by Neal Jones
"Doctor, I understand your concerns, but I haven't fully explained to you the nature of the Guardians. We are not ordinary cybernetic beings. By that I mean that we were not created overnight. The scientists who were in charge of the Guardian Project knew that they needed to create beings who would not allow the younger races to use Erayan technology in a destructive or selfish manner. In order to fulfill that objective, they instilled within each of us certain...directives, or laws - if you'd prefer to think of it that way - that do not allow us to succumb to petty desires such as a quest for power or selfish gain. This was accomplished through a combination of genetic engineering as well as a programming of the nanotechnology that's part of my artificial physiology. I know, I can see from your expression that that doesn't make complete sense, but I can't think of any other way to explain it. It's not that we don’t feel the same emotions that you do, it's just that we are capable of rising above them, as well as controlling them. I have no desire to use the hypergate and the Erayan technology to gain power over the Federation, or the Jha'Drok, or any other empire in this quadrant. It's simply not in my nature. The same would hold true for all the other Guardians that were created during the course of that project. And no, as I said earlier, I don't know how many others were created. Right now, we must take all of this one day at a time. I believe the first step should be to send a reconnaissance team into Jha'Drok territory to see exactly what we are up against."
"That's being done as we speak," Gabriel said. "Lieutenant Varis left with a security team two weeks ago. I don't expect them back for another week at least."
"Good. We'll wait until we receive their report before deciding what to do next." Ilkara paused, and s/he appeared conflicted.
Laura stepped in. "Assuming, of course, that the Jha'Drok don't annihilate us in the meantime."
"That's enough, doctor," Gabriel ordered.
"There's one more thing we need to discuss," Ilkara said. "I'm sorry, doctor, but I will not be accompanying you to K'Ssala Ormmai. Admiral Drumhold has decided that I should remain on Exxar-One for at least a year, possibly longer." Laura opened her mouth to protest, but Ilkara continued. "The primary reason is because of the Jha'Drok and the fact that they have control of one of the hypergates. Until that threat is neutralized, it's better that I remain here in case I am needed to assist in that area."
Laura sighed, nodding. "That doesn't surprise me. When did Drumhold tell you this, because I haven't received any communiqués from him in the last couple days."
"I received mine this morning. I had assumed he copied it to the two of you." Ilkara glanced at Gabriel.
The commodore nodded. "I received something from Drumhold this morning, but I left it in my inbox. I haven't had time to read it yet." He leaned forward and folded his hands on the tabletop, locking his gaze with Ilkara's. "I've gone back over your initial reports to Captain McKenna, to Admiral Drumhold, and to the press. I understand your need to keep crucial information about your people – and especially about your technology – to yourself. What I want from you now is your assurance and your promise that if there comes a time that we deem necessary for full disclosure from you, that you will be completely and totally honest with us. Doctor Sysko makes a valid point about the Jha'Drok. It's very possible that the Emperium may become an immediate threat to the security of the Federation, and if that happens, I want your word that you will hold nothing back."
"Please do not patronize me, commodore. I am fully aware of the current political climate of this sector of your quadrant, and you have my word that I will fully cooperate when necessary. Is there anything else we need to discuss at this time?"
Marc exchanged a glance with Laura. "No. Thank you."
Ilkara stood. "Doctor, I would like to meet with you tomorrow at some point to review your work thus far."
"Actually, I'd prefer to enjoy my weekend. I'll meet with you first thing Monday morning."
"Very well."
When the Erayan was gone, Laura muttered, "Bitch."
Marc smiled dryly. "Always the sore loser."
"She doesn't really have the authority to shut down my networking project, does she?"
"Afraid so. My orders from Hazen say that Ilkara has broad, discretionary powers where the hypergate and all Erayan technology is concerned. I sent you a copy of that communiqué this morning."
Laura crossed her arms as she paced anxiously to the viewport. "I haven't checked my mail yet."
"There's still the control center beneath K'Ssala Ormmai. A lot of technology to sift through. Not to mention the numerous civilizations we'll be making first contact with as we explore those sectors beyond that planet."
"So fucking what?" Laura snapped. "We're making first contact with new civilizations every few years as we expand beyond our own borders with routine exploratory missions. Linking our hypergate to the hundred others out there would have gotten me on the cover of every major news publication from here to the outer rim."
"Oh, grow up, Laur! Ilkara's made her decision. Deal with it."
"Fuck you!"
Marc laughed. It only increased Laura's irritation, but after a few moments, she just shook her head and started chuckling as well.
"You're right. Working with Ilkara will be enough prestige for now." She gave a frustrated sigh. "It's just..."
"Just that getting this close to a major scientific and technological discovery and then having it yanked away from you is hard to swallow."
"Something like that."
"I still want you to stay. Make up an excuse. Tell your bosses you're needed here to help with the analysis of the technology on K'Ssala."
Laura shook her head. "I've already thought about that, and Ilkara's not the only one who's making final decisions today." She turned and walked to Marc. "I can't stay. And it's probably a good thing that Ilkara is ending my work here with the hypergate. It's time I get back to Mars and my work there. Someone else can take over whatever's left of this project." She turned to go.
"Running away as usual. See ya around, Laur. Just don't wait another twenty years before dropping in to fuck up my life again."
The blow struck home, just as he knew it would, and Laura turned on her heel, marching back to Marc with a speed that he hadn't anticipated. He knew the slap was coming, and he relished the burn mark it left on his cheek.
They both stepped back and regarded one another in silence for a few moments, and then Laura turned and walked out of the wardroom. Marc pulled out a chair - the same one Laura had stumbled into - and sank into it, closing his eyes as he let out a deep sigh.
Then he smiled. Closure was always good for the soul.
Chapter 13
____________________
( 1 )
TWO DAYS PASSED. MESSANI, ALIIRA, AND their entourage were long gone, well on their way to the next stop of their tour. The religious fervor among the Chrisarii population, however, had not waned in the slightest. If anything, Aliira's "rebirth" was all they could talk about, and Commodore Gabriel was getting damned tired of it. First Cleric Tajek and Lieutenant Dynyl were still sitting in the brig, awaiting a trial date. As Navarr had predicted, both were charged with conspiracy to commit murder, and Dynyl had already agreed to testify against Tajek in exchange for a reduced prison sentence. Tajek's followers had held a protest just this morning, and, had Navarr not posted guards, the scene would have surely turned ugly because several of Tosar's congregation had turned up to serve a counter protest. For most of his flock, the fact that Aliira was still alive was further proof of her divine rebirth and the existence of the Varashok.
When it rained it fucking poured, and on Exxar-One it never quit raining. Gabriel stared at the mounds of paperwork on his desk, and the scar on his chest throbbed more than ever these days. Doctor Rosenberg insisted that the wound was healing fine, although a little slower than typical, and he had used one of his tools to conduct a deep tissue scan. Nothing abnormal turned up, so of course the CMO had launched into another choru
s of "Why haven't you started seeing a counselor?" and Gabriel had replied with the usual, "I don't need a shrink. I'm fine." This was their fifth performance of this particular duet.
He had hoped to lose himself in his work, and for the last couple days he had succeeded. Laura and Jeanette were still on the station, but the doctor was steering clear of Gabriel's path. He wasn't sure about his daughter, but he suspected that she was steering clear as well, probably sensing that it would be better to wait until her mother was off the station before resuming a dialogue with her father.
Gabriel sighed as he leaned forward and began sifting through the hard copy printouts on his desk. Most of it was paperwork that required his signature - a dozen crew rotation approvals, three supply requisition approvals, six reports from various department heads about station operations - and on and on and on. The commodore seized his pen and signed all of them in one furious marathon, and then dumped the pile into his outbox for Yeoman Randall to take care of that afternoon.
He was reaching for another stack when the door chime interrupted. "Come in," Gabriel said without looking up.
Major Saveck stepped into the office. "Sir?"
Gabriel glanced up. "Yes, major, what is it?"
Saveck handed the commodore a hard copy letter. "I'm requesting a leave of absence, sir. I have a family matter on homeworld that I must take care of."
The flash of anger that bloomed in Gabriel's chest was irrational and uncalled for, but he latched onto it anyway. "Now? You absolutely need to take care of this now??"
Anger flared in Saveck's eyes, and his expression hardened as he stood his ground. "Yes, sir. I have plenty of leave time on record, and I will only be gone for a few days."
"No, I'm sorry, major, I can't spare you right now. I need your help with this damn religious situation that's been going on ever since Aliira left."
"What's that, sir?"
"You heard me. I can't grant you leave at this time."
"Sir, the request is just a formality. I've already filed this with the proper military channels on homeworld, and it's been approved."
"Well, then, you didn't need to bother me with this, did you?" Gabriel snapped. He snatched the paper from Saveck's hand and shoved it on top of the nearest pile.
"Thank you, sir," Saveck sneered. He turned to go.
"Major, wait." Gabriel felt his face grow warm as he realized how immature and childish he had just sounded. "I apologize. That wasn't professional."
"No, sir, it wasn't."
Gabriel experienced another flash of anger at the Chrisarii's smug tone, but this time he suppressed the impulse. "Dismissed."
After Saveck was gone, the commodore sighed as he sat down and leaned back. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to calm the maelstrom that churned inside his chest. He was more upset that he couldn't sort out his emotions and explain the source of each. All he could feel was a jumbled mess that made him want to scream or sob or step into a boxing ring to go a hundred rounds with somebody. It didn't matter who.
Well, yes, it does matter, he admitted to himself. You want Colonel Serehl. You want the whole damn race. You want them all to suffer as much as you have!
"I want Laura to suffer," he muttered. Then he laughed to himself at his immaturity. He sounded like a petulant first grader, but it felt good.
The door chime bleeped.
"Yes, what is it?"
The voice box on the com panel said, "Laura." She sounded hesitant, and maybe a little amused. For one irrational moment, Marc thought that she had heard his comment.
Gabriel sat up, smoothed out the front of his tunic, and replied, "Come in."
Laura stepped into the office, pausing just far enough inside the threshold to allow the door to close. "You have a minute?"
"For you? Of course."
She smiled dryly at his tone, and then sat. "I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon, and I'd like to have dinner tonight."
"Why?"
"For closure."
Marc laughed.
"I'm serious."
"Don't be ridiculous, Laur. You and I will never have closure. Not as long as Jeanette is alive, anyway."
"She wants to stay here for awhile."
"I'd like that."
"Really?"
"Yes. But I don't want to have dinner with you. Let's just say goodbye now and be done."
"Marc -"
"No. Not that tone. I hate that fucking tone."
"What tone?"
"That one! That whiny, pleading tone that you thought sounded so cute twenty years ago. It's just as annoying now as it was then."
"What the hell is your problem? You hate me that much?"
The anger that Marc had taken out on Saveck ten minutes earlier was now unleashed on its intended recipient. "You've got to be joking! You really have to ask?"
"I know you're still angry about the engagement and about Jeanette -"
"You're damn right I am!" He stood and grabbed the front of his uniform. "I was ready to leave this for you. All of it. My bags were packed, my resignation letter written, and my ticket to Mars was in the same envelope as yours. And you fucking -" The revelation slammed into him with enough force to stop him mid-sentence. "That's why you broke it off. That's what scared you so bad that you had to leave in the middle of the night."
"What?" Laura tried to look perplexed and then outraged, but she knew she'd failed. He'd scored a direct hit.
Marc sat, shaking his head, his anger dissipating as fast as it had materialized. "Did you think that kind of sacrifice was too much for you? Too much responsibility? Did you think that I would regret it ten years down the road?"
"Are you saying you wouldn't have?"
"No."
"Bullshit." Laura stretched out her arms to indicate the station around them. "This is your life, Marc. That uniform is all you've ever wanted your whole life. You told me that on our second date. You even told me that you were going to make captain before thirty-five because your dad was thirty-six when he finally got that third bar on his epaulet, and you were determined to set a new record.
"The academy came first in our relationship. You canceled our third date because you were so upset that you'd only received a passing grade on your semester project instead of a stellar one. You were dead set on graduating with top honors because that's what your father and grandfather did, and you didn't want to let them down. You still don't. And I get it! I really do. And that's why I didn't believe you when you told me you were dropping out of the academy. Not at first anyway. But you're right. You wrote that letter of resignation, you packed a suitcase, and you insisted on buying our tickets, and that's when I knew you were serious. You were going to give up your career - give up everything you'd ever cared about your whole life - just for me." She faltered, shaking her head as she tried to find the words to explain.
"Yes, you're right. I did it just for you. Most people would refer to this type of sacrifice as true love."
"Don't be like that!" Laura snapped. "You know I'm right. Ten years into our marriage and you would have regretted that sacrifice. You would have blamed me for ruining your life, we'd have gotten a divorce, and then where would you be?"
"How can you be so fucking sure? How do you know that Jeanette would have been our only child? How do you know that I wouldn't have applied to a university, maybe even graduated with an MBA? How would my life have been different if you hadn't been so terrified and run away?"
"It's not my fault that you stayed. You could have turned in that letter, bought a ticket to some other destination, and never looked back. The fact that you stayed in the academy and that you're still wearing that uniform proves my point. All I did was call your bluff and you folded."
Dammit, Marc fumed silently, she's right. "You're wrong. I stayed because when you left, my military career was all I had. It's all I've had ever since."
Laura stood. "And that's your choice. I almost feel sorry for you, Marc. Most people find a way to make
room in their lives for more than just a career. I wasn't your only option." She turned and walked quickly out of the office, not wanting to give him time to get in the last word.
When the door closed, Marc said softly, almost to himself, "No. But you were my best." He sighed, smoothed out the front of his uniform, and dove into the pile of work that covered his desk.
( 2 )
Doctor Rosenberg strolled into Amy Wickers' hospital room, and the twelve year old patient looked up from her book reader with a sullen expression. "More tests? Or maybe another few doses of medication that makes me feel like shit?"
"Does your mother let you use that kind of language?"
"Yes."
"You're a bad liar. And no, no more tests. In fact, I'm here to sign your release. I'm sorry I kept you a little longer than I initially planned, but I wanted to be sure that you were well enough to make it to Pelray. And there was a couple of things in your last bio-scan that worried me."
"Yeah, whatever," Amy muttered. She shut off the book reader and dropped it onto the nightstand.
"You know, Amy," Rosenberg said as he pulled up a chair, "this type of attitude doesn't do you or your mother any good. I realize you got handed a really shitty deal, but do you think taking your anger out on those who are trying to help you makes the situation better?"
"No, but it makes me feel better. And anyway, you said you like an honest patient."
"There's a difference between honesty and being downright rude."
Amy motioned to her I.V. "Are you going to take this out or not?"
Ben stood and walked around the bed to the bio-monitor. "I have a gift for you." He shut off the I.V. and then pressed a piece of fresh gauze to the back of her hand where the needle was inserted. "Your mom said you like puzzles." He withdrew the needle, and then taped down the gauze over the puncture sight. "It's a Dalkorian one. Have you heard of those?"
"Yeah." Amy sounded almost interested.
"They're supposedly unsolvable by anyone who hasn't studied spatial mathematics."
