Текст книги "Serpents Among the Ruins "

Автор книги: David George

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“I am,” the Romulan said in a voice unambiguously defiant. “I am Vokar.” Much shorter and thinner than Harriman, the Romulan nevertheless cast a strong aura of authority. His gray eyes held on Harriman’s face, the intensity of the admiral’s stare conveying the fury he clearly felt.

Ire rose within Harriman, his craving for vengeance surging again. The notion that this Romulan who stood before him felt angry for having been prevented from exterminating the rest of the Hunleycrew, this Romulan who had already overseen the unprovoked and unnecessary deaths of Captain Linneus and the others—the very idea enraged Harriman. In a flash of bitterness, he pictured himself raising his phaser to Vokar’s head and applying pressure to the trigger.

Harriman looked away, almost unable to contain the emotions roiling within him. Trying to focus on his duties, he lifted his tricorder and, his phaser still in his other hand, carefully worked the controls. The display blinked to life, and told Harriman that Daami’s shields were up, as he’d suspected they would be. He had considered attempting to beam Daami’s entire crew from their ship once the Romulans had lowered shields to transport their boarding parties—and as soon as the radiation had subsequently cleared aboard Hunley—but there wouldn’t have been enough time to transport all four hundred before they had managed to raise shields again.

Harriman looked back up at Vokar. “Where are the shield controls?” he asked.

Vokar glared at Harriman. “There is an old Romulan saying that tells that if all around you lies in ruins, either fault yourself, or seek the serpent. Are you the serpent?”

Harriman said nothing. Instead, he turned and walked over to the freestanding console that sat between Vokar’s command chair and the forward viewscreen. As he did, he peered up at the viewer, and saw the image of Hunleydrifting through space, battered and seemingly beaten. But Lieutenant Bexx had assured him that her engineering team would need only an hour or two to restore warp power, and so the ship would soon be on its way back to the Federation.

From the markings on its controls, Harriman identified the first console he examined as hosting a combination of helm and navigation functions. He quickly moved to the freestanding consoles rimming the bridge, studying the Romulan symbols on them. The fourth panel he came to appeared to contain tactical controls, and Harriman soon found characters spelling out SHIELD FUNCTION. He reached forward and touched the deactivation switch, then checked his tricorder again. Finally, he raised his wrist and spoke into the communicator he wore there. “Harriman to Bexx,” he said.

“This is Bexx,”the engineer responded.

“Lieutenant, we’ve lowered the shields on the Romulan ship,” he said. “You can begin transport.” The Romulans would be beamed, sans any weapons they carried, into Hunley’s cargo holds, where they would be restrained by the ship’s heavily armed crew. They would be held there until Hunleyreached a Federation starbase.

“Understood,”Bexx said, relief evident in her voice.

“Wait,” Vokar said, the word delivered as though the admiral were still in command.

Curious, Harriman said into his communicator, “Lieutenant, transport the bridge crew last.”

“Aye, aye,”Bexx said.

Harriman walked back over to Admiral Vokar, waiting for him to continue. But Vokar only glared at him, his hatred readily apparent. Again, Harriman felt the rush of his own powerful emotions, and found himself not just wanting to shoot the admiral, but to throw him to the deck and beat him.

Vokar stared at Harriman without saying anything for long seconds, and Harriman quickly tired of whatever game the admiral was playing. He had started to move away when Vokar finally spoke again.

“Kill me,” he said simply.

Harriman thought he understood. Although little information had come out of the Romulan Empire in the decade and a half since contact had been reestablished with them—the Romulans had essentially isolated themselves in the century after the Earth-Romulan war—Starfleet Command had drawn some conclusions about the Imperial Fleet. When faced with the possible capture of their vessels, Romulan commanders had, on at least three occasions, chosen instead to destroy their own ships. And while Vokar did not have the capability of taking such action now, he clearly did not want to have to face the consequences of losing his vessel to Starfleet.

With the condition of Hunley,though, and the apparent claim to this space by the Romulans, Harriman would not risk towing Daamiback to the Federation. Nor would he even spend the time here that it would require to download Daami’s files, as much as it might have benefited Starfleet to have such information. Instead, he would order Hunley’s phasers trained on the Romulan vessel once it had been emptied of its crew.

He said none of this to Vokar, though, discovering that he had nothing at all that he wanted to say to this thug. He turned away, intentionally showing the admiral his back.

“Kill me!” Vokar roared, his tone one of command.

Harriman turned back to face the admiral. Then he raised his phaser, pointed it at Vokar’s chest, and fired.

Vokar awoke slowly. He felt disoriented, unsure of where he was, or even of what he’d been doing before falling asleep. A vague recollection of being aboard Daamirose in his mind, but he could not—

It all came rushing back.

Vokar opened his eyes, wanting to know where he was. He lay on his back, and light glared on a clear pane several centimeters above his face. To either side, and down past his feet and above his head, the walls of a container surrounded him. Vokar recognized Federation markings, and although he’d never seen the UFP version of the device in which he now lay, it bore enough of a resemblance to its Romulan counterpart that he knew what it was: a stasis chamber. An emergency medical device, the unit was most often utilized to keep an injured individual in a state of suspended animation until they could receive medical treatment. It apparently also functioned effectively as a prison cell.

The Starfleet officer—Harriman—had shot him, but obviously hadn’t killed him. Worse, Harriman had made him a prisoner of the Federation. Rage coursed through his body, and he felt his hands clench into fists. At the earliest opportunity, he would find a Federation throat and choke it until—

The clear panel above him began to move, retracting into one side of the stasis chamber. Now,Vokar thought, realizing that his opportunity had come sooner than he could have hoped. A shadow fell across him, and he tensed, waiting to see the face of the Federation citizen he would kill.

“Get up,” a man’s voice said in a cold tone.

Vokar reached up to the sides of the chamber and slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. He turned, ready to leap at the first person he saw. Somebody moved into his line of vision, but as Vokar set to act, he saw something that stopped him: a Romulan Imperial Fleet uniform. Slowly, he tilted his head up to look at the narrow face and hard features of the man who wore it, a man he knew well.

“Get up,” Admiral Hiren said again, and he stepped forward and threw the back of his hand across Vokar’s face.

Vokar’s head snapped to the side, and he felt the flesh of his cheek open beneath what must have been a ring on one of Hiren’s fingers. The pain fueled his anger, not for the Romulan admiral who had just struck him, but for the Starfleet officer who had put him in this situation. He looked back up at the unforgiving expression on Hiren’s face, and saw two security guards standing behind the admiral.

Vokar knew that he still lived only because of his connections in the Romulan Senate. He must have been returned to the Empire, perhaps exchanged for one of the Federation spies recently unmasked, who’d been kept alive specifically to be used for such a purpose. And the Federation had probably believed that the Imperial Fleet would punish Vokar far more than they ever would.

And they would have been right.

“Get up,” Hiren said again, and he reached forward and grabbed Vokar by the front of his uniform. Hiren pulled him from the stasis unit and threw him across the room. “Get up,” the admiral repeated. “Get up, Sublieutenant.”

The last word chilled Vokar, telling him his future: he would be made to remain in the Imperial Fleet, reduced in rank and carrying the burden and shame of his failure with him. His ties in the Senate had spared his life, but that would not necessarily be preferable to the fate to which he had now been consigned.

“Get up, Sublieutenant,” the admiral said again, striding across the room toward Vokar. Hiren did not stop saying it for hours.

Minus Four: Cloak

Sulu entered the Enterprisebridge a few minutes before the change of shift. For days, she’d been intending to speak with Ensign Fenn about what had happened to her—about the section of chitin that had fallen from Borona’s finger. Sulu knew that such a loss of exomembrane by a Frunalian often signaled the preliminary stages of what they called the Shift. And while she couldn’t understand what it would be like to face such a metamorphosis, she had seen the expression of fear Fenn had worn when confronted with the prospect. Sulu had been concerned about the young woman, and she’d wanted to make sure that Fenn would be all right.

After the Universetragedy, though, Sulu’s attentions had been diverted in other directions. In addition to dealing with her own grief, she’d been trying to assist the crew with theirs. She’d also been worried about the captain, who not only had the weight of the entire crew’s troubles on his shoulders, but who carried sizable trouble of his own: though he was no longer comatose, Admiral Harriman’s condition had improved no further.

As Sulu walked around the raised perimeter of the bridge, passing behind Lieutenant Tenger and Lieutenant Kanchumurthi at the tactical-and-communications console, she saw the captain glance over his shoulder at her from the command chair. He nodded a greeting to her, and she returned the gesture. As Sulu circled past the port-side turbolift, Ensign Fenn looked up with both eyes from the sciences station. “Hi, Borona,” Sulu said.

“Commander,” Fenn replied. “I was about to contact you. I detected another occurrence of the dispersion in the navigational deflector.”

“Were you able to track it down?” Sulu asked. She noticed a bandage wrapped around Fenn’s wounded digit.

“No,” the ensign said. “The effect lasted less than a second. But I’ve set up some monitoring programs, and they had enough time to eliminate some systems as the cause of the problem: the warp drive and impulse engines, sensors, and environmental control.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Sulu said with a wry smile. “Maybe in another year and a half, we’ll actually figure out what the source of the dispersion is, rather than what it isn’t.” Realizing that her statement could be construed as criticism, which she had not intended, Sulu added, “Good work, Borona.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Sulu paused, allowing a moment for her to alter the course of the discussion. “Did you see Dr. Morell about what happened?” she asked, pointing offhandedly toward the bandage around Fenn’s finger.

“Yes, I did,” Borona said, but then she said nothing more.

“I don’t mean to pry if you don’t want to discuss it,” Sulu said. “I just wanted to make sure that you were all right.”

“No, no,” Fenn said, somewhat hastily. “I mean, yes, I’m all right.” She peered down at her hand, splaying her fingers as she did so. “I’m beginning the Shift.” Fenn looked back up. “I thought Dr. Morell would have told you.”

“She’s probably informed the captain,” Sulu guessed. “Are you in any pain?”

“The doctor prescribed some Frunalian medication for me,” Fenn said. “I think she’s been prepared for this to happen.”

“Dr. Morell is nothing if not attentive to the needs of the crew,” Sulu agreed. “How long will it be?”

“The doctor estimates I won’t begin the main phase of the Shift for another eighteen to twenty weeks,” Fenn said. She looked down, apparently embarrassed. “I’ll need to take a leave of absence before then,” she said. “In about fourteen weeks.”

Sulu knew that Frunalians never allowed themselves to undergo their metamorphosis off of their planet. “It’s all right, Borona,” she said, attempting to reassure her. “Your position as science officer will be here when you return.”

“Yes, Commander,” Fenn said, nodding. Although she did not appear to disbelieve what Sulu had said, she still seemed troubled by what lay ahead for her.

“Captain, we are being hailed,” Kanchumurthi said. Sulu peered over and saw him operating his communications console. “It’s the Tomed.”

Sulu looked back around at Fenn. “Borona, I’m on alpha watch tomorrow,” she said quickly. “Let’s have dinner.” Fenn nodded, and Sulu gave her shoulder a pat.

“How long until we reach the Neutral Zone?” Captain Harriman asked. Sulu stepped down into the lower, central portion of the bridge and walked over to stand beside him.

“Twenty-seven minutes,” Linojj answered from the helm.

Harriman looked at Sulu. “Sooner than Vokar wants to see us, I’m sure,” he said. “Put him through, Ramesh.”

“Yes, sir,” Kanchumurthi said. Then, after a moment, he added, “Captain, it’s not Admiral Vokar.”

Sulu felt her brow furrow in confusion. Had something happened to remove Vokar from command of the Romulan flagship? Had he perhaps been injured, or even killed?

“Put the message through,” Harriman said.

“Yes, sir,” Kanchumurthi replied, and the starscape on the main viewscreen disappeared, the image of a lean Romulan woman appearing in its place, the dark, green-tinged setting of the bridge on which she stood visible behind her. She wore the insignia of a subcommander, the color of tactical operations, and the guise of command. Her cheekbones sat high on her narrow face, her flesh extremely pale and yellowish, even for a Romulan.

“Captain Harriman,” she said.

“Of U.S.S. Enterprise,yes,” the captain said. “And you are?”

As Sulu watched, color rose in the woman’s cheeks, an olive tone that clearly marked her ire. “I am Subcommander Linavil,” she said evenly. “First officer of Tomedunder Admiral Vokar.” Sulu remembered Harriman’s report of his experiences on the planet of the Koltaari, and that this woman had struck him and knocked him to the ground, then threatened him with a knife.

“Subcommander,” the captain said, and Sulu noted an almost imperceptible curl along one side of his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

For a tense beat, Linavil said nothing. What can she say?Sulu wondered. Any attempt to remind Harriman that the two had met previously would simply have underscored how she had apparently made no impression on him. If Vokar had intended his absence during this communication as an insult to Harriman, the captain had clearly returned it to the admiral’s executive officer.

Finally, Linavil said, “Once Enterprisereaches the Neutral Zone, you will reduce velocity to warp factor five and lower your shields.”

“We are not traveling with our shields raised,” Harriman responded. “We expected there to be no need for us to defend ourselves. Our mission here is one of peace.”

Linavil’s lips parted and she expelled a short burst of air, the Romulan equivalent, Sulu supposed, of derisive laughter. “Whatever your mission,” the subcommander said, “you will reduce your velocity and continue with your shields down. Tomedwill escort you to Space Station Algeron. You are not permitted any communications while within Romulan territory.”

“Even with your ship?” Harriman asked, and Sulu thought she could see the mischief behind his eyes.

Again, Linavil paused, her features tensing, her rage seeming barely contained. “At the first transgression of these requirements, Tomedwill fire on Enterprise.”The subcommander turned her head sharply to one side, clearly looking to somebody offscreen, and an instant later, her image vanished, the stars ahead of Enterpriseappearing once more.

Sulu looked at Harriman, who returned her gaze. “I don’t think she likes you very much,” she said.

“Funny,” the captain said. “I just don’t seem to be able to make friends among the Romulan military.”

“No, sir,” Sulu said. Directly ahead of her, the doors to the starboard turbolift opened, and Lieutenant Trent and Ensign DeYoung stepped onto the bridge, the computer scientist and the tactical officer now obviously arriving for beta shift. Others would also be appearing shortly, she knew.

“Do as Linavil…ah, requested,” Harriman said. “When we reach the Neutral Zone, keep the shields down, reduce speed to warp five, and maintain radio silence.” He stood up from the command chair. “And let me know immediately if anything seems suspicious to you, Demora.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. As Harriman made his way to the turbolift, Sulu took her place in the command chair. She still did not feel comfortable about Starfleet providing the Romulans and Klingons with the hyperwarp-drive specifications, and she certainly did not trust either power. But she did trust John Harriman, and as Enterpriseheaded for hostile territory, she tried to focus on that fact. For eighteen years, the captain had commanded Starfleet’s flagship through uncounted dangers, and always, he had successfully protected the ship, the crew, and the Federation itself. Right now, she simply had to trust that he would so one more time.

“Here are the research notes, the design specs, and the sensor logs of all the testing,” Harriman said. He stepped up to the conference table and set down one of the three personalaccess display devices he carried. On its screen, numbers, letters, and symbols marched in formulas along the bottom, below an animated line diagram that described warp fields being generated around an accelerating starship frame.

Harriman stepped back and glanced around the room. All eyes, he saw, had found the padd. At first, nobody said anything, reinforcing Harriman’s conviction that Ambassadors Kamemor and Kage wanted to believe what they had just been told by the Federation envoys, and that both wanted to do what they could to avoid war.

“And you wish us to trust you?” Admiral Vokar asked, his voice thick with skepticism. He stood behind the table, near where the Romulan ambassador and her staff sat. In addition to the Federation, Romulan, and Klingon diplomatic parties to whom the special UFP envoys were making their presentation here on Algeron, Harriman had joined the summit to represent Starfleet; Vokar had subsequently demanded permission to take part in the meeting as well. One of the Klingon ambassador’s aides, a large, imposing figure named Ditagh, had also made noise about wanting a Klingon Defense Force representative present, but Kage had quickly shut him down.

“No, Admiral, we actually do not expect you to trust us,” said the lead Federation envoy—in reality, Commander Gravenor. Lieutenant Vaughn stood behind her, to her right. Both wore raiments befitting their alleged professions, Gravenor in a dark blue jacket and skirt over a white blouse, and Vaughn in a dark gray suit, also with a white shirt. “That is the purpose of our visit here,” Gravenor continued. “That is why Starfleet has agreed to furnish both the Romulan Star Empire and the Klingon Empire with all data relating to our hyperwarp project. It is our hope that your scientists will confirm what we’ve told you, and for you to see that what the crew of the Tomedwitnessed was not the trial of a new weapon, but the tragic loss of a starship and crew testing the experimental drive.”

“And what happens when we confirm something different than that?” Ditagh snapped. Ambassador Kage looked at his aide, but did not stop him from going on. “What happens when we confirm that Starfleet wasconducting tests of a metaweapon?”

Kage peered over at Gravenor. “That is a legitimate question,” he said.

“For you, yes, it is,” Gravenor allowed. “But not for us. Because we know that Starfleet has created no such weapons, we expect that your scientists will be able to provide the necessary verification. There is nothing else that they can verify.”

“So you claim,” Ambassador Kamemor said carefully. “It is clear that the Federation understands the repercussions of their developing and testing a metaweapon; I trust you further understand the repercussions of then attempting to lie about it.” Harriman watched her as she spoke, trying to measure the woman he saw now with the one he had met fifteen years ago at another diplomatic summit. Back then, he and Kamemor had established a rapport, one that had grown during four succeeding encounters. Harriman had even provided her with some guidance for her son regarding the young man’s then-fledgling military career, guidance which had served the son well, Harriman had later found out. Now, though, Kamemor seemed to studiously avoid his gaze. Even when he had first entered the room and been introduced by Federation Ambassador Endara, her attention had passed quickly over him, as though even the slightest acknowledgment of their prior relationship could foul these talks—which, Harriman supposed, might well be true. “If the Romulan Empire is unable to authenticate the Federation’s claims,” Kamemor went on, “the consequences will be severe.”

“Begging the ambassador’s pardon,” Vaughn said, “but since we are telling you the truth, the only consequence should be peace.”

Kamemor nodded. “Let us hope so,” she said.

Beside Kamemor, Vokar moved, striding behind the Romulan delegation and down the length of the table to its end, where he scooped up the padd Harriman had set down. “I will duplicate these data so that I can scrutinize them myself,” he said, his tone clearly signaling a challenge to Harriman and the Federation envoys. Ripples of color wavered across Vokar’s features, and Harriman glanced out the viewing port. In the distance, the remnants of the planet that had once orbited here refracted the light of this system’s star. Although he could not see from this vantage where Enterprisesat docked at the large central ring of Algeron, Harriman spied the underside of Tomedas the ship orbited the space station. “The scientists and engineers on Romulus can check these readings,” Vokar continued, “but I know what my crew observed, and I will have them examine the Federation assertions firsthand.”

“Please,” Gravenor said, “by all means, Admiral.”

“The Klingon Empire demands its own set of data,” Ditagh said.

“Of course,” Harriman said. He moved forward again and placed the other two padds on the table. “I brought complete copies for each of the delegations.”

“You may take a set of data, Ambassador Kage,” Gravenor said. “Please feel free to match what we have provided you with what we have provided the Romulans. We wish there to be no misunderstandings.”

Kage nodded in Gravenor’s direction. “Thank you,” he said to her, his voice unusually mellow for a Klingon, Harriman thought. He had never met Kage before, but he knew that the Federation Council held the ambassador in high regard. Evaluated to be one of Chancellor Azetbur’s most trusted and loyal adherents, Kage was therefore believed to be a strong proponent of peace.

“I will repair to my vessel now,” Vokar said, holding up the Federation padd, “so that my crew can begin to analyze these data.”

“Pardon me, Admiral,” spoke up one of Kamemor’s aides, an intense young subconsul named Merken Vreenak. “With your permission, sir, and with yours, Ambassador—” Vreenak looked to Kamemor. “—I would like to examine the readings myself.” When Kamemor said nothing, he added, “So that I may provide a direct report to you and this delegation.” He smiled thinly, an expression Harriman imagined people wore when sliding a dagger smoothly and slowly into somebody’s back.

“That will be acceptable,” Kamemor said at last. “That is, if Admiral Vokar has no objections.”

“Not at all,” Vokar said, and Harriman felt suddenly certain that the admiral and the subconsul had worked together previously. Vreenak stood from his chair and emerged from behind the table, following Vokar as he passed Harriman and headed for the door. Before leaving, the admiral turned and addressed the assemblage. “I hope to have some preliminary findings within the day,” he said. Then, looking directly at Harriman, he added, “Perhaps within hours.” His message—that he expected to uncover evidence of Federation duplicity—was unmistakable.

“Excellent,” Harriman said, unfazed. “We look forward to your conclusions.” Vokar rounded on his heel and left, Vreenak trailing after him.

Good,Harriman thought as the meeting began to break up around him. Vokar’s predictable insistence on having his crew study the hyperwarp documents at once would likely keep Tomedand Enterprisedocked at Algeron for several more hours. And that would be enough time for Harriman to do what he had actually come here to do.

Sulu paced her quarters anxiously. The sounds of her footsteps, muffled by the carpeting, reached her ears too easily, underscoring the stillness of Enterprise.Tethered to an alien space station, inside the territory of a hostile power, the ship seemed vulnerable. Should political tensions finally give way to warfare, the crew of Enterprisewould be immediately endangered, cut off as they currently were from the rest of the Federation.

“Damn,” she muttered. She felt powerless, unable to take any meaningful actions as events unfolded around her. Captain Harriman remained on Algeron with the special UFP envoys, presumably handing over hyperwarp technology to the two powers who posed the greatest threat to the Federation. Enterprisesat undefended and silent, its shields lowered, its communications blacked out. And Sulu shuttled back and forth across her quarters, arms folded across her chest, searching for something that she could do to help.

“Damn,” she said again. She considered going to the bridge and relieving Xintal, but she knew that there would be no point; standing another watch would not put her mind at ease, nor would it do for the crew to see her in such an apprehensive state. But she felt that she needed to do something.

Sulu walked to the outer bulkhead and peered out through the viewing ports there. Above, the tiered, circular form of the Romulan space station rose away from Enterprise,the lights from the station’s own ports evidence of the inhabitants and visitors aboard. Beyond Algeron, the unblinking stars rested in the firmament, voiceless observers to all that transpired within the galaxy.

Without consciously choosing to do so, Sulu picked out the two stars that roughly defined the ends of the Bonneville Flats. Like a recurring nightmare, the moments of Universe’s hyperwarp tests came back to her: the excitement she had felt, the numbers that had streamed across the sciences station readouts, the voices of the Universecrew. The sound of the explosion.

And then the silence. The terrible, cruel silence.

She knew that the specter of the Universetragedy would haunt her for the rest of her life. She would learn to live with it, of course, and there would eventually come days that passed free of the horrible memories, but it would never leave her completely. We have no comlink with theUniverse, Lieutenant Kanchumurthi had said from his communications station, and Sulu had known at that moment that tragedy had struck. There had been the sound of what could only have been an explosion, there had been the painful silence after it, there had been the zeroes on her readouts, but when Ramesh had reported the loss of communications with Universe,the certainty of what had happened had come to Sulu.

Each morning since the events out on the Bonneville Flats, she had awoken with thoughts of Universein her mind. She had found some salve in working with the Enterprisecrew to ease their pain, but only so much. Words and thoughts and actions could bring understanding and acceptance, and perhaps even closure, but the loss could never be lessened. Fifty-one people—fifty-one heroes—had given their lives in pursuit of a dream, a dream of exploration that would have been shared by all. Now, only the memories of those lives remained.

Sulu turned from the viewing port and walked over to the inner corner of her quarters, to her desk. She sat down and activated the computer interface there. It chirped to life, the image of Enterpriseappearing on the display. “Computer,” Sulu said, “list the crew roster of the U.S.S. Universe.”After the Romulans had revealed their knowledge of the testing out on the Bonneville Flats, and after Starfleet had opted to respond by fully disclosing what had taken place, all records of the incident had been declassified.

On the monitor, a list of Starfleet personnel appeared, blue letters on a white background. Sulu began to read through them, noting that Captain Kuwano had not actually held the rank of captain, but commander; an engineer by trade, according to the document, she had been designated acting captain for the Universetrials. Sulu recognized the names of the helm officer—Lieutenant Seaver, whose given name had been Doris—and the chief engineer—Lieutenant Commander Chernin, whose given name had been Alexei.

A knot formed behind Sulu’s eyes, and she reached up and rubbed her forehead. What am I doing?she asked herself. She understood the grieving process, recalling the emotional storms she had weathered during other times of loss throughout her life. But was that what she was doing now? Was she working through her shock and sadness, or obsessing over them, staying mired in her sorrow?

Maybe the captain was right,she thought. Maybe I should talk to Dr. Morell.

Sulu dropped her hand into her lap and looked again at the Universeroster on her desktop display. She had no desire to diminish the memories of these women and men by fixating mindlessly on their loss. She wanted instead to honor them, to find the words or gestures that would exemplify her grief, and in so doing, venerate the lives of the Universecrew.