The gang's all here - now what? Apparently Morgan (the elder?) has a plan, but all this traipsing across the time line is bound to be risky. Someone may end up being their own grandparent at this rate. 
Suthy/Lexington: Blood Cries
- Thread starter DavidFalkayn
- Start date
Suthy/Lexington: Blood Cries Part 10
“Morgan?” Talana gasped as she gazed up at the distinguished looking man standing behind the desk, immediately recognizing the mystery admiral as the same individual who was also the Lexington’s navigator. Now wearing the same uniform as the others on the Sutherland, his hairline had receded even more and now possessed traces of gray amidst the chestnut-brown, and he also possessed a beard that gave him, Talana noted with approval, an even more rakish appearance. But, he still possessed that same twinkle in his eyes and his lips still turned up in that crooked grin of his that she found so endearing. “That is you—isn’t it?”
“Lieutenant Bateson?” Alexei rumbled as he also recognized the man behind the desk, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Actually...it’s Admiral now, Alexei.” Morgan replied, his smile still on his face, “And I’ll explain everything in just a moment—we’re still waiting on a couple more people to show up first.”
Just then, almost as if on cue, the ready room door slid open to reveal two officers, both wearing the standard black and gray uniforms, but with teal shirts underneath. The woman, apparently Eurasian, smiled warmly first at the admiral and then at everyone else in the room. “I’m sorry we’re late.” She apologized, “Did we miss anything?”
“No...Dr. Murakawa...Counselor Freedman...” Bateson smiled warmly, “We were just getting started.” Turning towards Liz, the admiral asked politely, “Captain Shelby...do you mind?”
“Not at all, sir.” Liz replied, deferring control to the senior officer, “Please...go right on ahead,” she smirked, “My office is your office...”
“Thank you...” Morgan began, “If everyone will please take a seat, we can begin this meeting and hopefully answer some of your questions—and perhaps come up with a way to get Commodore Wesley and Aliz back while at the same time stopping the entity that possessed Ensign Bathory.”
***********************************************************************
“Sir? Are you all right?”
As the fuzziness in his eyes slowly cleared up, Commodore Wesley struggled up off the deck, groaning as he managed to finally pull himself up into a seated position. “Aliz? Is that you?”
“Yes, sir.” The young Hungarian affirmed, “It’s me. The...pah-wraith...” Aliz stammered, before repeating with greater certainty, “...yes...pah-wraith...is resting now.” Her eyes closing as tears once again began to flow, the auburn-haired ensign explained, “For now it is sated.”
“I see...” Robert replied, his eyes filled with nothing but compassion for the young woman sobbing before him. “You called it a pah-wraith?”
“Yes.” Aliz answered back, “That is what it calls itself.”
“Can you tell me anything about it?”
“Not much...like I said the last time...” she began haltingly, “...it’s really more feelings and impressions than anything else.”
“Well...” the commodore encouraged, “...that’s a good start.”
“It doesn’t think...or exist...the way we do...” Aliz began, “It’s...eternal...and yet it’s also finite. I know I must sound crazy...” she said, laughing hysterically.
“No...” Robert replied consolingly, “You’re actually making a good deal of sense. It’s an incorporeal life form. There’s no reason to think that it would operate by the same rules we do.”
“Right.” Aliz responded, taking courage from the older man’s counsel. “Time doesn’t exist the same for it as it does for us, either. Time...for the pah-wraith...isn’t a straight line running from ‘A’ to ‘B’ to ‘C’. To it, time is fluid. Past...present...future...all together...all touching each other at the same time...”
Remembering the words that the entity that had possessed Aliz had used to taunt Captain Shelby with, Robert recalled, “Time...is not linear...”
“Yes, sir.” The young ensign affirmed, nodding her head. “Everything and every-when...touches...it’s more like a...a...”
“Ragout?”
Nodding her head, Aliz agreed, “Yeah....or like the goulash my nagyanya used to make. Everything just tossed together into one stew.”
His brow furrowed in thought, Wesley pondered, “I wonder if Captain Shelby’s arrival here was more than just mere coincidence then...”
“You’re right...Robert...” Aliz began hesitatingly, again using the commodore’s first name, flashing a shy grin as her eyes caught the older man’s gentle smile. “I don’t how and I don’t know why, but she...we...are important. We’re bonded together in some way...the pah-wraith needs all three of us and I think...” Unfortunately, before the young Hungarian could finish her sentence, the pah-wraith once again resumed control.
Wesley, gazing straight into his possessed helmsman’s fiery red eyes, declared in a determined voice, “I don’t when...and I don’t know how...yet. But we are going to find a way to beat you. You can take that to the bank.”
With a snort, the possessed Aliz rose to her feet, “Such confidence...such foolishness. You have no idea what you face—but you will—soon. But...not now. Now...I hunger...”
“Morgan?” Talana gasped as she gazed up at the distinguished looking man standing behind the desk, immediately recognizing the mystery admiral as the same individual who was also the Lexington’s navigator. Now wearing the same uniform as the others on the Sutherland, his hairline had receded even more and now possessed traces of gray amidst the chestnut-brown, and he also possessed a beard that gave him, Talana noted with approval, an even more rakish appearance. But, he still possessed that same twinkle in his eyes and his lips still turned up in that crooked grin of his that she found so endearing. “That is you—isn’t it?”
“Lieutenant Bateson?” Alexei rumbled as he also recognized the man behind the desk, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Actually...it’s Admiral now, Alexei.” Morgan replied, his smile still on his face, “And I’ll explain everything in just a moment—we’re still waiting on a couple more people to show up first.”
Just then, almost as if on cue, the ready room door slid open to reveal two officers, both wearing the standard black and gray uniforms, but with teal shirts underneath. The woman, apparently Eurasian, smiled warmly first at the admiral and then at everyone else in the room. “I’m sorry we’re late.” She apologized, “Did we miss anything?”
“No...Dr. Murakawa...Counselor Freedman...” Bateson smiled warmly, “We were just getting started.” Turning towards Liz, the admiral asked politely, “Captain Shelby...do you mind?”
“Not at all, sir.” Liz replied, deferring control to the senior officer, “Please...go right on ahead,” she smirked, “My office is your office...”
“Thank you...” Morgan began, “If everyone will please take a seat, we can begin this meeting and hopefully answer some of your questions—and perhaps come up with a way to get Commodore Wesley and Aliz back while at the same time stopping the entity that possessed Ensign Bathory.”
***********************************************************************
“Sir? Are you all right?”
As the fuzziness in his eyes slowly cleared up, Commodore Wesley struggled up off the deck, groaning as he managed to finally pull himself up into a seated position. “Aliz? Is that you?”
“Yes, sir.” The young Hungarian affirmed, “It’s me. The...pah-wraith...” Aliz stammered, before repeating with greater certainty, “...yes...pah-wraith...is resting now.” Her eyes closing as tears once again began to flow, the auburn-haired ensign explained, “For now it is sated.”
“I see...” Robert replied, his eyes filled with nothing but compassion for the young woman sobbing before him. “You called it a pah-wraith?”
“Yes.” Aliz answered back, “That is what it calls itself.”
“Can you tell me anything about it?”
“Not much...like I said the last time...” she began haltingly, “...it’s really more feelings and impressions than anything else.”
“Well...” the commodore encouraged, “...that’s a good start.”
“It doesn’t think...or exist...the way we do...” Aliz began, “It’s...eternal...and yet it’s also finite. I know I must sound crazy...” she said, laughing hysterically.
“No...” Robert replied consolingly, “You’re actually making a good deal of sense. It’s an incorporeal life form. There’s no reason to think that it would operate by the same rules we do.”
“Right.” Aliz responded, taking courage from the older man’s counsel. “Time doesn’t exist the same for it as it does for us, either. Time...for the pah-wraith...isn’t a straight line running from ‘A’ to ‘B’ to ‘C’. To it, time is fluid. Past...present...future...all together...all touching each other at the same time...”
Remembering the words that the entity that had possessed Aliz had used to taunt Captain Shelby with, Robert recalled, “Time...is not linear...”
“Yes, sir.” The young ensign affirmed, nodding her head. “Everything and every-when...touches...it’s more like a...a...”
“Ragout?”
Nodding her head, Aliz agreed, “Yeah....or like the goulash my nagyanya used to make. Everything just tossed together into one stew.”
His brow furrowed in thought, Wesley pondered, “I wonder if Captain Shelby’s arrival here was more than just mere coincidence then...”
“You’re right...Robert...” Aliz began hesitatingly, again using the commodore’s first name, flashing a shy grin as her eyes caught the older man’s gentle smile. “I don’t how and I don’t know why, but she...we...are important. We’re bonded together in some way...the pah-wraith needs all three of us and I think...” Unfortunately, before the young Hungarian could finish her sentence, the pah-wraith once again resumed control.
Wesley, gazing straight into his possessed helmsman’s fiery red eyes, declared in a determined voice, “I don’t when...and I don’t know how...yet. But we are going to find a way to beat you. You can take that to the bank.”
With a snort, the possessed Aliz rose to her feet, “Such confidence...such foolishness. You have no idea what you face—but you will—soon. But...not now. Now...I hunger...”
Suthy/Lexington: Blood Cries Part 10 cont
“And that’s the last I remember of what happened...” Admiral Bateson concluded as he recalled his memories. “As I told Admiral Komack, I wasn’t there at the end...”
“That would make sense...” Talana interjected, “...especially if this you is there at the end.”
“Right.” The bearded admiral affirmed, nodding his head, “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea if the two me’s were to get together at the same place at the same time.”
“I recall Beverly telling me that something like that happening to Picard once...” Dr. Murakawa opined, “That a previous version of the captain and his present self coexisted for a time.” Cocking her head slightly to the left, the lovely doctor recalled, “But she told me that one of the two was unconscious until the time-lines merged again...”
“Could it be because those two Picards were only separated by a very short period of time while over a hundred years separates Morgan from his past self?” Liz asked. “Maybe it’s not just the proximity in space...perhaps it’s also the proximity in time?”
“That’s possible.” Talana ventured, “You obviously have much greater knowledge of time travel than we do...”
“Which isn’t a lot.” Bateson chuckled.
“Still...” The Andorian science officer counseled, “It’s probably not a good idea for our two Batesons to meet.”
“Agreed.” Alexei grunted before stating, “So...it appears we are locked on our course. So much for free will...”
“Don’t be so sure about that, tovarisch.” Captain Rodenko interjected, “I’m just a cutter captain and a Border Dog, so I don’t usually get to ‘boldly go’ like you ‘Fleeters do, but I do know that where intelligent beings are involved...anything can happen.”
“Boris is right.” Liz agreed. “Also, remember, Morgan only got to see part of the picture. His past self wasn’t at this meeting...” as the admiral nodded his head in confirmation, Liz continued, “...so he doesn’t know what orders were issued or what will happen with the other teams.”
“What are these objects we’re supposed to be looking for?” Dr. Vincent inquired. “And why are they so important?”
“Lieutenant...” Admiral Bateson tilted his head towards the Bajoran woman seated next to Commander Lavelle, “...what have you been able to find out about the Orb of Renascence?”
“Not much, sir.” The young Bajoran security chief replied, “It wasn’t amongst the Orbs stolen by the Cardassians when they occupied Bajor and I haven’t been able to make anything out of the ancient texts or scriptures...at least the ones we have here.”
“I remember what the pah-wraith that possessed my...that possessed Ensign Bathory...said.” Liz interrupted, recalling, “The first object you will know when those who seek you find you. To find it you will have to go where you are not supposed to be yet...you will have to traverse the Celestial Temple...”
“The first part of the riddle was the arrival of the Sutherland.” Talana concluded as everyone nodded their heads or vocalized their agreement. “But the second...what did it mean by ‘traversing the Celestial Temple’?”
Standing up, Admiral Bateson looked into the eyes of each of the Lexington officers. His face grim and devoid of expression, the bearded, normally jovial admiral spoke in a clear, authoritative voice, eliciting instant expressions of surprise as it was instantly brought home to them that this Morgan, while in many ways similar, was also remarkably different from the boyish lieutenant that they all knew. This Morgan Bateson was indeed every inch a Starfleet Admiral.
“What I am about to tell you is classified at Ultraviolet Omega level and everything that you hear, do, or say from the moment Captain Shelby was first found until this is resolved is to be sealed under the Archer Protocols.” Not a sound could be heard as the assembled officers digested the admiral’s words, but the biggest shock was yet to come. “As for what the Celestial Temple is...I’ll leave that for Lieutenant Sito to explain.”
As the admiral sat down, the Bajoran lieutenant rose to her feet. Clearing her throat, the battle-hardened Jaxa addressed the Lexington officers. “The Celestial Temple is the name my people give to a stable wormhole that connects the alpha and gamma quadrants.”
“The gamma quadrant is thirty thousand light years away...” Talana gasped in astonishment, “...and you mean to tell me that you’ve found a stable wormhole?” Turning her head first towards Cilla and then towards Alexei, the Andorian science officer, her antennae twitching in excitement, exclaimed, “Do you know what the odds are in finding even a stable wormhole—much less one that connects us with the gamma quadrant?” Turning towards Admiral Bateson, Talana remarked in a voice tinged with both awe and envy, “You must have starships exploring all over that quadrant now...”
Shaking his head somberly, Morgan replied, “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Talana. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more.” Bringing the discussion back to the current topic, the admiral instructed, “But there’s even more. Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
The Lexington officers, still recovering from their surprise at the news of a stable wormhole linking the alpha and gamma quadrants, were even more shocked at the next piece of information imparted by the Bajoran officer, “The wormhole is also inhabited by beings, called by my people the Prophets, that play a prominent part in our religion.”
“Aliens?” Talana gasped again, her eyes lighting up on hearing the young officer’s words, “Living in a wormhole? What are they like? How do they survive in there? Are they corporeal? Incorporeal?”
“Talana...” Admiral Bateson grinned affectionately, “Give the lieutenant a chance to get a word in edgewise, would you?”
“Sorry, Mor...sir.” The Andorian science officer apologized, her face turning a deep cobalt-blue.
“The...Prophets...are incorporeal.” Jaxa explained, “We don’t know where they came from or how they evolved, but they see time and the universe differently than we do. For them, past...present...future...have no meaning. The conception of linear time is totally alien to them.”
“So...” Cilla inquired, speaking up for the first time, “What is this entity that possessed Aliz?”
“It’s called a pah-wraith.” Lieutenant Sito answered back. “They once lived in the wormhole as well until they were expelled from the Celestial Temple by the Prophets following a fierce battle. Most of them were consigned to the Fire Caves on Bajor where they are still imprisoned.”
“The Fire Caves...” Charles repeated, “That’s where we’re supposed to bring the objects once we recover them.”
“Correct.” Captain Shelby affirmed, “That must mean that the pah-wraith possessing Aliz intends to somehow release the ones imprisoned.”
“That would be my guess.” Captain Rodenko agreed, holding his peace regarding the other idea he had as his eyes drifted to the Lexington officers seated opposite him.
“What about that other object?” Talana asked, “The Gem of K’Tesh? And what did the pah-wraith mean when it said that to recover it...” the Andorian recited from memory, “..you must truly go back to the beginning of your journey...and to your future? And why was it pointing to me when it said that I hold the key...even though I’m not aware of it, yet?”
“Maybe it’s in your databanks?” Counselor Freedman suggested, “Something having to do with a prior mission, perhaps?”
“Maybe...” Talana replied, her brow furrowed in thought. “I still haven’t been able to make much of that database we recovered on our first mission...much less what we found on Eleuthra IV.”
“Eleuthra IV?” Commander Lavelle queried.
“We found ruins billions of years old...” The Bear replied, his rich voice filled with awe as he recounted the experience he, Talana, and Charles shared on that chilly, ancient world. “...and more. We found what was a gateway...to different planets...different times.”
“Billions of years old?” Boris gasped, his voice filled with awe. “Then it couldn’t be the Iconians—could it?”
“No.” Liz, replied, shaking her head, “While the Iconians were destroyed two hundred thousand years ago, records of them only go back some four hundred thousand years.”
“Are those gates still usable?” Captain Rodenko asked.
“No.” Talana replied, shaking her head. “We...along with Lieutenant Lawford...got pulled into one of the...gateways. To get back home, we had to set up a feedback loop that rendered the system unusable.”
“Maybe there’s another portal?” Sam suggested. “After all, we know they were able to travel to different worlds...”
“Not just different worlds...” Talana interrupted, “Different universes...possibly even different dimensions.” Pausing for a moment as the other officers in the room smiled warmly at her enthusiasm, the white-haired science officer again apologized, “I’m sorry...I did it again, didn’t I?”
“That’s ok, Mr. Zha’Thara.” Liz smiled wistfully, recalling how she first felt on seeing an unexplored planet for the first time...on making first contact with a new species. On how wonderful it felt to push back the unknown. To see the never before seen. On the innocence of a bygone time. A time before the Borg...Leyton’s coup...the Dominion War and its aftermath...the Talarian Incursion. “It reminds us all of the main reason why we’re out here.”
“Da.” Boris chimed in, “Even an old Border Dog like myself often gets lost in the wonder of what’s out here. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Boris...” Liz teased gently, “You sound positively poetic. Thinking about a transfer to the Regular Fleet.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it. I need him to keep Joseph and Margaret in line.” Bateson interjected, joining the brief friendly banter. After giving the officers in the room enough time to relax and enjoy the gentle laughter, the admiral once again brought the meeting back to the topic at hand. “I know you’ve been knocking yourself out with the Lexington’s library, Talana, and not getting anywhere...I’m thinking that maybe you’ll have better luck with the Sutherland’s.”
“Hmmm...we do have over a hundred years of additional data accumulated.” Liz agreed, “Not a bad idea...what do you say, Mr. Zha’Thara? Fancy a temporary assignment on the Sutherland?”
“Are you sure?” The Andorian responded cautiously as she struggled to keep her enthusiasm in check. “The risks to the time-line.”
“Will be minimal.” Admiral Bateson asserted with a confidence that raised eyebrows amongst the officers at the meeting. “I have complete trust in both your discretion in only investigating what you’re supposed to and in maintaining your silence afterwards.” Coming to a decision, the admiral issued his orders, “Mr. Zha’Thara...you are temporarily assigned to the Sutherland. Your job will be to go through our records and see if you can find possible other portals. Captain Shelby...” Morgan instructed as he turned his attention to the strawberry-blonde woman seated near him, “I am endorsing Commodore Wesley’s final orders to you. You are hereby assigned command of USS Lexington until Commodore Wesley returns.”
“What about the Sutherland?” Liz asked, “Much as I’d like to...I can’t command both ships—and me and the Suthy...”
“Don’t worry, Liz...” Morgan replied with a twinkle in his eyes, “I’ve already thought of that.” Turning to the Russian Border Service captain seated next to Liz, Bateson ordered, “Captain Rodenko. You are to take command of USS Sutherland until such time as Captain Shelby resumes command.”
“Sir?” The Commissar protested, “I’m not sure I’m the right man for this. I’m just the skipper of an Albacore-class cutter. I’ve never commanded anything larger than the Scamp. I’ve never wanted to. To put me in command of a Nebbie with over 750 souls—even temporarily.” The curly-haired Russian shook his head, No...what if I...”
“You won’t, Boris.” Liz said in a confident, reassuring voice as she placed a gentle hand on the burly Russian’s forearm. “You can do it. You’re a damned good captain and you’ve got a good ship and a good crew here. They’ll help you through any rough spots. Just treat ‘em like you do your people and you’ll do just fine.”
Bowing down to the inevitable, Captain Rodenko sighed, “Very well. You know I’ll do the best I can.”
Smiling appreciatively at the cutter skipper’s words, Bateson continued issuing his orders. “Lieutenant Sito? I’m temporarily assigning you to the Lexington as well. The reason I’m doing this...” he said, addressing his next words to Liz and Commander Kuznetsov, “...is that I want the Lexington to go first to Bajor. You are not to make any overt contact with either the Bajorans or the Cardassians.” He stressed, “Official first contact with either of these races will not take place for several years yet. Your mission will be to find out as much as you can about the Orb of Renascence and where it might be located and then go and recover it.”
“Admiral?” Liz pointed out, “We already know that means going to the other side of the wormhole. I hate to once again bring this out, but what about the time-line?”
Pausing for several moments as he considered the petite captain’s words, Bateson finally addressed her question. “You bring up a valid point, Captain Shelby. Other than essential personnel who need to know, no one else on the Lexington is be informed as to where they are going. There will be no scans, charting, or recording of what you see once you’re beyond what is already established as our body of knowledge for this time. The Loire will also be seconded to Lexington for the duration of its mission. The runabout will permit you to carry out any necessary side-explorations with a smaller group and with less likelihood of detection.”
“Aye, sir.” Liz acknowledged, comforted with the knowledge that the presence of the Loire would give her additional flexibility.
Turning his attention towards the Sutherland’s chief medical officer, the admiral issued his next set of orders. “Dr. Murakawa...I’ll need you to provide Dr. Vincent with information on Bajoran physiology—enough so that he can perform proper cosmetic surgery.” His eyes falling on Dr. Vincent, Morgan further instructed, “Dr. Vincent...you are to immediately delete that information once it has served its purpose—understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The balding Lexington CMO affirmed, nodding his head once.
“Counselor Freedman...” Bateson, now addressing the Sutherland’s psychologist, commanded, “I’m going to ask you to temporarily relocate to Lexington.” Pausing long enough to take a deep breath, the admiral let out a mournful sigh, “There are several people—one person in particular right now and at least one more later—who desperately need your help.”
“Jennifer...” Talana whispered, her antennae drooping slightly, “And Aliz and Robert...”
“Right.” Morgan answered back in an equally low whisper.
“Of course, Admiral.” The swarthy, curly-haired counselor responded in his usual quiet tone. “I’ll do everything I can for them.”
Standing up, the admiral signaled an end to the meeting, “Oh...one other thing...to make things both easier and more regular. Those Lexington personnel assigned to the Sutherland will wear that ship’s uniform and vice versa...Liz, you’ll continue to wear what you’re wearing now and Lieutenant Sito and Counselor Freedman, you will wear the Lexington’s standard dress. Talana...you’ll also need to get outfitted...”
“I’ll get her squared-away, sir.” Commander Lavelle offered, giving the Lexington’s science officer a friendly nod.
“Aye, sir.” The other officers responded in unison as Boris, grinning, momentarily touched Liz’s knee with his hand, he whispered flirtatiously. “Ha...there is a silver lining to this cloud—I get to continue seeing you in your miniskirt!”
“Wait till this is all over with...” Liz whispered back into the Russian’s ear, “And you’ll get to see me wearing a whole lot less...”
Not at all ignorant of the sotto voce flirting going on between his two captains, Bateson flashed a brief grin, “All right people...let’s get to it. We’ve got work to do.”
“And that’s the last I remember of what happened...” Admiral Bateson concluded as he recalled his memories. “As I told Admiral Komack, I wasn’t there at the end...”
“That would make sense...” Talana interjected, “...especially if this you is there at the end.”
“Right.” The bearded admiral affirmed, nodding his head, “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea if the two me’s were to get together at the same place at the same time.”
“I recall Beverly telling me that something like that happening to Picard once...” Dr. Murakawa opined, “That a previous version of the captain and his present self coexisted for a time.” Cocking her head slightly to the left, the lovely doctor recalled, “But she told me that one of the two was unconscious until the time-lines merged again...”
“Could it be because those two Picards were only separated by a very short period of time while over a hundred years separates Morgan from his past self?” Liz asked. “Maybe it’s not just the proximity in space...perhaps it’s also the proximity in time?”
“That’s possible.” Talana ventured, “You obviously have much greater knowledge of time travel than we do...”
“Which isn’t a lot.” Bateson chuckled.
“Still...” The Andorian science officer counseled, “It’s probably not a good idea for our two Batesons to meet.”
“Agreed.” Alexei grunted before stating, “So...it appears we are locked on our course. So much for free will...”
“Don’t be so sure about that, tovarisch.” Captain Rodenko interjected, “I’m just a cutter captain and a Border Dog, so I don’t usually get to ‘boldly go’ like you ‘Fleeters do, but I do know that where intelligent beings are involved...anything can happen.”
“Boris is right.” Liz agreed. “Also, remember, Morgan only got to see part of the picture. His past self wasn’t at this meeting...” as the admiral nodded his head in confirmation, Liz continued, “...so he doesn’t know what orders were issued or what will happen with the other teams.”
“What are these objects we’re supposed to be looking for?” Dr. Vincent inquired. “And why are they so important?”
“Lieutenant...” Admiral Bateson tilted his head towards the Bajoran woman seated next to Commander Lavelle, “...what have you been able to find out about the Orb of Renascence?”
“Not much, sir.” The young Bajoran security chief replied, “It wasn’t amongst the Orbs stolen by the Cardassians when they occupied Bajor and I haven’t been able to make anything out of the ancient texts or scriptures...at least the ones we have here.”
“I remember what the pah-wraith that possessed my...that possessed Ensign Bathory...said.” Liz interrupted, recalling, “The first object you will know when those who seek you find you. To find it you will have to go where you are not supposed to be yet...you will have to traverse the Celestial Temple...”
“The first part of the riddle was the arrival of the Sutherland.” Talana concluded as everyone nodded their heads or vocalized their agreement. “But the second...what did it mean by ‘traversing the Celestial Temple’?”
Standing up, Admiral Bateson looked into the eyes of each of the Lexington officers. His face grim and devoid of expression, the bearded, normally jovial admiral spoke in a clear, authoritative voice, eliciting instant expressions of surprise as it was instantly brought home to them that this Morgan, while in many ways similar, was also remarkably different from the boyish lieutenant that they all knew. This Morgan Bateson was indeed every inch a Starfleet Admiral.
“What I am about to tell you is classified at Ultraviolet Omega level and everything that you hear, do, or say from the moment Captain Shelby was first found until this is resolved is to be sealed under the Archer Protocols.” Not a sound could be heard as the assembled officers digested the admiral’s words, but the biggest shock was yet to come. “As for what the Celestial Temple is...I’ll leave that for Lieutenant Sito to explain.”
As the admiral sat down, the Bajoran lieutenant rose to her feet. Clearing her throat, the battle-hardened Jaxa addressed the Lexington officers. “The Celestial Temple is the name my people give to a stable wormhole that connects the alpha and gamma quadrants.”
“The gamma quadrant is thirty thousand light years away...” Talana gasped in astonishment, “...and you mean to tell me that you’ve found a stable wormhole?” Turning her head first towards Cilla and then towards Alexei, the Andorian science officer, her antennae twitching in excitement, exclaimed, “Do you know what the odds are in finding even a stable wormhole—much less one that connects us with the gamma quadrant?” Turning towards Admiral Bateson, Talana remarked in a voice tinged with both awe and envy, “You must have starships exploring all over that quadrant now...”
Shaking his head somberly, Morgan replied, “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Talana. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more.” Bringing the discussion back to the current topic, the admiral instructed, “But there’s even more. Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
The Lexington officers, still recovering from their surprise at the news of a stable wormhole linking the alpha and gamma quadrants, were even more shocked at the next piece of information imparted by the Bajoran officer, “The wormhole is also inhabited by beings, called by my people the Prophets, that play a prominent part in our religion.”
“Aliens?” Talana gasped again, her eyes lighting up on hearing the young officer’s words, “Living in a wormhole? What are they like? How do they survive in there? Are they corporeal? Incorporeal?”
“Talana...” Admiral Bateson grinned affectionately, “Give the lieutenant a chance to get a word in edgewise, would you?”
“Sorry, Mor...sir.” The Andorian science officer apologized, her face turning a deep cobalt-blue.
“The...Prophets...are incorporeal.” Jaxa explained, “We don’t know where they came from or how they evolved, but they see time and the universe differently than we do. For them, past...present...future...have no meaning. The conception of linear time is totally alien to them.”
“So...” Cilla inquired, speaking up for the first time, “What is this entity that possessed Aliz?”
“It’s called a pah-wraith.” Lieutenant Sito answered back. “They once lived in the wormhole as well until they were expelled from the Celestial Temple by the Prophets following a fierce battle. Most of them were consigned to the Fire Caves on Bajor where they are still imprisoned.”
“The Fire Caves...” Charles repeated, “That’s where we’re supposed to bring the objects once we recover them.”
“Correct.” Captain Shelby affirmed, “That must mean that the pah-wraith possessing Aliz intends to somehow release the ones imprisoned.”
“That would be my guess.” Captain Rodenko agreed, holding his peace regarding the other idea he had as his eyes drifted to the Lexington officers seated opposite him.
“What about that other object?” Talana asked, “The Gem of K’Tesh? And what did the pah-wraith mean when it said that to recover it...” the Andorian recited from memory, “..you must truly go back to the beginning of your journey...and to your future? And why was it pointing to me when it said that I hold the key...even though I’m not aware of it, yet?”
“Maybe it’s in your databanks?” Counselor Freedman suggested, “Something having to do with a prior mission, perhaps?”
“Maybe...” Talana replied, her brow furrowed in thought. “I still haven’t been able to make much of that database we recovered on our first mission...much less what we found on Eleuthra IV.”
“Eleuthra IV?” Commander Lavelle queried.
“We found ruins billions of years old...” The Bear replied, his rich voice filled with awe as he recounted the experience he, Talana, and Charles shared on that chilly, ancient world. “...and more. We found what was a gateway...to different planets...different times.”
“Billions of years old?” Boris gasped, his voice filled with awe. “Then it couldn’t be the Iconians—could it?”
“No.” Liz, replied, shaking her head, “While the Iconians were destroyed two hundred thousand years ago, records of them only go back some four hundred thousand years.”
“Are those gates still usable?” Captain Rodenko asked.
“No.” Talana replied, shaking her head. “We...along with Lieutenant Lawford...got pulled into one of the...gateways. To get back home, we had to set up a feedback loop that rendered the system unusable.”
“Maybe there’s another portal?” Sam suggested. “After all, we know they were able to travel to different worlds...”
“Not just different worlds...” Talana interrupted, “Different universes...possibly even different dimensions.” Pausing for a moment as the other officers in the room smiled warmly at her enthusiasm, the white-haired science officer again apologized, “I’m sorry...I did it again, didn’t I?”
“That’s ok, Mr. Zha’Thara.” Liz smiled wistfully, recalling how she first felt on seeing an unexplored planet for the first time...on making first contact with a new species. On how wonderful it felt to push back the unknown. To see the never before seen. On the innocence of a bygone time. A time before the Borg...Leyton’s coup...the Dominion War and its aftermath...the Talarian Incursion. “It reminds us all of the main reason why we’re out here.”
“Da.” Boris chimed in, “Even an old Border Dog like myself often gets lost in the wonder of what’s out here. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Boris...” Liz teased gently, “You sound positively poetic. Thinking about a transfer to the Regular Fleet.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it. I need him to keep Joseph and Margaret in line.” Bateson interjected, joining the brief friendly banter. After giving the officers in the room enough time to relax and enjoy the gentle laughter, the admiral once again brought the meeting back to the topic at hand. “I know you’ve been knocking yourself out with the Lexington’s library, Talana, and not getting anywhere...I’m thinking that maybe you’ll have better luck with the Sutherland’s.”
“Hmmm...we do have over a hundred years of additional data accumulated.” Liz agreed, “Not a bad idea...what do you say, Mr. Zha’Thara? Fancy a temporary assignment on the Sutherland?”
“Are you sure?” The Andorian responded cautiously as she struggled to keep her enthusiasm in check. “The risks to the time-line.”
“Will be minimal.” Admiral Bateson asserted with a confidence that raised eyebrows amongst the officers at the meeting. “I have complete trust in both your discretion in only investigating what you’re supposed to and in maintaining your silence afterwards.” Coming to a decision, the admiral issued his orders, “Mr. Zha’Thara...you are temporarily assigned to the Sutherland. Your job will be to go through our records and see if you can find possible other portals. Captain Shelby...” Morgan instructed as he turned his attention to the strawberry-blonde woman seated near him, “I am endorsing Commodore Wesley’s final orders to you. You are hereby assigned command of USS Lexington until Commodore Wesley returns.”
“What about the Sutherland?” Liz asked, “Much as I’d like to...I can’t command both ships—and me and the Suthy...”
“Don’t worry, Liz...” Morgan replied with a twinkle in his eyes, “I’ve already thought of that.” Turning to the Russian Border Service captain seated next to Liz, Bateson ordered, “Captain Rodenko. You are to take command of USS Sutherland until such time as Captain Shelby resumes command.”
“Sir?” The Commissar protested, “I’m not sure I’m the right man for this. I’m just the skipper of an Albacore-class cutter. I’ve never commanded anything larger than the Scamp. I’ve never wanted to. To put me in command of a Nebbie with over 750 souls—even temporarily.” The curly-haired Russian shook his head, No...what if I...”
“You won’t, Boris.” Liz said in a confident, reassuring voice as she placed a gentle hand on the burly Russian’s forearm. “You can do it. You’re a damned good captain and you’ve got a good ship and a good crew here. They’ll help you through any rough spots. Just treat ‘em like you do your people and you’ll do just fine.”
Bowing down to the inevitable, Captain Rodenko sighed, “Very well. You know I’ll do the best I can.”
Smiling appreciatively at the cutter skipper’s words, Bateson continued issuing his orders. “Lieutenant Sito? I’m temporarily assigning you to the Lexington as well. The reason I’m doing this...” he said, addressing his next words to Liz and Commander Kuznetsov, “...is that I want the Lexington to go first to Bajor. You are not to make any overt contact with either the Bajorans or the Cardassians.” He stressed, “Official first contact with either of these races will not take place for several years yet. Your mission will be to find out as much as you can about the Orb of Renascence and where it might be located and then go and recover it.”
“Admiral?” Liz pointed out, “We already know that means going to the other side of the wormhole. I hate to once again bring this out, but what about the time-line?”
Pausing for several moments as he considered the petite captain’s words, Bateson finally addressed her question. “You bring up a valid point, Captain Shelby. Other than essential personnel who need to know, no one else on the Lexington is be informed as to where they are going. There will be no scans, charting, or recording of what you see once you’re beyond what is already established as our body of knowledge for this time. The Loire will also be seconded to Lexington for the duration of its mission. The runabout will permit you to carry out any necessary side-explorations with a smaller group and with less likelihood of detection.”
“Aye, sir.” Liz acknowledged, comforted with the knowledge that the presence of the Loire would give her additional flexibility.
Turning his attention towards the Sutherland’s chief medical officer, the admiral issued his next set of orders. “Dr. Murakawa...I’ll need you to provide Dr. Vincent with information on Bajoran physiology—enough so that he can perform proper cosmetic surgery.” His eyes falling on Dr. Vincent, Morgan further instructed, “Dr. Vincent...you are to immediately delete that information once it has served its purpose—understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The balding Lexington CMO affirmed, nodding his head once.
“Counselor Freedman...” Bateson, now addressing the Sutherland’s psychologist, commanded, “I’m going to ask you to temporarily relocate to Lexington.” Pausing long enough to take a deep breath, the admiral let out a mournful sigh, “There are several people—one person in particular right now and at least one more later—who desperately need your help.”
“Jennifer...” Talana whispered, her antennae drooping slightly, “And Aliz and Robert...”
“Right.” Morgan answered back in an equally low whisper.
“Of course, Admiral.” The swarthy, curly-haired counselor responded in his usual quiet tone. “I’ll do everything I can for them.”
Standing up, the admiral signaled an end to the meeting, “Oh...one other thing...to make things both easier and more regular. Those Lexington personnel assigned to the Sutherland will wear that ship’s uniform and vice versa...Liz, you’ll continue to wear what you’re wearing now and Lieutenant Sito and Counselor Freedman, you will wear the Lexington’s standard dress. Talana...you’ll also need to get outfitted...”
“I’ll get her squared-away, sir.” Commander Lavelle offered, giving the Lexington’s science officer a friendly nod.
“Aye, sir.” The other officers responded in unison as Boris, grinning, momentarily touched Liz’s knee with his hand, he whispered flirtatiously. “Ha...there is a silver lining to this cloud—I get to continue seeing you in your miniskirt!”
“Wait till this is all over with...” Liz whispered back into the Russian’s ear, “And you’ll get to see me wearing a whole lot less...”
Not at all ignorant of the sotto voce flirting going on between his two captains, Bateson flashed a brief grin, “All right people...let’s get to it. We’ve got work to do.”
I enjoyed the inter-generational interplay between the crews of the Lexington and the Sutherland. On the surface, it would appear that Admiral Bateson is taking a huge gamble with the time-line, but then - he's done this before.
As much as I know it's a stupid idea, I think it would be fun if Admiral Bateson and Lt. Bateson could encounter each other, if only in passing. A bad idea, I know, but fun nonetheless.
By the way, I love this story!
As much as I know it's a stupid idea, I think it would be fun if Admiral Bateson and Lt. Bateson could encounter each other, if only in passing. A bad idea, I know, but fun nonetheless.
By the way, I love this story!
Ah, so now they have a plan. But you know what they say about plans. And mice.
The little crew swap sounds like fun. And I agree, the Bateson's should totally meet at some point. That be weird. But in an interesting way.
I'm always concerned when Sito Jaxa is in the mix. The women is unstable and I think could turn out to be a liability. But having her around always makes things more exciting, that's for sure.
The little crew swap sounds like fun. And I agree, the Bateson's should totally meet at some point. That be weird. But in an interesting way.
I'm always concerned when Sito Jaxa is in the mix. The women is unstable and I think could turn out to be a liability. But having her around always makes things more exciting, that's for sure.
I don't know if you intended this or not, but there seems to be a nice blurring of TOS era and TNG era concepts of time-travel and how to go about doing it here. In TOS, they didn't worry too much about contaminating the time-line. In TNG, it's all they worried about. It's an interesting mix.
Suthy/Lexington: Blood Cries Part 11
Sorry about the delay in posting, but real life has been especially busy recently and I've been shaking off a cold. But anyway, here goes...
Part 11
As the meeting broke up, Talana found herself alone with both Admiral Bateson and the Sutherland’s doctor. To her surprise, the attractive, if somewhat shy and diffident appearing doctor, drew closer to the admiral, placing an around his waist. “Oh...” The Andorian science officer, exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to...I’ll just go now...”
“No, Talana...that’s all right...you can stay.” The bearded admiral quickly responded as the dark-haired doctor disengaged from his embrace. “We thought you had left with the others.”
“Please...” Dr. Murakawa chimed in with a shy smile on her face, “...stay. I know Morgan would love to spend some time with you. I have to go to sickbay anyway to get that information for your doctor.” Reaching up on tiptoes, Denise gave the admiral a quick kiss before departing. “I’ll see you later...”
“Later, Denise.” The admiral beamed back. The smile still on his face, Bateson fondly regarded his old friend, “It’s good to see you again, Talana...it’s been too long.”
Shaking her head as her antennae twitched nervously, the lovely Andorian replied, “I’m still trying to get used to it. I just left you a few minutes ago on the Lexington and now...”
“Now...” Morgan interjected, his smile now turning into a sad, yet sweet, smile as he guided his friend to a comfortable leather couch, “...here we are. I’m still the same Morgan Bateson. Just a little older...and...hopefully wiser.” The admiral said reassuringly as he fished through the drawers on Shelby’s desk, “Now...where does she keep it? Ah!” He grinned, “I knew this is where she kept her private stash!” He said triumphantly as he pulled out a decanter containing an amber liquid and two crystal glasses, “Cognac...the real thing. L’ Esprit de Courvoisier.” Shaking his head as he filled the two glasses, Bateson quipped, “I don’t know how Liz managed to get her hands on it...but...knowing our Lizzie, I’ve got a pretty good idea and I had a feeling she had a fun time doing it too. Here...” he said as he handed one of the glasses to his guest.
“You don’t think she’ll mind?” Talana questioned as she swirled the brandy in her glass.
“Nah.” Morgan chuckled, “She owes me a couple of favors anyway. So...” he prompted as he sat down next to the Andorian woman, “I know you’ve got a ton of questions, so...ask away; even though some of them...” he cautioned, “...I probably won’t be able to answer.”
“That Temporal Prime Directive thing?” Talana quipped back as Bateson nodded his head. “All right...” she smirked, her mischievous side coming out thanks to the cognac, “You and the doctor, huh?”
“Yeah.” Morgan blushed, “Liz introduced me and Denise to each other a few years ago at one of her parties.”
“Must have been some party...” Talana quipped. Then, her free hand covering the back of her old friend’s hand, she sighed, “I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for you...all of us gone...”
“It was hard for awhile.” Morgan confessed, “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do...I felt...old...an anachronism...you know what I mean?”
“I can imagine.” Talana sympathized as she gave her friend’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“But...then Counselor Troi from the Enterprise got me in touch with someone else who went through a similar experience and...well...things started getting better. I made new friends...like Liz and Boris and Joseph...and Denise...but yeah...” The older Bateson sighed, “There are times I miss you and Jennifer and Aliz and Robert and everyone else. There’s something magical about this particular time...” Morgan said in a wistful tone, “The thrill of everything being new...a feeling of hope...”
“Sounds like things get pretty rough in the future.” Talana commented in a gentle voice.
“Yes...No...” Morgan flashed a sad smile. “Not really. It’s like any other time, I guess. There are good and bad times.”
“You know...” The lovely Andorian sagely pointed out, “You should consider yourself fortunate. It’s not too many people who have the opportunity to get what amounts to a fresh start. To live two totally separate lives. It must give you an unique perspective on life.”
“I guess it does.” Bateson conceded, “You know...I don’t think I’ve ever looked at it quite that way.”
“That’s because you needed to hear it from an ‘old’ friend.” Talana joked, her lips turning up into a crooked grin as she eyed the paintings hanging on the wall. Changing the subject, she commented, “I recognize Captain Phipps, he commanded the old NX-class Sutherland, but who are the others?”
“They’re captains of all the other Sutherlands—past...present...and...your future” Morgan replied with a grin.
“I see...” Talana responded with a grin, “...and that’s why you’re not going to tell me the name of that Vulcan woman wearing what looks like a maroon jacket. “But why is the commodore’s portrait here? As far as I know, he’s never commanded a Sutherland. Was it a later command that I’m not supposed to know anything about?”
“No.” Bateson answered back, his smile still on his face. “Commodore Wesley’s always been something of an idol to Liz. She’s always looked up to him...”
“I got that impression from the few times I saw them together.” Talana affirmed, nodding her head in agreement. Her lips turning down into an anxious frown, the science officer added, her voice a mixture of worry and mild chastisement, “I also get the feeling there’s something more going on between the two of them that you’re not telling me.” Sighing at the blank look her old friend was giving her, Talana nodded her head. “I’m right. Anyway...” the lovely Andorian’s smile returned to her face as she finished her drink, “I couldn’t think of a better choice as a role model than the commodore for Captain Shelby. If she’s half as good commanding a starship as he is, then I’d say she has to be all right.” Standing up, Talana reached up on tiptoes to give her old friend a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I better get going, Morgan. I’ve got a lot of work to do and I don’t want to keep Commander Lavelle waiting.”
“See you later, ‘Lana.” The admiral smiled as his former companion turned about to leave. Morgan...the older Bateson thought wryly to himself...you’re a sentimental old fool.
*********************************************************************
“Take care of my ship, Boris.” Liz commanded, flashing a playful grin at the dark haired Russian cutter captain standing next to her.
“Don’t worry, Betts.” Captain Rodenko grinned back, “I promise I won’t even scratch the paint.”
“Ha!” Shelby laughed as she gave her friend and sometime lover a wink, “Just like you promised back on Talasia III!”
“Hey!” The cutter skipper protested with a hearty laugh, “That was your fault! You distracted me when you let that towel you were wearing fall off! Ah...” Rodenko grinned, “but I what I saw made losing the deposit on the skimmer worth it.”
“You’re a true gentleman, Boris.” Liz gently teased. Jerking her head toward the Loire, she watched as Cilla Oudekirk disappeared inside the runabout. “I better get going...watch yourself out there...and don’t let Maria smart-mouth you too much!”
“Heh.” Captain Rodenko chuckled, “I’ll just tell Sam to give her a spanking if she does.”
“That’s the spirit!” Liz laughed as she reached up to give the burly Russian a kiss on the cheek. “Take care!”
“You also, Elizaveta!”
Entering the runabout, Captain Shelby nodded her head affably at the officers already in their seats, Lieutenant Sito manning the pilot’s station. “You can take us out whenever you’re ready, Mr. Sito.”
************************************************************************
Left alone in confinement once again by his pah-wraith possessed ensign, Robert Wesley, feeling his eyes growing heavier, slowly and reluctantly fell into a fitful sleep, the sound of a steadily beating heart accompanying him into slumber...
ThumpThump...ThumpThump...ThumpThump
“It does not belong here.”
“Out of place.”
“Out of time.”
“Who are you?” Robert called out into the fog. “Show yourselves!”
“It does not understand.”
“It cannot understand.”
Confused by the voices, Robert then heard the unmistakable baritone of his Russian executive officer, “We must make it understand. Blood must stop Blood or all is lost.”
“Alexei? Is that you? Where are you? Where am I and what is going on here?”
FLASH!
Wesley suddenly found himself on the bridge of the Lexington, his officers all at their stations.
“You must help her.” Alexei declared.
“Past...” Cilla began.
“Present...” Jennifer continued.
“And future...” Talana completed, “All rest on your blood...”
“What do you mean my blood?” Robert called back, “And who are you...where am I?”
“You will know...” The representation of Cilla replied. “When the time is right.”
“The Future will guide the Past to the Present preserving the Future.” Jennifer added cryptically.
“Steel yourself for the Time.” Alexei admonished. “She will need you then.”
The image of Talana then spoke, “You must not fail.”
“Sir!”
********************************************************************
“Sir?”
Looking up from the data slate she was reading, Captain Shelby took a welcome sip from the hot coffee that a statuesque red-headed yeoman had just given her. “Thank you.” The blonde captain acknowledged with an appreciative grin as the yeoman smiled back at her. “Just what I needed.” After making a few final notations on her data slate, she handed the pad back to the yeoman. “Lieutenant Oudekirk?” Liz called out, addressing the Lexington’s willowy Dutch communications officer who, upon hearing her name, turned her head towards her and smiled.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Report to sickbay in two hours for cosmetic surgery. You’re going to accompany me, and Lieutenants Mtolo, Sito, and Bateson to Bajor.”
“Yes, sir!” The normally taciturn Cilla exclaimed as her smile grew even broader.
“Thought you’d enjoy that.” Liz grinned back. “Also...have Dr. Vincent meet me in my quarters in twenty minutes—I want to discuss some details regarding the mission with him, and then have Commander Kuznetsov meet us in sickbay.” Rising from the center seat, she then addressed a human male, his blonde hair cut short in a crew cut, “Lieutenant Bradley...you’ve got the conn.”
**********************************************************************
Watching from the sidelines along with several others in the Lexington’s gym as yet another one of his security officers was felled by the young security specialist from the Sutherland, Lieutenant Nealo Mtolo groaned audibly.
“How many does this make?” Commander Alexei Kuznetsov, the Lexington’s executive officer standing alongside the security chief grunted.
“Three.” The Zulu head of security responded. “Besides that damned Klingon martial art, she’s using some moves even I haven’t seen before.
“That shouldn’t be a surprise.” The Bear remarked sagely. “Remember, she comes from over a hundred years in the future—I’m sure they’ve picked up a few things in the years.” Pausing for a few moments as he eyed the young woman executing the exact same maneuver that nearly cost him his life over a year ago when he engaged in single combat with that Klingon from the K’Mar, Alexei grunted, “Maybe I should get her to teach me a thing or two while she’s here.”
“Yeah.” Nealo reluctantly conceded and then turned the conversation back to what was really troubling him, “Some things change, but some things done.” He remarked as his eyes fell on a tattoo that briefly revealed itself from under the concealment of the martial arts ghi the Bajoran woman wore, “See that? That’s an Andorian vengeance tattoo. She’s sworn a blood oath on someone.” Shaking his head, the dark-skinned Zulu declared, “I can’t trust someone who’s looking to settle scores on my team.”
“I’ll speak to the captain about it.” Alexei promised before adding reassuringly, “But I don’t think in this instance you have anything to worry about. Whoever or whatever she’s sworn that oath against probably hasn’t even been born yet.”
“Perhaps not...” Lieutenant Mtolo, who knew a thing or two about vendettas himself remarked as Lieutenant Sito’s current opponent joined his fellow losers on the sidelines, “But their ancestors are...and...a blood debt is a blood debt.”
“Da...” The big Russian nodded his head glumly as he gazed at the chronometer. “I see that it is time for this to end for now—as I recall, you and Lieutenant Sito have appointments with Dr. Vincent soon.”
“Yes, sir.” The muscular security chief acknowledged. Raising his voice, Mtolo called out, “Lieutenant Sito! Hit the showers! We have an appointment with the doctor in two hours.”
Taking a deep breath and exhaling, the young Bajoran woman reluctantly bowed to her would be opponent. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to postpone for now.”
Inwardly relieved that he would be, temporarily at least, spared his fellow combatants’ fate in the losers’ circle, the youthful brunette male security officer bowed back before turning away. Joining his friends, Ensign Marquette flashed a quick smirk, “Well...looks like I’m the only one left standing—guess that means I win the bet.”
Sorry about the delay in posting, but real life has been especially busy recently and I've been shaking off a cold. But anyway, here goes...
Part 11
As the meeting broke up, Talana found herself alone with both Admiral Bateson and the Sutherland’s doctor. To her surprise, the attractive, if somewhat shy and diffident appearing doctor, drew closer to the admiral, placing an around his waist. “Oh...” The Andorian science officer, exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to...I’ll just go now...”
“No, Talana...that’s all right...you can stay.” The bearded admiral quickly responded as the dark-haired doctor disengaged from his embrace. “We thought you had left with the others.”
“Please...” Dr. Murakawa chimed in with a shy smile on her face, “...stay. I know Morgan would love to spend some time with you. I have to go to sickbay anyway to get that information for your doctor.” Reaching up on tiptoes, Denise gave the admiral a quick kiss before departing. “I’ll see you later...”
“Later, Denise.” The admiral beamed back. The smile still on his face, Bateson fondly regarded his old friend, “It’s good to see you again, Talana...it’s been too long.”
Shaking her head as her antennae twitched nervously, the lovely Andorian replied, “I’m still trying to get used to it. I just left you a few minutes ago on the Lexington and now...”
“Now...” Morgan interjected, his smile now turning into a sad, yet sweet, smile as he guided his friend to a comfortable leather couch, “...here we are. I’m still the same Morgan Bateson. Just a little older...and...hopefully wiser.” The admiral said reassuringly as he fished through the drawers on Shelby’s desk, “Now...where does she keep it? Ah!” He grinned, “I knew this is where she kept her private stash!” He said triumphantly as he pulled out a decanter containing an amber liquid and two crystal glasses, “Cognac...the real thing. L’ Esprit de Courvoisier.” Shaking his head as he filled the two glasses, Bateson quipped, “I don’t know how Liz managed to get her hands on it...but...knowing our Lizzie, I’ve got a pretty good idea and I had a feeling she had a fun time doing it too. Here...” he said as he handed one of the glasses to his guest.
“You don’t think she’ll mind?” Talana questioned as she swirled the brandy in her glass.
“Nah.” Morgan chuckled, “She owes me a couple of favors anyway. So...” he prompted as he sat down next to the Andorian woman, “I know you’ve got a ton of questions, so...ask away; even though some of them...” he cautioned, “...I probably won’t be able to answer.”
“That Temporal Prime Directive thing?” Talana quipped back as Bateson nodded his head. “All right...” she smirked, her mischievous side coming out thanks to the cognac, “You and the doctor, huh?”
“Yeah.” Morgan blushed, “Liz introduced me and Denise to each other a few years ago at one of her parties.”
“Must have been some party...” Talana quipped. Then, her free hand covering the back of her old friend’s hand, she sighed, “I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for you...all of us gone...”
“It was hard for awhile.” Morgan confessed, “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do...I felt...old...an anachronism...you know what I mean?”
“I can imagine.” Talana sympathized as she gave her friend’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“But...then Counselor Troi from the Enterprise got me in touch with someone else who went through a similar experience and...well...things started getting better. I made new friends...like Liz and Boris and Joseph...and Denise...but yeah...” The older Bateson sighed, “There are times I miss you and Jennifer and Aliz and Robert and everyone else. There’s something magical about this particular time...” Morgan said in a wistful tone, “The thrill of everything being new...a feeling of hope...”
“Sounds like things get pretty rough in the future.” Talana commented in a gentle voice.
“Yes...No...” Morgan flashed a sad smile. “Not really. It’s like any other time, I guess. There are good and bad times.”
“You know...” The lovely Andorian sagely pointed out, “You should consider yourself fortunate. It’s not too many people who have the opportunity to get what amounts to a fresh start. To live two totally separate lives. It must give you an unique perspective on life.”
“I guess it does.” Bateson conceded, “You know...I don’t think I’ve ever looked at it quite that way.”
“That’s because you needed to hear it from an ‘old’ friend.” Talana joked, her lips turning up into a crooked grin as she eyed the paintings hanging on the wall. Changing the subject, she commented, “I recognize Captain Phipps, he commanded the old NX-class Sutherland, but who are the others?”
“They’re captains of all the other Sutherlands—past...present...and...your future” Morgan replied with a grin.
“I see...” Talana responded with a grin, “...and that’s why you’re not going to tell me the name of that Vulcan woman wearing what looks like a maroon jacket. “But why is the commodore’s portrait here? As far as I know, he’s never commanded a Sutherland. Was it a later command that I’m not supposed to know anything about?”
“No.” Bateson answered back, his smile still on his face. “Commodore Wesley’s always been something of an idol to Liz. She’s always looked up to him...”
“I got that impression from the few times I saw them together.” Talana affirmed, nodding her head in agreement. Her lips turning down into an anxious frown, the science officer added, her voice a mixture of worry and mild chastisement, “I also get the feeling there’s something more going on between the two of them that you’re not telling me.” Sighing at the blank look her old friend was giving her, Talana nodded her head. “I’m right. Anyway...” the lovely Andorian’s smile returned to her face as she finished her drink, “I couldn’t think of a better choice as a role model than the commodore for Captain Shelby. If she’s half as good commanding a starship as he is, then I’d say she has to be all right.” Standing up, Talana reached up on tiptoes to give her old friend a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I better get going, Morgan. I’ve got a lot of work to do and I don’t want to keep Commander Lavelle waiting.”
“See you later, ‘Lana.” The admiral smiled as his former companion turned about to leave. Morgan...the older Bateson thought wryly to himself...you’re a sentimental old fool.
*********************************************************************
“Take care of my ship, Boris.” Liz commanded, flashing a playful grin at the dark haired Russian cutter captain standing next to her.
“Don’t worry, Betts.” Captain Rodenko grinned back, “I promise I won’t even scratch the paint.”
“Ha!” Shelby laughed as she gave her friend and sometime lover a wink, “Just like you promised back on Talasia III!”
“Hey!” The cutter skipper protested with a hearty laugh, “That was your fault! You distracted me when you let that towel you were wearing fall off! Ah...” Rodenko grinned, “but I what I saw made losing the deposit on the skimmer worth it.”
“You’re a true gentleman, Boris.” Liz gently teased. Jerking her head toward the Loire, she watched as Cilla Oudekirk disappeared inside the runabout. “I better get going...watch yourself out there...and don’t let Maria smart-mouth you too much!”
“Heh.” Captain Rodenko chuckled, “I’ll just tell Sam to give her a spanking if she does.”
“That’s the spirit!” Liz laughed as she reached up to give the burly Russian a kiss on the cheek. “Take care!”
“You also, Elizaveta!”
Entering the runabout, Captain Shelby nodded her head affably at the officers already in their seats, Lieutenant Sito manning the pilot’s station. “You can take us out whenever you’re ready, Mr. Sito.”
************************************************************************
Left alone in confinement once again by his pah-wraith possessed ensign, Robert Wesley, feeling his eyes growing heavier, slowly and reluctantly fell into a fitful sleep, the sound of a steadily beating heart accompanying him into slumber...
ThumpThump...ThumpThump...ThumpThump
“It does not belong here.”
“Out of place.”
“Out of time.”
“Who are you?” Robert called out into the fog. “Show yourselves!”
“It does not understand.”
“It cannot understand.”
Confused by the voices, Robert then heard the unmistakable baritone of his Russian executive officer, “We must make it understand. Blood must stop Blood or all is lost.”
“Alexei? Is that you? Where are you? Where am I and what is going on here?”
FLASH!
Wesley suddenly found himself on the bridge of the Lexington, his officers all at their stations.
“You must help her.” Alexei declared.
“Past...” Cilla began.
“Present...” Jennifer continued.
“And future...” Talana completed, “All rest on your blood...”
“What do you mean my blood?” Robert called back, “And who are you...where am I?”
“You will know...” The representation of Cilla replied. “When the time is right.”
“The Future will guide the Past to the Present preserving the Future.” Jennifer added cryptically.
“Steel yourself for the Time.” Alexei admonished. “She will need you then.”
The image of Talana then spoke, “You must not fail.”
“Sir!”
********************************************************************
“Sir?”
Looking up from the data slate she was reading, Captain Shelby took a welcome sip from the hot coffee that a statuesque red-headed yeoman had just given her. “Thank you.” The blonde captain acknowledged with an appreciative grin as the yeoman smiled back at her. “Just what I needed.” After making a few final notations on her data slate, she handed the pad back to the yeoman. “Lieutenant Oudekirk?” Liz called out, addressing the Lexington’s willowy Dutch communications officer who, upon hearing her name, turned her head towards her and smiled.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Report to sickbay in two hours for cosmetic surgery. You’re going to accompany me, and Lieutenants Mtolo, Sito, and Bateson to Bajor.”
“Yes, sir!” The normally taciturn Cilla exclaimed as her smile grew even broader.
“Thought you’d enjoy that.” Liz grinned back. “Also...have Dr. Vincent meet me in my quarters in twenty minutes—I want to discuss some details regarding the mission with him, and then have Commander Kuznetsov meet us in sickbay.” Rising from the center seat, she then addressed a human male, his blonde hair cut short in a crew cut, “Lieutenant Bradley...you’ve got the conn.”
**********************************************************************
Watching from the sidelines along with several others in the Lexington’s gym as yet another one of his security officers was felled by the young security specialist from the Sutherland, Lieutenant Nealo Mtolo groaned audibly.
“How many does this make?” Commander Alexei Kuznetsov, the Lexington’s executive officer standing alongside the security chief grunted.
“Three.” The Zulu head of security responded. “Besides that damned Klingon martial art, she’s using some moves even I haven’t seen before.
“That shouldn’t be a surprise.” The Bear remarked sagely. “Remember, she comes from over a hundred years in the future—I’m sure they’ve picked up a few things in the years.” Pausing for a few moments as he eyed the young woman executing the exact same maneuver that nearly cost him his life over a year ago when he engaged in single combat with that Klingon from the K’Mar, Alexei grunted, “Maybe I should get her to teach me a thing or two while she’s here.”
“Yeah.” Nealo reluctantly conceded and then turned the conversation back to what was really troubling him, “Some things change, but some things done.” He remarked as his eyes fell on a tattoo that briefly revealed itself from under the concealment of the martial arts ghi the Bajoran woman wore, “See that? That’s an Andorian vengeance tattoo. She’s sworn a blood oath on someone.” Shaking his head, the dark-skinned Zulu declared, “I can’t trust someone who’s looking to settle scores on my team.”
“I’ll speak to the captain about it.” Alexei promised before adding reassuringly, “But I don’t think in this instance you have anything to worry about. Whoever or whatever she’s sworn that oath against probably hasn’t even been born yet.”
“Perhaps not...” Lieutenant Mtolo, who knew a thing or two about vendettas himself remarked as Lieutenant Sito’s current opponent joined his fellow losers on the sidelines, “But their ancestors are...and...a blood debt is a blood debt.”
“Da...” The big Russian nodded his head glumly as he gazed at the chronometer. “I see that it is time for this to end for now—as I recall, you and Lieutenant Sito have appointments with Dr. Vincent soon.”
“Yes, sir.” The muscular security chief acknowledged. Raising his voice, Mtolo called out, “Lieutenant Sito! Hit the showers! We have an appointment with the doctor in two hours.”
Taking a deep breath and exhaling, the young Bajoran woman reluctantly bowed to her would be opponent. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to postpone for now.”
Inwardly relieved that he would be, temporarily at least, spared his fellow combatants’ fate in the losers’ circle, the youthful brunette male security officer bowed back before turning away. Joining his friends, Ensign Marquette flashed a quick smirk, “Well...looks like I’m the only one left standing—guess that means I win the bet.”
Last edited:
Suthy/Lexington: Blood Cries Part 11 cont
“Hello, Jennifer. I’m Lieutenant Commander Maximillian Freedman, but you can call me Max.” Counselor Freedman smiled warmly as his patient tentatively entered the head nurse’s office that Dr. Vincent had assigned him as his office. “Come in...sit down.” The swarthy, curly-haired psychologist gently urged as he motioned with his hand towards a chair.
Shyly sitting down, the normally vivacious Jennifer Watley looked down as she spoke, “Are you the new head-doctor?” She asked, barely managing a shaky grin.
“You could say that.” Max smiled back. “We prefer to be called counselors now, but like I said, you can just call me Max—everyone else does.
I...I don’t know where to begin...Max...”
“That’s all right, Jennifer...” Max replied in gently soothing tones, “There’s no rush. We’ve got plenty of time. For now...just talk about whatever you want to. Or...if you’d rather not talk...that’s all right too.” Gazing at his patient’s face, Counselor Freedman quickly realized that this would indeed take a great deal of time. But then...the curly-haired mustachioed counselor thought to himself...time seems to be at the center of everything.
*********************************************************************
“Come in!” Captain Shelby called out from behind her desk as the enunciator chimed, announcing that the guest she was expecting had arrived. As the door slid open to reveal the balding chief medical officer of the Lexington, Liz, anticipating the topic of the upcoming conversation, frowned as she gestured at a chair next to her desk. “Have a seat, Dr. Vincent.”
“Settling in ok, sir?” Charles asked as he sat down, accepting gratefully a glass of water the captain handed to him.
“Better than I’d thought I would.” Liz confessed, her lips now turning up into a quick smile, “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how the crew—or some of the senior officers—would respond to my suddenly taking command. But...I’m pleased to say...they’ve adjusted rather well.”
“Even Alexei?” Dr. Vincent chuckled, referring to the often stubborn Russian executive officer.
“Even Alexei.” Shelby responded, joining in the gentle laughter. Her laughter dying down, she added sagaciously, “I think getting the Commodore’s approval helped out a lot with him—not to mention the others.”
Nodding his head in agreement, the Lexington physician concurred, “I’m sure it has—especially with Alexei and Nealo.” Pausing for a moment, Charles added, “I also wanted to thank you for bringing Counselor Freedman over. He’s been busy working with Jennifer and several others of the crew who are trying to make some sense about what happened.” Sighing the doctor added, “I’m afraid he’s got his work cut out for him...”
“I’m glad Counselor Freedman’s been able to help.” Liz responded before inquiring, “Do you foresee any problems with the cosmetic surgery? We should be reaching our destination in a couple of days.”
“No problems, Captain.” Dr. Vincent promptly responded, “The information your CMO provided me was most helpful and there don’t appear to be that many surface differences between humans and Bajorans. So long as no one does a medical scan, the landing party should have no problem passing as Bajorans.”
“Great.” Liz replied and then reminded the New Englander, “Don’t forget, Doctor...”
“I’m to delete all references to Bajorans in my logs and in the database once the landing party returns.” Charles recited and then gently chided, “Don’t worry, Captain, none of us here wants to damage the time line. We’ll do what we’re supposed to.”
“I know.” Liz sighed, “And I’m sorry if you got the impression I thought otherwise. It’s just that...”
“There’s so much that can go wrong.” Charles interjected, completing the captain’s thoughts for her. “And...” he gently added, deciding that it was now time to address the elephant in the room, “...this has to be especially difficult for you—and I think we both know why.”
Making eye contact with the doctor, Liz confessed, “Right. I might as well confirm what you probably already know through your genetic tests...Commodore Wesley and Ensign Bathory are my maternal grandparents. No...I am not going to tell you how they ended up together...”
“I didn’t ask...” Charles interrupted, shaking his head sorrowfully, “...although I consider both to be good friends of mine. No...that’s not what has me worried...My concern is that you might be...”
“Too close to things? Liz replied, finishing out the doctor’s thought, “that I might let my feelings affect my judgment? Maybe...” Shelby reluctantly admitted, “Although I’ll try not to let that happen. And if it does...I’ll make a promise right here and now—I swear that I’ll rely on you and Counselor Freedman to pull me off the ledge. Deal?”
Taking a deep breath as he gazed into the determined eyes of the blonde captain seated next to him, Dr. Vincent slowly nodded his head as he rose to his feet, “Deal.”
“Great!” The captain smiled, “Then I better let you go...as I recall, you’ve got some patients—myself included—that should be showing up soon for some nose jobs.”
***********************************************************************
Watching as the willowy blonde sitting on the examination table next to her fingered the ridges on her nose that the doctor had so recently added, an amused smile crossed Lieutenant Sito Jaxa’s features, “The ridges act as something of a...I guess you could call it a...supercharger...for us Bajorans.”
“Huh?” Cilla exclaimed with a start as she realized that the normally quiet Sutherland officer was actually talking to her, “What?”
“The palaaka.” Jaxa remarked, her finger going to her own nose. “Bajor’s atmosphere is a little thinner and dryer than Earth’s. Not by much...” she qualified, “...but enough. The palaaka allowed our ancestors to take in more oxygen, giving them a short-term energy boost—especially in the higher altitudes. It doesn’t make us any stronger or faster than humans...” the Bajoran security officer smiled, “...but it does help us out a little bit in thinner or drier atmospheres.”
“So...” Cilla asked, “What can we expect on Bajor?”
A wistful look in Jaxa’s eyes, the young Bajoran replied in a soft, dejected voice, “Decline.” Shaking her head, Lieutenant Sito explained, “From what I remember of my Bajoran history before the...before...the Bad Times, the djara—it’s a caste system where your occupation is determined by what family you’re born into—is still in place, but many—especially younger Bajorans—are rebelling against it. The Kai at the time was very inflexible...didn’t want to make any concessions...as a result, most of Bajor will soon be in unrest. Civil war...widespread destruction...”
“Dood en ondergang!” Cilla gasped under her breath.
“It gets worse...” Jaxa groaned, “Much worse...but...” seeing Captain Shelby’s gentle shake of her head, Sito flashed a quick sad smile, “I’m sorry...I can’t say anymore.
“I understand.” Lieutenant Oudekirk consoled, “I’m sorry...really sorry...”
“Yeah...” The tormented young Bajoran replied, “So am I.”
************************************************************************
Sighing inwardly with relief as she saw that her tactical officer had taken the unspoken hint, Captain Shelby turned her attention to the burly Russian standing in front of her. “You’ll have temporary command of the Lexington, Commander. I’m going to lead the group going to Bajor on the Loire. Keep the Lexington on station here until our return. Do not under any circumstances make contact with any other ships.”
“Da, Captain.” The Bear affirmed with a grunt, “We’ll be here when you return.”
Nodding her head in approval as she saw Dr. Vincent emerge with his final patient, the Lexington’s Zulu security officer, Lieutenant Mtolo sporting a Bajoran nose along with the rest of Liz’s group, Liz cleared her throat. “Lieutenant Sito will provide you with Bajoran clothing before we leave and will instruct us in what we need to know concerning Bajoran customs en-route. Remember, this is supposed to be a simple in and out mission. We’re to avoid as much contact with the Bajorans as possible. We get what we need and then we leave. Quick and clean. Understood?”
“Good.” The captain exclaimed as a chorus of “Aye, sirs” greeted her words. “If there are no further questions, meet at the Loire in thirty minutes.”
**********************************************************************
“Damn!” Talana exhaled as she read over once again the information displayed on her computer monitor. “Godsdamn!”
“What?” Lieutenant Candy Johnson, the Sutherland’s acting science officer, asked from her station where she was also researching data. “Find something?”
“I think so.” The Lexington’s Andorian science officer replied, flashing a friendly smile at the dark haired, good-natured human with whom she had struck up an almost immediate friendship. “Come and take a look.”
Crossing over to the blue-skinned woman’s console, Candy bent over and read the display. “Looks like we might have a winner.” Then, when she spied where the planet in question was located, her lips turned down into a frown. “Damn.”
“What do you mean, ‘damn’?” A suddenly concerned Talana asked, “It meets all the specifications...and it’s the most likely candidate within a reasonable travel distance. And it’s in uncontrolled space...”
“It’s not that.” Lieutenant Johnson answered back with a sigh. “It’s where it’s located.”
“The Perdita Expanses...” Talana read, “So?”
“The Expanses have another name...” Candy explained as an involuntary shiver ran up and down her spine, “We also call them the Twilight Zone because weird things happen there...very weird things.”
“Well...” The lovely Andorian smiled back, “Isn’t it part of our job description to look for ‘weird things...very weird things’?”
“Yeah.” The lieutenant agreed, “But...never mind...” Candy paused, “Looks like we’ve got no choice if we’re going to get the captain’s...if we’re going to get Commodore Wesley and Ensign Bathory back. You gonna go tell Captain Rodenko and Admiral Bateson now?”
“Yeah.” Talana replied, the smile still on her face as she made her way to the door, “And don’t worry, Candy.” The lovely Andorian remarked cheerily as she exited, “Everything’ll work out just fine—just have a little faith.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” Candy whispered under her breath her eyes being drawn involuntarily towards the words ‘Perdita Expanses’ flashing on the computer monitor as the Andorian woman departed.
Watching as both the Loire and the Sutherland departed for their respective destinations, Commander Kuznetsov heaved a sigh.
“Worried Alexei?” Dr. Vincent drawled.
“Da.” The Bear responded as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “There’s too much going on here that I don’t know...I hate not knowing. It makes me...nervous.”
Shaking his head, the balding doctor muttered under his breath, “Don’t be so sure of that, old friend. Sometimes it’s better not to know some things.”
“Hello, Jennifer. I’m Lieutenant Commander Maximillian Freedman, but you can call me Max.” Counselor Freedman smiled warmly as his patient tentatively entered the head nurse’s office that Dr. Vincent had assigned him as his office. “Come in...sit down.” The swarthy, curly-haired psychologist gently urged as he motioned with his hand towards a chair.
Shyly sitting down, the normally vivacious Jennifer Watley looked down as she spoke, “Are you the new head-doctor?” She asked, barely managing a shaky grin.
“You could say that.” Max smiled back. “We prefer to be called counselors now, but like I said, you can just call me Max—everyone else does.
I...I don’t know where to begin...Max...”
“That’s all right, Jennifer...” Max replied in gently soothing tones, “There’s no rush. We’ve got plenty of time. For now...just talk about whatever you want to. Or...if you’d rather not talk...that’s all right too.” Gazing at his patient’s face, Counselor Freedman quickly realized that this would indeed take a great deal of time. But then...the curly-haired mustachioed counselor thought to himself...time seems to be at the center of everything.
*********************************************************************
“Come in!” Captain Shelby called out from behind her desk as the enunciator chimed, announcing that the guest she was expecting had arrived. As the door slid open to reveal the balding chief medical officer of the Lexington, Liz, anticipating the topic of the upcoming conversation, frowned as she gestured at a chair next to her desk. “Have a seat, Dr. Vincent.”
“Settling in ok, sir?” Charles asked as he sat down, accepting gratefully a glass of water the captain handed to him.
“Better than I’d thought I would.” Liz confessed, her lips now turning up into a quick smile, “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how the crew—or some of the senior officers—would respond to my suddenly taking command. But...I’m pleased to say...they’ve adjusted rather well.”
“Even Alexei?” Dr. Vincent chuckled, referring to the often stubborn Russian executive officer.
“Even Alexei.” Shelby responded, joining in the gentle laughter. Her laughter dying down, she added sagaciously, “I think getting the Commodore’s approval helped out a lot with him—not to mention the others.”
Nodding his head in agreement, the Lexington physician concurred, “I’m sure it has—especially with Alexei and Nealo.” Pausing for a moment, Charles added, “I also wanted to thank you for bringing Counselor Freedman over. He’s been busy working with Jennifer and several others of the crew who are trying to make some sense about what happened.” Sighing the doctor added, “I’m afraid he’s got his work cut out for him...”
“I’m glad Counselor Freedman’s been able to help.” Liz responded before inquiring, “Do you foresee any problems with the cosmetic surgery? We should be reaching our destination in a couple of days.”
“No problems, Captain.” Dr. Vincent promptly responded, “The information your CMO provided me was most helpful and there don’t appear to be that many surface differences between humans and Bajorans. So long as no one does a medical scan, the landing party should have no problem passing as Bajorans.”
“Great.” Liz replied and then reminded the New Englander, “Don’t forget, Doctor...”
“I’m to delete all references to Bajorans in my logs and in the database once the landing party returns.” Charles recited and then gently chided, “Don’t worry, Captain, none of us here wants to damage the time line. We’ll do what we’re supposed to.”
“I know.” Liz sighed, “And I’m sorry if you got the impression I thought otherwise. It’s just that...”
“There’s so much that can go wrong.” Charles interjected, completing the captain’s thoughts for her. “And...” he gently added, deciding that it was now time to address the elephant in the room, “...this has to be especially difficult for you—and I think we both know why.”
Making eye contact with the doctor, Liz confessed, “Right. I might as well confirm what you probably already know through your genetic tests...Commodore Wesley and Ensign Bathory are my maternal grandparents. No...I am not going to tell you how they ended up together...”
“I didn’t ask...” Charles interrupted, shaking his head sorrowfully, “...although I consider both to be good friends of mine. No...that’s not what has me worried...My concern is that you might be...”
“Too close to things? Liz replied, finishing out the doctor’s thought, “that I might let my feelings affect my judgment? Maybe...” Shelby reluctantly admitted, “Although I’ll try not to let that happen. And if it does...I’ll make a promise right here and now—I swear that I’ll rely on you and Counselor Freedman to pull me off the ledge. Deal?”
Taking a deep breath as he gazed into the determined eyes of the blonde captain seated next to him, Dr. Vincent slowly nodded his head as he rose to his feet, “Deal.”
“Great!” The captain smiled, “Then I better let you go...as I recall, you’ve got some patients—myself included—that should be showing up soon for some nose jobs.”
***********************************************************************
Watching as the willowy blonde sitting on the examination table next to her fingered the ridges on her nose that the doctor had so recently added, an amused smile crossed Lieutenant Sito Jaxa’s features, “The ridges act as something of a...I guess you could call it a...supercharger...for us Bajorans.”
“Huh?” Cilla exclaimed with a start as she realized that the normally quiet Sutherland officer was actually talking to her, “What?”
“The palaaka.” Jaxa remarked, her finger going to her own nose. “Bajor’s atmosphere is a little thinner and dryer than Earth’s. Not by much...” she qualified, “...but enough. The palaaka allowed our ancestors to take in more oxygen, giving them a short-term energy boost—especially in the higher altitudes. It doesn’t make us any stronger or faster than humans...” the Bajoran security officer smiled, “...but it does help us out a little bit in thinner or drier atmospheres.”
“So...” Cilla asked, “What can we expect on Bajor?”
A wistful look in Jaxa’s eyes, the young Bajoran replied in a soft, dejected voice, “Decline.” Shaking her head, Lieutenant Sito explained, “From what I remember of my Bajoran history before the...before...the Bad Times, the djara—it’s a caste system where your occupation is determined by what family you’re born into—is still in place, but many—especially younger Bajorans—are rebelling against it. The Kai at the time was very inflexible...didn’t want to make any concessions...as a result, most of Bajor will soon be in unrest. Civil war...widespread destruction...”
“Dood en ondergang!” Cilla gasped under her breath.
“It gets worse...” Jaxa groaned, “Much worse...but...” seeing Captain Shelby’s gentle shake of her head, Sito flashed a quick sad smile, “I’m sorry...I can’t say anymore.
“I understand.” Lieutenant Oudekirk consoled, “I’m sorry...really sorry...”
“Yeah...” The tormented young Bajoran replied, “So am I.”
************************************************************************
Sighing inwardly with relief as she saw that her tactical officer had taken the unspoken hint, Captain Shelby turned her attention to the burly Russian standing in front of her. “You’ll have temporary command of the Lexington, Commander. I’m going to lead the group going to Bajor on the Loire. Keep the Lexington on station here until our return. Do not under any circumstances make contact with any other ships.”
“Da, Captain.” The Bear affirmed with a grunt, “We’ll be here when you return.”
Nodding her head in approval as she saw Dr. Vincent emerge with his final patient, the Lexington’s Zulu security officer, Lieutenant Mtolo sporting a Bajoran nose along with the rest of Liz’s group, Liz cleared her throat. “Lieutenant Sito will provide you with Bajoran clothing before we leave and will instruct us in what we need to know concerning Bajoran customs en-route. Remember, this is supposed to be a simple in and out mission. We’re to avoid as much contact with the Bajorans as possible. We get what we need and then we leave. Quick and clean. Understood?”
“Good.” The captain exclaimed as a chorus of “Aye, sirs” greeted her words. “If there are no further questions, meet at the Loire in thirty minutes.”
**********************************************************************
“Damn!” Talana exhaled as she read over once again the information displayed on her computer monitor. “Godsdamn!”
“What?” Lieutenant Candy Johnson, the Sutherland’s acting science officer, asked from her station where she was also researching data. “Find something?”
“I think so.” The Lexington’s Andorian science officer replied, flashing a friendly smile at the dark haired, good-natured human with whom she had struck up an almost immediate friendship. “Come and take a look.”
Crossing over to the blue-skinned woman’s console, Candy bent over and read the display. “Looks like we might have a winner.” Then, when she spied where the planet in question was located, her lips turned down into a frown. “Damn.”
“What do you mean, ‘damn’?” A suddenly concerned Talana asked, “It meets all the specifications...and it’s the most likely candidate within a reasonable travel distance. And it’s in uncontrolled space...”
“It’s not that.” Lieutenant Johnson answered back with a sigh. “It’s where it’s located.”
“The Perdita Expanses...” Talana read, “So?”
“The Expanses have another name...” Candy explained as an involuntary shiver ran up and down her spine, “We also call them the Twilight Zone because weird things happen there...very weird things.”
“Well...” The lovely Andorian smiled back, “Isn’t it part of our job description to look for ‘weird things...very weird things’?”
“Yeah.” The lieutenant agreed, “But...never mind...” Candy paused, “Looks like we’ve got no choice if we’re going to get the captain’s...if we’re going to get Commodore Wesley and Ensign Bathory back. You gonna go tell Captain Rodenko and Admiral Bateson now?”
“Yeah.” Talana replied, the smile still on her face as she made her way to the door, “And don’t worry, Candy.” The lovely Andorian remarked cheerily as she exited, “Everything’ll work out just fine—just have a little faith.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” Candy whispered under her breath her eyes being drawn involuntarily towards the words ‘Perdita Expanses’ flashing on the computer monitor as the Andorian woman departed.
Watching as both the Loire and the Sutherland departed for their respective destinations, Commander Kuznetsov heaved a sigh.
“Worried Alexei?” Dr. Vincent drawled.
“Da.” The Bear responded as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “There’s too much going on here that I don’t know...I hate not knowing. It makes me...nervous.”
Shaking his head, the balding doctor muttered under his breath, “Don’t be so sure of that, old friend. Sometimes it’s better not to know some things.”
A great weave of a story that puts everything up in the air for the crews who have to tread a very delicate line. Excellent story to read.
I really liked the conversation between Telana and Morgan. That was very well done and a neat reminder that Bateson comes from an entirely different time originally.
Interesting explanation for the Bajoran noses. I was wondering if that was canon or if you made that up. Same goes for the Bajoran history. I know the caste system was mentioned in DS9 but I'm not so sure about a civil war.
In any case I'm looking forward to their visit.
One last thing: I got a bit confused in that last segment. It appears Telana is cussing as she reacts to something she's reading. But then Johnson does as well and Telana doesn't get why because she doesn't know about the Twilight Zone. That seemed strange to me. Maybe I was just reading it wrong.
Great segment though.
Interesting explanation for the Bajoran noses. I was wondering if that was canon or if you made that up. Same goes for the Bajoran history. I know the caste system was mentioned in DS9 but I'm not so sure about a civil war.
In any case I'm looking forward to their visit.
One last thing: I got a bit confused in that last segment. It appears Telana is cussing as she reacts to something she's reading. But then Johnson does as well and Telana doesn't get why because she doesn't know about the Twilight Zone. That seemed strange to me. Maybe I was just reading it wrong.
Great segment though.
Really compelling stuff! Talana and Bateson having a very surreal conversation, and an overdue talk between Captain Shelby and Dr. Vincent. Also, Jennifer starting on the long road to recovery.
And to expand on CeJay's commentary, a Bajoran civil war might have been exactly what prompted the Cardassians to 'arrive' on the scene offering to 'help' them, or at least one of the factions. Much as the Soviets did in Afghanistan in the 80's. It would also explain why, right after the Cardassian withdrawal, there was a spike in Bajoran on Bajoran violence, much as we saw in Iraq after the ouster of Saddam's government.
Just lots of great stuff to think about here.
And to expand on CeJay's commentary, a Bajoran civil war might have been exactly what prompted the Cardassians to 'arrive' on the scene offering to 'help' them, or at least one of the factions. Much as the Soviets did in Afghanistan in the 80's. It would also explain why, right after the Cardassian withdrawal, there was a spike in Bajoran on Bajoran violence, much as we saw in Iraq after the ouster of Saddam's government.
Just lots of great stuff to think about here.
Thanks for everyone's patience--this is always the worst time of the year for me--right about now, I feel like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs!
Regarding the Bajorans: Both the idea of a Bajoran 'civil war' and the explanation for the nose ridges were original ideas on my part. I thought that there had to be some reason (other than cosmetic) as to why the Bajorans developed them and the idea occurred to me. As regards a possible Bajoran 'civil war'--I'm not thinking so much civil war in the form of organized armies a la the US Civil War--more a complete societal and governmental collapse--more like the latter days of the Western Roman Empire or the end of the Soviet Union. The Cardassians--who are very much watching with interest, would then have taken advantage of the opportunity. As everyone will see in the next part or so, Bajor isn't quite there yet--remember, the story is set about 50 years or so before the Cardassians come--but it is in the beginning phases and the warning signs are most definitely there.
The scene with Talana and Morgan was also fun to write--those two really do have a good friendship...
Regarding the Bajorans: Both the idea of a Bajoran 'civil war' and the explanation for the nose ridges were original ideas on my part. I thought that there had to be some reason (other than cosmetic) as to why the Bajorans developed them and the idea occurred to me. As regards a possible Bajoran 'civil war'--I'm not thinking so much civil war in the form of organized armies a la the US Civil War--more a complete societal and governmental collapse--more like the latter days of the Western Roman Empire or the end of the Soviet Union. The Cardassians--who are very much watching with interest, would then have taken advantage of the opportunity. As everyone will see in the next part or so, Bajor isn't quite there yet--remember, the story is set about 50 years or so before the Cardassians come--but it is in the beginning phases and the warning signs are most definitely there.
The scene with Talana and Morgan was also fun to write--those two really do have a good friendship...
Very nice work. I love your explanations of both the Bajoran nose and history.
I'd have to go back and look, but I do remember the "Twilight Zone" in a UT work, not sure where. I feel like we're getting a set up for an "ah-ha! Come full circle moment." I can't wait.
I'd have to go back and look, but I do remember the "Twilight Zone" in a UT work, not sure where. I feel like we're getting a set up for an "ah-ha! Come full circle moment." I can't wait.
Suthy/Lexington: Blood Cries Part 12
Please forgive the very long delay in updating. Between the holidays, the last weeks of the school term, and a writers block that continually stymied me, work slowed to a crawl. But...the next part is done at last and I hope everyone likes it--so...here goes!
***********************************************************
Blood Cries: Part 12
Shaking his head as he looked down on the pale lifeless body of a young teenage girl, a Bajoran man wearing a beige uniform, his hair graying at the temples, lines of worry and fatigue making him look far older than his fifty years heaved a mournful sigh. “How many does that make this term?”
“The fourth.” A much younger man, also wearing a beige uniform, responded as he brushed back a lock of auburn hair from his eyes. “They appear once a week...and always the same. Female...teenage or just out of their teen years and completely drained of all blood. Unmarried...attractive. Bruises and marks indicating that they were bound and alive when they died...”
“What was her name?” The older man inquired.
“Leeta.” The younger constable replied somberly, “Kal Leeta.” Shaking his head, the young man added, “She belonged to the lower djaras—shopkeeper in her case.”
“Just like all the others.” The older man replied, quickly changing the subject of the Bajoran caste system that was rapidly becoming a bone of contention between the two officers and friends. Closing his eyes as he wiped his brow, he once again looked down on the latest victim, “Tell me, Daren...have you ever heard of the Blood Wraith?”
“Don’t tell me you believe in that superstitious nonsense the monks and priests put out to keep the people in line, Samal?” The younger man replied with a snort. “What we’re dealing with here is a psychotic killer...nothing more...nothing less.”
“Of course I know that.” The older officer quickly snapped back. “You didn’t give me a chance to finish. What I was trying to say was what if our killer believes himself to be the Blood Wraith...”
“Hmmm...” The younger constable vocalized as he considered his partner’s hypothesis. “You might be on to something. Maybe we should pay the monastery a visit?”
“Good idea.” The older officer concurred. “We’ll do it first thing in the morning.”
“Sounds good.” Daren replied as he glanced down at his timepiece, “I better give Laas a call...she gets worried if I don’t let her know when I’m working late.”
“Go home.” The older man commanded. “This case has kept you away from wife and baby far too much. And Daren?” He added, his voice tone taking on an apologetic note, “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier—it’s just that...”
“I understand.” The younger man responded, giving his partner a sympathetic look. “You’ve got a daughter about that old at home...”
“Yes.” Samal nodded his head as his eyes once again fell upon the ashen corpse, “Thankfully she is visiting her mother’s sister in Tamulna.”
“That’s good. At least she’s far away from all of this.”
“Thank the Prophets.” The older man sighed as the two constables walked towards the door. Exiting the morgue, Samal turned to look one last time upon the body of the young woman occupying the center slab. “Too bad she and all those other poor girls couldn’t have been with my Ojana in Tamulna. Maybe they’d still be alive.”
*********************************************************************
“That’s the fourth young woman this month.” The abbot in charge of Dakeen Monastery remarked somberly as he and his favorite acolyte slowly made their way towards the orb chamber in the monastery temple’s sanctum sanctorum.
“A shame, Vedek Tamil.” The acolyte responded as he shook his head. “The people are talking..” he began tentatively, “...they’re saying the Blood-Wraith has returned. But that can’t be right...can it?”
Sighing, the old man paused in the sanctorum antechamber, “I cannot say, my son.” The abbot replied, “I can only pray that the Prophets, should they deign to commune with me, will grant me the wisdom to see.” Placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, the elderly priest requested, “Pray for me as well, Nadal. And let us hope that the Prophets will answer our prayers.”
After what seemed like hours, but was only, in fact, several minutes later, an ashen-faced Vedek Tamil reemerged from the orb chamber, stumbling slightly as he walked towards his acolyte. Rushing forward to steady the elderly abbot, Acolyte Nadal cried out, “What happened, Vedek? What did the Prophets tell you?”
“Three women...one man...” The old man stammered, “All linked by blood. Three the blood of family...one the blood of vengeance. A great evil...death...and even more death.” His face steeling into resolve, the abbot ordered, “Prepare for travel, Nadal. We must go into town, now—or it will be too late.”
“Of course, Vedek.” The younger man replied and then respectfully inquired, “But why? We were just in town last week...does it have to do with what you...did the Prophets...”
Nodding his head, the old man answered back weakly, “The Prophets command, my son...we obey.”
*******************************************************************
Still dreaming, Wesley now saw a young woman, wearing a 23rd century gold minidress and sitting at the pilot’s seat of a craft very similar to the runabout he was now held captive on. The woman, her face an icy mask, bore the same nasal ridges that the Bajorans who inhabited the planet he was currently on possessed. As his dream form gazed into her hard eyes, it seemed as if the commodore could peer into the heart of this tormented young woman.
“No...” Robert, reaching out, whispered to her in his dream state. “Not this way...”
************************************************************************
Glancing down at her sensor display, Lieutenant Sito Jaxa, sitting at the pilot’s station of the runabout Loire, spotted at once the blip suddenly appearing on her screen. Cardassian. The young Bajoran noticed, her eyes narrowing into slits. Dekar-class patrol vessel. Disruptors and two torpedo launchers. Shields...
“Easy prey.” A voice that the young Bajoran had thought long stilled tempted from the depths of her subconscious. “One shot...it would be so easy.”
Staring down at her scanner, Sito’s mind flashed back to that dark time several years ago when she was a captive of the Cardassians and the personal slave and plaything of the vile Gul Rejak. Her skin crawled as she remembered the cold touch of his hand on her cheek and the weight of his body on top of hers. Her eyes fixed on the display, her finger hovered over the torpedo launch button, a cold smile flashing briefly across Jaxa’s face as she imagined the tiny patrol craft engulfed in white-hot fire.
“Do it!” The Huntress cried out from her dark corner. “Do it!”
“Justice.” A part of Jaxa responded as her finger drew closer to the touch pad.
“No.” Another voice, this one almost fatherly whispered from a place even further back in the tormented young Bajoran’s mind. “Not this way. If you do this...it will not be justice. It will be vengeance—nothing more. Those on that ship didn’t hurt you.”
Her finger pulling back slightly, the Huntress countered, “No, but they’ve hurt others.”
“You don’t know that, Jaxa.” The Voice responded, “Those on that ship died long before you were even born—before even your parents were born. Remember who you are...”
“Lieutenant?”
Startled out of her reverie by Captain Shelby’s voice, Lieutenant Sito came to a decision. “Cardassian patrol craft.” She reported “One hundred degrees mark thirty and he’s moving towards us at warp two.”
“Did he spot us?” A suddenly concerned Lieutenant Morgan Bateson inquired from his position at the copilot’s chair.
“Not a chance.” Jaxa replied with a sneer. “At this range, he hasn’t even picked us up on our sensors.”
“Good.” Shelby exclaimed with a nod of her head. “Plot an evasive course...let’s give it a wide berth.”
“Aye, sir.” The Bajoran lieutenant acknowledged. “Course laid in.”
**********************************************************************
“What was it?” The Cardassian glin commanding the Cardassian Union patrol vessel Elek called out as he turned his attention to an armor-clad soldier standing behind the tiny cutter’s tactical station.
“It was nothing, sir.” The soldier crisply responded, “Just a sensor ghost. Should I intensify scans?”
“No, Specialist Rejak. We don’t have time to chase down every sensor ghost that appears. For now, just log it and continue monitoring.”
“Yes, sir!”
***********************************************************************
Looking up as Aliz walked towards his tiny confinement space in the rear of the runabout that she had commandeered, Commodore Wesley noticed that her eyes still flared red, indicating that the pah-wraith was still in control. Fixing her eyes in his gaze, the weather-beaten Starfleet officer inquired, “Did you even bother to find out her name?”
The possessed young Hungarian replied with a derisive snort, “Do you even bother to ask the name of the animal that was butchered for your meal?”
“That’s different.” Wesley countered, “Leaving out the fact that a cow or chicken is not a sentient creature, I consume their meat for sustenance...”
“And pleasure.” The pah-wraith taunted. “Admit it. You enjoy the taste of a medium-rare steak. Remember...” she smirked, “...I have this one’s memories to rummage through.”
“All right.” Robert reluctantly conceded, “Yes...I do enjoy eating a good steak or turkey. But my point still holds...my species is omnivorous...we evolved to eat both plants and animals. But...you should have long evolved beyond that point. You’re just doing this for your own sadistic pleasure...nothing more...nothing less.”
“Perhaps.” The pah-wraith retorted, “Perhaps not. That is something you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”
After the entity uttered its final boast, Aliz’s eyes returned to their normal sea-green as the pah-wraith temporarily relinquished control over its host. Falling to her knees, the tormented young Hungarian woman sobbed, “Her name was Leeta...Leeta. And she was only fifteen.”
“I’m sorry, Aliz...” Robert consoled only to have the youthful ensign shake her head. “You don’t understand, Robert!” She cried out. “I can feel her taking me over! I can literally feel myself lose another piece of my soul with every death. I’m afraid...I’m afraid...” she sobbed, tears running in torrents down her cheeks, “...that one day I won’t feel anything...that I’ll be lost forever.”
“That won’t happen.” Wesley confidently declared, his eyes focusing on those of his young officer, “Look at me, Aliz. Look at me.” Seeing that he had the tormented woman’s full attention, Robert spoke in firm, yet gentle words, “As long as a single piece of you remains—no matter how small—then you haven’t lost. And as long as I am alive, I will be right beside you. Together...we will beat this thing.”
“How?” Aliz cried out plaintively. “It’s too strong! It can kill you...it can force me to kill you with just a thought and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The only reason...” the young Hungarian grimly declared, “...that you’re still alive is that you amuse it. She enjoys tormenting you. She takes pleasure in watching you watch me suffer...watching as I change...knowing that for all your words, neither you nor I can do a thing to stop it.”
“Aliz...” Robert answered back, a warm smile crossing his face as he regarded the young woman kneeling before him, “We’re going to beat this thing.”
“How?” Aliz responded, her heart warring between despair and hope.
“No...not yet.” Wesley responded, his smile disappearing. “I can’t tell you now...but when it’s time, you’ll know. Until then...” he said as he gazed deeply into the young Hungarian’s eyes, “...we’ll have to cling to the one thing that we have...”
“And what is that?” A still doubting Aliz inquired.
“Faith.” Robert replied simply. “Faith in ourselves and faith in each other. As long as we have that—we’re still in this.”
“Then, Robert...” Aliz declared as she rose to her feet, a sad expression on her face. “I hope that whatever you’ve got planned you do it soon because I’m rapidly losing whatever faith I have left.”
Please forgive the very long delay in updating. Between the holidays, the last weeks of the school term, and a writers block that continually stymied me, work slowed to a crawl. But...the next part is done at last and I hope everyone likes it--so...here goes!
***********************************************************
Blood Cries: Part 12
Shaking his head as he looked down on the pale lifeless body of a young teenage girl, a Bajoran man wearing a beige uniform, his hair graying at the temples, lines of worry and fatigue making him look far older than his fifty years heaved a mournful sigh. “How many does that make this term?”
“The fourth.” A much younger man, also wearing a beige uniform, responded as he brushed back a lock of auburn hair from his eyes. “They appear once a week...and always the same. Female...teenage or just out of their teen years and completely drained of all blood. Unmarried...attractive. Bruises and marks indicating that they were bound and alive when they died...”
“What was her name?” The older man inquired.
“Leeta.” The younger constable replied somberly, “Kal Leeta.” Shaking his head, the young man added, “She belonged to the lower djaras—shopkeeper in her case.”
“Just like all the others.” The older man replied, quickly changing the subject of the Bajoran caste system that was rapidly becoming a bone of contention between the two officers and friends. Closing his eyes as he wiped his brow, he once again looked down on the latest victim, “Tell me, Daren...have you ever heard of the Blood Wraith?”
“Don’t tell me you believe in that superstitious nonsense the monks and priests put out to keep the people in line, Samal?” The younger man replied with a snort. “What we’re dealing with here is a psychotic killer...nothing more...nothing less.”
“Of course I know that.” The older officer quickly snapped back. “You didn’t give me a chance to finish. What I was trying to say was what if our killer believes himself to be the Blood Wraith...”
“Hmmm...” The younger constable vocalized as he considered his partner’s hypothesis. “You might be on to something. Maybe we should pay the monastery a visit?”
“Good idea.” The older officer concurred. “We’ll do it first thing in the morning.”
“Sounds good.” Daren replied as he glanced down at his timepiece, “I better give Laas a call...she gets worried if I don’t let her know when I’m working late.”
“Go home.” The older man commanded. “This case has kept you away from wife and baby far too much. And Daren?” He added, his voice tone taking on an apologetic note, “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier—it’s just that...”
“I understand.” The younger man responded, giving his partner a sympathetic look. “You’ve got a daughter about that old at home...”
“Yes.” Samal nodded his head as his eyes once again fell upon the ashen corpse, “Thankfully she is visiting her mother’s sister in Tamulna.”
“That’s good. At least she’s far away from all of this.”
“Thank the Prophets.” The older man sighed as the two constables walked towards the door. Exiting the morgue, Samal turned to look one last time upon the body of the young woman occupying the center slab. “Too bad she and all those other poor girls couldn’t have been with my Ojana in Tamulna. Maybe they’d still be alive.”
*********************************************************************
“That’s the fourth young woman this month.” The abbot in charge of Dakeen Monastery remarked somberly as he and his favorite acolyte slowly made their way towards the orb chamber in the monastery temple’s sanctum sanctorum.
“A shame, Vedek Tamil.” The acolyte responded as he shook his head. “The people are talking..” he began tentatively, “...they’re saying the Blood-Wraith has returned. But that can’t be right...can it?”
Sighing, the old man paused in the sanctorum antechamber, “I cannot say, my son.” The abbot replied, “I can only pray that the Prophets, should they deign to commune with me, will grant me the wisdom to see.” Placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, the elderly priest requested, “Pray for me as well, Nadal. And let us hope that the Prophets will answer our prayers.”
After what seemed like hours, but was only, in fact, several minutes later, an ashen-faced Vedek Tamil reemerged from the orb chamber, stumbling slightly as he walked towards his acolyte. Rushing forward to steady the elderly abbot, Acolyte Nadal cried out, “What happened, Vedek? What did the Prophets tell you?”
“Three women...one man...” The old man stammered, “All linked by blood. Three the blood of family...one the blood of vengeance. A great evil...death...and even more death.” His face steeling into resolve, the abbot ordered, “Prepare for travel, Nadal. We must go into town, now—or it will be too late.”
“Of course, Vedek.” The younger man replied and then respectfully inquired, “But why? We were just in town last week...does it have to do with what you...did the Prophets...”
Nodding his head, the old man answered back weakly, “The Prophets command, my son...we obey.”
*******************************************************************
Still dreaming, Wesley now saw a young woman, wearing a 23rd century gold minidress and sitting at the pilot’s seat of a craft very similar to the runabout he was now held captive on. The woman, her face an icy mask, bore the same nasal ridges that the Bajorans who inhabited the planet he was currently on possessed. As his dream form gazed into her hard eyes, it seemed as if the commodore could peer into the heart of this tormented young woman.
“No...” Robert, reaching out, whispered to her in his dream state. “Not this way...”
************************************************************************
Glancing down at her sensor display, Lieutenant Sito Jaxa, sitting at the pilot’s station of the runabout Loire, spotted at once the blip suddenly appearing on her screen. Cardassian. The young Bajoran noticed, her eyes narrowing into slits. Dekar-class patrol vessel. Disruptors and two torpedo launchers. Shields...
“Easy prey.” A voice that the young Bajoran had thought long stilled tempted from the depths of her subconscious. “One shot...it would be so easy.”
Staring down at her scanner, Sito’s mind flashed back to that dark time several years ago when she was a captive of the Cardassians and the personal slave and plaything of the vile Gul Rejak. Her skin crawled as she remembered the cold touch of his hand on her cheek and the weight of his body on top of hers. Her eyes fixed on the display, her finger hovered over the torpedo launch button, a cold smile flashing briefly across Jaxa’s face as she imagined the tiny patrol craft engulfed in white-hot fire.
“Do it!” The Huntress cried out from her dark corner. “Do it!”
“Justice.” A part of Jaxa responded as her finger drew closer to the touch pad.
“No.” Another voice, this one almost fatherly whispered from a place even further back in the tormented young Bajoran’s mind. “Not this way. If you do this...it will not be justice. It will be vengeance—nothing more. Those on that ship didn’t hurt you.”
Her finger pulling back slightly, the Huntress countered, “No, but they’ve hurt others.”
“You don’t know that, Jaxa.” The Voice responded, “Those on that ship died long before you were even born—before even your parents were born. Remember who you are...”
“Lieutenant?”
Startled out of her reverie by Captain Shelby’s voice, Lieutenant Sito came to a decision. “Cardassian patrol craft.” She reported “One hundred degrees mark thirty and he’s moving towards us at warp two.”
“Did he spot us?” A suddenly concerned Lieutenant Morgan Bateson inquired from his position at the copilot’s chair.
“Not a chance.” Jaxa replied with a sneer. “At this range, he hasn’t even picked us up on our sensors.”
“Good.” Shelby exclaimed with a nod of her head. “Plot an evasive course...let’s give it a wide berth.”
“Aye, sir.” The Bajoran lieutenant acknowledged. “Course laid in.”
**********************************************************************
“What was it?” The Cardassian glin commanding the Cardassian Union patrol vessel Elek called out as he turned his attention to an armor-clad soldier standing behind the tiny cutter’s tactical station.
“It was nothing, sir.” The soldier crisply responded, “Just a sensor ghost. Should I intensify scans?”
“No, Specialist Rejak. We don’t have time to chase down every sensor ghost that appears. For now, just log it and continue monitoring.”
“Yes, sir!”
***********************************************************************
Looking up as Aliz walked towards his tiny confinement space in the rear of the runabout that she had commandeered, Commodore Wesley noticed that her eyes still flared red, indicating that the pah-wraith was still in control. Fixing her eyes in his gaze, the weather-beaten Starfleet officer inquired, “Did you even bother to find out her name?”
The possessed young Hungarian replied with a derisive snort, “Do you even bother to ask the name of the animal that was butchered for your meal?”
“That’s different.” Wesley countered, “Leaving out the fact that a cow or chicken is not a sentient creature, I consume their meat for sustenance...”
“And pleasure.” The pah-wraith taunted. “Admit it. You enjoy the taste of a medium-rare steak. Remember...” she smirked, “...I have this one’s memories to rummage through.”
“All right.” Robert reluctantly conceded, “Yes...I do enjoy eating a good steak or turkey. But my point still holds...my species is omnivorous...we evolved to eat both plants and animals. But...you should have long evolved beyond that point. You’re just doing this for your own sadistic pleasure...nothing more...nothing less.”
“Perhaps.” The pah-wraith retorted, “Perhaps not. That is something you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”
After the entity uttered its final boast, Aliz’s eyes returned to their normal sea-green as the pah-wraith temporarily relinquished control over its host. Falling to her knees, the tormented young Hungarian woman sobbed, “Her name was Leeta...Leeta. And she was only fifteen.”
“I’m sorry, Aliz...” Robert consoled only to have the youthful ensign shake her head. “You don’t understand, Robert!” She cried out. “I can feel her taking me over! I can literally feel myself lose another piece of my soul with every death. I’m afraid...I’m afraid...” she sobbed, tears running in torrents down her cheeks, “...that one day I won’t feel anything...that I’ll be lost forever.”
“That won’t happen.” Wesley confidently declared, his eyes focusing on those of his young officer, “Look at me, Aliz. Look at me.” Seeing that he had the tormented woman’s full attention, Robert spoke in firm, yet gentle words, “As long as a single piece of you remains—no matter how small—then you haven’t lost. And as long as I am alive, I will be right beside you. Together...we will beat this thing.”
“How?” Aliz cried out plaintively. “It’s too strong! It can kill you...it can force me to kill you with just a thought and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The only reason...” the young Hungarian grimly declared, “...that you’re still alive is that you amuse it. She enjoys tormenting you. She takes pleasure in watching you watch me suffer...watching as I change...knowing that for all your words, neither you nor I can do a thing to stop it.”
“Aliz...” Robert answered back, a warm smile crossing his face as he regarded the young woman kneeling before him, “We’re going to beat this thing.”
“How?” Aliz responded, her heart warring between despair and hope.
“No...not yet.” Wesley responded, his smile disappearing. “I can’t tell you now...but when it’s time, you’ll know. Until then...” he said as he gazed deeply into the young Hungarian’s eyes, “...we’ll have to cling to the one thing that we have...”
“And what is that?” A still doubting Aliz inquired.
“Faith.” Robert replied simply. “Faith in ourselves and faith in each other. As long as we have that—we’re still in this.”
“Then, Robert...” Aliz declared as she rose to her feet, a sad expression on her face. “I hope that whatever you’ve got planned you do it soon because I’m rapidly losing whatever faith I have left.”
Suthy/Lexington: Blood Cries Part 12 cont
“Ah...visitors!” Turning their head towards the voice that called out, Captain Shelby and her group spied a portly middle-aged Bajoran a dark blue robe accompanied by a younger man walking to the left and slightly to his rear and two other men, looking much more rugged in appearance, both wearing blue uniforms and carrying night sticks hanging from their belts. “Welcome to Kendra City! I am Odel Kendrak, the second customs administrator, and who might you be?”
Taking her captain’s subtle nod of her head as permission for her to speak, Lieutenant Sito smiled as she approached the official, stopping a respectful distance away as she held her hands out in a deferential pose, “Greetings Administrator Odel. I am Sito Jaxa and this...” she said as she gestured first in the direction of Captain Shelby and then towards Lieutenant Oudekirk,”... is my cousin Sito Naranda and my younger sister, Sito Cilla.”
“And the two men would be your attendants?” The customs official inquired, his voice tone becoming even more ingratiating than it already was.
“Yes.” Jaxa replied, nodding her head in assent, “Tan Olin and Baral Nalo.”
“I assume you are coming into town to trade at the Monastery?” Pell queried as the younger man scribbled into a notebook.
“Yes.” Sito responded, “We have springwine and moba fruit...amongst other items. Here...” she grinned as she gestured at Lieutenant Bateson who then quickly ran up to where the Bajoran lieutenant stood bearing a bottle of springwine and a small basket of the succulent fruit in his arms, “Take these with my compliments.”
His smile growing wider, the portly customs officer nodded his head at one of the security guards who took the proffered gifts from Bateson. “I see that everything is in order.” Odel declared with a satisfied nod of his head, “Enjoy your stay in Kendra City.”
“Thank you.” Jaxa replied politely, bowing respectfully and maintaining her bow as the official turned away. Raising from her bow after the overweight man and his retinue had reached the prescribed distance, the young Bajoran muttered under her breath, “Fat palukoo.”
*********************************************************************
Walking into the central forum, the group was met by a cacophony of sounds: video advertisements from merchants plugging their wares rang out as dulcet sounds coming from a Bajoran flute, the man blowing into the instrument part of a street band including a woman playing what appeared to be a lyre and another man tapping lightly a set of small cup-sized drums. Intermittently, a voice from a PA system broke through the noise, announcing either breaking news or directives from the local authorities.
“Is this where your family came from?” Lieutenant Bateson asked as he also took in the sights and smells of the city.
“No.” Jaxa softly responded, shaking her head, “They came from Lanar Province.”
“So...” Lieutenant Mtolo interjected, “...what are we supposed to be again?”
“I’m a trader.” Lieutenant Sito answered back, explaining, “Your family name determines your occupation. Kiras are artists, for instance, Shakars...farmers, and Sitos merchants. Pausing for a moment, the young security officer further explained, “That’s why Lieutenant Oudekirk and Captain Shelby have Sito family names—they’re posing as traders as well.”
“What about Lieutenant Bateson and I?” Lieutenant Mtolo asked, “Our names are...Tan and Baral.” He explained, pronouncing the ‘a’ as a short vowel. “What are we supposed to be?” The security chief further inquired in a slightly sarcastic tone, “Servants?”
“No.” Jaxa responded, shaking her head. “Tans and Barals...” she said, drawing out the ‘a’ in ‘Tan’ and the last ‘a’ in Baral, as she answered his question, “...serve in law enforcement and security.” Seeing that the Zulu security chief, somewhat mollified by her answer, was nodding his head in satisfaction, the young Bajoran explained, “You two are our bodyguards. No self respecting merchant of the rank we’re posing as would travel without at least one guard in their retinue.”
“Is crime that much a factor?” Cilla asked, “From what I’ve read and seen, Bajoran society is remarkably peaceful.”
“At this time...” Sito replied, “It still is. The guards are mostly symbolic...more a emblem of rank and position than anything else. The djara...” Jaxa concluded, “...served to reinforce status and bar admission to the higher classes more than anything else.”
“And there’s no way to choose a different occupation—even if your talents are more suited for something else?” Morgan asked.
“No.” Jaxa replied in a grim tone, “And that’s part of the problem with Bajoran society right now. The djara is failing and more and more Bajorans—especially younger Bajorans—are beginning to reject it.”
“Just like the old sumptuary laws back on Earth...” Cilla began, only to have her next words cut off by the captain.
“While this is a fascinating discussion...” Liz remarked, softening her words with a grin, “We have work to do. And the sooner we get started...the better.”
“The captain’s right.” Jaxa affirmed as her eyes turned towards Bajor’s sun. “It’ll be evening soon...we had better hurry.”
Shaking his head in amazement as his senses tried to take in all the noise and commotion, Lieutenant Bateson spoke to the Bajoran woman he was currently walking behind, “I still can’t believe this culture is so stale and static—it seems full of life to me!”
“Don’t let surface appearances fool you.” Lieutenant Sito cautioned as she jerked her head towards where a woman wearing tattered clothing and carrying a bucket was being taunted by a pack of well-dressed youths. “She’s a Laren.” Jaxa explained, “Their station in the djara is amongst the lowest. They’re responsible for sewage and garbage cleanup—amongst other unpleasant tasks.”
Shaking his head, Lieutenant Mtolo remarked in a low growl, “Just like the Untouchables in old India.”
Captain Shelby’s thoughts then turned towards another Laren as she idly wondered whether any of this unpleasant history might have had some impact on the currently wanted Ro Laren’s personality only to have her reverie interrupted by the sound of solemn chanting as another procession, this one led by robed figures came toward the group from the opposite direction.
Turning to the rest of the group, Lieutenant Sito urged, “Move off the road, kneel, and bow your heads. Follow my lead and whatever you do...for the Prophets’ sake don’t raise your head and don’t speak until I say it’s all right.”
Kneeling down and lowering their heads, the group watched out of the corners of their eyes as the procession of robed and hooded figures, led by an elderly man in an orange robe, moved down the street towards the monastery. The elderly man paused from time to time to glance down at a member of the crowd and then, leaning down, he would tug at that person’s ear as he uttered a few soft-spoken words. Passing before both Captain Shelby and Lieutenant Sito, the old man stopped suddenly as an expression of recognition briefly crossed his face. They are the ones. The abbot quickly concluded, remembering their faces from the vision he had earlier that day. Leaning down, he began the ritual only to freeze momentarily as his fingers made contact with the human captain’s ear, his momentary glimpse into the younger woman’s pah confirming both his hopes and fears.
“My child.” The elderly abbot whispered into the captain’s ear. “We must speak. You and your friends must accompany us to the monastery.”
Startled, Liz almost jerked her head up to speak only to have the abbot place his hand gently on the top of her head. “Later, my child.” He whispered. “I know...you have come a long way and have many questions. You and your companions follow us and maybe together we can find some answers.”
Their heads still bowed respectfully, the two Bajoran police officers silently watched the interchange between the abbot and the newcomer. As the abbot’s party and the newcomers departed, Daren turned to his partner, “What do you make of that, Samal?”
“I don’t know.” The older officer responded, “But I intend to find out. You might want to tell Laas that you’re going to be working even later than you thought.”
******************************************************************
“They’re here.” The pah-wraith declared as it once again took possession of Aliz. A smirk crossing her face, the entity purred, “Interesting...this one has potential. I hadn’t planned on interfering...” she remarked, tilting her head slightly to the left as she spoke, “...but...yes...this one will do fine...” Looking back at the imprisoned Wesley, the possessed Aliz jibed, “Don’t worry...I’ll be back soon...and...I might just bring some company for you...wouldn’t you like that?” She smiled as she turned and walked away. “Now behave yourself until we get back.”
Counting down to ten as he heard the door swish closed behind her, Wesley ripped open an access panel he had discovered next to the forcefield. Moving cautiously, yet speedily, the commodore began to work, saying a silent prayer as he did so both that he would be finished in time and that his little trap would work without killing both him and Aliz.
**********************************************************************
“We are nearly there.” The old abbot declared, pointing with his staff at a building located in a valley below where he and the others stood. Turning his head towards the Captain Shelby who was at that time walking slightly and to the side of him, as was appropriate for someone in her position within the djara,he remarked encouragingly, “Come...we haven’t much further to go.”
As the procession made its way down a mountain road towards the monastery below, one of the party, Lieutenant Cilla Oudekirk gasped, “It’s beautiful!” Her eyes taking in the simple elegance of the slender jutting spires jutting out from the four corners of a massive stone built structure standing in a place of prominence, the young Dutch woman, turning her head towards the Bajoran woman walking next to her, inquired, pitching her voice in a low whisper so that the monks could not hear her question, “What is that?
“Dakeen Monastery.” Lieutenant Sito Jaxa replied in an equally low voice as the group continued to move down into the valley. “An important center for religious and historical studies in Kendra Province...and one of our most sacred sites.”
“Better get a move on, ladies...or they’re going to leave us behind!” Quickly pivoting their heads towards the sound of the voice, they immediately recognized the beaming face of Lieutenant Bateson.
As a warm smile forced itself to her face in spite of her best efforts to repress it, Lieutenant Oudekirk responded with much less tartness than she would have responded otherwise, “Why are you in such a big hurry, Morgan?” She teased, “There aren’t any Argellian strippers here.” Turning her head rapidly to the Bajoran woman walking beside her, she whispered, “There aren’t any—are there?”
“No.” Jaxa responded with a quick shake of her head, “I think I can guarantee that there won’t be.”
“Good. We don’t need another Sloopy’s Incident...”
“Sloopy’s Incident?” Sito asked, her eyebrows raised.
“You don’t want to know.” Cilla grunted as she turned her attention back to the monastery. “Believe me...you don’t want to know.
**********************************************************************
As the group entered the monastery, the abbot quickly ushered Captain Shelby into his office. “Please...” the old man requested as he gestured at a chair, “...sit. We have much to talk about. You have come a long way...a long way indeed. And I don’t think it was for the pleasure of an old man’s company.” Watching as the younger woman sat down in the chair opposite his, the abbot sighed, “We are in dangerous times, my child.” His sage eyes looking directly into those of the captain, the old man continued, “I know that the time for the old ways grows short...the young in growing numbers are turning their backs on the djara—and perhaps rightly so...” he allowed with an ironic grin, “...even attendance in temple services is decreasing...probably because our current Kai insists that we preach loyalty to the djara...”
“Vedek...” Captain Shelby began only to be cut off by the old man’s raised hand.
“Ah...the impatience of youth.” The priest chuckled, “Please...my child. Humor an old man and allow him to continue.” His wizened face now taking on a grim expression, the old man continued, “But those are issues I’m sure you’re not really interested in. What concerns you—and me as well—is that several young women have been found recently here and elsewhere. Some are whispering that the Blood Wraith has returned. While in public I try my best to calm peoples’ fears—just between the two of us, I think they are right. And...I think you know they are right as well. So...what do you know about the Blood Wraith...”
Closing her eyes momentarily as she collected her thoughts, Liz took a deep breath. “I have a feeling you already know more than I...”
“That the Blood Wraith is what we call a pah-wraith...yes.” The priest answered, nodding his head. “But the Blood Wraith is different from the other pah-wraiths that were expelled from the Celestial Temple by the Prophets many years ago. “Tell me, child...what do you know of its history?”
“Not much.” Liz admitted, “Only what Jaxa has told me—and that wasn’t a lot.”
“The Blood Wraith is more a subject of folklore—or should I say ghost stories—than scholarly discourse.” The abbot chuckled nervously, his laughter an obvious attempt to mask his fears as he stood up and made his way to a bookcase across from where Liz sat. Picking up a large tome, the elderly cleric brushed the dust off as he returned with the book. “The writings of Kai Winn Derela...” the priest explained as he turned to a passage in the middle of the book, “...he served over five hundred years ago and wrote of the Wraith. Here...read this...”
And the Celestial Temple shone with a thousand suns as the Prophets war...
Their prize the soul of Bajor...
Triumph of the Protectors
The Holy Orbs their gift
To the Faithful
Expulsion of the Traitors
Exiled to the fiery rift
But for the worst set adrift.
“The Prophets exiled most of the pah-wraiths expelled from the Temple to the Fire Caves...where they will remain until the Time of the Final Battle with the Emissary.” The priest explained, “But not all. Some of the evil ones escaped...one though...the Blood Wraith...was so malevolent...so destructive...so dangerous...that the Prophets, in their wisdom, set it adrift to wander the cosmos.” Pausing for a moment to take a breath, the old man encouraged, “Go on, my child...read the next passage.”
The return of the Devourer of Innocents and the arrival of the Four
Will signal the coming of twilight and night for Bajor.
“What does that mean?” Liz asked, “I gather that the ‘Devourer of Innocents’ is the Blood Wraith, but who are The Four?”
“The writings say little more...” the old man replied, shaking his head, “...except that they all share one thing in common—blood. Now...” the priest pleaded as he closed the book, “Please...tell me what you know of the Blood Wraith.”
Taking a deep breath, Liz exhaled. “If it’s what I think it is...” she began hesitatingly, “...then it’s an old family curse. You see...my mother’s family...the Bathory’s are an old family with a bloody past that began with my ancestor Elizaveta.” Somberly, pausing only to answer the odd clarifying question from the priest, Captain Shelby detailed the Bathory curse and the legend of the medallion until, her narrative concluded, she gratefully took a sip of the water from a goblet the old man had thoughtfully handed her.
“So...” the old man inquired, “...whatever became of the medallion?”
“Nobody knows.” Liz confessed, “My mother never talked about it and my grandmother...Aliz...died when I was only two—I never really knew her—or my grandfather.”
Sighing, the elderly priest placed a comforting hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “The Prophets work in mysterious ways, my child—but you must have faith—they would not have chosen you...”
“No offense, Vedek...” Liz interjected, her chuckle more a nervous giggle, “But your Prophets aren’t mine. To me they’re aliens living in a wormhole—very advanced aliens to be sure—but aliens just the same. I’m sorry, I can’t see them as gods or prophets.”
“No one’s asking you to, my child.” The older man chuckled, “Prophets or gods or aliens...does it really matter in the end? They are timeless—and yet not of time. They see the past...the present...and even the future. If they offer guidance and aid, it would be foolish not to at least listen to what they have to say.” Pausing for a moment as he allowed the younger woman time to reflect on his words, “I think there is something you should see, but we will have to take a bit of a journey, so you and I and your friends need to get started...”
“Where are we going?” Liz asked as she rose to her feet.
“We are going to the tomb of Kai Winn Derela. There...” the old man whispered, “...in his sarcophagus...you might find what you are seeking—or at the very least, something that will point you in the right direction. Come...” he motioned with his hand towards the door, “...we must hurry...the way is long and time...short.”
“Ah...visitors!” Turning their head towards the voice that called out, Captain Shelby and her group spied a portly middle-aged Bajoran a dark blue robe accompanied by a younger man walking to the left and slightly to his rear and two other men, looking much more rugged in appearance, both wearing blue uniforms and carrying night sticks hanging from their belts. “Welcome to Kendra City! I am Odel Kendrak, the second customs administrator, and who might you be?”
Taking her captain’s subtle nod of her head as permission for her to speak, Lieutenant Sito smiled as she approached the official, stopping a respectful distance away as she held her hands out in a deferential pose, “Greetings Administrator Odel. I am Sito Jaxa and this...” she said as she gestured first in the direction of Captain Shelby and then towards Lieutenant Oudekirk,”... is my cousin Sito Naranda and my younger sister, Sito Cilla.”
“And the two men would be your attendants?” The customs official inquired, his voice tone becoming even more ingratiating than it already was.
“Yes.” Jaxa replied, nodding her head in assent, “Tan Olin and Baral Nalo.”
“I assume you are coming into town to trade at the Monastery?” Pell queried as the younger man scribbled into a notebook.
“Yes.” Sito responded, “We have springwine and moba fruit...amongst other items. Here...” she grinned as she gestured at Lieutenant Bateson who then quickly ran up to where the Bajoran lieutenant stood bearing a bottle of springwine and a small basket of the succulent fruit in his arms, “Take these with my compliments.”
His smile growing wider, the portly customs officer nodded his head at one of the security guards who took the proffered gifts from Bateson. “I see that everything is in order.” Odel declared with a satisfied nod of his head, “Enjoy your stay in Kendra City.”
“Thank you.” Jaxa replied politely, bowing respectfully and maintaining her bow as the official turned away. Raising from her bow after the overweight man and his retinue had reached the prescribed distance, the young Bajoran muttered under her breath, “Fat palukoo.”
*********************************************************************
Walking into the central forum, the group was met by a cacophony of sounds: video advertisements from merchants plugging their wares rang out as dulcet sounds coming from a Bajoran flute, the man blowing into the instrument part of a street band including a woman playing what appeared to be a lyre and another man tapping lightly a set of small cup-sized drums. Intermittently, a voice from a PA system broke through the noise, announcing either breaking news or directives from the local authorities.
“Is this where your family came from?” Lieutenant Bateson asked as he also took in the sights and smells of the city.
“No.” Jaxa softly responded, shaking her head, “They came from Lanar Province.”
“So...” Lieutenant Mtolo interjected, “...what are we supposed to be again?”
“I’m a trader.” Lieutenant Sito answered back, explaining, “Your family name determines your occupation. Kiras are artists, for instance, Shakars...farmers, and Sitos merchants. Pausing for a moment, the young security officer further explained, “That’s why Lieutenant Oudekirk and Captain Shelby have Sito family names—they’re posing as traders as well.”
“What about Lieutenant Bateson and I?” Lieutenant Mtolo asked, “Our names are...Tan and Baral.” He explained, pronouncing the ‘a’ as a short vowel. “What are we supposed to be?” The security chief further inquired in a slightly sarcastic tone, “Servants?”
“No.” Jaxa responded, shaking her head. “Tans and Barals...” she said, drawing out the ‘a’ in ‘Tan’ and the last ‘a’ in Baral, as she answered his question, “...serve in law enforcement and security.” Seeing that the Zulu security chief, somewhat mollified by her answer, was nodding his head in satisfaction, the young Bajoran explained, “You two are our bodyguards. No self respecting merchant of the rank we’re posing as would travel without at least one guard in their retinue.”
“Is crime that much a factor?” Cilla asked, “From what I’ve read and seen, Bajoran society is remarkably peaceful.”
“At this time...” Sito replied, “It still is. The guards are mostly symbolic...more a emblem of rank and position than anything else. The djara...” Jaxa concluded, “...served to reinforce status and bar admission to the higher classes more than anything else.”
“And there’s no way to choose a different occupation—even if your talents are more suited for something else?” Morgan asked.
“No.” Jaxa replied in a grim tone, “And that’s part of the problem with Bajoran society right now. The djara is failing and more and more Bajorans—especially younger Bajorans—are beginning to reject it.”
“Just like the old sumptuary laws back on Earth...” Cilla began, only to have her next words cut off by the captain.
“While this is a fascinating discussion...” Liz remarked, softening her words with a grin, “We have work to do. And the sooner we get started...the better.”
“The captain’s right.” Jaxa affirmed as her eyes turned towards Bajor’s sun. “It’ll be evening soon...we had better hurry.”
Shaking his head in amazement as his senses tried to take in all the noise and commotion, Lieutenant Bateson spoke to the Bajoran woman he was currently walking behind, “I still can’t believe this culture is so stale and static—it seems full of life to me!”
“Don’t let surface appearances fool you.” Lieutenant Sito cautioned as she jerked her head towards where a woman wearing tattered clothing and carrying a bucket was being taunted by a pack of well-dressed youths. “She’s a Laren.” Jaxa explained, “Their station in the djara is amongst the lowest. They’re responsible for sewage and garbage cleanup—amongst other unpleasant tasks.”
Shaking his head, Lieutenant Mtolo remarked in a low growl, “Just like the Untouchables in old India.”
Captain Shelby’s thoughts then turned towards another Laren as she idly wondered whether any of this unpleasant history might have had some impact on the currently wanted Ro Laren’s personality only to have her reverie interrupted by the sound of solemn chanting as another procession, this one led by robed figures came toward the group from the opposite direction.
Turning to the rest of the group, Lieutenant Sito urged, “Move off the road, kneel, and bow your heads. Follow my lead and whatever you do...for the Prophets’ sake don’t raise your head and don’t speak until I say it’s all right.”
Kneeling down and lowering their heads, the group watched out of the corners of their eyes as the procession of robed and hooded figures, led by an elderly man in an orange robe, moved down the street towards the monastery. The elderly man paused from time to time to glance down at a member of the crowd and then, leaning down, he would tug at that person’s ear as he uttered a few soft-spoken words. Passing before both Captain Shelby and Lieutenant Sito, the old man stopped suddenly as an expression of recognition briefly crossed his face. They are the ones. The abbot quickly concluded, remembering their faces from the vision he had earlier that day. Leaning down, he began the ritual only to freeze momentarily as his fingers made contact with the human captain’s ear, his momentary glimpse into the younger woman’s pah confirming both his hopes and fears.
“My child.” The elderly abbot whispered into the captain’s ear. “We must speak. You and your friends must accompany us to the monastery.”
Startled, Liz almost jerked her head up to speak only to have the abbot place his hand gently on the top of her head. “Later, my child.” He whispered. “I know...you have come a long way and have many questions. You and your companions follow us and maybe together we can find some answers.”
Their heads still bowed respectfully, the two Bajoran police officers silently watched the interchange between the abbot and the newcomer. As the abbot’s party and the newcomers departed, Daren turned to his partner, “What do you make of that, Samal?”
“I don’t know.” The older officer responded, “But I intend to find out. You might want to tell Laas that you’re going to be working even later than you thought.”
******************************************************************
“They’re here.” The pah-wraith declared as it once again took possession of Aliz. A smirk crossing her face, the entity purred, “Interesting...this one has potential. I hadn’t planned on interfering...” she remarked, tilting her head slightly to the left as she spoke, “...but...yes...this one will do fine...” Looking back at the imprisoned Wesley, the possessed Aliz jibed, “Don’t worry...I’ll be back soon...and...I might just bring some company for you...wouldn’t you like that?” She smiled as she turned and walked away. “Now behave yourself until we get back.”
Counting down to ten as he heard the door swish closed behind her, Wesley ripped open an access panel he had discovered next to the forcefield. Moving cautiously, yet speedily, the commodore began to work, saying a silent prayer as he did so both that he would be finished in time and that his little trap would work without killing both him and Aliz.
**********************************************************************
“We are nearly there.” The old abbot declared, pointing with his staff at a building located in a valley below where he and the others stood. Turning his head towards the Captain Shelby who was at that time walking slightly and to the side of him, as was appropriate for someone in her position within the djara,he remarked encouragingly, “Come...we haven’t much further to go.”
As the procession made its way down a mountain road towards the monastery below, one of the party, Lieutenant Cilla Oudekirk gasped, “It’s beautiful!” Her eyes taking in the simple elegance of the slender jutting spires jutting out from the four corners of a massive stone built structure standing in a place of prominence, the young Dutch woman, turning her head towards the Bajoran woman walking next to her, inquired, pitching her voice in a low whisper so that the monks could not hear her question, “What is that?
“Dakeen Monastery.” Lieutenant Sito Jaxa replied in an equally low voice as the group continued to move down into the valley. “An important center for religious and historical studies in Kendra Province...and one of our most sacred sites.”
“Better get a move on, ladies...or they’re going to leave us behind!” Quickly pivoting their heads towards the sound of the voice, they immediately recognized the beaming face of Lieutenant Bateson.
As a warm smile forced itself to her face in spite of her best efforts to repress it, Lieutenant Oudekirk responded with much less tartness than she would have responded otherwise, “Why are you in such a big hurry, Morgan?” She teased, “There aren’t any Argellian strippers here.” Turning her head rapidly to the Bajoran woman walking beside her, she whispered, “There aren’t any—are there?”
“No.” Jaxa responded with a quick shake of her head, “I think I can guarantee that there won’t be.”
“Good. We don’t need another Sloopy’s Incident...”
“Sloopy’s Incident?” Sito asked, her eyebrows raised.
“You don’t want to know.” Cilla grunted as she turned her attention back to the monastery. “Believe me...you don’t want to know.
**********************************************************************
As the group entered the monastery, the abbot quickly ushered Captain Shelby into his office. “Please...” the old man requested as he gestured at a chair, “...sit. We have much to talk about. You have come a long way...a long way indeed. And I don’t think it was for the pleasure of an old man’s company.” Watching as the younger woman sat down in the chair opposite his, the abbot sighed, “We are in dangerous times, my child.” His sage eyes looking directly into those of the captain, the old man continued, “I know that the time for the old ways grows short...the young in growing numbers are turning their backs on the djara—and perhaps rightly so...” he allowed with an ironic grin, “...even attendance in temple services is decreasing...probably because our current Kai insists that we preach loyalty to the djara...”
“Vedek...” Captain Shelby began only to be cut off by the old man’s raised hand.
“Ah...the impatience of youth.” The priest chuckled, “Please...my child. Humor an old man and allow him to continue.” His wizened face now taking on a grim expression, the old man continued, “But those are issues I’m sure you’re not really interested in. What concerns you—and me as well—is that several young women have been found recently here and elsewhere. Some are whispering that the Blood Wraith has returned. While in public I try my best to calm peoples’ fears—just between the two of us, I think they are right. And...I think you know they are right as well. So...what do you know about the Blood Wraith...”
Closing her eyes momentarily as she collected her thoughts, Liz took a deep breath. “I have a feeling you already know more than I...”
“That the Blood Wraith is what we call a pah-wraith...yes.” The priest answered, nodding his head. “But the Blood Wraith is different from the other pah-wraiths that were expelled from the Celestial Temple by the Prophets many years ago. “Tell me, child...what do you know of its history?”
“Not much.” Liz admitted, “Only what Jaxa has told me—and that wasn’t a lot.”
“The Blood Wraith is more a subject of folklore—or should I say ghost stories—than scholarly discourse.” The abbot chuckled nervously, his laughter an obvious attempt to mask his fears as he stood up and made his way to a bookcase across from where Liz sat. Picking up a large tome, the elderly cleric brushed the dust off as he returned with the book. “The writings of Kai Winn Derela...” the priest explained as he turned to a passage in the middle of the book, “...he served over five hundred years ago and wrote of the Wraith. Here...read this...”
And the Celestial Temple shone with a thousand suns as the Prophets war...
Their prize the soul of Bajor...
Triumph of the Protectors
The Holy Orbs their gift
To the Faithful
Expulsion of the Traitors
Exiled to the fiery rift
But for the worst set adrift.
“The Prophets exiled most of the pah-wraiths expelled from the Temple to the Fire Caves...where they will remain until the Time of the Final Battle with the Emissary.” The priest explained, “But not all. Some of the evil ones escaped...one though...the Blood Wraith...was so malevolent...so destructive...so dangerous...that the Prophets, in their wisdom, set it adrift to wander the cosmos.” Pausing for a moment to take a breath, the old man encouraged, “Go on, my child...read the next passage.”
The return of the Devourer of Innocents and the arrival of the Four
Will signal the coming of twilight and night for Bajor.
“What does that mean?” Liz asked, “I gather that the ‘Devourer of Innocents’ is the Blood Wraith, but who are The Four?”
“The writings say little more...” the old man replied, shaking his head, “...except that they all share one thing in common—blood. Now...” the priest pleaded as he closed the book, “Please...tell me what you know of the Blood Wraith.”
Taking a deep breath, Liz exhaled. “If it’s what I think it is...” she began hesitatingly, “...then it’s an old family curse. You see...my mother’s family...the Bathory’s are an old family with a bloody past that began with my ancestor Elizaveta.” Somberly, pausing only to answer the odd clarifying question from the priest, Captain Shelby detailed the Bathory curse and the legend of the medallion until, her narrative concluded, she gratefully took a sip of the water from a goblet the old man had thoughtfully handed her.
“So...” the old man inquired, “...whatever became of the medallion?”
“Nobody knows.” Liz confessed, “My mother never talked about it and my grandmother...Aliz...died when I was only two—I never really knew her—or my grandfather.”
Sighing, the elderly priest placed a comforting hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “The Prophets work in mysterious ways, my child—but you must have faith—they would not have chosen you...”
“No offense, Vedek...” Liz interjected, her chuckle more a nervous giggle, “But your Prophets aren’t mine. To me they’re aliens living in a wormhole—very advanced aliens to be sure—but aliens just the same. I’m sorry, I can’t see them as gods or prophets.”
“No one’s asking you to, my child.” The older man chuckled, “Prophets or gods or aliens...does it really matter in the end? They are timeless—and yet not of time. They see the past...the present...and even the future. If they offer guidance and aid, it would be foolish not to at least listen to what they have to say.” Pausing for a moment as he allowed the younger woman time to reflect on his words, “I think there is something you should see, but we will have to take a bit of a journey, so you and I and your friends need to get started...”
“Where are we going?” Liz asked as she rose to her feet.
“We are going to the tomb of Kai Winn Derela. There...” the old man whispered, “...in his sarcophagus...you might find what you are seeking—or at the very least, something that will point you in the right direction. Come...” he motioned with his hand towards the door, “...we must hurry...the way is long and time...short.”
Prophecies are once again coming true.
This is great stuff.
This is great stuff.
Prophecies coming true ... mmm ... sounds ominous for the Suthy/Lexy crews in particular Shelby and Wesley and Sito.
I wonder do they cause Cardassians to come to Bajor in the first place. It was a close call earlier but there's plenty of opportunities yet to slip up and Sito came damn close.
By the way kudos for the Bajoran history and environment you've painted. I like this imagining of it. Very stark and troublesome and might explain how Cardassians at a later stage got a foothold on Bajor if striven with such miseries and difficulties.
A brilliant story still and its good to see a time-travel story that isn't about damaging or repairing Earth's timeline. Plus throw in a pyschotic Pah Wraith and we have a terrific story telling mixture.
I totally agree. I'm wanting to compare it to how some view Native American history - totally at nature and at peace, etc. In reality, they had problems just like everyone else.
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