Aku patted Kirk’s cold hand, gave him another sip of the heated wine.
“Lost him,” Kirk repeated to himself.
Others were around him now. He felt a robe fall over his shoulders, felt hands guiding him up the rising slope to the tents.
His right leg no longer gave him support, but he was beyond feeling any pain in it. And though the people beside him spoke, and he acknowledged them, it was as if the only sound he could truly hear was the surge of the waves behind him, their rhythmic call demanding Kirk’s return, to his lost friend, to whatever fate had claimed him.
That night in unwanted sleep forced only by exhaustion, Kirk dreamed of waves and darkness, of vast formless shadows and what moved within them. He woke once, gasping for breath, certain he was being held in deep waters, never to breathe air again.
But it was just a dream, a voice softly told him.
“Jean-Luc…?” Kirk asked. Had it all been a dream? A nightmare?
But it was neither.
Jean-Luc was dead.
In the soft glow of the tent’s light, Kirk saw the white beard and stern, sharp face of Prylar Tam.
“Rest,” the prylar said.
Never, Kirk thought. Then the shadows claimed him again.
Morning was gray and overcast, the ground outside the tent stippled by raindrops.
Kirk pushed open the tent flap, accepted what he saw as only fitting. The cold, colorless world of the wet camp was how he felt. It was good that this world should mourn as he did.
Kirk’s eyes felt swollen and his throat was raw. Whether that last symptom was from having swallowed seawater or Professor Aku’s hot wine, he couldn’t be sure. His right leg was wrapped in a thick, multilayered bandage that ran from mid-thigh to mid-calf. The right leg of the trousers he was wearing had been cut off to accommodate the bandage, but they weren’t the trousers he had arrived in, though they were of the same Bajoran desert-style. He wondered how much else he had missed last night. He remembered little after running the diving platform aground. It bothered him not to have full recollection of his actions, no matter what the cause.
He limped from the tent, shrugging on the loose brown robe that had been left by his cot, along with a fresh shirt and simple sandals. He could smell something cooking over open fire, and when he turned the corner to reach the clearing among the other tents, he saw six of the remaining members of the archaeological dig sitting at the same long table he and Picard had sat at yesterday, discussing the Prime Directive.
Kirk’s chest tightened.
Picard had saved him twice yesterday.
Kirk had saved no one.
Freen Ulfreen rose from the table and came for Kirk, to offer his arm and guide him to a folding wood-and-fabric chair at the table’s end. Kirk had to sit with his bandaged right leg stretched out, unable to bend it.
“Thank you for the first aid,” he said, his voice still embarrassingly ragged. He gazed around the table, looking to see who would acknowledge his thanks. No one did.
Then Exsin Morr looked down at his plate of morning stew and quietly said, “It was Lara. She’s good with medical things…”
“Ah,” Kirk said. The cook was not at the table, but a stew pot simmered over the fire, showing she had already been at work.
“You slept well?” Freen asked in the midst of a long and awkward silence.
Kirk forgave the young man his nervousness and the meaningless question. He doubted he would ever sleep well again, or engage in social pleasantries.
“I want answers,” Kirk said. Imperfect as his control over his voice might be, he knew there was still the strength of command in it.
The first person to respond, in similar tone, was Dr. Rowhn I’deer. “You don’t belong here.”
“Not interested,” Kirk told her bluntly. “Professor Nilan was murdered. Sedge—”
Rowhn cut him off. “You don’t know that!”
“Yes, I do,” Kirk said. “A converter accident is possible. But one that kills a man and selectively knocks out all your communications gear? That’s not.”
“This is not your world.” This time Rowhn made each word a threat.
Kirk stared at her, as if daring her to just try to interrupt him again. “It is now. Nilan: murdered. Sedge Nirra: murdered. Picard—”
“But…the boat blew up!” This time it was Rann Dalrys who interrupted.
“Yes,” Kirk agreed, “after Sedge was hit by a disruptor beam.”
Silence returned to the table and Kirk watched intently as all seated there looked to one another for confirmation of his statement—and couldn’t find it.
“No one saw that?” Kirk asked. He looked at Professor Aku. “Last night, you said you had seen everything.”
“The explosion,” the old archaeologist explained. “I heard the explosion, looked out to see the smoke and the fire. Trufor and Kresin…they ran for the diving platform right away.”
Kirk took the measure of each Bajoran before him. “Sedge Nirra was hit by a disruptor beam. He disintegrated as I watched.”
Corrin Tal cleared his throat. He sat at the far end of the table, apart from the others. “We have no weapons here.”
“No weapons, camping in the wilderness?” Kirk asked skeptically.
“There are bolt guns on the diving platform,” Exsin said.
“There is a disruptor here,” Kirk insisted. “Either in the camp or hidden nearby. We can use your archaeological sensors to…” He stopped as he saw Exsin’s apologetic expression, grasped its significance. “You have no archaeological sensors.”
The three young Bajorans shook their heads in unison.
“Captain Kirk, I will give you advice,” Rowhn said coldly. “Your friends will arrive in two days. Go to your tent. Stay there and wait for them.”
Kirk kept silent, automatically assessing what he had learned and what he had not. He had seen and heard enough to begin to evaluate his enemy. And he was not troubled by the fact that everyone at this table fit that description, as would anyone else who stood in the way of his hunt for the person responsible for Picard’s death.
Picard’s death.
The words were so hollow. So inadequate.
In the end, he had realized, he couldn’t even call it a murder. Not an intentional one, at least.
After a lifetime of hazardous duty safeguarding the Federation and galactic peace, Jean-Luc Picard had simply, uselessly, been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Because of Kirk.
And Kirk refused to accept the blame for that.
There was a killer in this camp. Professor Nilan had been his intended victim. Then Sedge Nirra. And because of those unlawful acts, Jean-Luc Picard had died.
Kirk was still numb from shock, from loss, from whatever it was that affected him so badly last night. But a fire burned in him now that would not be extinguished until he had found the murderer of Nilan and Sedge.
Because, in his heart, that same person was the murderer of Jean-Luc Picard.
To Kirk, Rowhn I’deer was his strongest potential suspect. She hadn’t wanted alien visitors here to begin with, and now she definitely wanted Kirk to go away. It was obvious she had strong tendencies toward xenophobia, but it was also possible her attitude arose not from planetary nationalism, but from whatever secrets she kept.
The three young men, Freen, Rann, and Exsin, were another matter. They were too fresh-faced, their thoughts too freely revealed. They might know something Kirk would find valuable in his investigation, but Kirk was certain that alone or together, they would not be capable of carrying out multiple murders, let alone hiding their involvement after the fact.
Prylar Tam Heldron was an enigma. What motive could a monk have for murder? From all Kirk had read about Bajor and its many religions, it seemed that the quality all shared was true devotion to their beliefs. Though the mere fact of Tam’s belonging to a religious order was not grounds for dismissing him as a suspect, the prylar was not a likely one.
Neither, Kirk concluded, was the cook, Avden Lara, the mother of the little girl he and Picard had tried to help. Yes, the cook had been Sedge Nirra’s choice to be the most likely suspect, but Kirk couldn’t see how a young mother would risk losing her daughter by acts of multiple murder. If the daughter were already dead, Kirk thought, and the mother had nothing left to lose, then he might consider her. But not now.
As for Aku Sale, the venerable professor was elderly, fragile, and had been held in respect by Picard. To Kirk, that was enough to keep the old scholar at the bottom of the list.
Corrin Tal, however, was as strong a suspect as Dr. Rowhn. His behavior was certainly suspicious and he was not a clear fit with the other members of the dig. Had he actually been looking for the real murderer when he had found Kirk and Picard in the desert? If not, then why had he been there?
As calculatingly as if he were sitting in the center chair and ordering a photon torpedo to be fired across the bow of a bird of prey, Kirk decided to launch an exploratory volley. “Dr. Rowhn, my hiding— my turning my back on what has happened here—is not acceptable. But your insistence on ignoring the crimes committed in this camp could be taken as a sign of your involvement in them.”
Prylar Tam jumped to his feet before Rowhn did, and Professor Aku spilled a small glass of pungent Bajoran tea.
“You have no right to make these accusations,” the prylar intoned as if invoking a blessing, or a curse. “You are an offworlder. These are not your affairs.”
Kirk remained seated, placing his hands on the table for emphasis. Given his uncertain knee, he knew he could not risk standing to face the apparently outraged Bajorans. But that didn’t alter the force of his reply. “Prylar, sir, these are my affairs now. Jean-Luc Picard…was my friend. I brought him here. And I am not leaving without seeing the guilty person—” He stared at Rowhn who met his gaze with equal intensity “—or persons—” He glanced at Corrin Tal who quickly looked away “—pay for their crime.”
Silence again. Only the gentle drumming of raindrops on the tent-like cover over their table.
“Captain Kirk,” Professor Aku began, as lightly as that rain, “with all respect, Captain Picard was my colleague. I feel his loss. I know there are many who will mourn his passing. But I say to you, really, can you be certain there has been a crime?”
In deference to the old man’s years and gentle nature, Kirk restrained his reaction. “Nilan’s death was not an accident, sir. Neither was Sedge Nirra’s.”
Aku shrugged in acceptance. “Let us accept that, then, at least in the case of poor Professor Nilan. But Lokim Sedge…Captain, the boat did blow up. Rather violently.”
Kirk’s impatience was rising. Each moment spent in debate was a moment longer for Picard’s murderer to hide. “Sedge Nirra was disrupted.”
“Yet with all of us at the camp, or on the shore, you were the only one who saw it.”
“Picard saw it! That’s why he jumped, pushed me into the water.” Saved my life, Kirk thought.
Aku’s white eyebrows lifted, the old man’s expression one of sad compassion. “I understand. If I were you, that is what I would want to believe, as well.”
As his frustration grew, Kirk could feel his heart begin to race. Losing his temper would serve no purpose. But still, he was not used to anyone discounting his word or his recollection.
“It is not what I believe, Professor. It is what happened. And the reason no one else saw the disruptor beam, is that none of you bothered to look out to the boat until you had heard the propulser explode.”
“The order of events…a beam or explosion…none of it matters,” Prylar Tam said.
Kirk was so startled by the monk’s choice of words that he didn’t speak, simply waited for him to continue, to explain himself.
The prylar did. “None of the things you question have to do with your friend’s death, or with the deaths of the brothers Arl.”
“How can you say that?”
“You said it yourself, Captain. Your friend jumped. Think about it. He dove into the sea. And the sea claimed him as the sea will do. A tragic accident, yes, but murder, no.”
Kirk felt he had restrained himself long enough. No more exploratory forays, no more subtle prodding or clever cross-examination.
“What are you people hiding here?” he asked angrily. “Because you are hiding something.”
Exsin shrugged. “But if that’s true, then…then why would Lokim Sedge invite you here?”
“Lokim Sedge is dead, too,” Kirk exclaimed. “So obviously whatever is really going on at this camp is something he didn’t know about.”
Dr. Rowhn abruptly pushed her chair back. “I have work to do.”
Prylar Tam folded his hands, gave a polite bow to Kirk and the others. “Another time,” he said, then followed after Rowhn.
The three young men stood and spoke as one. “With the Arls gone…the equipment…have to check it…so work can continue…” They left together, as if fleeing the field of battle.
Kirk looked from Aku to Corrin, wondering who would be the next to leave. But neither did. Apparently the exodus was over.
“I don’t think it’s anyone in the camp,” Corrin Tal said.
Professor Aku looked at him in surprise. “Corrin…you do believe there have been murders?”
“From the first.” He looked at Kirk. “Ask him. He knows.”
Aku turned his shocked expression to Kirk.
Kirk explained. “Just as Picard said when we arrived. When Corrin found us in the desert, he told us he was looking for Nilan’s murderer.”
“Oh, my,” Aku said. Kirk saw the scholar’s papery-skinned hands tremble. “I had forgotten…so many things not working…supplies so limited…” He smiled wistfully at Kirk. “Away from the cities, Captain, Bajor is a dangerous world. When technology breaks down, things go wrong.”
For one whose life had been too often defined by overwhelming technology, Kirk knew more than he wanted about its failures.
“So who is it, Corrin?” Kirk asked. Could it be possible that he would have his answer so easily?“Who’s the murderer, and why?”
Corrin reached across the table to take a tall cylinder of tea from Dr. Rowhn’s abandoned place setting. “You answer a question for me, first.”
“One question,” Kirk agreed, on high alert.
“The disruptor beam…was it truly aimed at Sedge?”
Kirk thought about the implications of that, thought he saw what Corrin was getting at. “It wasn’t aimed at Jean-Luc or me, if that’s what you mean. The water was calm. Sedge was standing up by the propulser controls, Picard and I were to either side, sitting on the gunwales.”
Corrin nodded as he poured tea from the cylinder into a clear glass. Kirk watched vapor rise into the moist air.
“What’s your point?” Kirk asked.
“Only that Sedge would have been my first suspect.”
“For Nilan’s murder?”
“He was a businessman. Might as well have been half Ferengi from what I hear.”
“So he was a patron of the scholarly arts,” Kirk said. “Nothing unusual about that.”
“Except, this was the first dig he had funded. First time he even made a donation to the Institute.”
Kirk gazed out between two of the camp’s tents to see the cold green expanse of the Inland Sea. The orange survey markers bobbing in the water were easy to spot. “What is out there?” he asked.
Professor Aku answered promptly. “The lost city of Bar’trila, Captain. That is beyond dispute.”
Finally, a motive, Kirk thought, surprised at how much difficulty he was having in leading this investigation. And in controlling his emotions. Guilt at the appalling, meaningless death of Jean-Luc?
He forced himself to continue what he had begun. “How valuable are artifacts from the city?”
“To Bajor,” Corrin said, “their worth is incalculable. To offworlders…curiosities for a few collectors.”
“So,
if there was no money to be made here, then Sedge really was a patron,” Kirk concluded.
“He was a Cardassian sympathizer, Kirk. Probably a collaborator.”
“Could he have been hoping to atone for past actions?”
“Sedge?” Corrin snorted. “His only regret was leaving latinum on the table at the closing of a deal.”
Kirk couldn’t see the point of continuing this discussion. “So, I’ll concede that Sedge Nirra is a perfect suspect, except for the fact that he’s dead. Who’s your second choice?”
“You,” Corrin said. “You’re an offworlder. Perhaps you’ve hated Picard for years, so you planned his murder to take place in a lawless wilderness where you had arranged other murders not connected to you, in order to make it appear that Picard’s death was a result of a Bajoran crime…and…” Corrin’s voice faltered as Kirk made a slow fist and locked his eyes with him.
“You will never say anything like that again,” Kirk told him.
Corrin clearly understood the threat in Kirk’s words. “I apologize. It’s just that…after Sedge…I don’t know who else here could be responsible. Which is why I think it’s someone else.”
“Out there?” Not trusting himself to say more, Kirk nodded to the desert beyond the camp. He didn’t want to believe what Corrin was suggesting, because that would mean Picard’s murderer could easily escape. Unless the murderer had not yet accomplished everything he—or she—had set out to do.
“Perhaps.” The Bajoran still sounded nervous.
“Which brings us back to motive,” Kirk said. He regarded Corrin and Aku intently. Corrin was the first to speak.
“Before motive, Captain, I think it’s better to find the pattern. And not be confused by extraneous details.”
“Details such as…?”
Corrin looked out to the distant water. “You were out there. Assume that Sedge was the intended target of the disruptor beam. Assume that he was killed for the same reason as Professor Nilan. But why your friend? Why Kresin and Trufor? Unless…” He looked at Kirk expectantly.
“I know. Unless their deaths were unplanned,” Kirk said. “I don’t doubt that. But the fact remains, Picard wouldn’t have drowned except for the attack on Sedge and the boat.”
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