Star Trek®: Myriad Universes: Infinity’s Prism

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Star Trek®: Myriad Universes: Infinity’s Prism Page 38

by William Leisner, Christopher L. Bennett


  The princeps paused to let the revelation sink in among the Defiance crew; a ripple of surprise passed through the room, and he let it subside before he continued.

  “There is a crew of ninety-two humans on board in a state of artificially induced suspended animation. Doctor Amoros is currently working to stabilize a handful of the crew so that we might revive the rest of them successfully at a later time.” He glanced across the room. “Doctor Douglas, will you elucidate, please?”

  A woman with dark, shoulder-length hair stood up; Sarina Douglas was currently Defiance’s senior medical officer while Constantin was with the boarding party. “Lord,” she said, with a nod. “We have determined that five members of the Botany Bay’s crew perished due to system malfunctions during their remarkable odyssey. Quite amazing, when one considers the comparatively crude nature of their technology. A large percentage of the remainder are in a delicate condition, enough that they would require a lengthy and careful reanimation process to bring them around. As the princeps stated, Doctor Amoros has brought a group of the strongest individuals to a waking state.”

  Tiber gave a derisive snort.

  “You have something to add, Squad Leader?” Bashir shot him a look. “Speak, if you wish. I give my officers freedom to make their opinions known.”

  “Just an observation, if it pleases the princeps,” said the trooper. “Those…people on that ship are hardly what I would consider strong by any proper measure of the word. They are just…”

  “Basics,” said Douglas. This time the pause for the revelation was a little longer, and several of the officers showed signs of annoyance or disbelief.

  “Sarina is correct,” Bashir continued. “The sleepers are, to a man, all pure-strain Earth-born humans, but they are from a time before our Great Ascension. Remnants from an era when mankind had not yet embraced the gifts of genetic augmentation to improve itself.”

  O’Brien leaned forward. “Princeps, I think a better word to describe them might be throwbacks.” Tiber grunted in agreement with the tactical officer. O’Brien gestured at a holo-image of a sleeper captured from one of Amoros’s medical scans. “These are primitives, sir. Unenhanced, weak relics of a past that humanity has left in the dust.”

  “They are our ancestors, after a fashion,” offered Douglas.

  The optio didn’t even look at her. “Our species shares an ancestry with apes, too, but I would not want to unlock a cage full of them. Those sleepers are a lesser subspecies of our race, something we bred out of our bloodlines for good reason!” O’Brien fixed his attention on Bashir. “Lord, why are we even wasting time with this distraction? Our mission at Ajir was to intercept and capture the rebel Kira, and that we have done. This…distraction…” He waved his hand dismissively. “This is not something for a ship of the Khan to be loitering over. Give it to the Vulcans. Or better yet, let me dispose of that distasteful old hulk and be done with it!”

  Dax gingerly raised her hand, and Bashir nodded to her. “Dax, you wish to add something to this discussion?”

  “Does a Trill maggot’s opinion carry more weight than mine?” O’Brien grumbled.

  The princeps gave him an acid glare, and the optio fell silent, realizing that he had spoken out of turn. Bashir glanced at Dax and nodded again. “Speak.”

  “Respectfully, I would suggest that the Botany Bay and her crew will be of great historical interest to Quadrant Command and the Khanate. May I remind you that His Excellency Tiberius Sejanus Singh, grandson of Noonien Singh and Earth’s Khan Imperator, has himself spoken of his interest in archaeology? Many of your planet’s libraries and knowledge bases prior to the rise of the First Khan were lost during the chaos when the Romulan Wars swept across your solar system. Between them, ninety-two humans from the twenty-first century could do much to fill those voids.” She swallowed and went on, talking quickly in case one of the Terran officers tried to speak over her. “What I have recovered from the crew records indicates that the ship is manned by an eclectic mixture of experts from several disciplines. Scientists, engineers, all of them with superior skill sets…” Dax paused, taking a breath. “Superior by 2010 human standards, of course.”

  Bashir was silent for a long moment, musing. Dax’s invocation of the name of the current Khan of Earth had silenced any further dissent. “We cannot ignore the historical importance of this find,” he said finally. “As culturally dislocated and inferior as this Botany Bay is, it remains a part of Earth’s past. We will return with it to Station D9, deliver the rebels, and bring our primary mission to a close, as the optio noted.”

  “That will take us weeks,” said O’Brien. “With that wreck under tow, we cannot even reach cruising speed.”

  The Andorian raised her hand in request and Bashir acknowledged her. “If I may make a suggestion, Princeps, there is a way that we might reduce our travel time.”

  “Go on.”

  “I have confirmed Helot Dax’s estimation of the sleeper ship’s condition. I believe I could install a structural integrity field generator and rig a temporary warp sled from the nacelles of our shuttlecraft.”

  “You can make the Botany Bay warp-capable?”

  “Aye, lord. Warp five, six even. The infrastructure is essentially no different from that of a conventional starship. In the broad strokes, the technology has changed little in the past three hundred years.”

  “A better solution,” Bashir allowed. “Very well. Get it done.” He gave the room one final sweep of his gaze, and found no one ready to question him. “My orders have been given. Return to your duties.”

  Julian found Jacob waiting for him after the chamber had emptied. The young man was watching him intently. “I know that look,” said the commander. “You said nothing in the briefing, but now you come to me with a concern you were unwilling to voice in front of the others.”

  “The optio seems determined to ignore the value of this discovery. I do not understand why.”

  Bashir smiled without humor. “Miles O’Brien maps his life by what he considers to be hostile, Jacob. If it is not something he can kill, it makes him uncomfortable.”

  “You make him sound almost Klingon.”

  “His bloodline is McPherson-Austin. He has their wit and temper. Battle is the only thing that focuses his mind.” The princeps studied Jacob for a moment; as with the elder Sisko, the young man had the hard eyes of those who carried the pure strain of the Amin lineage in their DNA. Jacob’s father also shared the same predilection for ruthlessness that the original Elijah Amin was said to have shown, when the Somalian warlord was Khan Noonien Singh’s contemporary.

  “Bloodline only sets the mold for a man. It does not predetermine his character.”

  “Some would dispute that,” Bashir said carefully, considering the youth, searching his face for a measure of his honesty.

  Jacob took a breath. “I know that many aboard the Defiance think I am my father’s eyes and ears,” he began.

  “I have never said those words,” Bashir replied, but the young man kept talking.

  “The reality is, he had me assigned to this vessel not so I might keep an eye on you, lord, but so that he could watch over me.” Jacob’s face softened a little. “My father…is not a generous man. Control is very important to him.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I know that when you arrive in Bajor orbit with the Botany Bay following on behind, he will take it from you and make certain it is his name that Khan Tiberius Sejanus Singh hears, not yours. He will make this prize his own.”

  Julian was very still. “A loyal son would want that, would he not? Glory for his father?”

  Jacob’s eyes flashed. “The only glory I wish for is the glory of the Khanate and Earth…” He hesitated. “And if some fraction of that might come to you, Princeps, then it would also touch your crew.”

  A slow smile crossed Bashir’s face. The boy was telling the complete truth. There was no artifice about him. “Tell me, Jacob. What do yo
u want from your service?”

  “A command of my own, one day,” he admitted. “But only one that I earn myself, not one granted to me through my father’s influence.”

  “If Lord-Commander Sisko learned of this conversation, he would not be pleased, you realize that?”

  Jacob nodded. “I see no need for him to be told, Princeps, do you? All I have done is what a good adjutant must do: give his commander all the information there is at hand.”

  “Indeed,” Bashir replied. “And so you have.” He turned to leave.

  “If I may ask, sir, what will you do?”

  Julian didn’t look back as he walked away. “I am going to meet these people from the past, and see how unlike we truly are.”

  3

  Bashir had to bend down to step through the hatchway into the Botany Bay’s gymnasium/recreation room. Several heads turned to study him as he entered, and on their faces he saw a mixture of anxiety, fear, and distrust. Each of the awakened sleepers wore the same kind of single-piece ship suits, largely characterless except for nameplates over the right breast and a pair of insignia patches on the shoulders. One symbol showed the sleeper ship in flight against a starry background; the others differed in color and pattern. After a moment, Julian recognized the sigils as national pennants from the countries of old Earth.

  Dax was already there with Amoros, seeing to the welfare of a dark-skinned man lying on a temporary gurney. The princeps nodded to them, gesturing for them to continue.

  One of the sleepers drew himself up, and Bashir recognized the man from the cryo-chamber. The captain. He still seemed tense and haggard, but his deathly pallor was gone. Like all of them, the man was a head shorter than any of the Defiance’s human crew. Julian evaluated him as he took a step forward: the man moved with the awkwardness of someone recovering his balance, but still he had the watchful air of a career soldier about him. For a moment, Bashir thought of how he would kill this man, if the need arose. If matters turned to that, it would not be difficult. He had no doubt that any one of his crew could end the life of a Basic with a single, well-aimed blow. I wonder: is he now asking himself a similar question about me?

  “I’m Captain Shaun Christopher, commander of the Botany Bay. I take it we’ve got you to thank for our wake-up call?” There was open challenge in the man’s words.

  Bashir gave a nod in return. “I am Princeps Julian Bashir of the Starship Defiance. You have already met some of my crew…” He gestured toward Amoros and Ezri.

  “Star-ship?” An auburn-haired woman sounded out the word, making it a question. “And you say you’re from Earth, is that right?” The name O’Donnel was visible on her uniform.

  “We are,” Bashir allowed. “Although some of my crew are from other worlds. Dax here, for example.”

  O’Donnel studied the elfin Trill and gestured at her own neck. “Those dots on your flesh…That’s natural? Not a tattoo?”

  “She is not human,” Bashir answered for the helot. “She is from a world called Trill.”

  Christopher gave the woman a sideways look. “Let’s take this one step at a time, Shannon.” He glanced up at Julian. “Shannon O’Donnel’s my senior engineer,” he explained. “These are my other core staff; Hachirota Tomino, copilot. Rudy Laker, environmental ops, and Rain Robinson, navigator. The guy on the gurney is Reggie Warren.”

  Tomino gave a curt nod but said nothing, cradling a squeeze-bulb of water in his hands; the man wore a set of corrective lenses over his eyes, and Bashir found himself wondering why someone with less than perfect optical acuity had even been considered for the crew of an interstellar vessel. The rail-thin Laker had a dour expression, and he too did not venture any words.

  But Robinson looked up, pushing back an unkempt line of dark hair from her face, and her eyes widened as she ran her gaze over Julian. “Whoa. They sure breed you fellas big out here, huh?”

  A tic of amusement tugged at Bashir’s lips. Robinson was the only one of them who looked at him without fear. There was a spark of intelligence in her eyes he found interesting. She was appealing, in an everyday sort of way.

  Christopher’s cautious manner remained unchanged. “As you can imagine, we’ve got a lot of questions,” he continued, “and frankly, your people haven’t been very forthcoming.”

  “Caution is a matter of course in space, Captain, would you not agree? You must understand, we did not expect to encounter your ship in this region.”

  Robinson spoke before Christopher could answer. “And where exactly is this region? Your men haven’t let us take a star fix or anything.”

  The captain nodded. “That’s as good a place to start as any, uh, Princeps.” Bashir’s rank seemed awkward coming from his mouth. “How about it?”

  Julian hesitated, unsure how much he should reveal at once. “You have covered a very great distance. Over one hundred light-years.”

  “A hundred?” repeated Shannon. “Then…Eta Cassiopeiae, where we were aiming for…We didn’t get there…”

  “Your journey was extended by quite a measure.”

  Christopher stepped closer to Bashir, his eyes narrowing. “We’ve seen the equipment you brought aboard our ship, your gear…” He jabbed a finger at the pistol and hand computer hanging from Bashir’s armor, and then at the medical kit in Amoros’s hands. “What kind of technology is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “They are tools,” Julian mood-shifted; he was starting to take issue with the man’s tone, his lack of respect.

  “Let’s start over.” Christopher folded his arms. “I have a different question. Tell me what year it is.”

  Bashir began to turn toward Amoros. “Perhaps, if—”

  “Did you mishear me?” Christopher demanded. “It’s not a tough one. What’s the date?”

  Julian gave him a cold stare, his expression hardening. “By your system of calculation, it is June eighteenth, in the year 2376.”

  O’Donnel’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, and Bashir was slightly pleased by the sudden, stunned expression on Christopher’s face. The statement had blown the wind from the captain’s sails.

  Only Robinson spoke, in an awed gasp. “Three hundred sixty-six years. Holy shit.” An amazed grin flashed across her face. “Wow. I’m old.”

  “That can’t be right,” insisted Tomino. “Botany Bay only had enough longevity for the flight to Eta Cas.”

  “It seems your vessel was better constructed than you thought,” Dax offered, and Bashir nodded, giving her permission to go on. “It is remarkable that a craft like yours has survived for so long.”

  “Everything we knew is gone…” O’Donnel said softly, her voice heavy with quiet shock. “All of it, just dust…” She clutched her hands together to stop them from trembling.

  “We left Earth behind,” Christopher told her. “Remember, Shannon, we left all that…”

  Laker nodded. “He’s right. This doesn’t change anything.”

  “It doesn’t?” The woman shot her captain a severe look. “Dammit, Shaun! You didn’t say a thing about being on ice until the twenty-fourth century! You told us we’d wake up in orbit around a new planet, somewhere we could make a fresh start!”

  “There is a thriving colony in the Eta Cassiopeiae system,” said Amoros, packing away his medical gear. “It is called Terra Nova.”

  Warren sat up. “Maybe we should head back there…”

  The doctor paused, musing. “You would not fit in.”

  O’Donnel glared at the deck. “Isn’t that why we left home in the first place?”

  Bashir saw the spark of silent communication that flashed between Tomino and Christopher at the other woman’s terse statement. She spoke out of turn. They are concealing something from us.

  “We examined your ship’s logs,” said Dax. “There was some data loss. The circumstances of your departure from Earth were unreadable…”

  “We…” Christopher hesitated for a moment, and then let his shoulders sag. He placed a hand on
his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Could we discuss this at another time? I’m growing…fatigued.”

  “Yeah,” added Tomino. “Me too.”

  Robinson caught a sharp glance from her commander and nodded slowly. “Oh, right. Yeah. Tired.”

  Amoros opened his mouth, a disagreement forming on his lips, but Bashir spoke first. “Of course. Forgive me, this ordeal must be quite trying for you. We will let you rest.”

  “I appreciate that,” Christopher replied.

  Bashir nodded, his smile never touching his eyes. “And of course, I will leave a contingent of my men on board to assist you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  He turned away, weighing the man’s blatant lie in his thoughts. “Oh, I insist, Captain Christopher.”

  Rel spun the Vulcan lirpa around in a sharp arc and brought it down at Bashir’s head; the princeps blocked it with the short sword and shoved her back. Her bare feet skipped across the combat room’s pliant flooring and she sucked in a breath, her chest heaving. He nodded, wiping a line of sweat from his brow. “Go on,” he told her. “What else have you learned?”

  The Andorian engineer stalked around him, watching for an opening, delivering her report as she shifted on the balls of her feet, the lirpa sliding through her fingers. “Deep search through the…Defiance’s engineering database…was fruitless,” she panted. “Aside from the most cursory of mentions, Botany Bay…does not exist. The records talk only of such craft in a…conjectural sense. As if they were designed…but never actually constructed.”

  “The vessel drifting alongside us would seem to put the lie to that statement,” he told her, and attacked, stabbing with the sword. Her parry was a poor one, and the blade edge nicked the azure skin of her arm, just below the shoulder. She didn’t cry out; Bashir liked that about sh’Zenne. Even though she was just a subaltern helot, even though she was an engineer, the woman still fought like a warrior. The Andorians were a hard people, and in their way they had taught humanity much about the challenges of life in the galaxy at large. In the end, they had lost their war against the Khanate, of course, but they did not let it make them slaves, not in the way that the Vulcans or the Trill had. Andorians were hunting wolves; they were the raptors on Earth’s glove. They had a place of special honor.

 

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