Текст книги "The Sundered"
Автор книги: Andy Mangels
Соавторы: Michael Martin
Жанр:
Научная фантастика
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Chapter 5
In the near-darkness, Lieutenant Tuvok could feel the calm that had been slipping away from him ever more frequently over the past several days. The ritual candles that burned before him—the room’s only illumination—gave his spartan quarters a warm glow.
Tuvok sat cross-legged on his meditation mat on the floor, his tunic and high-collared turtleneck laid carefully on his bed. His boots lay beside the bed. Shirtless and shoeless, he could feel even the slightest whisper of air in his room. Wriggling his toes, unfettered by footwear, was an indulgence for him, one of the few he allowed himself.
On the low table in front of him was a keethara,with many of its component blocks laying about nearby. He had begun assembling this particular “structure of harmony” two weeks prior, and had worked on it during each of his daily meditation sessions. Today it still remained unfinished. Each new block he added seemed unharmonious.
The purpose of the blocks was to focus his thoughts and help him to hone his mental control. Instead, they were causing him anxiety and frustration. No. Thekeethara blocks are not the cause of my concern.
His emotions had been building in intensity for some time now. More and more he felt tainted by the emotions of [46] his crewmates. It had always been so, even from his first day at Starfleet Academy. With cold, dispassionate logic, he could fathom the most complex scientific questions; he had excelled in his studies, most especially the tactical sciences. But he could never understand—or perhaps allow himself to comprehend—the emotional attitudes of his teachers and fellow classmates.
Upon graduation, Tuvok had been assigned to the U.S.S. Excelsior,just four years after entering Starfleet Academy. Prior to embarking on this posting, Tuvok had consulted with his most trusted teacher and advisor, a middle-aged Vulcan named Xon. Professor Xon had confided to him that life aboard a starship full of emotional beings could be extremely difficult, especially if one was the only Vulcan among them.
Tuvok had had no problem believing Xon’s words then. After all these years, he was still inclined to agree with them.
Though five years had passed since he had lodged his protest against Captain Sulu’s ill-advised attempt to rescue a pair of colleagues during the Khitomer crisis, Tuvok remained bothered by the capricious emotions that so often seemed to guide the conduct of Excelsior’scaptain and crew. Even with the current mission, Tuvok sensed that both Captain Sulu and Ambassador Burgess were basing their decisions regarding the Tholians mostly on what humans liked to refer to as their “gut instincts.” The dispassionate logic that so often provided the key to survival in a chaotic universe was, as usual, being given short shrift by humans.
Tuvok carefully picked up a keetharablock and held it over a section of the small structure on the table. He knew he could not blame his difficulties with human emotions entirely on his crewmates; it had been a part of him since his earliest days. Though he had been called brilliant as a child, his penchant for constantly questioning his teachers had exceeded the expected norms. More than once, his instructors had tried to impress upon him the importance of [47] occasionally simply accepting their experience, erudition, and authority. Instead, he had responded with volleys of interrogatives that had bordered on insubordinate. And yet, despite his alleged deficiencies in tact, Tuvok had remained convinced that his questioning spirit was logical. How could the teachers have allowed themselves to react so emotionally to it?
Then, at the age of nine, Tuvok first grappled with his own emotional demons. And they had almost destroyed him.
Returning home from the primary seminary, young Tuvok was faced with bad news from his father, Sunak. The family sehlat, Wari, had stumbled into the path of a ground car. “Her injuries were too severe to be repaired,” Sunak had told him in measured tones. “She had to be euthanized.”
Tuvok felt pain stab into him, an agony unlike any he had ever felt before. Wari had been his pet all his life; she was older than he was, and had treated him like one of her own cubs as far back as he could remember. He used to hold onto her fangs and she would shake him gently from side to side. Sometimes, he had slept curled up next to her, warmed on desert winter nights by her thick covering of russet-colored fur.
Now, she was gone. His parents had already made plans to dispose of her body, but he had screamed until they allowed him to see his pet’s corpse. T’Meni, his mother, had stood nearby as Tuvok ruffled Wari’s fur and stroked her ears, unmindful of the verdant blood that matted it in spots.
Tuvok had squatted low, on the same level with Wari’s lifeless head, and pried open her eyelids. The eyes were dark and glassy. “It’s not here,” he said, sobbing.
“What are you looking for?” his mother asked, her voice steady and emotionless.
“Wari’s katra.”
Sunak had come into the yard, and spoke then. “Wari did not have a katra. Animals are without katra.”
[48] Tuvok heard his father’s words as a betrayal. He knew what he felt from Wari. She had loved him without reservation, in a way that he had never felt even from his own parents. She had protected him, played with him, touched him, cared for him.
“If Wari does not have a katra,then neither do either of you!”Tuvok screamed, tears scalding his cheeks. He hugged the sehlat’shead tightly.
T’Meni crouched, lowering one knee to the ground so that she could look Tuvok in the eye. “That isn’t logical, Tuvok.” She folded her arms and looked at him serenely, as if the truth of her statement was obvious.
Irrationally, Tuvok wanted her to hold him, to feel his mother and father embrace him the same way his pet so often had, to protect him and soothe away his pain. But she wouldn’t. That was not the Vulcan way.
His hand clutching a few long hairs from Wari’s coat, Tuvok ran out of the yard, pushing past his father. That night, with Vulcan’s co-orbital world of T’Khut dominating the sky, he stole out of their home with a pack full of provisions and a thin, curved knife. The ritual blade—a sessilent—was his father’s.
Tuvok had gone on a ten-day-long Kahswanordeal when he was seven, but as he departed through the ceremonial grounds of ShiKahr and eastward toward the punishing heat of the Plains of Gol, he knew that ten days would not be enough to heal him. Now he was embarking on the ritual of tal’oth,making his way over the desiccated wasteland of Vulcan’s Forge, across the jagged mountains that marked its eastern boundary. And back, if the gods willed it so.
Four months later, Tuvok returned to his home, slightly taller and much thinner than when he had departed. He spoke to no one of his journeys, except to tell his mother that he had learned to grow orchids in the parched desert, where no flowering plant should have been able to thrive.
But during his ordeal, Tuvok had forced himself to purge [49] the emotions he had felt. By ridding his mind of the need for affection, of the pride in his accomplishments, and of the sense of loss that had come with Wari’s passing, Tuvok believed that he had come to feel nothing at all, other than the spiritual exultation of dispassionate, affect-free logic.
Over the following years, his path toward Kolinahrwas interrupted again. At sixteen, he fell in love with a visiting Terellian girl named Jara, and his infatuation had almost consumed him. Another trip across the desert wastes—and months spent under the tutelage of a Vulcan Master—helped Tuvok to extirpate his emotions yet again.
Since that time, as he’d left adolescence and entered adulthood, Tuvok became better able to master and suppress his emotions, to channel his mind’s energies into the pursuit of knowledge and the exploration of logic. He had entered Starfleet only at the urging of his parents, and his decision to bow to their will had led him inexorably here, now, to this ship so filled with self-contradictory emotion.
In a few weeks, his original five-year assignment aboard the Excelsiorwould be completed. If not for the persuasion of T’Meni and Sunak, who had believed that exposing their son to non-Vulcan cultures would prove beneficial to him, Tuvok would have resigned his commission and returned to Vulcan immediately after the Praxis-Khitomer affair had concluded. But now that he had fulfilled his promise to his parents to finish out his Excelsiorposting, he saw that things weren’t quite so simple. Now that he was a valued senior officer, loyal to his captain and his shipmates, he truly didn’t know if he wanted to stay aboard the ship, accept another assignment with Starfleet—or perhaps pursue an altogether different path.
Staring at the keetharablock he still held in his hand, Tuvok wondered idly if the meditation aid was attempting to tell him something. A keetharastructure was supposed to reflect the state of its creator’s mind. I have been unable to[50] build a cohesive structure from these blocks. Does this then mean that I cannot guide my life in a cohesive fashion either? Have the emotions so rampant aboard this shipinfected me to such an extent?
A computer chime interrupted his reverie, signaling that it was nearly time for him to attend another Tholian diplomatic function. As he put the block down on the table amongst a jumble of others, he knew only one thing with certainty: If I remain aboard this ship, whatever serenity I have worked to acquire could be lost.
And if that occurs, Iwill fall prey to emotions.
The voices of the diplomats droned on across the red-hued conference room under the watchful eyes of Lieutenant Akaar and his discreet security contingent. Sulu sat in the back of the room, studying the Tholians closely. Back when he had first encountered them, Sulu had only seen Commander Loskene on the bridge viewer. There had been much debate afterward about whether the multifaceted image they had seen had been a helmet, or the Tholian’s actual head. Because their features were obscured by their bulky environment suits, Sulu still wasn’t completely sure.
But from the conversations and negotiations that had unfolded so far today, Sulu had come to understand a number of things about the alien race. Biologically, they were almost living mineral formations. Their cells were mostly crystalline, although they must also have contained fluid media in order to carry out metabolic processes. Their skins appeared to be faceted, and each Tholian he had seen so far—whether through the faceplate of an enviro-suit or from behind an environmental forcefield—seemed to bear a unique color scheme. Like humans and their almost infinitely varying colorations of hair, eye, and skin, so too did the Tholians possess an apparently endlessly variegated array of tones.
For a fleeting moment, Sulu managed to forget that the [51] Tholians might represent a potential threat. Watching their utterly inhuman shapes and movements, he recalled the wonder and anticipation with which he had anticipated such encounters during his childhood. It felt wonderful to be free of fear and suspicion, if only for an instant. They’re so different,he thought, exultant. So exotic. Meeting creatures like this is what being in Starfleet is supposed to be about.
The Tholians all wore their protective amber-colored enviro-suits, garments fashioned from the same Tholian silk from which Ambassador Burgess’s special gown had been made. The Tholians’ suits were cool to the touch on the outside, but Ambassador Kasrene had explained that they were broilingly hot internally. The atmosphere on their home world was caustic and superheated, almost like that of Venus. Since nitrogen, oxygen, and the cool temperatures characteristic of class-M environments were deadly to the Tholians, the suits were an absolute necessity on occasions in which humans and Tholians needed to mill about together in the same environment.
Even more peculiar than their biology, though, was Kasrene’s explanation of the social structure on Tholia. The lifespan of a Tholian was generally six to eight months from birth to maturation to natural death. Their knowledge could be shared from one to another, and from generation to generation, in a process which seemed roughly analogous to a “crystal memory upload.” This allowed the newly matured Tholians to continue the work and lives of their predecessors, with only a minimal amount of learning having to be accomplished by means of the old-fashioned trial-and-error method.
Maybe their short lives explain why they’re such clockwatchers,Sulu thought, recalling Spock’s observations about the Tholians’ famed punctuality.
Responding to a question from Dr. Chapel, Kasrene explained that although memories were shared between generations or familial structures, the process did not quite create [52] a “hive mind,” since each Tholian chose the individuals with whom he would share his memories. There was a kind of shared memory archive for their species known as “the Lattice,” but it contained more general, species-specific knowledge and history, and operated on an almost instinctual level.
According to Kasrene, the Tholians were not the only intelligent species on their world, though they were the dominant one. Their starfaring capabilities, though decades less advanced than those of the Federation by some accounts, still made them the only major interstellar player for several sectors in every direction.
Except, of course, for whomever they’re fighting with near that interspatial fissure,Sulu thought.
His attention was drawn away from his reverie by the fidgeting of Mosrene, a Tholian junior ambassador. Something was clearly bothering him, and his body language was betraying it. Sulu noted that none of the other three diplomatic-caste Tholians appeared similarly twitchy; they seemed calm enough that for all Sulu knew, they might have been lulled to sleep by the proceedings. But Mosrene’s tail switched, and his forelegs tapped intermittently against the tabletop. He’s never going to make it past junior ambassador if he doesn’t learn some self-control,Sulu thought, mentally smiling while his face showed only rapt attention.
Sulu noticed that next to Burgess, Tuvok was displaying the most intense interest in the proceedings. Doubtless his Vulcan nature—and his curiosity as a science officer—were keeping him enthralled. Kasrene began talking about the rigid caste systems on her planet. Most castes were generationally mandated, though rare intercaste unions allowed for some crossovers in the offspring. Among the more prominent castes were the warriors, like Yilskene, who had yet to leave his flagship; the politicals, who ran the machinery of government back on Tholia and throughout her subject [53] territories; and the diplomats, like Kasrene and Mosrene, whose mission seemed to be to keep the warriors, politicals, other castes, and neighboring species sufficiently mollified to prevent the sectors bordering the Tholian Assembly from plunging headlong into war.
Sulu was surprised to hear that scientists, engineers, and mathematicians numbered among the lower castes. He wondered if this might at least partially explain why the development of Tholian technology was so slow in comparison with the Federation.
The door chimed, and Sulu saw Akaar move toward it. It opened, revealing Chekov and Rand standing in the threshold. Chekov, looking as though he’d just seen a ghost, stood in silence while Rand whispered in low tones to Akaar. Sulu saw Akaar stiffen slightly, and watched a frown cross his features. Akaar let out a quick breath, then moved swiftly in Sulu’s direction. In a few terse, whispered syllables, the huge Capellan relayed Rand’s message to him.
Sulu stood, feeling numb. Though the news shocked him, he did his best to reveal nothing with his facial expression or body language, though he doubted the Tholians could interpret either. As he moved toward the door, he noticed Ambassador Burgess turning her head toward him.
“Is something wrong, Captain?” she said, an expectant look on her face.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to read her neutral expression. You know damned well that something’s wrong. Because you’re more than likely the cause of it.
Noting that Kasrene and Mosrene were also apparently looking toward him, Sulu said, “I’m afraid that a rather urgent matter has come up that requires my immediate attention. Please excuse me.”
He had taken another three steps toward Chekov and Rand before Ambassador Kasrene spoke up, stopping him in his tracks. “Captain, I believe I understand the nature of this [54] ‘urgent matter.’ It is the fact that Admiral Yilskene has intercepted and destroyed all four of your probes. Is this not so?”
Sulu stood near the door, glancing significantly at Chekov. Burgessdid tell them,he thought. At least, she must have told them of her suspicions. Looking around the room, he took in Akaar’s slightly bulging eyes, Tuvok’s raised eyebrow, and the blanched features of Chapel, Chekov, and Rand.
“We did indeed launch sensor drones deep into your territory,” Sulu said to Kasrene, staying as close to the truth as he deemed prudent. “We’ve observed some fascinating interspatial phenomena out here.”
“No doubt, Captain. And perhaps you’re also concerned about what this revelation may mean to our negotiations here,” Kasrene said. “Truthfully, after we were informed of the probes last cycle by Ambassador Burgess, we had many discussions as to the proper course of action to take.”
Sulu strained not to give Burgess a withering glance. She and I are going to go ’round and ’round over this later.
Kasrene tilted her ungainly head slightly to one side. “Doubtless you’ll justify these actions based upon your previous encounter with our species, even though that was twenty-four of our generations ago.”
“Starfleet has had almost no contact with Tholians since that time,” Sulu said. “We’re trying to keep our minds open.”
Finally, Kasrene spoke again. “Very good, Captain. Though you had no reason to expect that we would react well to your actions, you risked your well-being in the pursuit of pure knowledge. You’ve shown wonderful initiative. I admire that. We admire that. Doubtless your probes showed—”
Kasrene was interrupted by a tap on the forearm by Mosrene, and she ceased speaking. The group of Tholians all reached out and touched for a moment, and went silent.
Sulu realized that they were communicating using their limited telepathic abilities; therefore there was no way to determine what they were saying to one another. As he looked [55] around the room, he saw tension etched onto everyone’s faces. Even Tuvok’s normally placid expression showed some concern. They were all standing on the precipice of war, and their potential enemies sat in front of them, silent but for the gentle rustling of their enviro-suits. Kasrene was moving the most, apparently agitated.
Sulu shot a quick glance at Rand, who was still standing near the door, awaiting orders. Flicking his eyes to one side, he signaled for her to return to the bridge. He knew that she would put the ship on a silent yellow alert, calling all personnel to their stations. She wouldn’t raise shields or charge weapons yet, but she would be ready to do so at a moment’s notice if Yilskene’s flagship were to power up its weaponry.
Returning his gaze to those still in the room, Sulu caught Burgess looking at him for a moment. But she averted her gaze before he could sustain the eye contact. If we survive this, I will makecertain you’re cashiered out of the diplomatic service.
Finally, the Tholians broke their huddle, three of them settling back into their outsize chairs. Mosrene still seemed agitated as Kasrene swiveled her multifaceted head back to face both Sulu and Burgess.
“As I was saying, Captain—”
Mosrene touched Kasrene’s arm again, but she brushed him aside and ignored him. “Doubtless your probes showed that there has been conflict along the far boundaries of our territory. I suspect that while your past dealings with us give you little reason to trust my word, your actions at this time give us little reason to trust you.However, we feel it is—”
Mosrene interrupted her again with another touch. Kasrene swiveled her head toward him, her eyespots glowing slightly brighter. She uttered a multisyllable word that the universal translator didn’t quite parse. No need.Sulu could recognize an exclamation of “shut up!” in any language.
Kasrene spoke again, addressing the rest of the room. “The outer reaches of Tholian Assembly space have been [56] under relatively sustained attack for the last seven of your months. This is one of the reasons why we chose this time to approach the Federation, despite the dissension this matter has caused within the chambers of our Castemoot. However, we recently captured one of the aggressor’s ships. Members of our medical caste subsequently discovered that—”
Mosrene again moved forward, but this time he was more aggressive with his interruption. Rather than grabbing Kasrene’s arm, he reached around her, grabbing at the area which would have been equivalent to a humanoid’s upper chest.
Kasrene let out a slight squawk as Mosrene moved his gloved limb away from the ambassador’s chest. A hair-thin, crystalline-hafted blade was now visible protruding from the front of Kasrene’s enviro-suit. Instantly, the noxious fumes from within the compromised suit began to hiss outward into the surrounding air. Dark smoke began to roll outward from the incision.
It took Sulu about half a second to realize that Mosrene had just assaulted Kasrene, perhaps fatally.
