Having dealt with enough bureaucrats in my time, I had to say, “Unfortunately, I can.”
“Should I prepare a reply?”
I thought about several creative ways to respond to that particular message. Then I got an inspiration. Smiling, I said, “No. When the next window opens, send all the results and reports on the ACB test we have at that point as a reply.”
“Any accompanying message?”
“None. Let the results speak for themselves.”
Zilder also smiled. “Ho’nig is smiling on you today, Commander.”
I laughed. “Whatever.”
I downloaded the message from the da Vinci to a padd, then went back to the camp.
After finishing the day’s work, I ate with the workers—something I’ve been doing every night since I killed that shii. It’s been fun hearing the different stories.
Then I read the da Vinci message, which turned out to be from Kieran.
Hey, Sonnie. Well, things are business as usual here on the ol’ homestead. Captain Gold got a nice message from his granddaughter—her child’s going to be a girl, and she and his grandson-in-law are arguing over the name. I started a betting pool, which the captain is pretending not to know about. Right now, “Judith” is the favorite.
Let’s see—Pattie went into a fit yesterday. Carol got another recording of that Sinnravian drad music she loves so much. It’s the latest from that person who founded the “atonal minimalist” subgenre. She’s been playing it over and over again. I really wish you were here—’cause then you’d get to listen to Pattie request a new roommate. I hate being the first officer, you do know that, don’t you?
I miss you—and not just because I want you to be first officer again. We had to crawl inside the guts of a derelict Tellarite freighter yesterday, and you know more about those weird overpowered engines they insist on. Fabe nearly blew the thing up—it was pretty ridiculous. We got out of it okay, though.
There’ve been some nasty rumblings coming from the general direction of Deep Space 9—apparently they were attacked. There’s a rumor going around that the Defiant was destroyed. I’ll let you know—I’m sure you don’t get much Starfleet gossip out on that crystal ball of yours.
Well, I gotta go—it’s my turn to run engineering. Talk to you later, Sonnie, and try not to have too much fun.
Razka came in as Kieran was finishing up. “Is that your mate?” he asked.
I took a long enough pause that Razka probably thought I didn’t hear him, and he repeated the question.
“I guess you could say that. Sort of.”
“Do you like your mate?”
I smiled. Whatever else I could say about how I felt about Kieran, I could safely say that I liked him. “Yeah, I do.”
Razka looked thoughtful. “I haven’t liked any of mine.”
At that, I couldn’t help but laugh—which turned out to be okay, because he laughed, too. Then he took out two mugs and started to pour some Saurian brandy.
Gazing askance at him, I said, “I thought we finished Entorr’s stash.”
“We did. You think Entorr’s the only person who smuggled in brandy?”
“My mistake.”
He handed me one mug, then raised his. “To mates. We cannot live with them, but we really cannot live without them, either.”
I raised my mug as well, and decided not to tell Razka that he had just quoted a very old human cliché.
Personal log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53283.0
Another good day. The antimatter pods are online and working well, the tubing is almost finished, the dish is finished, the delivery system will be on-line in two more days—a week ahead of schedule—we seem to have finally gotten the bugs out of all the sensor palettes, and the mining mechanics are almost finished as well.
Best of all, I was distracted no less than four times by a spectrum burst. I’m very proud of my sense of wonder, and grateful for its return.
Right now I’m relaxing in my tent with a bowl of halfway decent vixpril and a mug of Saurian brandy, having just read the latest letter from Kieran. Apparently those rumors about DS9 were mostly true—a Jem’Hadar ship did attack the station, and now the entire Alpha Quadrant’s at yellow alert. It wasn’t the Defiant that was destroyed, it was the Aldebaran. The da Vinci’s still on its latest assignment—some three-hundred-year-old ship that they found in the event horizon of a black hole. Kieran joked that they’re going to try to tow it out with wires, as if that could possibly work. They’re also ready to drop that at a moment’s notice in case this really is a prelude to another war.
I hope that it isn’t. I don’t think I could deal with another war so soon after the last one. I still have nightmares about that time the Sentinel was trapped behind enemy lines. I know I got a commendation for that, and everyone talks about how heroic I was for getting the warp drive back on-line and then recalibrating our shields and warp signature so the Breen thought we were Cardassian—but the fact of the matter is, I was scared to death and running on pure adrenaline and instinct.
Then again, Geordi gave me a commendation for helping get the shields back up when the Borg attacked way back when. I still haven’t the foggiest idea what he was thinking. I was the greenest of green ensigns, staring off into space at the drop of a hat because eighteen people died.
Not that I should be blasé about death, of course. God, listen to me. I think I’ve been drinking synthehol too long—my system isn’t used to the real stuff.
That does it. No more of this damn brandy.
I still haven’t written a response to Kieran since the last letter. He’s probably going to start worrying. But I just don’t know what to say to him.
At least he isn’t pushing in these letters. That’s typical, really. He never pulled his goofy aw-shucks act or his c’mon-go-out-with-me-again routine while on duty, and he wouldn’t do it on an open channel, either.
What really gets me is that Razka asked me if he was my mate, and I almost said yes.
And yet, I haven’t really thought about him all that much since I got here. Part of that is just the grind of the project, and part of it is probably just my predilection for avoiding anything unpleasant in my personal life.
That’s our Sonnie Gomez. She can field-strip a warp core, can fool a Breen into thinking an Akira class starship is a Cardassian freighter, can get a subspace accelerator built with substandard equipment and cranky workers, can defeat the mighty monster shii—but can’t get her love life straightened out to save her life. The last time things were in danger of getting really serious with Kieran, I was promoted and transferred off the Enterprise. I wonder if I could’ve fought to stay on the ship—I mean, there had to be something an antimatter specialist at the full lieutenant level could do on the Enterprise. On the other hand, I could hardly pass up that project on the Oberth. On the third hand . . .
On the third hand, I’m definitely giving up the brandy. It makes me way too philosophical. And maudlin.
I just heard a scream. Better go check it out.
Supplemental
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Letter from Commander Sonya Gomez on Sarindar to the family of Kejahna on Nalor, tenth day of Sendrak, twenty-third year of Togh
Gentle beings:
You don’t know me, but my name is Sonya Gomez. I was recently put in charge of the Sarindar Project, for which Kejahna, the head of your household, was the foreperson.
I regret to inform you that Kejahna is dead.
I am sure you have heard the legends of the monster shii on Sarindar. We had believed those legends to be false. It turns out that—like many legends—these have a basis in fact. A creature that fits the description in your culture’s tales of the monster shii attacked the camp and killed three people last week. I had killed that creature myself, and thought that it was the last we’d seen of it.
However, yesterday, another creature attacked th
e camp. It is quite a bit larger than the animal that I killed. It went through our electrified fence like it was nothing and went after the nearest people.
Kejahna was very brave. He leapt into the monster’s path in order to save the life of another of the workers. He gave his life so that others would live. You would be very proud of how he died, though I know that it is small comfort to you right now.
We are about to go out to hunt the creature down, but I wanted to take the time to compose this letter in case I don’t make it back. I felt I owed it to Kejahna to tell you myself about what happened.
He was an excellent worker, and a good man. I will miss him, and I feel his loss deeply—though not, of course, as deeply as you. He spoke often of his family during evening meals, particularly how much he was looking forward to spending time with his son Revodro when this project ended.
I hope I get to convey my condolences in person, and again, I am very sorry for your loss.
Sincerely,
Commander Sonya Gomez
First officer’s log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53283.1
There is a second “monster shii” on Sarindar. At 2342 hours, it broke through the electrified fence that surrounds the work camp. Unlike the previous shii that I killed, and which murdered several workers, this one suffered no appreciable injury. It immediately ripped into the nearest tent, which belonged to Kejahna, the foreperson, and three other Nalori: Erobnos, Caargenne, and Houarner. The creature definitely killed Kejahna—who leapt in front of an attack that would have decapitated Caargenne, and was disemboweled—and gravely injured the other three.
The shii then carried all four bodies out of the camp.
I witnessed most of this, having come to investigate when I first heard the screams of the Nalori being attacked.
While I record this log entry, my assistant Razka is organizing a second hunting party. I have composed a hasty condolence letter to be sent to Kejahna’s family. If Erobnos, Caargenne, and Houarner wind up killed, as I suspect will be the case, I will do the same for their families—assuming I survive. I fear that this creature will not be as easy to stop.
Razka is calling me. The party is ready to go.
Second officer’s log, Lt. Commander Kieran Duffy, U.S.S. da Vinci, Stardate 53288.1
I’m worried about Sonnie. And I’m worried about me, too.
The da Vinci’s still at yellow alert while we wait to find out what’s happening at Deep Space 9. There’s every possibility that another war with the Dominion is in the offing. If that’s true, we’re all in for a galaxy of trouble, especially since our first officer’s so far away.
Commander Sonya Gomez, first officer of the da Vinci, my immediate superior, and a woman I have grown very fond of over the years, is right now in the very distant Nalori Republic. That distance, combined with the Nalori’s lack of Federation relay stations, means that just a communication to her would take two days to arrive.
I’ve already sent her two messages, but haven’t heard anything back. I hope she’s okay. The Nalori don’t like the Federation much, and only asked for her because they needed her expertise to help build a subspace accelerator, to help them get chimerium off the planet Sarindar.
A planet full of that super-dense ore is a great find, and I’m glad that we’re getting to help mine it. I’m also glad that this will probably mean improved relations with the Nalori.
But I’m not glad that we’re potentially on the brink of war, and Sonnie’s so far away.
I miss her. And I’m worried about her.
Letter from Razka on Sarindar to Marig on Nalor, eleventh day of Sendrak, twenty-third year of Togh
My wife:
I write to you for the first time since arriving at this dreadful place. The reason is, I fear for my life. Since the cause of the fear still exists, I write. Before I go any further, however, I wish to make a request of you. Please kiss each of my children for me. When you do so, tell each of them that their father loves them. Even the ones who are too young to comprehend. You will understand why I ask this after you read this letter. But, please, do that first. Thank you.
Of all my wives, you are the one I dislike the least. So I wish you to have this record of my life in this place. We are building a subspace accelerator here on Sarindar. It will allow our glorious government to harvest chimerium. That, I’m sure, means as much to you as it does to me. But they’re paying me, so I won’t complain.
The first thing that happened when I got here will amuse you. The foreman issued me a weapon. Me. It took three days just to figure out which was the right end to point. But the foreman insisted. He was a big man named Kejahna. He assigned me to be the aide to the project leader. That used to be Nalag. You would have liked Nalag. He was pleasant. He was also driven insane by this place. Much the same way you drive me insane, to be truthful. After he went mad, the government did something odd. They requested help from the Federation. The Federation sent a woman from Starfleet. I thought that made them madder than Nalag, at first. But Commander Gomez has been magnificent. Several here started calling her “Sañuul” because of her work. She made the load-lifters work. She brought the project back on schedule. She fixed several errors in the subspace accelerator.
She also killed a monster shii.
No, your fears have not been confirmed. I have not gone insane. I sometimes wish I had, but no. The monster shii is real. It is not just the stuff of legends. And Commander Gomez killed it after it attacked and killed several workers.
The problem with legends isn’t when they turn out to be true. It’s when they turn out to be half-true. You see, in all the stories I’ve heard about the monster shii, I’ve never heard anyone mention two. But there were two here. The second one is much bigger than the first. It killed Kejahna and took three others. Commander Gomez told me to organize a search party. She and Kejahna did that the last time a monster shii attacked. I didn’t want to go with her, but she insisted. Especially with Kejahna dead. Do you know what she told me? That I was the only person she trusted now. Armed with my sonic rifle and this undeserved responsibility, I went out with her.
Sarindar is a beautiful place in the daylight. At night, it is somewhat less so. When the sunlight glints off the flora, it’s like walking in a jewel. Without that light, it’s like walking in a tomb. Especially when we came across the dead bodies. Houarner, Erobnos, and Caargenne, the three who were taken. Also Kejahna’s body. We found their remains on the ground, ripped to pieces. Except, of course, for their heads. The monster shii presumably still had them. The one Commander Gomez had killed had taken poor Kelrek’s head.
We continued to follow the trail. It led to a large cave. Commander Gomez told me that the last monster shii was in a cave. This cave was apparently much bigger. But it had the same thing in it. Skulls. Many many skulls from many many animals. Some of them looked quite old. The monster shii had obviously been killing for a long time.
Commander Gomez, for some reason, kept saying that we had done something to provoke the monster. I explained that it didn’t need provocation. It simply collected heads. Then she said that if it collected heads, it might be rational. I suppose they teach that sort of silliness in Starfleet. Most of the party thought her to be mad. Zilder, the religious Bolian pilot, summed it up best. “This is not one of Ho’nig’s creatures.” Ho’nig is his god. From the moment we met, he tried to convert me to worshipping Ho’nig. Unfortunately, his missionary zeal was not very convincing, and was even less so when the monster shii cut his head off.
I froze when that happened. I just stood there and watched as the monster shii leapt out of nowhere and ripped Zilder into pieces. Just two days ago, I was teasing Zilder about his conversion attempts. In fact, I joked that he should have tried to convert the monster shii. Then Commander Gomez would not have had to kill it. Instead, it killed him. Commander Gomez did not hesitate. She fired on the creature. Several others followed suit.
I did not. I just stood there. M
y mouth was agape. I couldn’t even raise my weapon. My first thought was that I would never see my children again. That is why I asked you to kiss them earlier. I swore at that moment that the first thing I would do if I made it back alive was express my love for my children.
Not that I expected to get back alive. Even as most everyone else fired on the creature, it continued its rampage. The sonic rifle fire didn’t even slow it down. This wasn’t a total surprise, as it is about twice as big as the first one to attack. That one is a corpse, presently sitting in the camp hospital. Its fellow started killing indiscriminately. After Zilder, it decapitated D’Ren and literally sliced Eridak in two. Entorr started to run away, and G’sob ran toward it.
Still I did not move. I just stood in the cave. People were scattering around me. The shii was slicing at anything that came near it. And the only sound I heard was the whining of the rifles. Sonic rifles don’t give off any kind of emission, the way a laser would. They just make that whining sound. I heard no screams, though I saw mouths move. I did not hear the sounds of flesh being rendered, though I saw it being done. But all I could hear was the sound of every rifle firing. Every rifle, save my own.
At least until Commander Gomez ordered a retreat. That I did hear. Somehow, then, I found the wherewithal to make my legs move. We ran back to the camp. I came straight to my tent and began writing this letter. I have now fulfilled my oath to myself. When the next window in the suns’ interference opens, we will send many messages. The primary one will be to request of the government that the project be terminated and we be allowed to leave. This letter, however, will go as well.
If I die here, please let my children know who their father was. Tell them that I was a coward, or lie to them, it does not matter. Just tell them.
Miracle Workers Page 19
