing radiance of white morphed into the luminescent figure of a young man.
“We ... are the Metrons,” the man said. His voice was weak, and when Sisko peered closer he could see the Metron’s mouth drawn into a painful, thin line.
[256] “Thank you for coming,” the Metron said. His shape momentarily lost definition, then stabilized.
“What’s this all about?” Sisko asked.
“We require ... your assistance, Captain.”
Sisko was stone-faced. “I don’t approve of your methodology for getting our attention. Had you considered just asking?”
“There’s much at stake here, Captain,” the Metron said.
Sisko held back his anger. “I’m not impressed. A starship is destroyed, hundreds dead.”
“You will understand ... in time.” The Metron phased out again; his shape fluxed, then reappeared. He was in obvious physical distress.
Sisko addressed the Gorn. “I need Doctor Bashir.”
The Gorn raised his staff, and Dr. Bashir materialized holding a tricorder. Bashir looked around, disoriented. He glanced down at his tricorder, then to Sisko.
“What’s going on, Captain?” he asked.
Sisko pointed to the brilliant figure phasing in and out of form. “What do you make of that, Doctor?”
Bashir was elated. “A Metron.” He quickly ran the tricorder. After studying the reading he said, “I need a portable transfer pack with a supply generator. There’s too much data here to analyze on a standard tricorder.”
Moments later the equipment appeared at Dr. Bashir’s feet. Bashir stared at the Gorn, then at Sisko. “How’s he doing that?”
“Never mind, Doctor,” Sisko said. “Carry on.”
After several minutes of feeding the tricorder data into the transfer pack, Bashir turned to Sisko.
“He’s dying, Captain,” Bashir said. “And that’s all I can [257] tell you. There is some type of temporal instability that is causing the deterioration.”
Sisko frowned. “I don’t suppose there’s anything you could do?”
Dr. Bashir shook his head, suppressing a baffled look. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
The Gorn raised his staff again. “Thank you, Doctor. That will be all.”
“But I haven’t—” Before Bashir could finish he had disappeared.
“I allowed you the confirmation, Captain,” the Gorn said, “so you would know there was no intended subterfuge.” He adjusted his position on the stool and said, “Truth is, they’re all dying.”
“What?” Sisko asked, turning back to the Metron. The alien had stabilized now, his attention on Sisko.
“A type of ... plague has induced distortions into our space-time continuity,” the Metron said. “We may yet resolve the singularity but cannot risk the loss of our heritage ... knowledge of our culture. Incontinent minds could use this knowledge for destructive gain. We ... need your help.”
“Why my help?” Sisko asked, tilting his head to the Gorn. “Why not him?”
“Our projections show the Gorn survival probability during the next several thousand years is very low,” the Metron said. “The odds are much better with your species ... if this ‘enlightenment’ is not abused.”
“How do you know we can be trusted?” Sisko asked.
“You can’t, not now. But you can escort a dormant information pod to Federation space and deposit it on the planet of our choosing.”
[258] “Dormant?” Sisko asked.
“Time capsule ... of a sort,” the Metron said.
“How can I believe you when you’ve killed so indiscriminately to accomplish your ends?”
“You did not destroy a ruthless invader, Captain, when it was in your power to do so. Why?”
Sisko considered his response. “I needed to know why the Amhurst was destroyed,” he said. “Violating your space with a simple act of revenge would not have given me the answers.”
The Metron smiled faintly and nodded.
Sisko studied the fluxing image of the alien. They had been testing his resolve. Apparently the crew of the Amhurst was an expendable variable in their cost equation.
“If the complete knowledge of our culture falls into the wrong hands it could mean the extinction of your species,” the Metron said. “We had to make clear the seriousness of our intent.”
“You made that very clear,” Sisko said, sounding out his rancor.
The Metron hesitated as if to compose himself. “Nonetheless, you will have proof of our honorable purpose. If your reservations are not allayed upon your return to Federation space, you may destroy the capsule.” The Me
tron faded slightly. “When our races first met, Captain Kirk’s initial objective was one of violence, yet he showed mercy to an aggressor. We ask you now to render us the same judgment.”
Sisko pondered the request. He felt that he had little choice in the matter if what the Metron said was true.
The Gorn rose to his feet. “One more thing, Captain. The [259] Dominion has been monitoring the Metrons since the wormhole was discovered. They know they’re perishing and suspect the Metrons want to discharge their legacy. The Dominion is also hungry for knowledge.”
The Matron blurred again, then reestablished his image one final time, his voice gaining strength. “We still believe there is hope for your species, Captain. In a few thousand years, perhaps our wisdom will be of service to you.”
Sisko watched the Metron vanish! then turned to the Gorn. “Let’s get this over.”
“Three Jem’Hadar warships closing on an intercept vector,” Dax called out as Sisko rematerialized on the bridge. “Nice of you to rejoin us, Captain,” she said with a tight grin.
“Where in blue blazes did those ships come from?” O’Brien grumbled.
Dr. Bashir stood in the rear of the bridge. “Captain, what happened? The Gorn? The Metron?”
“Not now, Doctor. Helm, come about, two-six-zero mark three-four, warp 5, steady cruise,” Sisko said, taking his seat in the command chair. “Lay in a course for the Venexar system.”
“Venexar?” Dax asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Sisko said.
“Aye, Captain, two-six-zero mark three-four.”
“Worf, we have a package to deliver. Get down to the weapons bay and personally secure our new cargo.”
Worf stared blankly for a moment, puzzled, then obediently disappeared into the turbolift.
“Captain, the Jem’Hadar are hailing us,” Ensign Koletta said. The three warships appeared on the viewscreen.
[260] “Ensign, give them this broken response,” Sisko said. “COMMUNICATIONS ARRAY DAMAGED ... ATTEMPTING TO COMPLETE NAVIGATION RUN ... REMAIN CLEAR ... POSSIBLE RADIATION HAZARD.”
“Aye, sir.”
“They’re not buying it,” O’Brien said. “They’re powering up weapons.”
“Cloak on, Dax, hard to starboard!”
Long pulses of disrupter trails arced across the bow of the Defiant. The ship lurched suddenly, then accelerated.
“That was close,” O’Brien said. “Minor damage to deck three.”
“Captain, they have us pinned,” Dax said. The disrupter fire continued to pulse from the warships. The Defiant jolted with each blast.
Sisko studied the Jem’Hadar positions. He didn’t want to decloak and fight. The Defiant would probably win the fray, but if they were immobilized they could risk losing their cargo.
“Captain, inbound ship, zero-four-zero mark six,” Ensign Koletta called out. “It’s the Gorn!”
“On screen,” Sisko yelled, trying to steady himself from the explosions that rocked his ship.
“It’s about time the cavalry got here,” O’Brien said, then paused. “Hope they’re on our side.”
The single ship streaked inbound toward the Jem’Hadar; three energy discharges bolted toward the warships. The Defiant suddenly stopped reeling.
“They’re disabled, Captain,” Ensign Koletta said. “They can’t accelerate to warp. They were no match for the Gorn’s technology.”
[261] Chief O’Brien glared at Sisko. “He destroyed the Amhurst, but he wouldn’t destroy them?”
“Easy, Chief,” Sisko said. “We’re not out of this yet.”
The Gorn appeared on the viewscreen. “Captain, you now have safe passage. I don’t detect any other ships along your intended route.”
“Understood,” Sisko acknowledged.
“A safe journey, Captain, and thank you,” the Gorn said.
“You’ll forgive me,” Sisko said, “but I don’t feel like celebrating.” He signed off and turned to Dax. “Continue to Venexar, warp 8. Ensign Koletta, raise Major Kira at DS9 if we’re clear of the radiation interference.”
“Aye, Captain,” Koletta answered.
Moments later, the image of Major Kara appeared on the holocommunicator pad behind Sisko’s command chair, her eyebrows knitted with concern.
“Captain, we’ve been worried. You’re three hours overdue on your check-in.”
Sisko’s mood was somber. “We’ve run into some unexpected events, Major. Have you received any messages from Starfleet concerning the Amhurst?”
Kira’s eyes narrowed. “The Amhurst?” She mouthed a command to the unseen personnel in the DS9 ops center. “No, sir. Has there been a problem?”
“Major, check with Starfleet. What is the location and status of the Amhurst?”
Major Kira’s Bajoran earring dangled lazily beneath her short red hair when she looked away and continued her conversation with the ops personnel. She turned back to Sisko.
“She’s been in drydock for the last six months, Captain. [262] Complete overhaul. Is there a problem that we should know about?”
The Defiant’s bridge crew looked to Sisko, their faces stunned with surprise. Sisko’s tremendous sense of relief was quickly supplanted by a stinging irritation. The entire Amhurst incident had been a Metron variation of the Kobayashi Maru riddle.
“Those bloody wags,” O’Brien groused to Julian seated next to him.
“Say again, sir?” Kira asked.
“Never mind, Major,” Sisko said. “We won’t be back for another forty-eight hours, so please mind the store for another day or two.”
“No problem, sir, but please don’t miss any more check-ins. Odo wants to be updated on your whereabouts. Something about a large pile of security reports that need your signatures.” Kira gave him a wink and signed off.
“How many times must our ethics be tested by a superior alien species?” Dax asked, shaking her head. “I object to being someone else’s science project.”
“The Federation commits that act habitually,” Worf said, “by deciding who is allowed to join and who’s rejected.”
“I guess it was our turn in the barrel,” Sisko concluded.
Dax gave Sisko a warm smile. “Well done, Benjamin.” It was nice to see her upbeat, radiant self again.
“Lucky or good, old man?” Sisko asked. “Hard to tell sometimes.”
“Not this time,” she said and dutifully turned back to her nav console.
[263] “Ensign Koletta, send a request to the Gorn ship,” Sisko said, musing at the rich starfield now on the viewscreen. “I’d like a meeting with him when our mission is complete. Tell him ... I’m a student of history.”
When they arrived at Venexar IV, ten hours later, sensors showed the planet geologically unstable and inhospitable to any known life-forms. On the viewscreen the planet appeared an orb of burnt bronze and black, littered with green clouds of methane gas.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Dax asked, maneuvering the Defiant into circumpolar orbit. “Not exactly what I’d call a vacation spot.”
Sisko allowed himself a half smile. He looked to Worf, who had returned to tactical alongside Ensign Koletta. “Worf, is the pod ready for launch?”
“Aye, Captain. There were no problems mounting it in the torpedo bay.”
“Very well. Launch when ready.”
“Pod away,” Worf said moments later.
The pod streaked out over the planet, leaving in its wake a brilliant series of gold concentric circles.
“Very impressive,” Dr. Bashir said, watching the luminescent rings of fire.
“But will it survive that hostile environment?” Dax asked.
“Captain,” Chief O’Brien said, “I had time to analyze the pod en route and found it to be nearly indestructible.”
“We’ve lost its position,” Worf said. “Sensors are unable to track it.”
[264] Sisko nodded. “I’m sure that’s according to plan. It should be secure until its term is complete.”
“Not anytime soon, Doctor,” Sisko said, sounding philosophical. “Not anytime soon.”
Spock: A thousand years. Captain?
Kirk: Well, that gives us a little time. ...
—Enterprise Log, Stardate 3045.6
The Gorn walked slowly, stabbing the desert soil with his staff, his hand resting on Sisko’s shoulder.
“Did you think at any time that Kirk would actually win the confrontation?” Sisko asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
The alien shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was still strained but content. “Kirk’s physical strength was inferior to mine. I was the hunter, and he was daunted by the chase.”
“But he was faster, more agile.”
“He was quick,” the alien conceded.
“And when you faced his crude weapon? Were you concerned?”
“His earlier attacks had been futile,” the Gorn said. “I was suspicious but not worried.”
Sisko surveyed the quiet landscape and couldn’t help but feel the acute sense of history in its solitude. If Kirk had died here, so much would have been lost: the Enterprise destroyed, no crew to fulfill those remarkable destinies.
The Gorn stopped for a moment and gently poked at [265] Sisko with his clawed thumb. “You’re bigger than Kirk. Maybe I would have been more careful had it been you.”
Sisko gave the alien a thoughtful grin, then both continued walking several hundred meters to the rocky escarpment, to the site of the arena, to the plot of ground where the Gorn had fallen.
Good Night, Voyager
Patrick Gumby
The Bridge
“What the devil happened to the lights?”
It was a good question, and Kathryn Janeway had every right to ask it. It was, after all, her starship.
There was no immediate response, so she tried again. “Excuse me, but can anyone tell me what is going on?”
There was a rustle behind her, and Harry Kim’s quavering voice spoke in the darkness from his position at the ops panel. “My board is dead, Captain. Everything. Even the emergency status display.”
STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds I Page 22