The Darkness Drops Again

by Christopher L. Bennett

  She smirked. “Whoever those authorities turn out to be. Which reminds me… I would like to get to the polls before they close, if that is still possible.”

  Spock nodded. “I believe that can be arranged.”

  Raya turned back to the viewscreen, where the reactivated sensors showed the pulsar once more, now glowing steadily with residual incandescence from the fusion burst. “This is a healing moment for Mestiko,” she said.

  “Madam Councillor?”

  “The thing that nearly destroyed our world has now, perhaps, played a role in saving it. It is a new beginning.”

  “Indeed,” Spock replied. “Often that which appears to be a threat can prove to be a benefit—if one’s mind is open to the possibilities.”

  She met his eyes, and he saw that she took his meaning.

  Mestiko

  “Raya! You’re home!”

  Raya beamed at the familiar voice and laughed as Theena elMadej rushed into her arms. The little waif had blossomed into a fine, striking woman, but she still squealed like a little girl at the reunion. “And you won!” she went on. “It’s the biggest landslide in electoral history!”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Elee said, her rough voice a tonic to Raya’s ears. She had stayed safe all these years by keeping a low profile but had been one of the first to greet Raya on her return. She was more gaunt and aged than ever, trembling and brittle-boned from years of nutritional deficiencies. But she had kept on fighting while so many others had died around her, and she still had the same old fire in her eyes. “Everyone wanted the mar-Atyya out, but it won’t be long before all the old agendas resurface. Enjoy this unity while it lasts, Raya.”

  “I think things will go better this time,” Dr. McCoy said from where he leaned against the wall of the reception hall. “Raya’s folks on Kazar learned a lot of useful skills for makin’ dead places bloom. The people can see it’s not just promises anymore. And I doubt they’ll be so quick to reject outside help.”

  Theena threw him a glare. “What Raya and the Payav did, we did on our own. If we’ve learned anything, it’s how to take care of ourselves instead of relying on others, whether God or aliens.”

  “Now, Theena,” Raya told her. “True, we can and will rely on our own strengths. But one of those strengths is the willingness to trust in others. We exiles benefited greatly from the Kazarites’ knowledge and resources. And the tireless efforts of Dr. Lon here did much to hold the mar-Atyya’s policies at bay. Because of him, we don’t have quite as far to go in restoring the biosphere, and we’ll restore it far faster with his help.” She turned to where the human scientist, still in his Payav guise, stood with his wife, Daki, and their son and daughter. “Or is it Dr. etDeja now?”

  He shrugged. “I still think of myself that way. But everyone in the media and Starfleet is calling me Lon, so I suppose I’ll have to get used to that again.” He looked at his hands. “I think I’ll keep the added thumbs, though.”

  Daki laughed. “He’s learned to do some interesting things with them—I’d hate to lose them.”

  Captain Spock caught Raya’s attention. “Madam Councillor. Have you decided yet on the disposition of our mar-Atyya prisoners?” Now that she had been officially reelected—and hastily reinaugurated—as the Jo’Zamestaad, and now that diplomatic relations with the Federation were officially restored, Spock had left the decision in her hands.

  “They may join the rest of the deposed regime in exile on Kazar. Perhaps there they can discover the benefits of working with aliens.” Privately, though, she was sure it would feel like a living hell for the fanatics. She took some pleasure in that. Except that maVolan himself had committed suicide just before the new security troops came for him. Apparently, he would rather die on his homeworld than spend a moment away from it. Or perhaps he just could not live with failure. “However, those members of the regime who supported the free elections—and did not attempt to subvert them—may remain and be allowed to do their part in rebuilding Mestiko, albeit without the power and wealth they were accustomed to under the mar-Atyya regime. They will have to earn their keep with the rest of us.”

  It had been hard for Raya to make that choice about Asal Janto. True, her onetime friend had been instrumental in helping the mar-Atyya achieve their coup and implement their policies. But had it not been Asal, it would have been another figurehead. And Asal had been one of the leading voices for reform. Upon Raya’s return, one of her first actions had been to have a long talk with Asal, wherein she’d realized that her old classmate felt true remorse and truly seemed to understand that unwavering faith was not enough. She wanted to make amends, to go on fighting for her world as she had always striven to do even when her methods had been in error. Raya had reluctantly granted her request. It would be hard to deal with the emotions of sharing the same planet with the woman who had betrayed her, and hard to appease the many others who felt the same way. But as she had said on the Enterprise, it was time for the healing to begin. And this was a good place to start. Perhaps someday, even the mar-Atyya could learn from their exile and be welcomed back into the fold.

  Spock met her gaze approvingly, and though his face did not change, she imagined she saw a smile in his eyes. “Thank you, Madam Councillor. I believe the future of Mestiko is in good hands.”

  Part IV

  Stardate 8061.3 (September 2283)

  Epilogue

  Sierra Nevada, California

  Jim Kirk was out in the yard chopping wood, stripped to blue jeans and enjoying the cool mountain air on his skin, when the Starfleet security people beamed in. He let the axe dangle unthreateningly in his hand but still rewarded them with a glare. “If Morrow sent you, remind him I’m a civilian now.”

  The lieutenant, a young Asian woman, stepped toward him. “That won’t be necessary, sir. A foreign dignitary is here to visit you, and we had to check the area.”

  Kirk chuckled. “For what? Grizzly bears?”

  “Procedure, sir.”

  “Thanks for reminding me why I retired,” Kirk muttered as he retrieved his flannel shirt. He was glad Antonia had gone into Lone Pine for the afternoon. She’d never had any patience with Starfleet discipline and militarism. After more than a year, he was still trying to figure out how she put up with him.

  The male guard finished his tricorder sweep and gave the all-clear. The lieutenant signaled San Francisco, and a moment later, the transporter chimes began again. Kirk sighed and turned to greet whoever it was.

  And gaped when Raya elMora materialized before him. “Raya! My God!” He reflexively ran forward to hug her, then slowed, remembering that she might not be receptive to such a greeting. But she laughed and met him halfway. “What are you doing here?” he asked when she released him.

  “Affairs of state. Negotiating for the next round of relief supplies. And recruiting scientists.”

  “Don’t you have plenty there already?”

  “Ecologists, yes. But we’re making plans to open a general research center at our old lunar base. It’s Theena’s idea—start a facility that can draw the brightest minds from across the galaxy, a place where they can pursue any research they wish.”

  “Can Mestiko spare the resources to support that?”

  “Theena’s convinced me that we can’t afford not to have it. We need to start giving something back to the galaxy, proving we can be equals instead of a charity case.” She smiled. “And of course, the more geniuses we have on hand, the better our chances of finding quick solutions to whatever future problems might arise as we rebuild Mestiko. Perhaps we could even find a way to restore our orbit someday.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Anyway, I just had to come and see you. I wanted to surprise you, but these officers insisted—”

  “It’s all right. I’m more than adequately surprised. Come in, come in!” he said, ushering her toward the cabin he shared with Antonia. “Frankly, I never thought you’d want to—”

  Raya suddenly yelped and p
ulled up short as Butler appeared in the doorway and began barking. Kirk strode forward. “Butler! Easy, boy.” The dog subsided, and Kirk knelt by him, stroking his head. “That’s right. Raya’s a friend.”

  “What… is that?”

  “A Great Dane. A dog!”

  “Are you sure? From the descriptions I’ve read of Earth animals, it seems more like a horse.”

  Kirk laughed. “It’s all right. Just let him sniff your hand, you’ll be fine.” She gingerly followed his advice and skirted around Butler as he led her into the cabin. “Wait until I introduce you to a real horse. You could come riding with Antonia and me.”

  “Yes, where is this Antonia I have heard your colleagues speak of?”

  “She’ll be back in a little while. Say, can you stay for dinner? I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

  “I’m sorry, I have a meeting this evening. Several, in fact. Give her my regrets.” She looked around, taking in the cabin’s rustic features—the stone walls, the wood beams and panels, the potbelly stove, the antiques and books on the shelves. “I never would have expected to see anyplace so… primitive on Earth.”

  Kirk chuckled. “We take pride in our heritage. Some of us, anyway.”

  “No offense intended. It reminds me of the homes we built on Kazar. I spent many a day chopping wood myself. And planting fields, and building houses, and making tools, and—”

  “All right, all right, you win.” He chuckled. “This must seem… dilettantish to you. But…” He sighed.

  “After so many years out there… I just wanted to get away from it all.”

  “You are never what I expect, James. I thought you loved your ship more than anything.”

  “I thought so, too. Then I met Antonia, and I realized… maybe it was time I started loving something else for a change.”

  “She must be a remarkable woman.”

  “She is that. Would you like some coffee?”

  Raya hesitated. “I never developed a taste for it. Do you have hot chocolate?”

  He grinned. “A discerning woman. I think I can scare some up.”

  As he rummaged in the cabinets, Raya’s attention was drawn to his trophy wall, the one concession to modernity in his home, where his collection of antique weapons shared space with a portrait of the Enterprise, its original dedication plaque, and a photo of its command crew taken at the end of their last five-year tour together. “I see you haven’t completely stopped loving your ship.”

  “There were certainly some special times there. For all those years, I fought hard to get her back, to keep her. But eventually, one by one, the crew started to drift away, to pursue their own careers. And I realized I wasn’t enjoying it as much without them. I realized that maybe it wasn’t the ship that mattered to me so much as the people. The family.”

  “Yes. I understand that feeling.”

  “So once Antonia and I became involved, I began to think that maybe it was time for me to try a different kind of family.”

  “Family?” Raya asked. “Is there a child yet?”

  The spoon clinked loudly against the mug. Kirk cleared his throat. “Well… we’re taking this one step at a time.”

  “So much for the bold Admiral Kirk.”

  “He had his day.” He finished adding the marshmallows and brought their mugs over to her. As she sipped the chocolate gingerly, he studied the crew picture. “I realized something else, too. I was holding Spock back. He may not like to admit it, but he makes a great captain.”

  “He has taken to it rather well,” she agreed.

  “So how are things on Mestiko?” he asked, leading her to a seat in the living room.

  “Rapidly improving. The frostbuster moss is back with a vengeance, and the Kazarites are already planting the first pine and daggerleaf forests. They’re adapting some of our desert animals from Jarol for cold climates—there should be enough oxygen to introduce them within a year or two. Within a twelveyear—sorry, nine years for you—people should be living on the surface again. And they’ll be living free, and, I hope, not so quick to throw it away this time.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it.”

  She lowered her eyes. “And I suppose I need to thank you for it. And to apologize.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t owe me either.”

  “I do. I thought you were abandoning us. But you planned this from the start. You helped us by refusing to help us. By putting us in a position where we would have to learn to help ourselves—and to learn for ourselves that we could not do it alone.”

  Kirk stared into his mug. “I only regret that so many people had to die in the interim. Once… I would’ve fought to keep that from happening. Would’ve barged in and made people play by my rules and patted myself on the back for saving them. But over the years, I learned it doesn’t work that way. People don’t trust solutions you impose on them from outside. They have to find answers within themselves. And that means sometimes you have to stand back, let them make their own mistakes, and hope they learn from them before it’s too late.”

  She came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did more than that, James. You sent my people to Kazar, where we could learn to rebuild a world and be free to build a coalition. You let Dr. Lon go underground where he could do the most good. Even as you left us to make our mistakes, you gave us the tools we needed to fix them when we were ready.” She shook her head. “You saw all that, years in advance. You saw it long before I did, before any of us did.”

  “I guess my time as chief of operations taught me how to play the long game. And playing chess against Spock for a couple of decades helps, too.” He repressed a sigh. Antonia had never taken to chess, certainly not the three-dimensional kind. He missed it sometimes. “Still… on occasion, that means making impossible choices, like at Mestiko. I’m glad to be free of that responsibility.”

  She looked around. “So what do you do instead, James? What use do you make of the wisdom you’ve gained?”

  “Who says everything has to have a use? I live my life. I share it with a woman and a dog who love me. I commune with nature. I read. There’s so much literature I missed out on all those years hopping stars. So many other things I always wanted to do but never had time. I’m writing a book, did you know that? Well, trying to. I haven’t gotten very far. But there’s no rush.”

  Raya looked him over. “So, basically… you just exist.”

  “That’s a little harsh.”

  “I take it back, James. This place is not like our homes on Kazar.” She laid down the empty mug and stood. “Everything we did there, we did for a purpose. We had no room for indulgence. We dedicated our own lives to making a difference in the lives of others. And that has enabled us to make our homeworld better once again—to help the millions still in need.

  “That is something that, although I did not admit it at the time, I got from you, James. That determination, that commitment to making a difference. You put us on the path.”

  He looked away. “Then I’ve done my part. I’m entitled to make things better in my own life for a change.”

  “Is this better, James? No challenges to face, no problems to solve? Can you really sit here contentedly, chopping wood and reading books, when you know there is a galaxy of worlds out there needing someone to make a difference for them?”

  “There are others who can do that.”

  “And there is still you.”

  “I have what I always wanted.”

  She sighed. “Maybe so. But you know something? That rarely lasts. You never know what will come swooping out of the heavens to take it away. And you can sit around and wait for it, or you can go out there and dare it to try.”

  After an awkward moment, she moved closer and took his hands. “Complacency doesn’t suit you, James Kirk. This is a pleasant sabbatical, and you’ve earned it. But you’ll be back in Starfleet before long. I guarantee it.”

  “Antonia couldn’t live with that.”

  “Then t
hat will be her problem to solve. For her sake, I hope she does. It would be a shame if she let you get away.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I need to go. Thank you for the chocolate.”

  He showed her to the door. “Will we ever see each other again?”

  Raya grinned at him. “I’m sure we will, James—in my home. On Mestiko.”

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  Acknowledgments

  If you’ve read the acknowledgments in the previous installments of this miniseries, you know that each of my illustrious predecessors has acknowledged the contributions of the whole group and the importance of the collaborative process in the creation of this series. In that spirit, let me just say:

  I did it all myself! It was me, all me! That whole pulsar thing? My idea, completely! I’ve been carrying everyone else this whole time!

  Of course, I’m just kidding, in the spirit of often boisterous fun that’s characterized this whole project. This story wouldn’t have existed if Keith R.A. DeCandido hadn’t come up with the idea of a miniseries to celebrate Star Trek’s fortieth anniversary and assembled this team to write it. Thanks to him for picking me for the team and for giving me the opportunity to work alongside legends like Mike Barr, Howie Weinstein, and Margaret Wander Bonanno… not to mention my fellow young upstarts Dayton Ward and Kevin Dilmore, plus Dave Galanter, who’s somewhere in between the generations (it’s hard to pin him down about himself because he won’t stop going on about the monkeys).

  A number of specific elements in The Darkness Drops Again were conceived in our group e-mail exchanges and snapped up by me. Mike created Dr. Lon and suggested his story arc through the saga. Dave and Dayton (among others) proposed looking into the refugee side of the story. Kevin found the solar-system simulator that helped me figure out the gravitational effects of the pulsar on Hertex’s planets. Howie proposed the character that became Asal Janto and planted the seed for the idea of her misguided push for a radiation shield. Keith came up with the terms used by the mar-Atyya and the name of the system’s star, among other terminology. And other ideas are too much a product of the gestalt to pin down to any one person.