STAR TREK: DS9 - The Lives of Dax

by Marco Palmieri, Editor

“A fine sentiment,” Lytus said, “but one that becomes infinitely more complicated when we start to consider lending our assistance to beings who are not from Trill.”

  She could get lost arguing that point forever. She would come back to it, but not yet. She wasn’t going to let them derail her. “And, secondarily,” she pressed on, “some day we’ll have to come out of our box. Events won’t let us remain isolated.”

  There was a murmur throughout the chamber. Her words were heresy.

  “What sort of events?” someone asked.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But it became clear when the Vulcans arrived that we are part of an interstellar community. I think it’s better that we know about our neighbors, know who these other species are and what they’re about, rather than hiding behind our defense grid.”

  The murmuring eased. She had their attention now.

  “We are taught from childhood that knowledge is the pinnacle of Trill society. That is one of the things the symbionts give us—a living knowledge of our own history, a respect and reverence for our past.”

  She nodded toward Odan as she said that. He was still standing, but he was silent, listening as if he hadn’t expected her to be so eloquent.

  “Yet,” she continued, “we’re closing ourselves off from knowledge that might become crucial some day. We need to know what lies beyond Trill, what possibilities exist in the stars.”

  Her words echoed for a moment. Her heart was pounding. No one spoke—no one moved—for what seemed like an eternity. Then Lytus said, “We have the capability of going to the stars. It was this capability that brought the Vulcans to us, and showed us we needed to protect ourselves from outsiders. Even the Vulcans offer no assurances that we live in a peaceful universe.”

  Lela felt the tension in her shoulders build.

  “If we choose to find out about other species,” Lytus said, “we can send our own ships out to explore. Or we can consult with the Vulcans. We do not need visitors on Trill.”

  There were murmurs again, but this time they were murmurs of agreement.

  “I’m not asking them to tour the planet,” Lela said with uncontrolled heat, and then caught herself. Sarcasm wasn’t going to win this. “I just want to find out if they’re injured or ill and in need of our help.”

  The councillors who were nodding had stopped. A few were frowning, but not in displeasure. In concentration. Her argument had some weight.

  “And if they are?” Odan asked. She looked at him. He had a benign expression on his face. “What then?”

  Was he trying to trip her up? She couldn’t tell. He didn’t really do things maliciously. He acted out of what he believed. Unfortunately, he believed in different things than she did.

  “We see if we can help them,” she said. It seemed so logical. Why were the councillors having trouble with that?

  “And what if the only way to help them is to give the liquid from the symbiont pools?” Again, his voice held no animosity. Only the guidance a teacher might give a student.

  Lela paused. There was the right answer, and then there was the political answer. She tried to blend them. “If they needed the liquid, then we’d have to find out how much they need and how badly they need it, wouldn’t we? If it’s only a drop to a dying people, I don’t know how we could begrudge that.”

  Her response was met with silence.

  Finally, Lytus said, “If there is no more comment, we shall take the matter of contacting the alien ship to a vote.”

  Lela sat down, and as she did, she knew that she had lost.

  She couldn’t help herself. After the vote, she went to the space center. It was better than sitting around her apartment, browbeating herself. She had known the political answer to Odan’s question. If the aliens had wanted liquid from the symbiont pools, no matter what the crisis, she should have said no, the aliens couldn’t have it. The question was only hypothetical after all. And if the hypothetical proved to be what the aliens wanted, she should have fought with the council then.

  Somehow she had expected more compassion from her fellow councillors.

  The center was quieter today. The alien ship had, in the space of a few hours, become less of a curiosity, more of a nuisance. The scientists who had gathered the night before to see a glimpse of the ship’s glittery whiteness were nowhere to be seen. The only difference between the observatory today and any other day was that there were more specialists sitting at various stations.

  The ship remained on the screens. Lela stared at it for a long time, wondering what was happening inside it, wondering if the aliens had even understood Trill’s message or if they had to ignore it for reasons of their own.

  She sighed and went inside the control room. Sitlas was there, looking tired and haggard. It was obvious that he hadn’t been to bed. He hadn’t changed clothing since the night before, and his spots stood out against his exceedingly pale skin.

  When he saw her, he gave her a preoccupied smile.

  “Any luck with the translation yet?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  She had somehow expected that. “I need to send a coded message to Vulcan.”

  He nodded. The weariness slumped his shoulders. “Record your message. We’ll send it encoded.”

  At least he hadn’t questioned her about the council vote. Not that he had any real right to. She could always pull rank on him and make him do what she needed. She just hated using authority that way, even though it was sometimes necessary.

  She sat at the console he provided, downloaded a still image of the ship, and asked if the Vulcans were familiar with these aliens, and if so, what they knew. She also explained the situation, saying that Trill was not yet used to visitors from space.

  From what she understood of the Vulcans, they would get the subtext of the message. They had known about Trill’s isolationism. They had experienced it for years.

  Then she called Sitlas over, and he sent the message, encoded and on a protected channel. She slumped in her chair. That was all she could do.

  “Sitlas,” one of the assistants said. “We’re receiving a message from the alien ship.”

  “On screen,” Sitlas said.

  The message was as scrambled as the one before. The static made the images blur, but the words were nearly the same. “Please, need [undecipherable]. Urgent. Will trade.”

  And then the screen went dark.

  Lela turned to Sitlas. “How often has that message come in?”

  “Every two hours,” he said. She heard weariness and exasperation in his voice.

  “Has there been any change?” Lela asked.

  “Small things,” Sitlas said. “It seems like a different alien has been speaking today. And the phrasing is somewhat different.”

  “Do you think they’re in trouble?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. But we keep sending the go-away message. You’d think, if they weren’t in some kind of trouble, they’d leave. I mean, that’s logical.”

  “For us,” she said.

  He nodded, “And they’re clearly not us.” He looked at the ship, still glittering on the screen. “Maybe they’ll go away soon.”

  “Maybe,” Lela said. But she wasn’t so sure. Maybe they couldn’t leave. Maybe they’d stay until they got what they needed or until they died.

  Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. Common decency meant finding out as much as possible. The council’s resolutions against contact were just that: resolutions. Not laws. She wouldn’t be committing an illegal act if she contacted the aliens. She’d just be violating the consensus of the council.

  “Open a channel to them,” she said.

  “Lela, you know—”

  “Open a channel to them.”

  He stared at her. “The council said we can’t do this.”

  “The council suggested that we not do it,” she said. “Now open a channel.”

  “If I do, I could lose my job.”

  “Not if you blame it
on me,” she said. He didn’t move. She crossed her arms. “Either you gamble on my word that I’ll take the blame for this, or you lose your job now. You know I could fire you and direct these people myself.”

  His mouth thinned, and she wondered if she’d be as welcome in the space center in the future. Ah, well. The future was not something she’d worry about at the moment.

  “Do it,” he said to one of his assistants. The woman ducked her head, but pressed a finger against the console before her.

  Lela leaned forward. “My name is Lela Dax. I am a citizen of Trill, but I contact you as a fellow being. I am not representing Trill in this matter. My planet wishes no contact with you. However, I have heard your messages and would like to know if you’re all right.”

  For a moment, there was silence. And then static, as if the aliens were trying to respond, but couldn’t.

  “I am concerned that you are in failing health or in need of repairs. Are you in trouble?”

  The ship winked off screen. The same alien appeared as before. “Need [undecipherable]. Time is running out. Will trade.”

  “Time is running out on what?” Lela asked.

  “[undecipherable]. Will buy. Whatever trade possible. Need [undecipherable] now.”

  The two undecipherable words or phrases were very different. Obviously their languages weren’t that compatible.

  “Are you in physical danger?” she asked. “Is your crew healthy?”

  “Need [undecipherable]. Time nearly gone. Need now.”

  And then the alien disappeared from the screen.

  “Has the transmission been cut?” she asked Sitlas.

  He shook his head.

  She leaned forward, one last time. “I will talk with my people’s leaders. I will get back to you as soon as I can.”

  But there was no response to that.

  “Now the transmission’s been cut,” Sitlas said.

  Lela nodded. These last few messages supported her theory that something serious was happening to these aliens. If she hurried, she might be able to help. But first, she needed to speak to another member of the council. Lytus had made his own position clear. She would get no help from him. But Odan prided himself on his open mind. Odan, at least, had listened to her earlier, even though he had embarrassed her before the council.

  He also lived close to the space center.

  “Keep working on the translation,” Lela said to Sitlas. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  He nodded.

  She left the observatory and hurried through the technical buildings, where many of the scientists worked. Just beyond that were the industrial neighborhoods. This part of the city was the only place on Trill where acelon was refined. The process was more of a polishing than a recovery. Apparently acelon arrived in its raw state from the areas just outside the ice caves. It was stored in the large buildings behind the plants, and then its black outsides were polished away until the luminous material shone through. The process was expensive, which was one of the reasons the mineral was so rare. But the procedure didn’t pollute or harm the environment, so it could be carried out safely inside the city rather than requiring a protected area.

  Just beyond the industrial area were some of the city’s best residential neighborhoods. On a slight hill, the houses were positioned so that the purple water of the ocean was just barely visible from the upper floors.

  Odan was in his garden, as she had expected him to be. Gardening was a passion for him. He was bent over a row of multicolored flowers when she stopped outside his gate.

  “Odan,” she said. “Forgive me for bothering you at home, but I must speak to you.”

  He put one hand on his back, stood, and looked at her as if she were smaller than a bug. His wife came out onto the porch, a little girl clinging to her hand, but he waved her away.

  Other neighbors, who had also been working in their yards, stopped. Apparently people didn’t talk to each other on the streets in this neighborhood.

  “I guess you’d better come inside the gate,” he said pulling the door open. Lela stepped inside, careful to avoid the smaller blooms that twisted around the edges.

  “I hope this is important,” he said.

  “And I hope you’ll listen before you judge,” she said, and bit the inside of her cheeks. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him, and that was the first thing she had done.

  His dark eyes flashed. “I’ll make the attempt,” he said with undisguised sarcasm.

  “Thank you.” She took a deep breath and told him about her trip to the space center. She also told him about her decision to contact the aliens.

  “You knew about the resolution,” he said angrily. “This is not something you should have done on your own.”

  “I think they’re in trouble,” she said. “Their last message was ‘Time is running out.’ I ordered Sitlas to continue trying to translate what they want. I think if we know that, we might be able to act. They aren’t going to leave, Odan.”

  He made a sound of disgust and turned his head away from her. Then he said, “You know this could get you censured, maybe even removed.”

  She was shaking. She hadn’t realized it until now. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But I couldn’t face the thought of a dead ship orbiting Trill, not if its occupants could have survived if only we’d helped.”

  “We have no idea what’s happening up there,” Odan said. “Your scenario could be wrong.”

  “It could be,” she said.

  “And you’d risk your career for that?”

  Her smile was small. “It seems I already have.”

  He nodded. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. Perhaps she shouldn’t have trusted him after all. She had just given him the tools with which to destroy her in the council—and on Trill—forever.

  Suddenly there was a large explosion, and the ground rocked. Another explosion and another shattered the air around her. Her ears ached. She grabbed Odan and threw him to the ground, then looked up to see what was causing the problem.

  Bright beams of red light were cutting through the sky, slamming into the ground below. Anything the light touched shattered. Dust clouds were rising, and several of the nearby houses were gone.

  People were running, covered in dirt and dust. Lela thought they were screaming, but she couldn’t be certain. Her ears were ringing: She couldn’t hear anything else.

  Odan struggled beneath her as another explosion rocked them. He stretched out his hand toward his house, and Lela’s heart stopped. His family was inside. He wanted to get to them.

  But for the moment, at least, the house was all right. He was in more danger on the street.

  The explosions continued, and then she saw a blinding white light that covered the entire sky. The light focused down, disappearing on the streets around the industrial complex—or perhaps the space center. She couldn’t tell.

  Had she brought this wrath on them from the aliens? Was this their response to her message?

  Had her impulsiveness hurt her people?

  The ground continued to shake, only this shaking was continual, not like the explosions of moments ago. The white light grew dark, and then vanished altogether, leaving her seeing spots in front of her eyes.

  Bits of rock rained down around them, and dust continued to fall like a light mist. People were still running, many of them bleeding, some heading toward the areas where the houses had been. Small fires burned and the air was filling with smoke.

  Lela stood. So did Odan. Without a word, he ran into his house. Through the door, she saw him embrace his wife and daughter.

  Lela’s head ached, and her ears still rang. Something wet trickled down her jawline. She put a nervous finger to it, and looked at it, seeing blood.

  The aliens had attacked, although she did not know why. How had they broken through the defense grid? What had they done?

  What had she done?

  She took a deep breath, put a hand over her belly, and noted that the symbiont felt fi
ne. Then she walked toward the destruction, and began searching for survivors in the rubble.

  It was night by the time Lela finally accepted medical help. Her hearing returned, slowly, the damage to her ears minimal despite the blood. The doctors said she would hear ringing for some time, maybe permanently, but she would be able to hear.

  She supposed she should be grateful for that.

  The doctors made her stay in the hospital overnight along with the others who were injured in the attacks. Because of her position on the council, her injuries were high profile: The doctors wanted to make certain she was fine before she left.

  While she was there, she heard the statistics. Fifty-five dead, one hundred injured—many severely. Most of the damage occurred in Odan’s neighborhood and in the industrial areas. Eighty homes were destroyed, and several businesses were wiped out. The acelon processing plant was in the center of the destruction and untouched, but all of the raw acelon was gone.

  The ship had left Trill’s orbit immediately after the attack. No Trill ships could be launched quickly enough to reach it, and no one was sure what they would have done if they had caught it. The alien ship’s weapons were obviously far superior to Trill’s. It had blasted through the defense grid as if it hadn’t even been there.

  Lela harbored a secret fear that it had been her message that had triggered the attack. After all, they were having language problems. Perhaps she had said something, led them to believe something, that made them feel as if they had to act now.

  But she spoke of that fear to no one, at least not yet. She would wait to see what the translations brought. She didn’t expect a vindication.

  She no longer knew what to expect at all.

  The next morning, when she left the hospital, she did not go home. Instead, she went directly to the space center. The screens showed stars as they had before. The lovely gauzelike ship, the bringer of such destruction, was really and truly gone.

  Lela wasn’t the only council member at the space center. Odan was there as well.

  “How’s your family?” she asked him.

  “Shaken,” he said. Then he frowned a little, as if he had realized he was being gruff. “But fine.”