by Ted Pedersen
“I trust your words, Vardk. Your grandmother is our eldest, and you are an honorable man.” The elder turned to Jake and Nog. “Do you accept trial by Rite of Passage?”
Jake looked at Nog. Whatever this Rite of Passage was, it might be their only way to ever getting home again. “We accept,” they replied in unison.
“Then let it be done.” The elder looked up at the sky and pointed. “When the sun reaches its zenith, your Rite of Passage will begin.” He turned away.
When the elder was gone, Jake asked Vardk, “Just what is this Rite of Passage?”
“It is the ritual that every young Fjori must pass in order to leave the protection of childhood and take on the responsibilities of an adult. From the moment of our birth each of us prepares for the ordeal.”
“Ordeal?” asked Nog. He didn’t like the sound of that word. Ferengis much prefer pleasure to the possibility of pain.
“It won’t be so bad,” Vija said as she joined them.
“I wish that were true, daughter. But these two are outsiders who have had no preparation for the struggle that awaits them.”
“If we pass this Rite of Passage, what then?” Jake asked.
“Then, young Sisko, you will be received into the Fjori family. You would no longer be offworlders.”
“And we can go home again?”
Vardk nodded. “I believe the council might then consider it.”
“Great.”
“Perhaps,” Vardk said in a solemn voice. “My daughter has given you an opportunity to gain your freedom, but the Rite of Passage for someone inexperienced in our ways is dangerous at best. It may be an opportunity you will have wished you had not accepted.”
They had less than three hours to prepare for their opportunity. To begin with, Vija explained to them the rules of the Fjori Rite of Passage.
It’s really very simple, Jake thought when she had finished. He and Nog would leave the village at noon, cross the desert and go into the mountains to retrieve a feather from the Graf, some kind of bird that lived in the high peaks.
“Not exactly a bird,” Vija interrupted. “More like a flying snake.”
“Sounds like something I wouldn’t like to meet,” Nog said. Ferengis had a strong dislike for anything that slithered, and something that slithered and flew was even more to be avoided.
“We can handle it,” Jake assured his friend.
“You handle it. I’ll watch.”
“Your real trouble will come from the chasers. Six men will start in pursuit of you two hours after you leave the village. If they catch you before you retrieve the feather and return here, you fail.”
“How much time do we have?” Jake asked.
“This day and two more. You must be back before the sun sets on the third day.”
“We can do it,” Jake announced loudly. He only wished he felt as much bravery as he expressed.
Vija spent the rest of their preparation time showing them holographic maps of the region surrounding the village. Jake picked out three of the most obvious routes to the mountains, then discarded them. Their chasers would know those routes and, being more experienced in the ways of this planet, would probably catch them.
“We need a more difficult route that causes as many problems for our chasers as it does for us.”
Nog looked at the maps. Finding the most devious path to a destination was something a Ferengi did naturally. After a moment he ran his finger through the hologram and traced out a winding route. “This is how we should go.”
“It is a good choice,” Vija said.
Nog smiled. “This is going to be fun.”
“No,” Jake contradicted him. “Not fun. This is going to be difficult and dangerous.” He paused, then added, “But if we work together as a team, we can do it—and get home again.”
High noon on the planet arrived a lot sooner than Jake would have liked. By then, having had time to reflect, he had lost a great deal of his original confidence. Eden, in spite of its name, was a harsh and hostile environment. There were unknown creatures lurking out there in addition to the Graf, which would pose dangers to two unsuspecting boys.
Yet here he was, standing at the edge of the village, waiting to confront those dangers. In a game, or in a battle, there is always that moment before it starts when you begin to doubt. The elder Sisko had confided that to his son the time Jake faced an overwhelming Klingon foe during a Starfleet Youth Olympics when they were living on Mars. It was only supposed to be a game, but Klingons take even their games with deadly seriousness.
Jake had been afraid, but he was even more afraid to admit to his fear. Benjamin Sisko had sensed his son’s apprehension and explained that it was not something to be ashamed of, that it happened to everyone. Fear was natural, and the real test of courage was not in denying your fear, but in accepting it and moving through the fear. Jake did and, to his surprise, won the match.
Jake remembered that moment with pride now as he took a deep breath, forced a smile for Vija and her father, and stared out at the desert and mountains beyond, glistening in the warm sun. Then, shielding his eyes, he looked up at the sky with the sun nearing its zenith. He had been relieved when Vija told them this was autumn on the planet and they wouldn’t have to confront the terrible heat of Eden’s summer.
He flashed a grin at Nog, standing next to him. They had both been given loose-fitting Fjori tunics, as well as boots of soft fur on the inside and a reptilian leather on the outside that were sturdy enough to climb over a field of Orgonian razor rocks. They each carried a single water container, enough to last one full day. When it was gone, they would have to search out their own source, but the filtering cup on the container would purify any liquid. “It might taste sour,” Vija had explained as she demonstrated how the filter worked, “but it will quench your thirst.” She had also told them the best places to find water.
Nog wanted weapons for protection but was told politely but firmly that weapons of any sort were forbidden.
“For a good reason,” Vardk explained. “With a weapon you will feel inclined to fight rather than flee. While running from danger may not be the mark of a hero, it is that of a survivor. The Rite of Passage is a test of survival.”
“Does everyone succeed?” Jake asked.
“Not everyone.” There was a laugh, and Jake turned to see Kala. “And certainly not you.”
The Fjori youth was to be one of their chasers. Jake was not surprised, but he wasn’t sure why Kala seemed to hate him so much.
“It’s Vija,” Nog whispered to Jake as they stepped apart from the others, counting down the last minutes until the ritual began.
“Vija?” Jake hadn’t realized he had been voicing his thoughts aloud, either that or his Ferengi friend was telepathic.
“How can you be so dense, even for a human?” Nog wondered. “It’s obvious that Kala likes Vija, and you put him down in front of her. She likes you. Kala’s jealous and wants to get even any way he can.”
Jake looked back at Kala, and the angry glare that stared back at him more than confirmed Nog’s words. Kala had a personal stake in seeing them fail, and Jake realized that the Fjori would do anything in his power to make sure that he and Nog did not survive. The thought gave him a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach like a meal of overripe gzzo beans.
“Let the Rite of Passage begin.” The council elder’s voice was loud and clear as he raised his arm and then let it fall to his side.
Jake and Nog hesitated, not quite sure what they were expected to do next. “Go,” Vija yelled at them.
And suddenly they were off-running away from the oasis of the village into the hostile planet and to whatever unknown perils awaited them out there.
CHAPTER 8
They were a thousand meters from the village and running at top speed when Nog tugged at Jake’s tunic. “We have a long way to go.”
Jake slowed to a fast trot. Nog was right. Running as fast as they could, they would be exhausted before
they were halfway across the desert.
The ground beneath their feet was firm, and they made good progress as the village behind them vanished below the horizon. Jake continued to set their pace, fast enough to ensure they would have a good lead by the time the chasers came after them, but not so fast that they’d drop from exhaustion and become easy quarry.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Jake felt early runner’s exhilaration at the start of a race, knowing that each step carried them closer to going home again. Nothing was going to stop them.
They were an hour away from the village when the ground started to turn soft. It was like wading through water, and their pace slowed dramatically. This reminded Jake of the Great Red Desert on Mars, where his father had taken him for a weekend camping trip.
“Don’t run,” Jake cautioned Nog. “We won’t get there any faster, and we’ll just use up all our energy.”
They stopped trying to run and walked, which made it easier to move through the soft sand. “They’ll catch up with us if we don’t hurry.” Nog worried.
Jake shook his head. “No. They’ll have the same problem with the sand as we do. As long as we keep moving at a steady pace we’ll be okay.”
They were twenty minutes into the sand when they could see the hard ground again in the distance. Jake recognized it as the rock canyon that led into the mountains.
“What’s that?”
Jake looked to where Nog was pointing and saw what appeared to be a small sand hill that lay directly in their path. He said as much, then slowed as they approached the obstacle. He was trying to remember something Vija had said during the morning. She had given them so much information that their brains had been on overload. Much of what she said had been forgotten.
They were almost to the hill when a spurt of sand erupted from its center. Suddenly Jake remembered what Vija had told them. “Sand Seeker,” he yelled at Nog, who was several steps ahead of him.
Nog stopped dead in his tracks. Not because of Jake’s warning—but because something was emerging from the middle of the hill.
It reminded Jake of one of the Bajoran tubular bugs that the boys had learned about at school back on Deep Space Nine. But this bug was a lot bigger, almost twice their size. The Sand Seeker’s mouth seemed gigantic as it opened up, and the only thing Jake could think of was that they were about to be swallowed by a sand whale.
“Nog! Run!” Jake shouted, but it was unnecessary, as his Ferengi friend had already turned and was heading away from the hill—with the creature in relentless pursuit.
Nog stumbled and pitched forward. Jake, without breaking his pace, grabbed hold of Nog by the nearest handle—his oversized ear—and pulled him to his feet.
Behind them the Sand Seeker slid effortlessly through the sand like a power sled. It was in its natural environment, and Jake realized there was no way they were going to outrun the creature.
“Up there,” he shouted at Nog.
With the Sand Seeker’s open maw snapping at their heels, the boys took three giant strides and leaped up onto an outcropping of rock that jutted out of the sand.
It was only the size of a tabletop and rose less than two meters from the surrounding ground, but it was a tiny island of safety in the dangerous sea of sand. The Sand Seeker had no arms or legs and could not maneuver up the rigid rock surface.
“Did you have to pull so hard on my ear?” Nog asked when they had time to catch their breath.
“Hey, you’re safe,” Jake replied.
Rubbing his sore ear, Nog had to admit that his human friend probably saved his life. He looked down at the sand and saw the creature burrow back beneath the surface. “Let’s move.”
“No,” Jake said. Nog had started to climb down off the rock, when the Sand Seeker spurted its sand warning and reemerged from where it had been waiting. Nog leaped back up onto their rock table sanctuary.
“That thing’s not stupid,” Jake said. “It’s going to try and wait us out. So we’ll just have to outwait it.”
“We can’t,” Nog argued. He looked back across the desert in the direction they had come. “Kala and the others are going to be after us by now. They’ll catch us if we don’t keep moving.”
Jake realized that Nog was right. They couldn’t stay here on this protective rock for very long. He looked down at the sand, certain the creature was waiting for them just below the surface, and recalled an old Terran phrase his father had once used. “We’re caught between a rock and a hard place.”
Which was precisely how, many light-years away on Deep Space Nine, Commander Benjamin Sisko felt as he sat alone in his office in Operations in front of an unresponsive computer screen.
It was that quiet time when the rush of the day’s activities was past, when there were no particular diplomatic crises to referee or technological glitches created by obsolete Cardassian hardware to oversee. At the moment he had nothing to occupy his mind except the gnawing worry that his son was lost and alone somewhere out there beyond the wormhole, and he was beginning to doubt whether he would ever see him again.
There was a muffled cough, and Sisko looked up from the computer to see Quark standing in the doorway. “If you’re busy, Commander,” he apologized for the interruption.
“No. Please come in.”
“I was wondering—actually, Rom was asking me—if there was any word about Jake or Nog?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid.” Sisko gestured for Quark to sit, and the Ferengi seated himself in one of the standard issue chairs. “I’m so anxious about Jake, I’d forgotten that you must be terribly concerned as well,” Sisko apologized.
“I like the boy, and I’d miss a good hard worker in my establishment.” Quark reached over to a tray on the commander’s desk and poured himself a glass of what he imagined to be Starfleet private label synthehol, but which turned out to be Bajoran mineral water. “It’s Rom that particularly worries me. He hardly ever seemed to pay any attention to Nog, but now he’s beside himself with grief—and his mistakes are costing me a fortune.”
Sisko listened quietly while Quark put on his usual hard-eared calculating Ferengi front, but the commander could sense that there was a real concern underneath the words. Finally, Quark leaned across the desk. “Commander, you have to do something. You have to get Nog back—and Jake, too.”
“We’re doing everything we can,” Sisko replied, but in the back of his mind he wondered if that was true. Deep Space Nine probes had made contact with other Fjori ships, but they of course had refused to get involved and would offer not even a hint of where their secret homeworld was located. In fact, they all denied that such a planet even existed.
Security Chief Odo suggested that he might be able to infiltrate one of the Fjori ships disguised as a piece of Jjvania ceramic to gain information, but Sisko could not condone breaking Federation laws—even if the fate of his own son might hang in the balance.
No, he thought, there must be another way. But he had no idea what it was. “Care for another drink?” he asked Quark.
The Ferengi forced himself to finish off the mineral water and started to shake his head, but Sisko opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of rare Vulcan ale.
“Ah, perhaps just one more.”
For a long time the two of them sat in the office and drank the warm green liquid and talked about how much trouble Jake and Nog had created with some of their adolescent antics. “I really miss them, Commander,” Quark said as he recalled how they almost ruined his place with a Ventazan Volcano Sundae.
“So do I,” Sisko said quietly. Then he recalled what Dax had said to him and repeated it to Quark. “Trust them to find a way home again.”
At the moment, Jake’s immediate concern was finding a way past the creature that circled like a hungry shark just beneath the sand surrounding their tiny rock sanctuary. Nog was right that they had to keep moving or Kala and the other chasers would catch up to them. But how to get by the Sand Seeker?
“It’s not that far to
hard ground.” Nog pointed to where the sand ended and the rocky ground began less than two hundred meters away.
Jake thought about it, then looked at the soft sand they would have to go through. There was no way they could outrun the creature—unless they had a diversion. Jake wondered what they might use as he went over their meager inventory in his mind.
He reached under his tunic and took out the Fjori water container. Just maybe it would work. He unscrewed the filter top. “What’re you doing?” Nog asked.
“Water,” Jake explained. “That’s what Vija told us the Sand Seeker is after.”
“But we’ll need all the water we have,” Nog protested.
“It’s not going to do us any good if we don’t get away from here pretty quick.”
Nog thought about their options. He hated to give up half their water supply, but they had no choice. “So what’s the plan?” he asked.
“I’m going to throw this as far as I can.” Jake held the container upright so as not to spill any of the water. “Then we’re going to jump and run—as fast as we can.”
“Suppose the Sand Seeker doesn’t go for the water container?”
“Then we may have a problem.” Jake tried to sound flip, but his stomach was churning as he prepared to throw the container. “Ready?” he asked Nog.
“Go for it,” Nog replied as he gave a thumbs up.
Recalling his father’s baseball tips in Deep Space Nine’s holosuite, Jake took a windup and then tossed the container as though he was throwing a baseball from right field to home plate.
The Container traveled through the air in a high arc, water spilling as it spun, then landed with a soft thud on the sand about twenty meters away.
Without waiting to see if the Sand Seeker took the bait, Jake and Nog leaped off the other side of the rock. Half expecting the monstrous creature to rise out of the sand in front of them, Jake hesitated for a moment—then ran after Nog, who was already sprinting through the sand.
Jake felt as if he were running in slow motion, with each step becoming harder than the one before. It seemed he wasn’t making any progress, and he was tempted to glance back over his shoulder but knew better. That would only waste energy, and energy was something he couldn’t afford to waste.