Strange New Worlds 2016

by Various

  She picked up her padd and stepped toward the door, but paused. “Data?”

  “Yes, Doctor?”

  “You’re a far better friend than most humans could hope for.”

  The android’s brows drew upward and his lips pursed slightly. Crusher knew it wasn’t surprise exactly—that was a human emotion—but Data was showing, in his own way, that her statement had affected him. As she turned to leave, Crusher saw that his pupils had already begun flicking rapidly back and forth, as unfathomable quantities of data points coursed through his neural net.

  “Here you are—hot Rustafagan tea, harvested from the cratered moons of Belhayden.” Guinan slid a steaming mug across the bar to where Beverly sat. “Quite a rare delicacy in the Hahlron system. I guarantee it will wake you up.”

  There were few people Crusher would trust to choose a beverage for her, especially in her current state of exhaustion. Ever since Will Riker talked her into trying genuine bottled tequila at his birthday party, the doctor had been a bit more discerning in who she accepted a drink from. Guinan was no ordinary bartender, though—her El-Aurian intuition had proven so accurate over the years that Crusher thought of the woman as an enigma, a mysterious being whose wisdom often presented itself in unexpected ways.

  There were a number of off-duty crew in Ten-Forward, though no one else was currently seated at the lounge’s bar. Guinan watched her for several minutes while the doctor pored over the padd. There was nothing new there to see, and Crusher knew it, but she felt compelled to keep trying.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so,” Guinan finally said, “you look awful.”

  The doctor rolled her eyes. “So I’ve been told. The affliction on Shar-Mi’la is a puzzle I can’t seem to solve, not even with Data’s help.”

  “Yes, Worf was telling me about it earlier.” She nodded to the Klingon seated at a table in the corner. Guinan’s large disc-shaped hat accentuated her gestures, lending them a sort of graceful power. “It’s a puzzle, all right. But I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.”

  “Oh?” Crusher took a sip of the aromatic tea. It was much too strong for her taste, a sudden assault of intense bitterness on her palate. That’s odd, Beverly thought. Guinan’s suggestions are usually spot-on.

  “It’s obvious what the issue is,” the bartender said. “You feel guilty for being a bad parent.”

  Crusher’s jaw dropped. Guinan was a friend, a trusted confidant. An eccentric, direct one sometimes, but a friend nonetheless. How could she be so insensitive? “I beg your pardon?”

  Guinan shrugged. “I’d feel guilty too if I had sent my son off with some unknown entity, completely unprotected. I mean, Wesley is still just a boy—”

  “I don’t believe this—”

  “The child just isn’t ready for that kind of responsibility.” The El-Aurian folded her hands neatly on the bar, underscoring her calm acceptance of this fact, which only drove Crusher’s indignation deeper.

  “Guinan! Wes—” Crusher dropped her voice as the patrons at nearby tables glanced over. “Wesley is twenty-two years old. He’s one of the most intelligent human beings I’ve ever met. He even saved the Enterprise and her crew when—”

  “Take it from me, Doctor,” Guinan said, crossing her arms. “The universe is a vast, vicious place, and your son has no idea what he’s stepping into. He’s going to get eaten alive.”

  Crusher stood slowly. Her voice shook. “Now, you listen to me. Wesley is unique. Gifted. Destined for something more than what I could give him, even more than what Starfleet could give him. He’s earned this opportunity and is more than ready to handle it!”

  Guinan smiled slowly, her dark lips stretching into a knowing grin. She shrugged. “My mistake.”

  The doctor stood there tense for a moment, then closed her eyes and sighed as she realized what had just transpired. “You know, Guinan,” she said, sitting back down, “I never can tell when you’re being serious.”

  “Neither can I. But I find that conversations are more interesting that way.”

  Doctor Crusher looked down and pressed the warmth of the cup into her palms so that the steady heat bled into her. The aroma wasn’t quite so off-putting now. “It’s selfish of me, isn’t it? To want him to stay. When he’s capable of more.”

  “Yes, but that’s the paradox of parenthood. You want them with you because you love them. But your purpose as their guardian is to get them to the point where they don’t need you anymore.”

  Well, I’m extremely successful by that standard, Crusher thought. She sighed. “Guinan, I can’t help thinking that if I had done something differently, paid more attention to his needs, maybe Wes might have found a career path here that could have challenged him. Maybe not Starfleet, but something—”

  “—something that could compare with freely exploring all of space-time with a near-omnipotent guide?” Guinan tilted her head skeptically.

  Doctor Crusher groaned, fatigue drawing her eyes nearly closed. “No, I suppose not. If I had tried to keep him here, he would have been absolutely miserable for the rest of his life.” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Or worse . . .” She grabbed the padd and flipped back through the genetic sequences. It can’t be—it can’t be that simple. It was so obvious now.

  The doctor slapped her combadge. “Crusher to Commander Data. Meet me in transporter room three immediately!”

  “Aye, Doctor. On my way.”

  As she rose to exit, she paused. “Guinan, feel free to call me a bad parent anytime!” The El-Aurian smiled and shrugged, and Crusher turned to dash out of Ten-Forward.

  The keepers who were on duty in the Shar-Mi’lan quarantine medbay had no way to know what Doctor Crusher was doing. And she didn’t have time to explain. She saw their panic, their misunderstanding written plainly on their faces, but she couldn’t stop. The physician in her rebelled, insisting on a bedside manner that did not cause trauma—even emotional trauma—to innocent bystanders. But the Starfleet officer in her knew that time was running out and she had to move.

  After several minutes of unsuccessful banging on the medbay doors, followed by repeated attempts to locate either Ro’Kell or Cal’Sohn, Beverly Crusher made a decision.

  “Data, pry open the doors.” The android looked at her with a confused expression. “Do it!” This was a medical mission, and Picard had assigned Crusher to lead the away team to Shar-Mi’la. Apparently, his trust in her prevailed, because Data complied and used his android-enhanced strength to pry apart the metal doors.

  Crusher slipped through and was immediately met by a medic. “Federation Keeper!” the pink-skinned woman exclaimed. “We wish to cooperate with you, as we know you are helping the children, but we have procedures. You cannot just—”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to trust me!” Crusher said, sidestepping the woman. As Data reentered the room, Beverly pointed to Nah’Tren, still comatose on the bed. She looked nearly dead. “Data, pick her up.” He moved to the bed and easily lifted the young body into his arms.

  The mother gripped Crusher’s arm. “Where are you taking her?”

  “Outside.”

  Bel’Narr’s eyes became huge. “You’ll kill her!” Data waited in the doorway, cradling the child. The keepers looked on in terror.

  “Do you want your daughter to live?”

  The Shar-Mi’lan nodded.

  “Then you must let her go. Come on. It will be all right.” The doctor guided the overwhelmed woman out the door, pulling her along as gently as possible, struggling to keep up with Data as he sprinted unnaturally fast down the corridor, perfect neural net–controlled balance guiding his steps. Within moments they were pushing past a guard at the front arch who had obviously been alerted to their scheme. What will the captain say about this? Crusher thought. She had notified Picard that she was beaming dow
n, but there wasn’t time to explain. She had to help the girl before it was too late.

  Striding through the mossy courtyard, Crusher fought for breath as Data picked up speed and headed for the portal to the outside. The work crew was still clustered around the opening in the shield and stared dumfounded as Data passed through the arch, the force field sizzling as he broke through it.

  Crusher slowed up just before the barrier, holding Bel’Narr tightly lest she collapse or—worse—run out after them. The two women stared through the shield at the sunscape beyond, as both Data and Nah’Tren were bathed in the blue-white glow of the sun—and bombarded by lethal doses of tetra-helon. Data stood unaffected, and for several minutes it seemed that Nah’Tren would show no change either. She still appeared dead, her skin gray and scaly, her eyes slits of white. Data’s sturdy form dwarfed her thin limbs as he stared down at her, waiting, like everyone else, for a miracle—or a tragedy.

  Please, this has to work, Crusher thought. Oh please, if you can hear me, help her! Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two figures running up to her. From their voices, she identified them as Cal’Sohn and Ro’Kell. They must have finally answered her pages.

  “Doctor Crusher,” Cal’Sohn puffed, bending over as he reached her side. “What is the meaning of this? Our keepers are terrified. How—” His eyes caught sight of the girl in the sunscape, her skin drinking in the helon, and his face contorted in horror. He motioned frantically to Ro’Kell. “Keeper! Keeper! Sunstroke, look what they’ve done!”

  Crusher tried to focus enough to respond, but by the time she did, Ro’Kell was yelling at her. “Murderers!” He shook his fists near her face. “How could you? She’s just a child! I don’t know what the Federation’s policies are, but on this planet, we do not sacrifice our children when things become dire!” His pink face became bright red. Bel’Narr was still barely coherent at Crusher’s side; she dare not run. Please . . .

  Just as Cal’Sohn was ordering the stunned work crew to apprehend Data and Crusher, something happened, something that would forever change life on Shar-Mi’la. Crusher was watching for it, expecting it, pleading with every power in the universe for it. And she was, understandably, the first to recognize it.

  As the child lay in Data’s arms, her gray skin slowly began gaining color. But not the bright pink of the rest of her species. A cool purplish gray, with hints of the color of the moss on the ground inside and the grass outside. The color grew slowly, as the helon in the air reacted with the girl’s blood, reviving her from her nutrient-starved state. She began to stir, squirming in Data’s arms until he could no longer restrain her safely. He set her gently on the ground, and the girl swooned for a moment in the stark blue light, placing a hand to her head, then she stood steadily, bare feet on white rock. When she opened her eyes, they sparkled brilliant gold.

  Every person in the courtyard was watching now, frozen in awe. Crusher could guess what they were thinking. A Shar-Mi’lan was standing outside. In the sunscape. Without a suit. And she was glowing—

  As Beverly watched, the girl’s skin began to faintly luminesce, the same bluish-white tint of the light from Vakor II. Nah’Tren gazed through the barrier of the shield that had been harming her for so long and smiled at her mother. Bel’Narr turned and wept into Crusher’s shoulder.

  Ro’Kell turned to the Starfleet doctor who had just broken every rule of Shar-Mi’lan medicine he’d ever learned. She could see the disbelief on his face.

  “A mutation,” he said softly, realizing now what Crusher had realized just in time to save a life. “Their systems had changed to require the helon.”

  Crusher nodded, relieved that someone finally understood her actions, which had likely seemed like madness.

  “And we were keeping it from them. Protecting them. We thought it would kill them, but look.” Ro’Kell motioned out to where Nah’Tren was skipping around Data and laughing, reaching her small hands up toward the sun. She was a tiny beacon of light. “Look what we were missing.” He stood silent for several seconds. “Do you have any idea what this will do to our society, Doctor?”

  She did. And some part of her was glad. She smiled, hugging Bel’Narr closer. “It seems your species was meant to walk in the sun after all, Keeper.”

  The little couch in the captain’s ready room creaked slightly as Picard sat down beside her. Crusher knew it was his favorite place to talk—private, serene, with the bubbling fish tank in the bulkhead and the streaking stars outside adding a mesmerizing ambiance of steady motion to the room.

  “You realize your course of action on the surface could have ended very badly,” Picard said, “for yourself, the child, and the Federation. We were guests on this planet, offering comfort and aid, not terrorizing hospital workers.” The captain’s tone was honest, yet not angry. Crusher knew how he felt about the situation. She would take the formal reprimand as procedure dictated, but was glad to serve under a man who could see the value of lives through the web of protocol. “Nevertheless,” he continued, “Commissioner Cal’Sohn tells me that the young girl Nah’Tren is recovering, as are the other children. Thanks to your timely intervention, Doctor.”

  She shook her head. “I almost didn’t catch it in time. None of us thought to consider that what we saw as an illness was simply the effects of an advancement in their species’ genetic evolution.”

  “Hmm, yes.” Picard ran his fingers along the left side of his jaw, in an action that appeared to Crusher to be both strong and reflective at the same time. “There’s something rather poignant there, I think. This idea that sometimes, our best efforts at improving a situation, though noble, are the very obstacles that impede our progress.”

  That was one of the things she loved about Jean-Luc. He not only commanded missions but also recognized the irony, the flaws, and the beauty in the human condition—indeed, in the condition of all life in the galaxy.

  “I’m curious about something, though, Doctor,” the captain said. “Are such sudden leaps forward in the evolutionary process common? I know my experience is rather limited, but I cannot recall observing anything else quite like this event.”

  “There are recorded instances, though most that I have read about were more gradual in nature, or involved the realization of a trait that had been nascent for quite some time. The Shar-Mi’lans will most definitely attract some interested researchers from Starfleet Medical.”

  “In light of that reality, and the inevitable involvement of other interested parties, protocol will need to be developed to protect the rights of these individuals. Luckily, the Federation can help with that.” Picard paused. “When I spoke with him earlier, Commissioner Cal’Sohn was explaining some of his people’s plans to help the ‘sunwalkers,’ as they are becoming known, to smoothly transition into a new way of life on their homeworld.”

  “Yes, Ro’Kell mentioned it as well,” Beverly said. “They have begun setting up a temporary structure outside their shields to allow the affected young people to transition and still be able to interact with their families. Eventually, once they adapt to their new physiology, they will no longer need such support. The opportunities that are now available to them are staggering. Just imagine it, Jean-Luc, an entire planet to explore, where once there was only death.”

  “Indeed. The stuff of legend. It will be a long process for them—one that will require patience and acceptance on all sides, no doubt. But I suspect the Shar-Mi’lan people will be better off in the long run for encountering such an extraordinary phenomenon within themselves.” Picard paused again, watching Crusher. She felt his gaze on her features, intent but kind, as always. “And what of the parents of these remarkable children? How have they responded?”

  “As good parents ought to: with love and support. Bel’Narr approached me as I was getting ready to leave. She thanked me for helping her daughter to find her so’quen.”

  Picard vent
ured a guess. “A native word that denotes life? Or happiness, perhaps?”

  Crusher shook her head. “In Shar-Mi’lan, so’quen means ‘bright self.’ ”

  “How . . . appropriate.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments. “You know, Jean-Luc, I—” Crusher laughed in embarrassment. “It sounds so silly now.”

  “No, please do go on.”

  “Well, I—I asked him for help. On the surface, when I wasn’t sure that I was in time. I said something like a prayer, as if Wesley was some incorporeal being who could hear me and intervene.”

  The captain smirked and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. “You know, what has happened to Wesley is not at all dissimilar to the religious myths of many cultures. From Earth’s Hindu principle of enlightenment to the ancient Chokti’s belief in Divine Coalescence, many peoples have aspired to shedding this reality in exchange for a higher plane of existence. I think young Mister Crusher can now claim such an experience.” Picard chuckled. “Though, I must admit, a part of me will always remember him as the precocious youth whose zeal for this ship and for these vast starry heavens somehow managed to outstrip my own. That part of Wesley, that childlike wonder, I believe, will always stay the same.”

  Crusher believed it too. And for the first time since she had hugged Wesley goodbye, she felt nothing but pride for her son and his strange transcendent purpose. She knew her chances of ever seeing him again were slim, yet she was content that Wesley had finally found his so’quen. Doctor Crusher glanced out the port, at the far black reaches of the universe, and silently wished him a lifetime of fulfillment, wherever the celestial winds might take him.

  She would hold on to the sweater, though. Just in case.

  THE SEEN AND UNSEEN

  Chris Chaplin

  YOU REMEMBER that gray, gravelly field, Yalu—boulders in wrinkled patches like tough, crackling skin. Rows and rows of two-man tents spread atop those muscular boulders. We slept in those tight tents with our rusting disruptors between us. Luxury compared to the Jem’Hadar weapons’ fire carving craters around us during the morning’s campaign.