Titan, Book Three

by Christopher L. Bennett

“I see no choice but to try,” Qui’hibra said, addressing the whole chamber. “There is far more at stake here than our pride or our traditions or our convenience. We teeter on the brink of chaos, and must find a way to restore the balance. If that means changing how we live, then we will change it. Because the one thing that must not change…is that the Pa’haquel lead the charge against the chaos. No matter where the chase takes us, no matter what it costs us, we are the ones who hold it at bay, who keep it from consuming more than its due. We are the ones with our beaks at chaos’s throat through all eternity, as the Spirit of the Hunt created us to be. We do not serve our own convenience, our own habits, our own bloodlust. We are the Spirit’s hounds. Remember that.”

  As the elder spoke, Riker could tell that he was winning them over. Some remained skeptical, and others seemed uneasy but realistic about the need for new solutions. Once Qui’hibra finished, a vote was called, and the proposal passed by a narrow majority. Aq’hareq and Se’hraqua were among the dissenters, unsurprisingly. With the proposal passed, Qui’hibra turned to Riker. “Now—how do you propose we proceed?”

  After the Conclave session ended, Se’hraqua attempted to leave hastily and speak to no one. He had no wish to be reminded of his humiliation, of being forced to submit meekly to chastisement by that weak old bird Qui’hibra. By all rights he should have sat on the Conclave as an equal by now, with his own skymount to command. That the Spirit had spared him, of all the adult males in the Se’ha line, was proof enough that he was worthy and fated for something more than subordinate standing. But Qui’hibra had refused to trust in his worth, keeping him on menial duties and denying him the opportunity to make a kill he could claim as his prize, a mount of his own where he could rebuild the Se’ha line and bring it glory and prestige in the Hunt.

  And then the faithless fools on Titan had thrown off the balance, perhaps cheating him of any further chance of making his kill. They had offered this mad scheme of cooperation with the skymounts, but Se’hraqua could never bear to desecrate the holy beasts so by forcing them into slavery while they lived. The skymounts must live free and die free; the Pa’haquel had the right to master only their bodies, not their souls. That was the way of the Hunt, and Se’hraqua could not imagine participating in the corruption Riker proposed, even if it meant he would never have his own mount. But to his disgust, the Conclave had acceded to this madness, and now he wished only to get them out of his sight.

  Before he could make his break, however, he found himself waylaid by Elder Aq’hareq. “I would speak with you, Hunter.”

  Se’hraqua lowered his head respectfully. Aq’hareq had voted against Riker’s scheme and thus was still worthy of respect. “Please, Elder. I apologize again for my offense.”

  The elder placed a gnarled, half-bionic hand on his shoulder. “To me you gave no offense. You spoke eloquently and with true reverence for the Spirit and the skymounts. You show a commitment to our traditions which is rare in one so young.”

  Se’hraqua stared. “Thank you, Elder! Such words from such a celebrated veteran bring great honor indeed.” To be in Aq’hareq’s favor could bring many rewards, he realized. If he cultivated that favor well enough, perhaps he would be asked to join the Aq’Tri’Hhe fleet-clan as it sought to rebuild from the Hounding. Even if no new mounts would be forthcoming, there might still be posts of real responsibility needing to be filled, and perhaps he could rise to eldership of a mount if its current elder fell in combat and he acquitted himself well. So although his esteem for Aq’hareq was sincere, he was not blind to the benefits of expressing it.

  Aq’hareq brushed off his praise, though. “I am but a hound of the Spirit, as Qui’hibra said. Although I do not share his opinions about what that means.” He grimaced. “He has never been one of strong faith. To him, the great balance is but a mundane thing, a matter of ecology and population control.”

  “The Elder is a loyal servant of the Spirit.” For appearance’s sake, Se’hraqua judged that he should defend his elder. Just not too emphatically.

  “But not an inspired one. Not one who understands the deeper meaning of the Hunt, the core of our traditions. We do not hunt to keep the ecology in balance! That is but a secondary effect.”

  “Yes,” Se’hraqua said. “We hunt to give reverence to the Spirit, to serve as the Spirit created us. We pledge our blood and our lives in Its service.”

  “True, my young friend, true. Death affirms life, death feeds life. That is the balance. To think that will change just because of a temporary setback to the Hunt—that is folly.”

  “I agree, Elder.”

  “Good, good. Because I would request something of you.”

  “Anything, Elder!”

  “Do not be so quick to pounce on this. I make it a request only, for I would be ashamed to make it more. I would like you to volunteer for Qui’hibra and Riker’s mission to…negotiate with the skymounts.”

  Aq’hareq spoke the word with the same distaste Se’hraqua felt on hearing it. To dare to speak with skymounts as equals, to trespass upon their holy flesh without having won the right in the trial of the Hunt? “Elder, why would you ask me to participate in such blasphemy?”

  “I doubt the skymounts will allow the blasphemy to occur at all. If they do, then it is part of the Spirit’s plan anyway. But either way, we need an observer present who can offer…a dissenting perspective. Who can evaluate the events from a clearer vantage. Qui’hibra and Riker’s plan is not the solution to our crisis, of this I am sure. But by observing and learning, young one, perhaps you can scout out a path to a real solution.” The elder leaned closer, lowering his voice. “For instance, perhaps you could discover the means Titan used to distinguish our warp signatures from the skymounts’. If we could compensate for the difference, it would restore our advantage of surprise.”

  Se’hraqua felt a thrill of hope at the prospect, but skepticism tempered it. “The prey could still teleport us from our own mounts.”

  “We can devise defenses against that. Besides, think how much worthier the Hunt for skymounts will be if they actually fight back! At times I wonder if the Hunt has not grown too easy, made us soft. Looking at Qui’hibra’s weakness, and how easily he swayed the Conclave, it is hard to doubt. Perhaps this whole crisis is the Spirit’s way of challenging us to become stronger, worthier servants.”

  Se’hraqua nodded slowly. The elder was wise indeed. Surely the hardships the Spirit had inflicted on his own family were just such a trial, and it was his task to prove himself strong enough, worthy enough, by playing a role in helping the Pa’haquel regain their strength. Could he have a destiny even greater than winning his own mount and leading the Se’ha line to renewed prosperity?

  There was only one way to find out. He had to follow this spoor wherever it led, and be ready to strike at the right moment. “I will do as you ask, Elder. And proudly.”

  “Excellent. Together, and with the others who think as we do, we will see to it that the Hunt endures. As it always has, and as it always shall.”

  “Counselor, I have told you before that I do not desire your assistance.”

  Deanna met Tuvok’s eyes evenly as he stood in his doorway, stiff as a statue. “I appreciate that, Commander. But I’m not here to offer counseling. I’m here because I want your assistance on an important matter. May I come in?”

  Tuvok hesitated. But T’Pel came up behind him and said, “Husband, simple courtesy dictates that we invite her in and hear her proposal.”

  He seemed to soften fractionally. “Very well.” He stepped aside and let her enter. T’Pel invited her to sit and undertook to prepare tea for them all. But Deanna knew Vulcans had little interest in wasting time on social niceties, so she went right to business, explaining Riker’s plan.

  Unsurprisingly, Tuvok reacted with puzzlement and discomfort. “Surely you cannot think I would be of use to you in this assignment,” he said. “My actions prove that I cannot resist the astrocoelenterates’ emotional influence.”
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  “Your actions are precisely what make you most useful to me, Tuvok. If the jellies are to be convinced to work with their age-old predators as allies, the proposal needs to come from someone they trust. Even if Dr. Ree is right that they don’t hold grudges, they would still be wary of traps and deceptions. They’re most likely to trust the proposal if it has the backing of someone they consider to be on their side, someone who’s helped them against the Pa’haquel and clearly has no agenda in the Pa’haquel’s favor.”

  “ ‘Only Soval could go to Andoria,’ ” T’Pel quoted as she poured the tea. Deanna recognized the Vulcan proverb, though she was more used to the human “translation” which substituted different historical referents.

  “That’s right. And if this plan does work, if we are able to get the two species cooperating in the defense of inhabited planets against other cosmozoans, then they’ll need to learn how to work together—how to fight together. It would help greatly if the jellies had access to the thoughts of an experienced tactician such as yourself, Tuvok.”

  He avoided his wife’s gaze. “How am I to help convince them to accept our agenda when I am so easily made a puppet of their wishes, their impulses? I would be a liability to you, Counselor, not an aid.”

  T’Pel handed him his tea. “Logically, husband, she would not be here if she believed that to be the case.”

  Deanna appreciated her support. “I am able to resist acting on their emotions. I have shielding techniques I could teach you, more advanced than standard mental shields.”

  Tuvok shook his head. “I doubt they would be effective. Dr. Ree believes that my mental shielding may be permanently impaired by the neurological traumas I sustained in the Delta Quadrant and Vikr’l Prison.”

  Deanna smirked. “Tuvok, mental shields aren’t like deflectors on a ship. The brain is more adaptable than that, more plastic. As with any other part of the body, its weaknesses or injuries can be compensated for with training and exercise.”

  “Within limits. Do you not think, Commander, that I have been engaged in such exercises of my own since I came aboard Titan?” He snapped out the words, then paused and grimaced. T’Pel touched her fingers to his, calming him somewhat. “You can see for yourself that they have not been effective. My ability to manage even my own emotions is tenuous at best.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable, Tuvok, after what you’ve been through these past few months.”

  He was shaking his head before she finished the sentence. “You do not understand.”

  But she had sensed his reaction to her words “these past few months.” That pointed her in the right direction. “You don’t believe this is a recent problem, do you? What I’m sensing from you is that you see it as an intrinsic character flaw.” His refusal to meet her eyes or T’Pel’s confirmed it. In spite of herself, she let out a chuckle. “Tuvok—you think of yourself as overemotional?”

  “I am pleased that you find my personal failings amusing.”

  “No, that’s not it, Tuvok. It’s just—I got to know some of your Voyager crewmates somewhat while you were adjusting to your return home. And most of them agreed…” She hesitated, but then realized he’d probably take it as a compliment. “They thought you were the stiffest, most humorless Vulcan they’d ever met. They liked you, of course, and respected you, but they certainly didn’t think of you as emotional.”

  “Perhaps not under normal circumstances, Counselor. Even a weak fortification will hold when it is not assailed.” He went on reluctantly. “But when I have been exposed to…external sources of strong emotion…I have never been able to manage them successfully. You are aware of my meld with Lieutenant Lon Suder, I assume.”

  She nodded. During her work counseling the returned Voyager crew, she had become acquainted with most of their adventures. Suder had been a Betazoid, one of the Maquis rebels who had been integrated into Voyager’s crew. A violent sociopath, he had murdered another crewman. Since life imprisonment in the brig was not an option, Tuvok had attempted to rehabilitate Suder, using a mind-meld to teach him Vulcan control. In turn he had taken Suder’s violent emotions into himself and had difficulty controlling them. “You can’t blame yourself for that, Tuvok. Suder was a fellow telepath, and a dangerously unstable personality. There was no way of predicting the side effects.”

  “Still, my inability to cope with his violent emotions endangered the crew. And there have been other instances.” Another long pause.

  “Go on,” T’Pel told him softly. “It is all right.”

  Deanna felt him take strength from her. “Such as when Mr. Neelix and I were…joined into Tuvix.”

  Her eyes widened. She knew from the records that Tuvok and the ship’s boisterous native guide had been merged by a freakish transporter accident into a single being, integrating both psyches into a distinctive third one. Deanna had found it an extraordinary case study, although to this day she couldn’t begin to understand—or at least believe—the science involved. Yet few of her interviewees had spoken much about the incident. It had clearly been a very painful set of events. The crew had grown fond of the unified being, who called himself “Tuvix.” But his continued existence would have ended Tuvok’s and Neelix’s lives. The choice between the one and the two had been wrenching for the crew, and they had been reluctant to speak of it afterward. Tuvok, to all indications, had never acknowledged that he remembered the incident at all, and even the talkative Neelix had respected his privacy. For him to bring it up now was striking.

  “I—Tuvix was prepared to condemn both myself and Mr. Neelix to oblivion,” he said, “so that he could live on. In his fear, his selfishness, he was willing to sacrifice two other lives, and to jeopardize the morale and stability of Voyager’s crew.” Deanna understood what he meant. Had Tuvix remained merged, the crew’s lingering hostility would have severely disrupted morale. And on a ship stranded in the wilds of space, perhaps for a lifetime, morale was crucial to survival.

  Still, she met Tuvok’s eyes and spoke comfortingly. “How can you blame yourself for that? Tuvix was a unique entity, the result of the synergy between you and Mr. Neelix. You can’t attribute any of his actions, his choices, to either of you uniquely.”

  “Perhaps. And for a time I was inclined to assume that Tuvix’s resistance to self-sacrifice came from Mr. Neelix. He always possessed…a healthy fear response. However, he repeatedly demonstrated an instinctive regard for others, a willingness to subsume his own needs to those of his shipmates.”

  “And you haven’t? Service to others, to the greater good, is a Vulcan ideal.”

  “It is a logical ideal, and when I am governed by logic I am able to make that choice. But as part of Tuvix, I was an emotional being—just as much as I am when under the star-jellies’ influence. And I coped poorly with the emotions of fear and self-preservation, making a selfish and irresponsible choice.

  “It has been the same ever since. My control is too easily compromised, and when it is, my judgment is dangerously unreliable.” He fell into memory, shaking his head slowly. She sensed he was contemplating the horrors of his imprisonment on Romulus, but he did not choose to address it. But he gripped his wife’s hand more firmly. “When I felt the jellies’ anguish, their need…I knew I was out of control, but I did not want to regain it. I chose to betray my duty, Counselor. I chose to assault and injure Lieutenant Pazlar, to violate her mind. I knew it was wrong and I did not care.”

  “Your priorities were distorted by the jellies’ influence. That’s all.”

  “And it is enough to prove that I cannot help you. What if I fall under their influence again? What if I were to force a meld onto T’Pel, or onto you?”

  It was no random example, Deanna knew. She had made no effort to keep Shinzon’s assault on her a secret. That would have been giving into shame; it would have been a surrender. Still, she didn’t appreciate Tuvok using it to try to scare her off. Rather than letting it show, though, she just raised an eyebrow in an almost Vulcan way and
said, “Mr. Tuvok, I’d just like to see you try it. I can handle myself.”

  “As can I,” T’Pel told him with confidence.

  “And I can help you do the same, if you’ll let me. Even if, for the sake of argument, you’re right about having less emotional control than most Vulcans, maybe the problem is that you’ve been relying on Vulcan techniques—techniques which are designed to set aside emotion, rather than accepting its presence and letting it inform your judgment constructively. Maybe you could benefit from a more Betazoid approach.”

  Tuvok pondered her words, but remained unconvinced. “Even if your training could help me, it would take time to master. Months, possibly years. It is not a feasible option in the current situation.”

  Deanna hesitated. “There may be a shortcut.” At his warily inquisitive look, she went on. “I once dealt with a case where an elderly Vulcan suffering from Bendii’s Syndrome melded minds with a human who was…known for his stoicism.” Out of respect for their privacy, she kept the names of Sarek and Picard to herself. “It gave the Vulcan the control he needed to perform at his peak for one vital mission, while the human bore the brunt of the Vulcan’s uncontrolled passions. I suppose it was analogous to your meld with Mr. Suder, only in reverse.” She took a breath. “If you meld with me, then you will be able to call on my shielding disciplines to block the star-jellies’ emotions from your mind.”

  Tuvok frowned. “But if that portion of your mind is so occupied…then it will not be available to you. You will not be able to block their mental pressure.”

  She fidgeted. “I know.”

  “You would be…helpless against mental intrusion.”

  “Yes.” Stop rubbing it in, or I might change my mind. Even though she found the star-jellies’ minds pleasant enough, the prospect of having no control over their access to her mind left her feeling very vulnerable. A touch that was enjoyable when invited could be unbearable when one could not refuse it, as Deanna knew all too well.