The Cleanup
Page 10
Gomez was removing the smudges of smoke damage from a statue at the subatomic level with a quantum distiller. When Vance and Ven-Sa approached, she switched off the pulsing, bright blue beam and raised the yellow-tinted goggles to her forehead.
“Pika Ven-Sa,” she said, her voice and expression somber. “I was sorry to hear about your brother.”
Ven-Sa sighed and nodded. “This has been a most difficult day,” he said.
Gomez put the distiller in a tray on her tool cart. “I was glad we didn’t lose you, as well,” she said, removing her goggles.
“I cannot say that I feel the same right now,” said Ven-Sa. “I am only half here, you see. Half of me—Chi-Sa—is dead.”
“It must be terrible,” said Gomez.
“I console myself by remembering that the universe often conceives joy from pain,” said Ven-Sa. “Chi-Sa is dead, but I believe that the disaster that took his life has begun a change in the attitudes of the Miradorn toward Starfleet and the Federation. Seeing your people struggle to help ours, both here and on New Mirada, seems to have changed some minds.”
Gomez nodded. When she glanced at her tool cart, she seemed to get an idea. “Are you in a hurry?” she said to Ven-Sa.
Ven-Sa shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
“I could use a hand here, actually.” Gomez picked up the quantum distiller and pointed it at the statue on which she’d been working.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about restoration work,” said Ven-Sa.
Gomez grinned. “Well, you will soon,” she said. “And maybe we can talk a little about the Se’rbeg while we’re at it.”
Ven-Sa rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor…then looked up at Gomez and nodded. “All right,” he said. “I can spare a few minutes, I suppose.”
Gomez flashed Vance a quick wink, and he smiled and turned away. It was then that he noticed that a crowd of pilgrims had gathered at the far side of the shrine.
Immediately, Vance rushed over to find out what had drawn the pilgrims’ attention. He pushed his way through to the middle of the crowd, which was where he saw what all the fuss was about.
The center attraction was Em-Lin.
As soon as she saw Vance push through the crowd, her face lit up. “Chief Hawkins! Is it already time for our meeting?”
Vance caught on fast. “You’re late, actually. Please come with me.”
“Wait a minute,” said a towering, snake-headed Selay in yellow pilgrim’s robes. “We have a few more questions. We hope to determine if the Savior of the Temple has interacted with Ho’nig while speaking to the dead.”
Em-Lin sighed with exasperation. “I already told you. I never spoke to the dead. The ghost of my dead sister was an illusion created by the Fuser’s defense systems.”
“That’s what you think,” said an orange-furred, fierce-looking Chalnoth. “Ho’nig’s message might be hidden in your memories.”
“Yes,” said a Tamarian, member of a species that spoke only in cultural metaphors. “Haglis eating a uvod! Tyro and Bumpas climbing a revlok in the prelva desert before Creshlippa! Yaffa cheating the Vrellig!”
When the Tamarian had finished, everyone stared at him for a moment. Then, a human asked, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Theon breaking the Numoprax?” said the Tamarian, shrugging apologetically.
“All right, all right,” said Vance, taking Em-Lin by the hand. “Excuse us, please. We have an important meeting to attend.”
For an instant, the Selay and Chalnoth blocked Vance’s path. He met their vaguely hostile gazes with a doubly dark glare of his own, and they stepped aside.
Once clear of the crowd, Vance led Em-Lin to a secluded alcove off the far end of the shrine.
“How are you doing?” said Vance as he let go of her hand.
“Fine,” said Em-Lin. Relief was evident in her voice and expression. “I wish they wouldn’t be so persistent.” She gestured in the direction of the pilgrims. “I mean, I have nothing to offer them.”
Vance grinned. “Maybe you should make something up,” he said. “Like, ‘Ho’nig promises eternal ecstasy in the next life to anyone who provides constant comfort in this life to his servant, Em-Lin.’ ”
Em-Lin smiled. “Don’t tempt me. How about if I point them in your direction and tell them you’re the chosen one? What would you ask for?”
Vance thought for a moment. “A few days ago, I would’ve asked for the addresses of the Miradorn who tortured me during the war. Now, I think I’ll settle for the address of the Miradorn who saved my life, in case I’m ever in the neighborhood.”
Em-Lin’s smile disappeared, and she stared at the floor. “If my sister and I hadn’t built the Fuser, your life wouldn’t have been at risk to begin with. And three million Miradorn would still be alive.”
“If you hadn’t built it, the Vorta would have gotten someone else to do the work,” said Vance. “And anyway, the Fuser wasn’t meant to harm anyone.”
“I wonder if the tribunal at my trial will agree with you,” said Em-Lin.
“They’re going to try you?” said Vance.
Em-Lin nodded. “For being an accomplice to mass murder. They’ll try the Vorta and my sister in absentia.”
Vance was stunned. “But you didn’t activate the Fuser,” he said. “You stopped it. You saved billions of lives on Zasharu and New Mirada. Hell, they’re erecting a statue in honor of you for saving the shrine of Ho’nig!”
Em-Lin shrugged. “Someone has to take the blame.”
“Why aren’t you in custody now?” said Vance.
“There’s a waiting period before a trial,” said Em-Lin. “It’s called the hastanoj. During the hastanoj, enough time is allowed to pass that the facts of a case blur, and public opinion shifts. Also, the defendant has time to exercise other options and…remove the burden of punishment from the courts. Hastanoj literally means ‘do it yourself.’ ”
Vance stared at her, absorbing what she had told him. Not long ago, he would not have worried much about her plight or that of any Miradorn. Even a “Starfleeter” raised to respect and appreciate diversity in all its forms could still sometimes find his heart hardened by bitter experience.
But today was a different story. Memories of the puppet-gun-wielding Miradorn of Jomej VII had been dimmed by memories of a Miradorn woman who had saved the lives of Vance, his teammates, and billions of others.
Reaching out, he folded her hands between his own. Her pearlescent skin shimmered in bright contrast to his rich, dark brown.
“When the hastanoj ends, contact me,” he said. “I’ll testify on your behalf.”
Em-Lin blinked, white irises glowing against the space-black sclera of her “star eyes.” “You’d do that for me?” she said.
Vance shrugged and grinned. “Sure—if I don’t have anything better to do that day, anyway.”
A look of intense vulnerability and gratitude flowed onto Em-Lin’s face. She blinked quickly, as if tears were on the way, and took a step toward Vance. He thought that she was going to hug him.
Then, she caught herself. She rubbed her eyes hard with the heels of her hands, and the vulnerable look was gone. Em-Lin was back to her normal self (normal when she wasn’t seeing ghosts, anyway), complete with sharp edges.
“I guess maybe you Starfleeties aren’t all bad after all,” she said gruffly.
“Not half as bad as some people say,” said Vance.
About the Author
ROBERT T. JESCHONEK wrote “The Secret Heart of Zolaluz” for Star Trek: Voyager: Distant Shores. His Burgoyne adventure, “Oil and Water,” appeared in Star Trek: New Frontier: No Limits. Robert’s story, “Our Million-Year Mission,” won the grand prize in Star Trek: Strange New Worlds VI. His other credits include the prize-winning “Whatever You Do, Don’t Read This Story” in Strange New Worlds III, “The Shoulders of Giants” in Strange New Worlds V, and original fiction in publications ranging from Abyss & Apex to ScienceFictionFanta
syHorror.com and The Loyalhanna Review. Robert’s work can also be found in comic books, including War and Silent Screams from Saddle Tramp Press and the humor anthology Commercial Suicide. Currently based in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, Robert spent over a decade as a television producer/director. His wife, Wendy, helps make his fiction writing possible by supplying inspiration, encouragement, and editing support. Visit his website at www.robertjeschonek.com.
The S.C.E. Celebrates
the 40th Anniversary of Star Trek!
What’s Past
A special S.C.E. event that flashes back to previous adventures of the S.C.E. crew from the 23rd century to the height of the Dominion War, with special guests from all across the Star Trek universe!
NEXT MONTH:
#61: PROGRESS
by Terri Osborne
2369: With the decommissioning of the U.S.S. Progress, Captain David Gold is contemplating his next command while on a mission to the Federation protectorate Drema IV. Gold’s chief medical officer, Dr. Katherine Pulaski, has her own reasons for wanting to return to Drema IV: to check up on a former patient of hers named Sarjenka, a girl who befriended Data of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and whose memories Pulaski erased.
A mining accident on Drema IV brings together the S.C.E., Pulaski, Gold, and Sarjenka in an adventure that will have far-reaching consequences for all of them.
COMING IN FEBRUARY 2006
FROM POCKET BOOKS!