Star Trek Prometheus -Fire with Fire

by Christian Humberg

  “Their spacefaring vessels may not be very impressive,” L’emka said, breaking the amazed silence in the passenger cabin, “but they know how to build houses.”

  “This is not unexpected,” Spock said. “The Renao ascribe an enormous ideological value to home and hearth. It is only logical that they have devoted so much of their efforts to making their home as livable as possible. The inevitable corollary is a neglect of transportation.” He pointed toward a single elevated monorail way that disappeared toward the east in the mountains.

  Flores, sitting at the flight controls in the cockpit, swerved to the left, heading straight toward the arcology closest to the coastline. Upon their approach, Adams noticed that there were windows all over the outer walls of these constructs. He also saw galleries on dozens of levels around the egg-shaped colossus, where Auroun citizens sauntered, and the small insect-like transport vessels landed.

  They approached a landing platform protruding from a wall in the upper third of the arcology. Gently, Flores touched the shuttle down.

  A reception party of six uniformed officers awaited them after Adams had opened the hatch and they emerged. The officers’ expressions were stony, but the captain hadn’t expected anything else. They were soldiers first and foremost, and neither the Federation nor the Klingons were very welcome here, as much as the president of the Home Spheres said they were.

  “Please follow me,” the leader of the group said. He must have been a high-ranking officer if the medals on his chest were anything to go by.

  They climbed into an open vehicle with wheels and left the platform. Warm wind engulfed them, and the smell of saltwater and seaweed reached Adams’s nostrils. Some screeching sea birds circled above their heads in the hazy sky, which was tinted in an orange glow by the sun. The numerous flying vessels around them sounded like a swarm of excited fruitbats.

  Through a circular entrance that was also guarded by soldiers, they delved into the inner core of the city. Their journey took them down a straight tunnel that was illuminated by dimmed red light. Several corridors branched off, and they saw signs and marks with symbols. To the left and the right of the lanes, shoulders had been marked where men and women in formal clothing purposefully strode from one corridor to the next. Adams assumed them to be government employees.

  After approximately fifty meters their transport stopped. Before them, the tunnel opened into a circular hall with a high ceiling. An exotic crystal sculpture towered in the center, illuminated by colorful spotlights on the floor. Several corridors branched off this hall as well, but Adams’s attention was drawn toward a glorious double portal. Outside, more men in uniform stood guard. Adams leaned towards Spock, who sat next to him.

  “Apparently, we’re approaching the heart of the Home Spheres.”

  “Indeed,” the Vulcan replied.

  They left their vehicle, and the officer marched toward one of the guardians. He uttered a short command in the Renao language. The universal translator translated it with a short delay. “Open the portal.”

  The man obeyed. Without a sound the heavy portal swung open. Their guide made an inviting gesture. “The councilors await you.”

  Expectantly, Adams walked though the portal with his companions. Flores and Grakk stopped at the doorway. Behind the door was a large, circular chamber. The floor was tiled with a stone similar to marble. Rows of seats lined the walls. Spectators or companions of the council members probably sat there. A large crescent-shaped table stood in the center of the room, similar to the table in the ambassador’s conference room on Lembatta Prime. The difference was that this was timber. For a world with little vegetation such as Onferin that was quite the luxury.

  The ceiling was adorned with an intricate painting. The captain recognized a stylized image of the Lembatta Cluster. Seven planets surrounded by overlapping circles were very prominent in the image, but even more noticeable was a sparkling star in the center of the cluster.

  To Adams’s surprise, only two men were present in the room. One of them was Councilor Shamar ak Mousal. The man next to him had silver hair and wore similar clothing to ak Mousal, so the captain assumed him to be a representative from another planet of the Home Spheres.

  “Captain Adams,” ak Mousal said, approaching with his colleague in tow. He performed the circular gesture in front of his chest.

  “Councilor ak Mousal,” replied Adams, mimicking the gesture somewhat clumsily. “May I introduce my companions: Ambassadors Spock and Rozhenko, who will be speaking on behalf of the Federation, and Commander L’emka, first officer on the I.K.S. Bortas, representing the Klingon Empire.”

  The councilor welcomed Adams’s comrades before pointing to his companion. “This is Councilor ak Bradul, my defense minister. We’re expecting the other councilors momentarily.”

  “You shouldn’t have come here, Captain,” the older Renao said with a scowl. “Your presence is disturbing the harmony of the spheres.”

  “My apologies, Councilor ak Bradul, but that can’t be helped,” Adams replied. “There have been three attacks on targets within the Federation and the Klingon Empire, and Renao have openly claimed responsibility for those attacks. That situation is too precarious to make allowances for cultural sensitivities, I’m afraid. Our own harmony has been even more greatly disturbed. We need to put out this fire before it can become a conflagration. And the only chance to do that is right here.”

  “The Onferin government condemns what has happened strongly,” ak Mousal stated firmly. “Please believe me when I say that we had nothing to do with these attacks. Those are quite obviously delusional extremists, and we offer you our unconditional support in your fight against them.”

  Adams acknowledged these words with a mixture of skepticism and relief. “That’s good to know, thank you very much, Councilor.”

  He had expected further excuses the likes of which he had heard from Ambassador ak Genos. The councilor on the other hand seemed to be absolutely aware of the gravity of the situation. Perhaps ak Genos had told him about the Klingon threat to invade the Lembatta Cluster with a full fleet if their investigations didn’t make any progress soon.

  And perhaps he also knew that certain truths concerning his society couldn’t remain hidden once the away teams began taking a long look at Onferin.

  Ak Mousal’s eyes sparkled meaningfully. “Believe me, Captain; we all want to resolve this situation as soon as possible. The sooner we find the culprits, the sooner you will leave us again, and the harmony of the spheres will be restored.”

  He’s pretty straightforward for a politician, Adams thought. Perhaps we might avoid the next war just in time, after all.

  The councilor pointed at the stone table. “Come, please be seated. We will need to talk about many details as soon as the others arrive.”

  Ak Bradul clapped his hands loudly, and an orderly appeared from an alcove behind the benches along the wall. “Four chairs and drinks for our guests.”

  The man nodded and disappeared hastily.

  Spock spoke up while they strolled into the center of the room. “Councilor, may I express my admiration for the painting on your ceiling? I expect that it represents the Home Spheres.”

  “That is correct,” ak Mousal said. “These are the seven Home Spheres of the Renao. On the periphery is Onferin—the world we have been calling our home since the transfer ten thousand years ago. The other spheres are Lhoeel and Yssab, Xhehenem and Catoumni, Acina and the innermost world is called Bharatrum.”

  Spock nodded slowly. “If I understand our records about your Home Spheres correctly, all those worlds have only been colonized during the last one hundred years, since your people achieved faster-than-light travel.”

  “That is correct. Lhoeel was the first world to be colonized exactly eighty-two of your Federation years ago; and our colony on Bharatrum is only about ten years old.”

  “I am somewhat surprised by the urge to expand shown by a nation whose philosophy is rooted deeply in the principl
e that every part has its firm place within the universe.” Spock raised an eyebrow. “On the surface, it appears illogical that you would engage in an act, that of colonizing other worlds, that would seem to fit the definition of what you call sphere defiling.”

  Ak Mousal smiled tightly at him. “Under normal circumstances you would be correct, Ambassador. But you don’t know the historical background to our philosophy. According to history, the entire Lembatta Cluster is our Home Sphere, thus we are expanding within its natural borders.” The Renao politician raised his hand, pointing at the celestial body in the center of the painting. “Do you see that world there?”

  “Of course.”

  “That is Iad. According to legend, this is the home of the Renao nation, while at the same time being the heart of the Lembatta Cluster. There are no records about this world. Our knowledge of Iad is based on ancient stories that have been handed down from generation to generation. These claim that our nation originates from that world, and that our people lived there until ten thousand years ago, when the transfer took place. The circumstances of this transfer have been lost to history. All we know is that it happened.”

  “How do you know?” L’emka asked.

  “Well, there are no archaeological findings on Onferin older than ten thousand years. Additionally, our biologists have determined that an evolutional development of a species such as ours is not possible on this world. We simply cannot originate from here.”

  “But you’re sure that you come from Iad?” the Klingon woman asked.

  “Yes. All knowledge about our ancient home might have been lost throughout the millennia, but the name always stayed with us.” Ak Mousal hesitated, and then raised his hands in a gesture that might have been the equivalent to a human shrug. “Or at least it’s the name that has been associated with our Sphere of Origin throughout the centuries.”

  Spock tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

  The supreme representative of the Renao sighed. “Naturally, we visited the center of the Lembatta Cluster just as soon as our technology permitted it. There is no planet anywhere in there that might have spawned life, and we haven’t found one anywhere within the Home Spheres. Iad doesn’t exist, Ambassador. It’s merely an idea—and our point of origin remains a mystery.”

  27

  NOVEMBER 14, 2385

  Onferin

  Aoul was a gigantic red-glowing speck in the hazy sky. The scattered light illuminated the stone desert. It shone on the bright sand, into the deep canyons and on the remains of the Griklak hive that rose up almost defiantly from the vast wasteland. It was the silent relic of a long-lost civilization.

  Jassat ak Namur stood in civilian clothing by the window of the Kranaal, a small transport aircraft, looking down on the hive. For a brief moment, he almost believed that its breathtaking sight could make him forget all his worries.

  “One last sweep of the complex,” the voice of the Kranaal pilot came through the lieutenant’s earpiece, drowning out the humming of the insect-like wings on the roof. “Afterward, we will land. Please have your entrance passes ready.”

  The handful of Renao who shared the solar-powered Kranaal’s passenger cabin with him, murmured approvingly. Red arms were being stretched out, red fingers pointed down toward the historical building. Massoa—which was the name of the complex—was half an hour’s flight away from Auroun’s borders. It was a warm morning, a perfect day to go to one of the most popular excursion destinations on the entire northern continent. Although they were still dozens of meters in the air he could already spot the many Kranaals on the airfield behind the gigantic hive. He could also see numerous groups of Renao walking to and from the structure. They reminded him of San Francisco and his first weeks at the Starfleet Academy. Back then, he had also spent every minute of his spare time exploring the sights in the area: the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, the view from Upper Lombard Street. Obviously, on Onferin there weren’t any tourists from other worlds like there were on Earth, but in both places the natives never seemed to lose interest in the history of their planet.

  Jassat understood them all too well.

  “The hive of the Massoa complex was one of the earliest Renao dwellings on this planet.” The pilot audibly wasn’t all too interested in the lines that he was rattling out. His passengers probably knew all those facts anyway. “Inside, the first members of our species settled down, before building their own hives in its image near the coast several generations…”

  Jassat blocked out the voice, staring at the almost egg-shaped large object. The Kranaal slowly descended on its eastern side. The outer walls of the former insect hive bore the marks of sharp desert winds. The remains of five significantly smaller buildings in the sand surrounded the central structure. Some of them were right beside the large sphere, others stood several dozen meters further away. As the Kranaal descended, Jassat watched the visitors of the complex, milling about in the ruins. Just like him, most of them wore traditional clothing made from dark colored fabric with red adornments, and the facial jewelry typical for their species.

  Visually, I will not stand out at all, the lieutenant thought, and was pleased.

  Finally, the little transporter touched down on the airfield, and the fluttering wings that were fastened to the roof came to a standstill. Let’s hope it will be enough.

  Ever since he had started exploring Onferin on his own, he felt as if he was being watched. Jassat knew that he was imagining things, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling. It was an absurd belief that the inhabitants of the Lembatta Cluster would react hostilely toward him and regard him as a stranger, especially now that he had swapped his Starfleet uniform for traditional garments and colors to blend in.

  In his heart of hearts he knew the reason for his paranoia… It was based on the looks he had been given aboard the Prometheus since the incident at Starbase 91. It was based on the comments that he had received from his friends when he had announced that he intended to join Starfleet. And it was based on the fear not to belong anywhere, and to be exiled—even here, deep in the heart of his old, beloved home.

  The cabin door slid open. The Kranaal’s passengers exited, and stood in the warm desert air. Jassat followed suit. From the ground, the Griklak hive was even more impressive than it had been from the air. It was a giant in the middle of nowhere, silent and yet full of significance. It bore witness to the age of this world, to the will to survive of former Renao generations, to the myths of times gone by, and to the pride for the future. It filled Jassat with a deep awe that he hadn’t felt in a long time. If the Sphere was everything, structures like the one of Massoa were the origin of everything. The nucleus. Home of all homes, and almost as important as Iad.

  “Enjoy your stay,” the pilot said, but he was already eyeing the people waiting for their transport back to town on the edge of the airfield. He seemed to be even less interested in them than he had been in the visitors he had just dropped off. “If you want to go back, just return here. The Kranaals leave every hour on the hour.”

  The visitors walked across the airfield toward the outer ruins, Jassat among them. Adams had ordered him to mingle with the locals in order to get a taste for the general mood among the common Renao. The captain hoped to gain impressions and information about Onferin and its inhabitants that the politicians and diplomats couldn’t or wouldn’t give him.

  Because Onferin harbored secrets. Jassat sensed that much.

  Minutes passed, then hours. Silently, the Prometheus conn officer meandered about the ruins. Although he had come to study the locals, he couldn’t deny the magic of Massoa. Every stone, every grain of sand, each desert wind, and every sunray from the distant, warm sun told of a time before time, and of the cradle of Jassat’s own heritage. No matter what uniform he wore, he was Renao. Nothing would change that.

  A merchant stood by the entrance to the main building, offering leys in clay jugs. Jassat bought one and enjoyed the taste of the sticky and salty drink. Leys was made o
f the blood of Ganarro caterpillars. The burrowing animals that were as tall as a Renao lived in the sand of the vast deserts in the east. Leys was a delicacy but virtually unknown outside of Renao space.

  Like so many things from here, Jassat pondered and the thought made him sad. Like almost everything.

  But then he stepped inside the main building, and everything changed.

  Massoa’s middle hive was like an overgrown termite hill on Earth. The lieutenant saw traces of generations past immortalized everywhere: caves that had been carved into the hive, broad sidewalks, and the remains of small bridges. A light shone from a circular hole at the upper end of the bell-mouthed Griklak relic, illuminating the hive sufficiently to prevent visitors from stumbling on the uneven stairs, or falling over their own feet. Jassat had noticed that some of them had brought small flashlights. Carrying these, they even dared to venture into the dark caves, their ancestors’ living areas or into the subterranean narrow tunnels.

  Then a voice that was both familiar and strange at the same time called to him. “Jass? Jass, is… is that really you?”

  He turned and saw Evykk ak Busal. She didn’t carry a lamp. Her smile beamed far brighter than any artificial light could ever do in any case.

  “It is really you! Jass, I can’t believe it!”

  She was dressed in similar clothes to the bored Kranaal pilot. They were tailored from a stony gray fabric with embroidered ornaments. Jassat gawked at her for several heartbeats before he realized that she was one of Massoa’s staff.

  “Ev?” he uttered finally. Squinting, he almost believed he was dreaming.

  The young woman laughed that laugh that Jassat remembered so well. They hadn’t seen each other for years, not even via subspace communication. And time had changed his old friend: Evykk had always been pretty, but now she was breathtaking. Her dark skin, the gold on the bridge of her nose, the purple sparkling eyes and the strong physique made her look like a person who was in control of herself and her life.