Original Sin

by David R. George III

  “The Glant ships are breaking off their engagement with our shuttlecraft,” said Weil, who sat beside the captain at the main console. “The shuttles are in pursuit. All Glant vessels are converging on the Styx.” As though to punctuate the ensign’s report, two more laser blasts in succession rocked the runabout.

  “Shields down to thirty-four percent,” Rogers said. The security officer fired the phasers again, but as Sisko pushed Styx onto a new course, the beams flew wide of their targets.

  Another laser landed on the runabout, and then another. Sisko reeled Styx around to starboard, pushed the bow down toward the surface, then pulled back up hard. Two blue beams sliced past the ports, but a third found its mark, shaking the runabout once more.

  “Shields at twenty-seven percent,” Rogers said.

  Glant vessels filled the sky. Sisko saw the yellowish-red streaks of phasers and traced them back to the shuttlecraft that fired them. As he watched, one of the Robinson auxiliary ships took two laser strikes on an already blackened warp nacelle. Then another Glant vessel shot past and discharged its weapon at the wounded shuttlecraft, which suddenly exploded in smoke and fire.

  No! Sisko thought, even as he diverted Styx onto a new evasive route. The captain’s goal in tracking down the Glant and traveling to their world had been to save lives, not to end them, not to recover the children at the cost of his crew.

  Three more laser blasts pounded into the runabout’s hull in rapid succession. The impacts hurled Sisko from his chair. He climbed back to his feet at once, but fell to his knees as a fourth Glant weapon landed on its target.

  “Shields down to thirteen percent,” Rogers called from the tactical console as Sisko reached his chair.

  “Captain, we’re being hailed by the Robinson,” Weil said beside Sisko. “They want us to drop our shields.”

  “Sir?” Rogers asked.

  “Hold on, Lieutenant,” Sisko said. “Be ready.” The captain pulled the bow of Styx up, sending it into a steep climb. He saw Glant vessels approaching from all around, and as he soared past the first group, he glimpsed them adjusting course, moving to follow the runabout upward.

  And far above them, but inside the inert space surrounding the Dyson section, Robinson soared past.

  Sisko hauled the bow back even farther, past vertical, until it looped over itself and charged into a ninety-degree dive angle. Styx plunged straight down toward the surface—and a cluster of Glant buildings. Land and sprawling structures filled the view through the forward ports.

  “The Glant ships are adjusting course to pursue, but cautiously,” Weil said. “They’re not rushing to dive after us. We have a window.”

  “Lower the shields,” Sisko ordered.

  • • •

  As Robinson flew through the sky above the Dyson section, Rogeiro stood in the center of the bridge, waiting. When he’d witnessed all of the Glant vessels altering their course to pursue Styx, he’d made the decision to take the ship into the atmosphere. At the same time, he recalled all of the shuttlecraft. Once Robinson successfully crossed the inert region surrounding the Dyson section, seven of the auxiliary vessels made it back to the shuttlebay, while the crew used cargo transporters to bring aboard the other four. The Glant had destroyed the twelfth shuttle, Transit, though fortunately not before its three-person crew had been beamed safely to another, Eclipse.

  Rogeiro studied the main viewscreen. It displayed a magnified image of Styx as the runabout circled bow over stern and then headed straight downward, shooting toward the surface. The first officer watched the Glant vessels respond, but slowly, their pilots clearly not wanting to risk taking their ships into dangerous dives, nor wanting to fire for fear of striking the buildings below. Rogeiro hoped the confusion about what to do would provide an opportunity, not just for the away team aboard Styx, but for the Robinson crew.

  “The runabout’s shields are down,” Uteln said at last.

  “Transporter room, energize,” Rogeiro ordered across an already open channel.

  “Energizing,” replied Chief Farid Iravani, the ship’s senior transporter officer.

  Seconds seemed to elongate as Rogeiro waited again. He looked over his shoulder to Uteln, who raised an eyebrow so slightly as to be almost undetectable. Rogeiro thought it might mark the most concerned expression he’d ever seen on the Deltan’s face.

  The first officer turned back to the main viewscreen just in time to see Styx slam into the surface of the Glant world. The captain had clearly set its course with care, as it crashed in an open area rather than into any buildings. A red fireball rose high into the air. More seconds passed.

  “Transporter room to bridge,” Iravani finally said. “We got everybody: all the children and the entire away team.”

  “Good work, Chief,” Rogeiro said, but already his mind moved on to his next tasks. “Uteln, shields up. Sivadeki, get us out of here; full impulse to the inert region, warp speed as soon as we’re clear.” As the two officers acknowledged their orders, Rogeiro said, “Plante, let’s see the Glant forces.”

  The image on the viewscreen changed, pulling back to show more of the Dyson section. Plante worked her controls, highlighting the numerous Glant vessels. “Some of them are modifying their course to chase the Robinson, but they’re too far back,” she said. “They won’t catch us.”

  Rogeiro moved to the command chair and sat down, thinking, That’s what I wanted to hear.

  Bajor, 2380

  Benjamin Sisko opened the front door to the natural beauty of Kendra Province and the welcome sounds of laughter. With the autumnal equinox just passed, shades of orange and red had begun to encroach on the leaves, and the green of the grass had begun to seep toward yellow. B’hava’el hung lower in the sky; it sent long shadows crawling across the landscape. Clouds floated above the distant Kendra Mountains, their puffy whiteness reflected in the ribbon of the Yolja River that wound in front of the foothills. Nearby, the creek that ran through the property offered up its bubbly trickle as though the water itself giggled.

  Sisko had intended to call his wife and daughter in for dinner—the hearty aroma of jambalaya drifted from the kitchen to fill the house—but instead he leaned against the doorjamb and simply watched them. Kasidy bent low as she capered across the grass, playfully chasing their daughter around a moba tree. Clad in a sky-blue dress, Rebecca ran with abandon, her delighted chortles a testament to the resilience of the young—and perhaps especially to the uncanny constitution of Rebecca herself.

  In the five days since their daughter’s return, Sisko and Kasidy had showered her with love and attention, alert for any signs of trauma from her ordeal. To their relief, they had seen no indications in Rebecca of emotional distress. To our great relief, Sisko thought, and to our surprise. Although he hadn’t spoken directly about it with his wife, he could tell that the lack of any apparent deleterious effects of the kidnapping on Rebecca puzzled her. It did more than that for Sisko: it confused and troubled him. He knew that children could be eminently adaptable, and he also recognized that maybe Rebecca did not understand the gravity of what had happened.

  But she’s also the Avatar.

  Sisko despised that thought. While he knew firsthand the power of Bajoran prophecy, and believed that the Ohalavaru view of the Prophets—that they were not deities, but merely members of an advanced alien species—might be accurate, he chafed at his daughter being accorded a place of prominence in their belief system. The Book of Ohalu offered little about her role beyond her birth being a portent of a new and glorious age for the people of Bajor, but Sisko knew that could change. As she got older, Rebecca could encounter new interpretations of her position as the Avatar, and new expectations.

  That’s already happened, he thought. Her kidnapper had been an Ohalavaru, evidently acting on motives related to his faith, though a full report on Radovan Tavus had yet to be rendered. Still, Sisko wondered if the time had come for his family to leave Bajor—if for no other reason than their own safety.
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  It’s more than that, isn’t it? Sisko asked himself. In the three and a half years since his return from the Celestial Temple, his relationship with the Prophets had changed. Relationship, he chided himself. What relationship? Since sending him back to Bajor, the Prophets had essentially gone silent.

  Isn’t that what I always wanted?

  It had been, at one time. In the beginning, when Kai Opaka had identified him as the Emissary of the Prophets, he had been wildly uncomfortable with the designation, let alone all of the implications and expectations that accompanied it. But that changed over time, until he not only accepted his part in Bajoran spiritual life, but came to embrace it—even when Prophets took him from Kasidy and Jake to reside in the Celestial Temple.

  But there could be no question: the Prophets had been hard taskmasters. Cryptic in their communications and demanding in the burdens they placed on Sisko, they enriched his life at the same time that they complicated it. Where have they gone?

  After returning from the Celestial Temple, Sisko had continued to feel the presence of the Prophets in his life. Or at least, he believed he felt their presence. Lately, he’d begun to have doubts.

  At first, all had been well—better than just well; everything had been good. Kasidy gave birth to Rebecca, who, though a bit small, arrived in prefect health. Sisko went with his wife and daughter to the home that he had planned, but that Kas and Jake had built in his absence. Together, he and Kasidy and Rebecca lived the life for which he had longed. After years of effort, Bajor finally joined the Federation. Jake met Rena, fell in love, and married her. And in Sisko’s dreams and visions, the Prophets still communicated with him.

  Or so I thought.

  Then other incidents had begun to occur—troubling incidents. The Ascendants arrived through the wormhole, led by Iliana Ghemor. The health of Sisko’s father began to fail. Eivos Calan and Audj died in a house fire. Ohalavaru extremists descended on Endalla with explosives, planning to strip-mine the surface of the moon, and when Sisko attempted to defuse the situation, their leader committed suicide and took a number of his followers with him.

  And then Rebecca was kidnapped, he thought. She had been rescued and brought home, but Sisko couldn’t help feeling that some force was at work—some bad force. As time had passed, it seemed to him that terrible events loomed on his horizon. Some had drawn close, some had even struck, but it all reminded him of the warning the Prophets had issued to him back before the end of the Dominion War: if he spent his life with Kasidy, he would know nothing but sorrow. He thought he had escaped such a fate, but with everything that had happened, he could no longer be sure. Sisko wondered if he was beginning to pay the price for having ignored the Prophets’ counsel. Worse, he feared that, if so, that price would grow increasingly dear.

  Where are the Prophets now? The dreams and visions Sisko had experienced after returning from the Celestial Temple had been few, and they had faded over time, like bright colors in a darkening room. Those experiences felt like pallid facsimiles of his previous contact with the Prophets. As they continued to diminish in number and frequency, until they disappeared entirely, he came to realize that they had been communications not with the Prophets, but simply with his own subconscious.

  A sudden movement broke Sisko’s inner focus. A shadow fell across his face, and then something struck him—not hard, but it surprised him. He blinked and looked around, his gaze finally coming to rest on an inflatable ball bouncing away from him on the porch.

  Rebecca squealed with laughter. She and Kasidy had come over to the foot of the porch and stood looking up at him. “A credit for your thoughts, Mister Sisko,” Kas said.

  “My thoughts are: it’s dinnertime and I’m hungry,” he said. He bent to pick up the ball, then sat on the edge of the porch in front of Rebecca. “So do you want to eat this ball—” Sisko playfully held it up in front of his daughter’s face. “—or would you rather have jamba-lamba?” Since the first time Rebecca had ever tried to say jambalaya, that had been her word for the Creole dish.

  “Jamba-lamba!”

  Rebecca opened her arms wide, and Sisko dropped the ball and scooped her up. He perched her on his hip with one arm and reached the other out toward Kasidy. She took his hand, and together, they walked back into the house. Something more than contentment, something more even than happiness, flooded through Sisko. He felt joy.

  He could only hope that it would last.

  • • •

  Kasidy cleared the dishes from the dining room into the kitchen as her husband doled out helpings of bread pudding and vanilla ice cream. She brought out a glass of milk for Rebecca, a mug of raktajino for Ben, and a cup of apple cinnamon herbal tea for herself. As they sat around the table enjoying their dessert, Kasidy basked in the restoration of their family.

  During the days that Rebecca had been gone, Kasidy had experienced fear in an entirely new way. There had been times in the past when she’d been afraid for her own life, and other times—certainly during the Dominion War—when she had worried about Ben. None of it matched the horror of losing of her child. Rebecca had been brought home safely, but the memory of Kasidy’s fear remained.

  We have to do something, she thought. Since the recovery of their daughter, Kasidy and Ben hadn’t let her out of their sight, even to the point of having her sleep with them for the first couple of nights—not for Rebecca’s sake, but for their own. Kasidy needed to know at every moment that their daughter was home, that she hadn’t been stolen away again.

  And that’s not going to change, she thought. Not for a long time.

  Intellectually, Kasidy knew that she hadn’t left Rebecca alone at the time she’d been kidnapped. But that missed the point. Her sense of safety had been shattered and she would need to find a way to restore it.

  Beside her, Rebecca gleefully shoveled spoonfuls of bread pudding and ice cream into her mouth. In her days back at home, her appetite had been good. Likewise, so had her disposition. Kasidy and Ben had talked about paying close attention to their daughter, searching for any hints of emotional damage she might’ve suffered during her ordeal.

  Except that Rebecca seems perfectly fine. That both pleased Kasidy and concerned her. She wanted Rebecca to be all right, but she worried that the lack of any perceivable impact on her suggested repressed emotions that could harm her psychological well-being in the future.

  When Major Orisin had contacted them to say that the Militia had recovered Rebecca and arrested her abductor, Kasidy and Ben had immediately transported from their house to Adarak, and from there to Renassa. Kasidy wept when she finally held their daughter, who had hugged her right back, but even then, Rebecca appeared unperturbed. She even tolerated a medical exam, which thankfully revealed that she had suffered no physical trauma.

  The next day, they’d all gone back to Renassa so that Rebecca could be questioned. Kasidy and Ben accompanied their daughter into a playroom that had been set up for her. While Major Orisin observed from another room, a counselor—a Bajoran woman named Lennis Delah—came in to gently probe Rebecca for information. She refused to answer—not with closed lips and a reluctance to speak with the counselor, but because she seemed distracted as she entertained herself with various playthings.

  Later, Lennis had asked that Kasidy and Ben leave her alone with their daughter, though they could observe the interaction along with the major. The counselor suggested that Rebecca might be reluctant to talk about what had happened because she believed that she had done something wrong. Kasidy and Ben hesitantly agreed.

  Eventually, their daughter had answered some of Lennis’s questions. Rebecca didn’t appear to believe that she’d done anything wrong, but it also seemed that she didn’t have any interest in talking about the abduction. She said enough to suggest that Radovan had actually treated her reasonably well, considering the circumstances. Rebecca referred to him as “the sad man,” and rather than expressing anger, she said she felt sorry for him.

  Afterward, the
counselor had been cautiously optimistic that whatever psychological damage Rebecca had suffered would not be debilitating and could be readily addressed. Lennis recommended starting with an hour-long session three times a week, adjusting the schedule as dictated by how the therapy unfolded. She offered to recommend another counselor, but because of Rebecca’s ease with her during their initial meeting, Kasidy and Ben asked her to continue seeing their daughter.

  Lennis had been to the house twice. According to her, the sessions had gone well—remarkably so, given Rebecca’s age and the nature of what she’d just endured. The counselor was due out at the house again in two days.

  “Can I have some more, please?” Rebecca asked. Roused from her thoughts, Kasidy looked over and saw that Rebecca had cleaned her plate.

  “More?” Ben asked. “Where’s all that food going? You must have hollow legs.”

  Rebecca snickered. “Nooooo,” she said, drawing the word out. “It’s going in my belly.” She pointed demonstratively to her midsection.

  “I think maybe you’ve had enough to eat,” Kasidy said. “You don’t want to get a stomachache, do you?”

  “No,” Rebecca said. “I want to get some more ice cream.” She made her request sound perfectly reasonable.

  “Well—” Kasidy started, but then the front-door signal chimed.

  Ben glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “Who could that be?” he asked. “Jake and Rena aren’t due back on Bajor for three more days.”

  Kasidy shrugged, then stood up and walked between the small sitting area before the fireplace to the right, and the larger living area to the left. At the front door, she tapped at the panel beside it, which then displayed their visitor. “Oh,” Kasidy said. “It’s Jasmine Tey.”

  Rebecca immediately jumped from her chair and ran toward the door. “Auntie Jasmine, Auntie Jasmine.”

  The reaction surprised Kasidy, though she supposed it shouldn’t have. From the way Rebecca’s recovery had been described by Major Orisin, the agent had been the one to reach her first and free her. But Kasidy experienced a knot of concern at Tey’s unexpected appearance at their house.