Original Sin

by David R. George III

  “I understand,” Sisko said, “but I would think that the parents would be consumed by their duties at this critical time, intent on doing what they could to find the children and bring them home.”

  “They are,” Althouse said, “but not all of the parents are in Starfleet. And while it’s all hands on deck, some people are better equipped to deal with it than others. There are also a handful of young people aboard who have lost siblings.”

  “Do you have a recommendation?”

  “I do,” Althouse said. “I want to suggest employing a group dynamic.”

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “I want to bring the parents of the abducted children together in a support setting,” Althouse explained. “I want to be able to address their concerns, answer their questions, and help them figure out for themselves the best way forward.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Sisko said. “Do you think it needs to be mandatory?”

  “No,” Althouse said. “Not yet. But allowing people access to a group setting is a better solution than having to turn them away because we don’t have the psychological support resources.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But there’s something more that I want to do,” Althouse said. “I don’t have a child on this ship, and neither do Lieutenant al-Jarjani or Ensign Vint. I’m thinking about asking one of the parents to help with the groups—preferably one with experience in diplomacy.”

  Sisko took a beat before stating the obvious: “You’re talking about Kasidy.”

  “With your permission and her willingness, of course,” Althouse said.

  Sisko trusted the professional acumen of the ship’s lead counselor, but he took a moment to envisage Kasidy’s reaction to such a request, and to estimate her ability to do the job. He thought his wife would accept the appeal for her assistance because it would provide a more concrete means of dealing with the situation than his nebulous orders to the diplomats and first-contact specialists about preparing to deal with a completely unknown alien race. But the captain thought that she would also genuinely want to render whatever aid she could to other parents—particularly the civilians—simply because of her natural empathy. He thought Kasidy capable of handling the responsibility, and her insights into having a child kidnapped would make her all the more valuable.

  From a personal standpoint, Sisko reckoned that occupying herself in that way might prevent Kasidy from fixating on blaming him for another major threat to Rebecca in her short life. It seemed inconceivable that, just six months shy of her tenth birthday, she had been abducted for a second time. Sisko could not argue that his decisions—first to accept his role as Bajor’s Emissary of the Prophets, and then to take command of Robinson—had not directly led to both incidents.

  “All right,” Sisko told Althouse. “I’ll have Kasidy come up to my ready room and we can discuss—”

  “Engineering to bridge.”

  Sisko glanced at the control panel set in the arm of his chair and checked the chronometer. He had charged his chief engineer with providing a status report every four hours, but his current call to the bridge had come forty-five minutes early. Sisko hoped that boded well for the repairs to the ship. He pointed out the time to his first officer, who sat to his right.

  Before Sisko responded to Relkdahz, he addressed Alt-house. “Go talk to Kasidy,” he said. “Tell her I approved your request.” The counselor nodded and headed at once for the turbolift. Responding to the contact from engineering, Sisko said, “Bridge here. Go ahead, Commander.”

  “Captain, we’ve restored the warp drive,” Relkdahz said.

  “You’re ahead of schedule,” Rogeiro noted.

  “Because we replaced only twelve of the twenty failed power relays,” Relkdahz said. “To compensate, we replicated more advanced relays that have higher capacities. We reconfigured the transfer junctions, both the damaged ones we repaired and those left intact.”

  “Is there a trade-off, Commander?” Sisko asked. “Are we sacrificing safety?”

  “Not safety, sir, no, at least not in the short term,” Relkdahz said. “Over time, the new relays could cause the transfer junctions to fail, but simulations tell us that won’t happen for at least a month’s flight at normal cruising speed, or half that at emergency velocities. By that time, we’ll have replicated more relays, and we can install them in less than a day. I thought that, in the current situation, you’d want the flexibility of traveling at warp sooner rather than later.”

  “That’s good work, Commander,” Sisko said. “How long before we have a full engine restart?”

  “We have it now,” Relkdahz said. “Warp speed is available on your order.”

  “Well done,” the captain said. “Sisko out.” Unable to contain his fervor to finally begin the search to find Rebecca and the other missing children, he stood up and paced to the center of the bridge, just behind Plante to his left and Stannis to his right. Though Sivadeki would recover, she remained in sickbay after undergoing surgery to repair a torn aural membrane caused by the sonic attack on the Robinson crew. “Lieutenant, set course along the path of the alien vessels when they first appeared.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Stannis said.

  “Commander Uteln,” Sisko said, “you’ve calibrated the sensors to detect any pockets of energy like the one the ship struck yesterday.”

  “Aye, sir,” the tactical officer said. “Alerts will automatically be routed to the conn.”

  “Good,” Sisko said. “Lieutenant Stannis, ahead warp one.”

  “Warp one,” Stannis said.

  Sisko tensed as he waited for the lieutenant to carry out his order, irrationally concerned that the repaired drive would not function. But then the captain felt the vibrations of the warp engines as Stannis worked his console. The bass thrum of the faster-than-light drive provided a second tangible confirmation of its operation. But as Sisko watched the main viewscreen, he saw no indication of movement.

  “Stannis?” Rogeiro asked as he joined the captain at the center of the bridge.

  The pilot consulted his console. “The warp engines are operational,” he said. “But we’re not moving.”

  “Bridge to engineering,” Sisko said.

  “Engineering, Relkdahz here.”

  “What’s happening with the warp drive?” Sisko asked. “It’s engaged, but we’re not going anywhere. Is this because of fewer relays and replaced junctions?”

  “Negative, Captain,” Relkdahz said confidently. “All instrumentation shows the drive is functioning to specifications and well within all tolerances.” There was a pause, during which Sisko imagined the chief engineer seeking an explanation for Robinson’s remaining in place. “We should be traveling at the speed of light.”

  “Sir, I’ve found the problem,” Stannis suddenly said. He wiped his fingers across a display on his panel with an expanding gesture, and a top-down depiction of Robinson appeared. “Here is what is supposed to happen when we accelerate to warp factor one.” He pressed a control on the display and several lines roughly tracing the contours of the ship expanded out into space around it. Sisko recognized the traditional representation of a warp field. “But here is what’s actually happening.” The lieutenant toggled a switch, resetting the diagram to its initial state. As Sisko watched, he saw a warp bubble begin to expand around Robinson, but then it collapsed back into the ship. It occurred several times before Rogeiro spoke up.

  “But why is that happening?” the first officer asked.

  “Because space-time has been destroyed all around the ship,” Stannis said, “down to and including its foundation. There is no subspace here to support the expansion of the warp field.”

  “How do we fix it?” Rogeiro asked, but Sisko already knew the answer. Stannis confirmed the captain’s worst fears.

  “We can’t,” the lieutenant said. “None of our drive systems will work here.”

  The exec looked over at Sisko with a grave expression on his face. The c
aptain could tell that Rogeiro wanted his commanding officer to put the lie to the pilot’s conclusions, or to offer up another option the crew could pursue to get the ship moving again. But Sisko couldn’t. He could only voice the truth.

  “We’re stranded.”

  Bajor, 2380

  Kasidy sat at the table in the dining room, staring off into the middle distance, her body numb to sensation. Her mind did not wander, though; she listened to every word spoken in her presence, whether directed to her or not. She heard a great deal. That morning, a troop of Bajoran Militia officers had descended on the home where she and Ben had raised Rebecca. But for all the people moving around inside and out, for all the equipment that had been delivered and set up, for all the voices and all the noise, the house felt empty.

  The previous evening, after Ben had followed the rogue transporter signal that had stolen their daughter away, Kasidy had done as her husband had asked: she’d contacted Colonel Jalas Dren—or she’d contacted his office. With the colonel unavailable, she spoke to one of his aides, who listened to her description of events and promised to dispatch the appropriate personnel to Adarak. Although Kasidy heard her urgency reflected in the man’s tone and in his pledge of immediate action, it didn’t satisfy her. For the first time, she explicitly traded on Ben’s distinction among the Bajorans, demanding the direct involvement of the colonel as soon as possible.

  Five minutes later, Jalas and three of his officers had materialized in the Adarak terminal, beaming there by way of the Militia transporter in the provincial capital of Renassa. The colonel set his subordinates to work while he personally ministered to Kasidy. At first glance, his appearance resembled that of a kindly grandfather, tall but slightly stooped, with thinning gray hair above a well-lined face, and a waistline that had gone a bit soft. But when he spoke, he did so with confidence and authority, a man accustomed to having his orders followed to the letter.

  Jalas had started his conversation with Kasidy by vowing that, whether Rebecca had gone missing because of a transporter mishap or because she’d been kidnapped, the Bajoran Militia would find her and bring her home. His assurance, though blatant mollification, still brought a degree of comfort. The colonel could not possibly have made such a guarantee based on any real information—he knew no more at that moment than Kasidy did—but she would hold him to his word until she once more held her baby in her arms.

  The three officers who’d accompanied Jalas had swiftly sprung into action. A woman with the rank of sergeant began studying the transporter logs, while a second woman, wearing a lieutenant’s insignia, followed after Ben, again utilizing the Militia’s transporter in Renassa. The third, a man the colonel introduced as Sergeant Elvem Rota, interviewed Kasidy about what had taken place. Together, the trio in short order confirmed the sequence of events, including the intentional commandeering of Rebecca’s carrier signal and her abduction from the location out in the wilderness to which she had been beamed. Kasidy and Ben subsequently spent several hours in the Militia’s provincial headquarters in Renassa, speaking with members of their investigative unit. Jalas assigned a man he called his best agent, Major Orisin Dever, to lead the case.

  Afterward, Kasidy and Ben had returned to their house in Kendra Valley, accompanied by an armed detail that would keep watch over them until the situation had been resolved. They arrived back at their home to find a forensic team wrapping up its work. While Kasidy and Ben had been answering questions and telling Orisin everything they could, the major, with the couple’s permission, had sent investigators to search their house for anything that might be relevant to Rebecca’s abduction.

  They found nothing.

  Kasidy and Ben had never gone to bed that night, knowing that circumstances would not allow them even a moment’s slumber. They sat together on the sofa in front of the unlit fireplace, where the mantel featured a bevy of family photographs. They held each other in the darkness, the only light that of the two moons peeking in the windows on the other side of the front room, behind them. They spoke quietly about their daughter, focused primarily on all of the people presently searching for her. Before long, they lapsed into silence, and soon after that, exhaustion took hold of them and they both mercifully drifted off.

  They had awoken shortly after dawn, when Major Orisin had appeared at their front door. He did not come alone or empty-handed. He brought with him quite a bit of equipment, along with the personnel to operate it. Although like most buildings on Bajor—and throughout the Federation—Kasidy and Ben’s home had been built with materials that impeded beaming into and out of the structure, the major extended the transport-free zone well beyond the house with a sizable ring of inhibitors. A security team comprised armed guards outfitted with individual tricorders and a central sensor unit. Orisin’s staff also brought with them several dedicated computer interfaces that linked directly to various law-enforcement databases and the Bajoran comnet. A portable companel connected to the archives of both the Vedek Assembly and the Chamber of Ministers, while another maintained open communications with the Militia’s provincial command center, as well as to the offices of both Asarem Wadeen and Pralon Onala. Both the first minister and the kai had been informed of the situation, though Major Orisin had decided for the time being to withhold the news of Rebecca’s abduction from the public.

  Kasidy sat in the dining room amid all the turmoil. Across the table from her, a Militia officer worked over one of the computer interfaces. In the front room, the furniture stood pushed up against one wall, which had allowed others to set up their equipment and operate it. Voices abounded. The technological sounds of myriad panels joined the tumult, added to it, filled the house.

  And still it feels hollow, Kasidy thought. She knew that it would until Rebecca was there again. Until then, everything would be different, and nothing else would matter.

  “Ms. Yates?” Kasidy looked up to see Orisin standing before her. A couple of centimeters shorter than Ben, who stood beside him, the major possessed a solid but unimposing physique. His youthful features suggested a man who had moved rapidly up the ranks to his present position, but the numerous strands of silver running through his blond hair bespoke considerable experience—or perhaps hard-fought experience. Either way, his presentation and manner instilled confidence.

  Sometime during their interaction the previous night, Kasidy had told Orisin to call her by her given name, but he had so far declined to do so. She reasoned that he wanted to preserve a professional relationship for her sake—as a sign of respect, and to foster her trust in his efforts. She suspected that it helped the major as well, as a means of preventing himself from becoming too personally involved.

  “Yes?” Kasidy said. She had heard Orisin out in the front room ask Ben to join him just a minute or so prior.

  The major glanced at Ben and gestured to the chair next to Kasidy. “Please,” he said. Ben sat down, while Orisin stayed on his feet. “We know that somebody abducted your daughter, and our primary goal is to effect her return to you, unharmed and as soon as possible. That’s not just for your sake, but for hers.”

  “Of course,” Ben said. Although his voice remained level and his face a mask of stone, Kasidy could see his frustration at having to listen to such an obvious statement. She didn’t know if Orisin perceived Ben’s irritation, though she suspected that, in his role as an investigator, he had developed considerable skill in reading people.

  “The question for us is: how do we find your daughter?” the major said. “We know how she was taken: by hijacking her carrier signal out of the Adarak terminal, altering her destination and materializing her there—but the kidnappers still utilized the Adarak transporter to do that. Why? We believe it’s because they don’t have the use of their own transporter, and we found evidence to support that conclusion. A forensic team traveled to the location where your daughter’s stroller was left. They found, on two bare patches of ground, patterns in the soil that could have been caused by a travel pod. We checked with t
he Ministry of Transportation, who coordinated with the Consolidated Space Center in Musilla. Satellite guidance for surface vehicles tracked a travel pod’s transponder to that location from Johcat and back again in the relevant timeframe.”

  “Johcat?” Ben asked as Kasidy’s heart started to race. When Ben had attempted to find Rebecca by following her modified transporter signal, he’d ended up in the southern hemisphere, in the Deserak Wilderness, a massive undeveloped expanse in Tozhat Province. The city nearest to that location was Johcat. To Kasidy, the information about the travel pod sounded more than positive; it sounded like a solid lead on their daughter’s whereabouts.

  “I sent Sergeant Elvem and several other officers to the city in search of the travel pod,” Orisin said. “I also sent an alert to transporter stations worldwide. Without identifying your daughter, I transmitted her DNA signature as part of a missing-persons protocol. If anybody tries to beam her anywhere on the plant, or to a ship in orbit, her pattern will be flagged and the transport interrupted. She and anybody with her will be beamed into separate holding cells at the nearest Militia facility.” Kasidy appreciated the preemptive action. “In the meantime,” Orisin said, “there’s another question we need to ask.”

  “Why?” Kasidy blurted out, even before she knew she would speak. “You want to know why the kidnappers abducted Rebecca.”

  “Yes,” Orisin said. “During our conversation last night, I asked each of you about your personal history—since you came to Deep Space Nine and Bajor, but even before that.”

  “You were looking for enemies,” Ben said. The word evoked images in Kasidy’s mind of the Dominion and the Typhon Pact, of massing armies and starship battles.