Titan 5 - Over a Torrent Sea (20 page)

Now why does that feel so familiar?

And why does it remind him of the cry echoing in his mind?

TITAN

“Hey! You know we don’t like malingerers on this ship.”

Eviku opened his eyes to see Doctor Bralik standing alongside his sickbay bed, wearing a crooked-toothed smile to offset her teasing words. “So you better get out of that bed and get back to work soon,” she went on.

“Doctor Onnta says I still need another day of rest,” he said.

“Aww, rest is no way to get better! Rule of Acquisition Number Sixty-three: ‘Work is the best therapy—at least for your employees.’”

“Bralik, please…if you are trying to amuse me, I am not in the mood.”

“I’m trying to get you back on your feet and doing science. Nothing to cheer you up like solving a problem.” The Ferengi gave a sad smirk. “Well, most of the time. I just got my biggest problem solved, but it’s hard to be happy about it, because it was the asteroid that solved it for me. Rule One Sixty-two: ‘Even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit.’”

Eviku raised his head, curious despite his mood. “What do you mean?”

“Why this system has so many asteroids and so few large planets for its metallicity. It’s all those explosive elements—bilitrium, anicium, voltairium, yurium. They can absorb energy from the accretion process, or from sunlight, until it triggers explosions that blow apart the accreting masses. So you end up with a reduced rate of accretion overall, giving you smaller planets and more leftover debris. Simple as that.”

“I see,” Eviku replied. “Well, I’m glad you solved that.”

“That’s it?” Bralik asked after a moment. “Don’t deafen me with your cries of enthusiasm.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, with more weariness than heat. “I said I was glad.”

“Ev, you haven’t been glad about anything for months. What’s been going on with you?”

He stared at her. “After what happened months ago, can you really ask that?”

“I know, I know. We all suffered in the invasion. But the rest of us have faced it, talked it out, worked through it. We’re moving on. But you just keep it bottled up, whatever it is. Don’t you think you’d feel better if you told somebody
about it?” She gestured at her largish ears. “Ferengi are famous for being good listeners, you know.”

“It is…a gracious offer, Bralik. But I really would rather not talk about it.”

Setting her jaw, she loomed over him. “I could quote a whole passel of Rules of Acquisition at you about why you’d be better off letting it out. The only way to prevent that is to tell me.”

He almost laughed in spite of himself. But it wasn’t his laughter he was worried about. “I haven’t told anyone because…it’s embarrassing. It seems so petty.”

“Ev, you’re obviously grieving for somebody. That can’t be petty.”

“But I didn’t lose a mate or a son or a mother or…anyone like that.”

“I’m listening,” she said, crossing her arms.

He sighed. “It was…Germu. My
wadji
.”

“What’s a
wadji
?”

“My…pet. A small furred mammal native to Arken. She had such beautiful fur, so many colors…” He was silent for a moment. “I left her with my brother on Alrond when I went on this mission. I hated to be without her…we were so close.
Wadji
are a self-sufficient breed, often aloof, but she was so affectionate when the mood struck her. I felt honored that she would bless me with that. But
wadji
cannot stand being cooped up in small spaces, so I had to leave her behind.”

“What happened? I assume your brother survived…”

Eviku nodded. “When the Borg attacked Alrond and the evacuation was called, Germu…escaped in the turmoil. My brother lost his grip in the push of the crowd, and
she fled for some safe hiding place, no doubt—she never did well with strangers. I don’t blame my brother—he almost missed the evacuation shuttle searching for her. He did everything he could.” He lowered his head. “The whole planet…its entire surface was rendered lifeless. Germu…Oh, she was so beautiful.”

A moment later, he felt Bralik’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Ev. You loved her.”

“But so many others are mourning families, cities, whole worlds that were lost. To tell them I am mourning for a pet and claim my grief is comparable with theirs…it seems arrogant.”

“Hey. It doesn’t matter what they think. It doesn’t even matter if they disapprove. She was a part of your family, as much as anyone. Just because she couldn’t talk or count latinum doesn’t mean your pain is any less meaningful. Don’t be ashamed that you loved her.”

Eviku couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They poured out of him for a time he couldn’t measure. When it was over, he didn’t feel particularly healed or cleansed, but there was a sense of release, as though a sealed door had finally broken open, letting in fresh air.

“Thank you, Bralik,” he finally said. “You’re very understanding.”

“Hey. I grew up on a world where females were treated as little more than pets. So I guess I have a soft spot for underappreciated creatures. It’s nice that you loved her so much.” Her hand rested atop his. “I bet you gave her a very happy life.”

“I tried to.” He was quiet for a time. “But I will never get past the fact that she died alone.”

“Hey—like you said, she was self-reliant. She made her own choice. Maybe it didn’t turn out well, but she owned her own life at the end. I admire that.” She sat on the side of his bed, still clasping his hand. “I bet I would’ve liked the gal. Why don’t you tell me about her?”

So he began to speak of Germu and her antics, and soon he was laughing even as he wept.

HEAVY SHUTTLECRAFT HORNE

Doctor Ree had locked Deanna and Nurse Ogawa in the
Horne
’s aft compartment, nominally for their safety, and had only come back intermittently over the past two days to check on the health of mother and child before returning forward. It had given the two women little chance to reason with Ree, but plenty of time to talk and figure things out. “We understand why you’re doing this,” Deanna told the doctor as soon as he entered for one of his periodic checkups.

“Try not to talk,” he advised. “You need to conserve your energy.”

“Doctor,” Alyssa said, “lying around like a lump and losing muscle tone won’t make delivery any easier for her. You know that.”

“She is also recovering from an injury. Remember who is the doctor here.”

“You’re not thinking like a doctor right now, Ree,” Deanna said. “You’re thinking like a Pahkwa-thanh male. In your species, the males do the main work of guarding the eggs, isn’t that right?”

“That is our privilege,” he conceded. “Which is why you should trust that I have your baby’s best interests in mind when I advise you to be quiet and rest.” There was an edge in his voice as he spoke.

Deanna swallowed, but kept on despite her visceral fear. “There are those fierce protective instincts of a Pah-kwa-thanh male. You’re in guardian mode, Ree.”

“That is unlikely, Counselor. I am obviously not the father of your child. And Alyssa,” he went on without turning, “I would advise you to put the hypo down and return to where I can see you. I would regret having to do anything to you that I do not have the facilities to mend.”

Alyssa quickly complied, but said, “Ree, we’re just trying to help you. You have to see that you’re behaving in an…extreme manner.”

“Warranted by extreme circumstances.”

“No,” Deanna said, keeping her tone gentle. “Triggered by extreme emotion. It started when we were in sickbay, when I felt Will…was in danger.” She knew he was still alive; she could feel it in the core of her being. And she wouldn’t even entertain the possibility that it was wishful thinking. “I feared losing him, and it triggered the memory of my grief at losing our first child, nearly losing this one. It was amplified by my awareness of Tuvok’s grief at losing a son.

“Somehow, my overwhelming fear for the safety of my child must have affected you, triggered an intense surge of paternal instinct—the instinct that evolved to protect your young from predators even larger and fiercer than you.

“But you must realize that we aren’t on the Pahkwathanh homeworld. That those instincts don’t apply here.”

“On the contrary, Counselor. Space can be far more dangerous than my homeworld at its most primitive.” He completed his scans, seeming satisfied with the results. “And you forget—I have no empathic sensitivity.”

“Just because most Pahkwa-thanh don’t have active psi abilities doesn’t mean your brains don’t have the potential to act as receivers. A strong enough telepathic projection can affect even non-psionic species. I’ve seen it happen,” she said, though patient confidentiality kept her from specifying the late Ambassador Sarek and the effects of his Bendii Syndrome—while sheer embarrassment kept her from mentioning the similar chaos her mother had inadvertently sparked on Deep Space 9 that one time. “And maybe your species’ latent potential makes you especially sensitive.”

She reached out to touch his arm, to appeal to his reason and mercy. But he grabbed her wrist tightly and turned it over, peering at her hand. Satisfied that it was empty, he released it. As Alyssa hurried to check her arm for damage, Deanna gasped and said, “No tricks, Ree. Please, you have to believe us. You’re not thinking clearly. Your hormones are out of control. You have to take us back to
Titan
, for all our sakes.”

“With respect, Counselor, you give me no reason to trust you. You have already used one distraction to try to attack me. Now you try to lull me off my guard, to prepare me for the next hand that will have a hypo in it.” He loomed over her, his sharp-toothed snout hovering over her neck. “And you wheedle and plead to be taken back to a ship where your child would be in constant danger.
Your own child.
”

After an alarming, Damoclean moment of silence,
Ree turned his attention to Alyssa, who reflexively backed against the wall. “And you…” He let out a small growl. “You should know better. Sympathy with a patient is well and good, but you must not let it compromise your medical judgment.”

Controlling her fear, Alyssa met his eyes and said, “My child is on that ship too, Doctor. And I know my place is there, with him. Please, Ree. Let’s all go home.”

“Were that true, you would never have left him. You made your choice, Alyssa.” He returned to the hatch, saying, “Neither of you attempt to trick me again.” He went through the hatch, then paused, turned his head, and added, “Please.”

Once the hatch locked behind him, Alyssa slumped, and Deanna sat up to put a comforting arm around her. “He…almost forgot to be polite,” the nurse said. “He must be furious.”

“Worse,” Deanna told her. “He’s becoming paranoid—seeing any attempt to question his judgment as a threat against my daughter’s safety.”

Alyssa turned to her, great sorrow in her lovely dark eyes. “I don’t think any of us are very safe right now.”

DROPLET

The first thing Riker sensed was the sound of a gentle surf against a sandy shore. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was lying on a beach, gazing out at a calm, placid ocean which pulsed against the shore under the impetus of the morning breeze. The boldest waves pushed their way up to within
inches of his arm, and he could almost feel the coolness of the water.

He realized he could also feel the shore beneath him bobbing with the larger waves.

Remembering where he was, Riker shot to a sitting position, bringing on a bout of dizziness. He lowered his head, and realized he was nude. His hand reflexively went to his chest—no combadge. He twisted his head sharply back and forth, scrambled to his bare feet, and made an intensive search of his immediate environs, but no combadge, uniform, or any other equipment was in sight.

His eyes went skyward. He knew
Titan
would be searching for him—if it was still in any condition to do so. The last he remembered, the ship was damaged, and he had no idea how badly. But if they had any means at all to do so—

No. The sky was thick with clouds and a lurid red haze.
Dust and vapor from the asteroid
, he realized.
And sensors had enough trouble before.
Any search would have to be visual, from the shuttles. There were probably nitrogen oxides up there too, eroding the ozone layer. Given his lack of coverings, it was fortunate that Droplet’s sun was relatively distant and low in ultraviolet emissions.

He brushed the sand off his skin and turned his attention to the floater islet he occupied. It was obvious on first glance that he was the only sizable life form present. Hell, there weren’t even any trees or shrubs, just a smattering of mosses and grasses of various sizes.
And no flint, no rock—how can I start a fire?

Riker ran the few dozen meters to the islet’s highest point—about as high above sea level as his midriff was
above the ground—and scanned the sea out to the horizon. Nothing but ocean was visible in any direction. Floaters were usually found in clusters, but this one was all by itself. That smacked of the artificial.
The squales—they saved me, but now…why have they brought me here?
He remembered their hostility just before the impact. It occurred to him to be very concerned for Aili Lavena. What kind of prison might they have for her—if she’d even survived?

Warning himself against jumping to conclusions, Riker decided to test the most immediate possibilities first. Striding to the edge of the islet, he waded out into the shallows and circled its perimeter, periodically swimming down below the edge to see if Lavena might be somewhere on the underside.

But less than halfway around, his muscles began to cramp. He cursed himself for a fool, realizing that he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d eaten. And his muscles were stiff, weak, as though they hadn’t been used in days. He tried to force his body to take him back to shore, but just then a large swell hit and lifted the islet, the currents sucking him underneath it. He grabbed hold of the coraloid tendrils, probed for a crack, desperately hoping he could break his way through to a pocket of air. But the shell material would not budge, and he felt himself weakening….