Titan 5 - Over a Torrent Sea (32 page)

And now she had the most beautiful creature in the universe in her arms, and the only way she’d be happier was if Will had been here to see it. But she knew, deep in her
soul, that he was alive, and during the arduous euphoria of the birth, she had felt his essence touching her, reaching out to her. It had been distant, the barest thread, and the psychologist in her recognized that the perception could have been a memory, a hope, a piece of herself reflecting him. But her heart
knew
.

Now that matters were calm, Deanna found her gaze turning to Ree. Tuvok was now in the room, standing near Ree, watching him carefully. Alyssa had subtly interposed herself between Ree and the baby, just in case. It was unimaginable that her dainty frame could slow him for even a second, but there she stood nonetheless, and it was very reassuring.

“Doctor?” Deanna asked, not needing to put the next thought into words:
Now what?

Ree made a noise akin to throat-clearing. “Ah. Counselor. Yes.” Another rumble. “I, um…Upon reflection, it seems I have been somewhat…overzealous in my protectiveness. I…seem to be thinking more clearly now.” He gave a convulsive shake of his head. “I had not realized guardian mode was so…intense.”

“It may not be, as a rule,” she told him, sensing his sincerity and giving Tuvok a subtle nod to that effect. He remained wary, however. “What I was broadcasting to you…my anger, my resentment…it must have been difficult for you.”

Tuvok raised a brow. “Then you believe that releasing your repressed anger has brought about a resolution?”

She gave a wry grin. “It’s never that simple, Tuvok. I…have a lot to talk out with Ree yet, and a lot to work out within myself. Honestly, it may have been my euphoria
from the delivery,” she said, gazing down lovingly at her daughter, “that counteracted the effect. Or maybe the sheer intensity of the experience overloaded Ree’s empathic reception.”

“Or maybe,” Ree said, looking as sheepish as a raptor could, “you simply shouted some sense into my thick head. There can be value in rudeness…when wielded judiciously. Counselor, I am so sorry.”

“Ohh, let’s not start that again,” she urged him.

Mawson tentatively reached out and stroked the baby’s hand with a finger. Deanna smiled at the diminutive nurse. “Do you have a name in mind?” the Lumbuan asked.

“Well…”

“Excuse me,” Tuvok said. “Now that matters are in hand, we should not linger. The local military may arrive at any time. And we have caused enough disruption to this world.”

“Oh dear,” Ree said. “That’s right. I’ve violated the Prime Directive rather badly, haven’t I?”

“Indeed. I shall have to place you under arrest and take you back to
Titan
for a hearing.”

“Tuvok,” Deanna protested, “he wasn’t responsible.”

“That, my dear Counselor, is for the hearing to decide,” Ree said. “The commander is quite right.”

As Krotine and Hriss helped Deanna to her feet (all while valiantly resisting the urge to coo and dote over the baby, as her empathic senses told her), Nurse Mawson said, “Are you taking her back to the spirit world?”

Deanna studied her. “Is that what you think we should do?”

Mawson puffed her
clarfel
in embarrassment. “It’s not
my place to advise spirits on their ways. But we mortals are no proper caregivers for her kind. Best to keep the veils up between the worlds, I say.”

The new mother smiled. “Thank you, Mawson. We’re grateful for all your help. But we’d appreciate one more favor.”

The Lumbuan nodded sagely. “A spirit encounter should be a private thing. Isn’t that right?” she said sternly to the others, who nodded obediently.

Tuvok and his team led the others out into the halls, making their way to the exit. Dennisar had placed Ree in arm restraints and was watching him closely, though there was nothing to be done about the doctor’s mighty tail except to trust in his cooperation. Deanna could tell from his outward, drooped posture and his inward emotions that he was still abashed and concerned about the consequences of his Prime Directive breach. “I don’t think we’ve done any lasting damage to this world, Ree,” she reassured him. “As you heard, many of them still have a strong belief in animism. They’ll just accept us as a spirit manifestation of the kind they already believe in.”

“But spirits appearing in the flesh?” Krotine asked. “Having babies in their hospitals? Isn’t that a little more concrete than usual?”

“Animists see spirits within every aspect of nature,” Deanna told her. “To them, a river or a tree is an embodied spirit. This won’t be that profoundly different to them.”

“But many Lumbuans are of a more skeptical bent,” Tuvok said. “Belief in spirits is not universal. Might not our presence shift the balance toward a revival in animist belief?”

“Maybe. But if we leave without tangible evidence, it will just be a few dozen people’s testimony added to a whole world’s ongoing philosophical dialogue. And Mawson and her nurses will probably help confuse the issue. These are a people who relish debate and are slow to come to a consensus.” She smirked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if many of the eyewitnesses ended up getting persuaded that they imagined what they saw.”

“That may be more difficult than you think, Counselor,” Tuvok said.

“Well, anyway, they’ve got more immediate concerns, with the future of their nation at stake. This will probably fade from public attention before long.”

Ree said to Tuvok, “Commander, if we can get to a suitably private place, I can remotely shut down the jamming field and have us beamed to the
Horne
. We can then beam your team back to your shuttle and depart together.”

“An excellent suggestion, Doctor. However, we have one more loose end to resolve. The locals have photographic documentation of our presence.”

Tuvok and his team began discussing how to track down the photographs and retrieve or destroy them without detection. Deanna tuned them out, trusting them to get the job done. Right now, the baby in her arms was her entire universe.

DROPLET

O
nce she was sure Riker could manage without her, Aili swam back out to the squales, determined to extract some answers about the status of her crewmates. She realized now that she hadn’t pressed the issue hard enough before, perhaps because she’d been enjoying the escape too much. It was an error she was determined to remedy.

It took a while, but Aili finally managed to ask the right questions. “Are my people still in the ocean?” had initially brought the same answer from the members of the contact pod:
“Not for Aili.”
Alos and Gasa had accompanied the answer with chorused assurances that they were here for her now. Once her song had been transposed, they sang, she could join their choir.

“It’s not like that for us,” she told them. “We don’t change pods as easily as you. We want our old pod back.”

“That’s clear enough,”
Cham sang in harmony with Gasa’s refrain of comfort.
“But they are silent to the found
lings’ ears. We cannot change their ways; for that, we need to comprehend.”

“Change their ways?” Aili pressed the issue. Did that mean they were still on Droplet after all?

With further questioning, she confirmed the impression Cham had given. Once she understood, she rushed to the surface to give the news to Riker. A little hope would do wonders for him right now.

“We’ve been assuming they were holding us prisoner,” she said. “That if
Titan
was still here, the squales were unwilling to return us to them.”

Riker nodded. “Hostages,” he said weakly. “Or guinea pigs.”

“At first, that was probably true. They didn’t know what to make of us and were being cautious. But they’ve come to trust us now. A lot of other squales still blame us for the crisis, but the contact pod understands we meant no harm. But when they wouldn’t reunite us with the others, I was afraid that maybe
Titan
had been destroyed by the asteroid, or had written us off for dead and abandoned us.”

“I know Deanna’s alive,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“Yes, sir. And
Titan
’s still here. The squales confirmed it.”

“So why wouldn’t they tell us before, if we weren’t their prisoners?”

“The thing is,” she said, “the squales are always in touch with each other. The deep sound channel lets them communicate with squales thousands of kilometers away—or relay messages through other squales to communicate with any other squale, anywhere on Droplet. They’re as con
nected as we are with our combadges. It’s slower, but they can hear about anything happening anywhere on the planet within six hours.

“So they just take it for granted that keeping track of every member of your species is a natural ability of intelligent beings. And so they assumed we had the same ability.

“So when
Titan
didn’t come to retrieve us, it never occurred to the squales that they didn’t know where we were. They assumed that, for some alien reason, our people had abandoned us.”

“Wait a minute,” Riker said. “They knew we didn’t know where the others were. Wasn’t that a clue?”

“They pretty much assumed it took mutual cooperation. If you call out to someone and they don’t answer, you can’t tell where they are.”

“But wouldn’t they have heard you if you gave out any such calls?”

“I’m an alien,” she said with a shrug. “They don’t know what strange ways we may have for staying in contact with our people. But it just never occurred to them to consider that we couldn’t. They take the ability as much for granted as—well, as water. This is their first alien contact,” she said in their defense. “They don’t know what assumptions they need to unlearn.”

He still wasn’t convinced. “Our people must have looked for us. Sent out shuttles.”

“They knew our people were looking for something. Some of them suspected it was us, since we were silent inside the healing pods. But once we were released and our people still didn’t come for us, they didn’t know what to think.”

Riker nodded. “So now that they understand?”

“I think they’d be happy to reunite us, sir. Since we won’t go through the change, it’s our only chance. They don’t want us to die.”

“Even the ones who blame us for ruining their Song?”

“They just want us to leave so their world can be pure again.”

He perked up. “Then they’ll help us find
Titan
?” he asked, his voice strengthening. Aili had been right; the news had been nourishment in itself.

“They’re waiting for me now,” she replied with a smile. “We just need to dive to the deep sound channel and start asking around, track down the nearest crew from
Titan
. It shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

For the first time in days, the familiar Riker grin was on his gaunt face. “Then you’d better get started, Ensign. That’s an order.”

She beamed back. “Aye, Captain.”

Xin Ra-Havreii wished Aili Lavena were still around. Not only because he missed her and feared for her survival, but because he wasn’t entirely sanguine about his own at the moment.

All of
Titan
’s available shuttles were spreading out planetwide to initiate the probe deployment, after depositing further crews with their own probe allotments on the main floater-island base and other floater colonies across the planet; by following the currents, they would be able to cover a wide swath of Droplet’s surface and drop probes at regular intervals, turning the floaters into
additional “vessels” at
Titan
’s disposal. Vale herself was supervising from the main base; she had brought Ra-Havreii with her to oversee the first drop. He had demurred that he was more a man of theory than execution and that Lieutenant Tylith or Ensign Crandall could supervise the deployment effectively. But Vale had wanted him there for his communication skills, to try to inform the squales that the aliens seemingly invading their world and dropping hundreds of large technological devices into its depths were acting in their best interests.

And so here he was, out in the middle of the open sea in a tiny scouter gig, facing down a pod of angry squales and trying to negotiate with them in Selkie, a language he had studied recreationally but had limited fluency in. Aili, he reflected, would be so much better for this on every level. At least they had been willing to listen to her.

This pod, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood for listening, despite the new EM dampers on the gig and equipment. It was a largish pod, nearly two dozen members, and thus presumably was aggregated from several smaller pods, banded together for mutual protection. Many of the squales were scarred or missing limbs. They seemed to be swimming in rather a hurry for a region several hundred kilometers south of the main base, a heavily defended location containing multiple large spiral structures that appeared to serve an agricultural function. Normally, Ra-Havreii wouldn’t have dreamed of getting in their way. But this was the first pod that had passed near enough to the base to engage with.

But they were too angry, too embittered by the growing turmoil of their world. They didn’t deign to respond to his
Selkie entreaties in kind, but Y’lira Modan had deciphered enough of their own language by now to get a rough idea of their response. “They say we corrupt the sea by being here,” she told Ra-Havreii from her seat behind him in the gig, studying her tricorder. “They object to our fouling the sea with any more of our devices.”

He sighed. “Yes, I could’ve guessed that. The fact that our devices are more squale-friendly now hasn’t changed their opinions, has it?”

“Apparently not, sir.”

“Of course not,” he muttered. “They’ve made up their minds.” Tapping he combadge, he called Vale at the base. “Commander, we’re not getting anywhere here, and we don’t have time to keep going in circles. I say just deploy the first probe. At least we explained first, whether they listened or not. Once they sense the magnetic field healing and the biosphere calming down over the next few days, maybe they’ll realize we were telling the truth.”