“What’s your objective? What do you want my help for?”
Kyle adjusted their course, his arms wriggling back and forth as he struggled to work in the confined space. Will thought he wouldn’t get an answer and was again growing impatient.
“The outbreaks of violence continue in this direction. Bison must also be in this direction, spreading it. He’s my target.” Kyle exhaled heavily, then glanced at his son. “How much do you understand about what is happening to these people?”
Will frowned for a moment, then began to summarize their mission. “The Bader and Dorset achieved unprecedented cooperation while colonizing this world. In turn, something native to this planet changed their chromosomal structure and they found themselves dying at a younger age with each passing generation.”
“Good,” Kyle said, nodding in approval. “And you know I was sent here by Koll Azernal to study the scientists’ reports.”
“Why would the president’s chief of staff send you?”
Kyle evaded the question and continued speaking. “The Bader and Dorset scientists did their work independently of one another, and the chief medic here missed something I caught when reviewing the data.”
Will considered just how brilliant his father must be to do all the things he had done over the years. His accomplishments bordered on the legendary, but, prideful as he could be, he rarely spoke of them to his son. In fact, although he had been the sole survivor of a Tholian attack on a space station, Kyle never told Will of the incident, nor of the months he spent recovering and the torturous hours of physical therapy. Will only found out about it more than a decade later from Dr. Katherine Pulaski, who was the physical therapist. Will was not at all surprised it was his father who figured out the source of the problem on Delta Sigma IV.
“You were the one who figured out it was the liscom gas that affected the genes?”
Kyle shook his head and kept flying into the night sky. Below them, the sea was dusted with whitecaps, making for an eerie sight.
“No, the people figured that out on their own. It was the other effect.”
Will blinked in surprise. “What other effect?”
Now Kyle blinked and looked alarmed. “Hasn’t your Dr. Crusher figured this out yet?”
“If she has, then I don’t know about it. After all, I’ve been chasing you around this world.”
Kyle nodded at that and continued. “OK, so maybe you don’t know. I can only hope to God that she figured it out.”
“Figured out what?”
“No need for that tone,” Kyle said harshly, trying to reassert his role as the alpha male. Will bit his tongue, waiting to hear what was happening to these people. “Didn’t you ever wonder how two incredibly belligerent races could possibly bury the hatchet in the ground and not in each other’s skulls?”
“I read the reports. They both decided to use Delta Sigma IV as a new starting point.”
“Nice words, but that came months after both races tried to claim the planet for themselves. They did such a great job selling themselves as enlightened; the Federation never really questioned it.”
“Questioned what?”
“Not only did the gas shorten their lives, but it drugged them somehow. I’m guessing it affected their brain chemistry and effectively lobotomized them.”
Will was stunned at the revelation. Never once did he guess anything close to this. A planet full of drugged people, suddenly without the drug. The withdrawal symptoms alone must be horrendous.
“And they never figured this out during the one-year quarantine?”
“All the doctors saw,” Kyle explained, “was that these peaceful people were acting a little less docile. But they certainly weren’t aggressive, let alone violent.
“As the serum we devised worked its way through their systems, it took time before we figured out the right dosage. We kept a close watch, but it wasn’t until they were back home that problems manifested themselves.” Kyle looked less smug, definitely uncomfortable with the notion of Federation fallacy.
“And Bison was the first to experience the withdrawal?”
“So it seems. Without the gas in their body, their natural tendencies reassert themselves. Both races are violent, aggressive people, absolutely no fun to deal with.”
Will was following the natural progression and saw where this was going. He didn’t need a counselor’s training to understand what happened next. “And these are adults who have never had to deal with these emotions before.”
“So Bison couldn’t control himself, and struck out at Unoo.”
“He broke the quarantine, and spread the ‘cure’ like a virus. And you’ve been following him.”
“Of the five test subjects, El Bison El reacted first. When we find him, we can have Dr. Crusher look him over and figure out why. I’m betting she’s already looked over the others so his scans should be useful. I hate loose ends.”
Will winced at that, since he said much the same thing to Deanna just days ago on the ship. He disliked resembling his father in any way.
“You saw the trend and extrapolated there might be a problem. Didn’t you say anything?”
“Of course I spoke up,” his father snapped. “I made it clear to Starfleet Medical that I thought there was a problem, but the doctors and psychologists disagreed with me, so I was outvoted.”
Kyle fell silent for a moment, brooding over the defeat. Had things gone differently, needless bloodshed would have been prevented.
Will waited him out, looking out at the sea and noting they were nearing the shores of Osedah.
Finally, Kyle spoke again. “When President Zife agreed with the plan to reintroduce the test subjects during the planet’s centennial celebration, it wasn’t all that difficult getting included in the delegation. In fact, Zife liked the idea that someone more experienced than that pup Morrow would be on hand.”
Will watched the emotions play out in his father’s eyes. Kyle’s jaw was set, as he concentrated on flying, but his feelings of failure were evident in his bloodshot eyes.
“As soon as Bison killed Unoo, I knew in my gut that my suspicions were right. I’m a tactician; I always think four moves ahead. I knew if he got loose, there was a good chance all these people would be infected. I had to contain it and him.”
“So you ran.”
“I pursued him, but he had already infected some members of the media. He was faster and younger than me, so he got away.”
Will considered all this, accepted it for the truth, and tried to think ahead. How do you stop a people from acting naturally?
“I began trying to outrace the virus and catch Bison. Along the way I tried to stop things from getting out of hand.”
“You were the planet’s guardian angel, weren’t you?” Even Will winced at the bitterness in his voice.
“I failed to stop this on Earth, I had to stop it here,” his father said in a harsh voice. “This is my mess. I’m responsible. I suspected something was going to happen but never insisted on the proper security. Some tactician.”
Will laughed coldly. “Then you’ll be happy to know that you’re not being blamed. The whole Federation is on the hook for this.”
Kyle didn’t laugh back. He was neither relieved nor pleased by the notion.
“Of course they are, and they should be. The studies were flawed, the research incomplete. They never should have come back here. I should have found a way to stop it. That’s my job, after all, to stop things from getting worse. But this time, I couldn’t do it.”
The flyer was beginning to descend. Will watched as tiny points of light appeared in the distance: small towns with their night lights on to protect them. He was pleased to see nothing in flames, although that could change in a heartbeat. How on earth could Vale and her team contain this before Crusher could do her part?
“Don’t you see, Will? I have to fix this. And with you at my side, we can be even more effective. We can complete this together and save the people from
themselves.”
Will wasn’t sure if his father was cracking under the strain, but he had never heard Kyle pleading before. He wasn’t surprised the request came, and had even anticipated it a bit.
“I’m responsible for so much that has gone wrong, and it is my job to fix it. Look, there’re only so many undercover things I can do. If I’m at all under suspicion, you can get me into places. We can make a difference.”
There it was. In a nutshell, the very essence of a Starfleet officer’s job. Making a difference either through discovery or protection, but making the universe a better place to be. Will could certainly help his father, and he was surprised to discover that deep down there was a part of him that actually wanted to help.
“What do you say, son?”
“What island are we on now?”
“Told you before, it’s Kagor,” Studdard said, wiping sweat from his brow. His team had been among the first on the planet and they had just finished a rest rotation and were immediately beamed back to the surface with Taurik from engineering to handle some emergency repairs.
“Nothing like getting the grand tour,” Clemons commented, taking up the rear position. The security detail was accompanying the Vulcan on the last stretch before their destination, a power relay station located on the island’s highest peak. Something had taken it offline, and a string of islands and the western coast of Huni were without power.
“What is this?” he continued, puffing from the exertion of the climb. “Our fourth or fifth stop?”
“Third, you knucklehead,” Studdard said with a grin. “You’re complaining so much you’re missing the sights.”
“There are sights?” Weathers asked. He was broad and sported a small paunch. His hair was close-cropped, and his gray-flecked mustache betrayed his age. A fifteen-year veteran, he’d served with Picard since the early days of the Enterprise-D.
“C’mon, can’t you see the beautiful horizon?” Studdard said, making a sweeping gesture toward the placid ocean surrounding the island. It was the calmest of the three places they had visited. The sun was rising high in the sky, there were no clouds, and other islands dotted the sea in a vaguely straight line toward the south. “Just about as pretty as Olivarez.”
“Did you see what she did with her hair?” Weathers asked.
“Nah, man, she beamed down earlier with Gracin’s unit,” Clemons said.
“Looks like she stood too close to the warp reactor. Hair going every which way and all standing up,” Weathers said, adding a guffaw.
“Don’t think I’d like it too much,” Clemons answered. “Now me, I like hair that’s softer, with some body to it. Styled nice, you know what I’m saying?”
Reyes caught up to the much larger Clemons and shook his head. “Like who?”
“Well, we could always start with the lieutenant herself. Nice hair. Real nice.”
“Don’t know if we should be talking about Vale like that,” Studdard commented. “You want to talk about hair, saw a real nice top to a yeoman near sickbay yesterday.”
“Who was it?”
“Didn’t catch her name, Reyes, but I hope to when this is over,” the squad leader answered.
Taurik was walking directly behind Studdard, who preferred taking point whenever possible. The security guard was a little weary from battling people who seemed committed to mayhem, but his orders from Vale were firm: the people were to be either ignored or subdued with as little harm to them as possible. Studdard’s gregarious nature and ready smile made him a popular squad leader, and despite the tensions created by the mission, his squad’s visits to Delta Sigma IV had been successful. This one should be as well, since the people who had caused the damage appeared to have fled.
“Okay, I’ll give you that it’s pretty. No Risa, but nice enough,” Weathers replied.
“This world has enough islands, you should find something you’ll like,” the leader replied.
“Not if they destroy them all,” Reyes said grimly.
“Smell that sea air,” Weathers said. “Nice.”
“Nothing like a worrywart to spoil the sightseeing.”
“I’m not a worrywart,” Reyes answered. “Just a realist. The damage to this world is beginning to add up to some serious hours of repair work.”
“Not to mention loss of life,” Clemons added.
“You need a good breeze to really get a lungful of the stuff,” Weathers continued, not noticing he was being ignored.
“Think we’re making a difference?” Reyes asked.
“You’re the realist,” Studdard said. “You tell me.”
“I’d say we’re doing little more than putting a few dozen fingers in too few dikes. Sure, we’re saving lives and even some vital utilities, but then we come here and it’s already too late.”
“Way I understand it, they can’t help themselves, which, to me, makes this a tragedy,” their leader said. And it was. Studdard had heard about the cooperation the two races on this world had achieved and admired them for that.
“Actually,” Weathers added, “get up a good enough wind, you might even have yourself a real first-class surf. Enough islands here, surprised we don’t see any action.”
To Studdard the vista before him was pretty, and certainly a change of pace from most planetary assignments. With luck, they would stand guard, Taurik would effect repairs, and they would all beam out without a shot being fired. He pitied the people, and from what he understood of their problem, it was likely to get worse before it got better, so a simple in-and-out mission like this would be good for morale.
Taurik hadn’t said a word since they beamed down, and Studdard had given up trying to engage him in conversation. They had served together aboard the ship for some time now but had never worked alongside each other before this assignment. He chalked it up to their differing positions as well as to the Vulcan’s naturally reticent personality. A shame, really, since Studdard was always interested in learning more about the Federation worlds he had yet to visit. He even heard Taurik displayed a sense of humor, rare for a Vulcan. Someday, Studdard hoped to hear a joke.
Before them the gray and orange building appeared, the usual squat construction with little in the way of signage or decoration. Antennae covered the roof, angled in a variety of directions, relaying microwave energy that was desperately needed for homes, hospitals, and security workers. The double doors to the facility had been ripped off their hinges and were now lying at an angle against an outcropping of moss-covered rocks. Studdard waved an arm and signaled to the others to slow down. Crouching low, he examined damage to the wild flora near the entrance. He made out a variety of footprints, indicating that an unknown number of people had not been trying to be stealthy about their work.
Reyes, behind Taurik, was taking readings on his tricorder. He shook his head to indicate there were no other life-forms around, which confirmed their initial beam-down readings.
“Couldn’t help themselves, huh?” said the shortest and youngest member of the team as he pocketed the tricorder. “Just had to climb up here and wreck the place.”
Studdard had no reply to that. He too thought that this out-of-the-way location was an odd choice for vandalism. In fact, it made him downright suspicious. Taurik was ready to enter the building when a meaty hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. The squad leader used a hand gesture to ask Reyes to take a different set of scans. Quickly, the guard made a sweep of the building, starting from the antennae and working down to the ground.
“No anomalous energy signatures,” he finally said.
“Now you may enter, Taurik,” Studdard said, a wide smile on his face.
The Vulcan nodded in appreciation and stepped inside, immediately snapping open his tool case. As he began surveying the damage, Studdard positioned Weathers by the door and gestured for Clemons to stay on the path, just in case. With a shooing movement of his hands, he sent Reyes on a perimeter check. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he headed inside to keep watch.
>
Taurik had already placed the tool kit on an abandoned worktable and was walking from station to station to assess the damage. Wires and isolinear chips littered the floor. Cabinetry was broken, and monitor screens were cracked. One had a spanner sticking out of it like some form of absurd art.
“Kid asks a good question,” Studdard said after a minute. “Why would they destroy a substation like this?”
Finally, he received an answer from the Vulcan engineer. “This was an act of rage. Unchecked emotions.”
“How do you figure?”
Taurik propped up his own tricorder and called up schematics of how the station should function. He then knelt down and collected some isolinear chips, examining them between his tapered fingers. As he worked, he said, “I am reminded of the way temples on Vulcan were desecrated in the days before Surak. This was a target of that rage.”
“But they had to hold that rage awhile to climb up here and do all this,” the guard said, leaning against the doorjamb.
“You saw how many footprints there were. A mob can create a sustaining energy to feed its rage.”
“Seen that too many times myself,” Studdard agreed, then realized his companion wasn’t in his line of sight. He continued to study the destruction, trying to figure how many people could effectively fit in the relatively small energy station and how the damage was caused. His eye followed a trail of debris to a panel of controls and noticed that the corner of one was askew. While there was nothing in particular to make him cautious about the panel, his instinct made him look again.
He walked over, ignoring the sound of chips clattering together, and looked at the panel. Its dark green edges were chipped, as if it had been pried off with purpose. Little else around it was damaged, and that also made him wary.
“Taurik, step this way.”
Within moments, the Vulcan stood over him, one eyebrow cocked. Then he understood and lowered himself, the tricorder already humming with a steady whine.
He shut it off and placed it on a counter. Then he reached for a tool from the kit, clamped the corner of the panel, and gave it a firm tug. To Studdard’s lack of surprise, it came off easily. Inside was a large, circular object, its bright yellow packaging in sharp contrast to the dull purples and greens of the wiring within.
A Time to Hate Page 3