Original Sin

by David R. George III

  “I know, you’re right,” Radovan said, agreeing with Winser just so that he could get her to leave as quickly as possible. He set the medkit back down on the table, as if by doing so he could distance himself from her criticism. “But I haven’t harmed myself, and I am on the mend . . . although I’m really still recovering—”

  “Which is why I brought these,” she said, holding up three isolinear chips. “I wanted to make you some meals from healthy, restorative recipes my great-grandmother passed down to me.” She peered back over her shoulder at the replicator. “If that thing still works.”

  “Actually, I already ate this morning,” Radovan said. “Right now, I just really need to rest.” He did his best to hint that she should leave.

  “You go right ahead, Tavus.” She cocked her head to one side and ran her finger up along his upper arm. “If you want, I can lie down with you.”

  The indecent suggestion brought Radovan’s one night with Winser back in full force. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He decided to try to use that to his advantage. “That sounds nice, Ellevet, but I don’t want to make you ill,” he told her. “I just want to crawl back in bed by myself and get some sleep.” Radovan realized that the pillow and bedclothes he’d used the last two nights were still on the sofa. Fortunately, Winser apparently hadn’t noticed.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” she said, and she placed her hand against the side of his face—an expression of affection that further sickened him. “I’ll go, but I’ll leave these here.” Winser set the three isolinear chips she’d brought with her on the table.

  “Thank you,” Radovan managed to say with no trace of the acrimony he felt. “It was very thoughtful of you to bring those over.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Winser said. “I’m just glad I got to see you, if only for a few minutes.” Radovan stepped aside to let her leave, but instead, she glanced down the hall. “Can I just use the ’fresher before I go?”

  No, no, no! Just get out! Radovan thought. But he said, “Yes, of course.”

  Winser headed down the short hall and into the refresher. When its door had closed, he quickly moved to the sofa and gathered up the bedclothes and pillow. He carried them to the far end of the living area and shoved them behind a long, low cabinet, where Winser couldn’t see them when she came back out.

  Radovan shook his head. To that point, he had planned his actions so carefully, but he obviously hadn’t taken into account that woman showing up at his flat multiple times. He would have to make it clear to her that he would contact her when he felt better, and that she shouldn’t return until he did. She’d already demonstrated that she wouldn’t listen, but he hoped it would at least keep her away for the rest of the day—enough time for him to complete his preparations and get out of the city.

  Radovan leaned heavily on the cabinet. He hadn’t gotten that much sleep, and so he really did feel tired. Maybe once Winser left, he actually should lie down again—

  A scraping noise rose behind Radovan . . . like the sound of metal sliding against metal. In the instant before he turned, he knew that, in his eagerness to make his way down to the basement to get his antigrav trunk, he had left the key in his bedroom door. When he pushed off the cabinet and spun around, it felt as though he did so in slow motion. Winser had come out of the ’fresher and unlocked his bedroom door. Had curiosity overcome her? Had she decided to get into his bed despite his stated preference for her to leave? Had she jealously—and errantly—suspected he had another woman in there? Or had the new and powerful lock made her suspicious in another way?

  All of those questions flooded through Radovan’s mind as he ran across his living area—past the sofa and low table, past the amended replicator and the dining table and chairs, down the short hall between the guest refresher and the closet. Did he call out to Winser, yell at her to stop, to leave his flat at once? He didn’t know, and he wouldn’t be able to remember later. But he would recall seeing her push the bedroom door open and look inside.

  “Who’s that?” she asked loudly, and Radovan didn’t know if Winser thought an adult woman might be in his bed. She took two steps inside, and by the time he reached her, he saw that the girl was sitting up in bed and peering toward the doorway. “That’s—” Winser said, pointing as she turned toward him, but he seized her and threw her to the floor.

  Winser shrieked, a sound like the wail of a wounded animal. On the bed, the girl began to scream. “Quiet!” Radovan roared, though it had no effect. He saw Winser trying to scramble up, and he threw himself on top of her, his knee coming down hard in the small of her back. She grunted and collapsed back to the floor as he realized he had the medkit in his hand. He must have snatched it from the table as he ran past.

  Beneath Radovan, Winser struggled to throw him off and get back up. He opened the medkit, grabbed the hypospray, then fumbled his way through the ampoules to find the right one. He finally snapped one into place and pressed the hypo to the side of Winser’s neck. Radovan heard its sibilant hiss, and in just seconds, her body went limp. She fell face-first back to the floor.

  Behind him, the girl’s screams had stopped, reduced to heaving sobs. Radovan clambered to his feet and walked over to the bed. “Be quiet,” he said in a tone that sounded surprisingly calm, even to himself. The girl looked up at him, but she continued to cry. “I just put her to sleep,” Radovan tried to reassure her. “She’ll be all right when she wakes up.”

  The girl just stared at him.

  Radovan went back over to where Winser lay facedown on the floor. He regarded her for a few silent moments, attempting to figure out exactly what to do with her. He found the slight movements of her body as she breathed hypnotic.

  Finally, Radovan positioned himself at her head, where he reached down and took hold of her under her arms. He lifted the upper portion of her body off the floor and scampered awkwardly backward. He dragged her out into the hall and set her down. Stepping over her unconscious form, he returned to the bedroom and looked in at the girl. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with some breakfast for you.” He pulled the door closed, locked it, and pocketed the key.

  Then Radovan did what he had to do.

  Gamma Quadrant, 2386

  Seated in the command chair, bathed in the blood-red tint of alert lighting, Rogeiro felt the sheer power of Robinson as the ship soared deeper into the star system. A cocoon of plangent sound and vibration sheathed the bridge, accompanying the transformation of the crew from stranded survivors to unshackled liberators. Robinson sprinted ahead at warp speed, despite traveling into a planetary system and not out of it, but the first officer had confidence in Sivadeki’s ability to safely navigate the inherent dangers.

  In just minutes, the ship descended from the Kuiper belt to the inner system and decelerated to sublight velocity. The softer, steadier rhythms of the impulse engines replaced those of the warp drive as Robinson hied toward the strange world the crew had discovered. Uteln confirmed the shields active and the weapons at full power, while Plante verified all of the ship’s transporters on standby.

  “Approaching target,” Sivadeki said from the conn. “Sixty seconds out.”

  “Let’s see it,” Rogeiro said. On the main viewer, the distant smudge in its center suddenly filled the screen. The object more or less described a spherical square in space, with its inhabitants occupying the perpetually sunlit bowl of its inner side.

  “Sensors have detected all the children,” Plante said. “They are still assembled in three separate groups.” Her fingers marched rapidly across the ops panel, which issued a corresponding series of cheeps and tweets that sounded almost like a song. “Targeting the transporters. I’m prepared to lock on and beam them up as soon as we’re in range.” Plante had rerouted the control systems of every transporter aboard Robinson to the operations console, where she could manage them collectively. She would beam up all of the children at once.

  “Commander, we’re being scanned,” Uteln reported. “A squadron of ships alr
eady airborne within the atmosphere is altering course to intercept.” Without the first officer having to issue an order, Plante adjusted the main screen again. A magnified view showed a dozen or more vessels streaking up from the Dyson section. Many of the ships looked familiar to Rogeiro from the first attack on Robinson, with no two of them identical.

  “Thirty seconds to transporter range,” Sivadeki said.

  “Lay down covering fire above the null space,” the first officer said. Nobody on the bridge had expected their gambit to go unnoticed or the unusual world to go undefended. “Phasers and quantum torpedoes, continuous discharge in random patterns.” Rogeiro stood up as the feedback tones of the tactical console confirmed the sustained launch of Robinson’s weapons.

  Plante again adjusted the image on the main screen, which pulled back to show a wider view. Multiple filaments of destructive yellow-red energy shot from the bow the ship. Glistering blue-white shells joined the fusillade. Rogeiro stepped forward to stand beside Sivadeki at the helm. “Evasive maneuvers,” he told her. “You need to find us ten point one seconds.”

  “No return fire yet,” Uteln said. “Their ships are still crossing the null space surrounding their world.”

  “Be ready when they reenter the normal continuum,” Rogeiro said. The Robinson crew had already seen that phasers and quantum torpedoes failed in null space, but if the advancing vessels possessed similar energy weapons, the aliens would doubtless employ those armaments once they reached normal space.

  Rogeiro studied the main viewscreen and watched the enemy ships approaching. Ahead of them, Robinson’s phaser beams swept irregularly through the void, dying as they reached null space. The quantum torpedoes—programmed to detonate at random, but prior to leaving the normal continuum—exploded in brilliant flashes of light.

  “We’re in range,” Sivadeki said.

  “The first ships are entering normal space,” Uteln said. As though to punctuate the development, a blue beam shot from the lead vessel and slammed into Robinson. The ship trembled in response.

  “Commencing evasive maneuvers,” Sivadeki said. The view of the vessels and the Dyson section behind them slipped away on the main screen as Robinson changed course.

  “Minimal damage to the shields,” Uteln said. “Their weapons are laser based—about a third as powerful as our phasers.” They apparently didn’t want to use their space-time weapon so close to their world, which the captain had anticipated. The ship shook again as another shot landed.

  “How many hits can we take with the shields down?” Rogeiro wanted to know.

  “Before the ship sustains serious damage?” Uteln said. “That depends on the placement of the strikes and how many we take at once. It could be as many as ten or twelve, maybe as few as six or eight.”

  Rogeiro made the decision in less time than it took to give the order. “Do it now.”

  Uteln responded at once. “Shields are down.”

  “Energizing transporters,” Plante said.

  Just ten seconds, Rogeiro thought, and he counted out, One. In that instant, two blasts struck Robinson in rapid succession, and then a moment later, a third.

  “More of the vessels have exited null space and opened fire,” Uteln explained.

  Two.

  At the conn, Sivadeki’s hands moved with impressive speed, but with so many enemy ships, Robinson had only so many routes open to it. In his head, the first officer continued counting: Three . . . Four. Another blast landed, and then another hit especially hard, throwing Rogeiro forward. He fell to the deck in front of the main viewscreen.

  “Simultaneous hits on the port nacelle,” Uteln called out.

  Five.

  Rogeiro climbed back to his feet and peered over the conn at Sivadeki. “Protect the port nacelle.”

  “Aye, sir,” Sivadeki said, even as she operated her controls, directing the ship on a winding path through space.

  Six.

  Robinson quaked again, and then multiple blasts hammered the ship one after another.

  Rogeiro stumbled again and slipped down to his knees. A tremendous din filled the bridge. It sounded as though the ship would fly apart at any moment.

  Seven.

  “Another hit on the port nacelle and two on the starboard,” Uteln said, shouting to be heard. “Three strikes on the impulse cowling.”

  They’re targeting our drive systems, Rogeiro thought, and then: Eight.

  But then somebody else yelled, “Raise the shields!” It took Rogeiro a second to realize that it had been Plante. He could not recall ever hearing her countermand an order.

  “Shields up,” Uteln called out, following the second officer’s command. Robinson immediately took more weapons fire, but the defensive screens easily withstood the assault.

  “Commander,” Plante said to Rogeiro as he staggered back up, “the transporters can’t function across null space. I tried twice to beam up the children, but the dematerialization sequence failed both times.”

  “Understood,” Rogeiro said. He then addressed Sivadeki. “Get us out of here,” he said. “Best possible speed.” The first officer quickly strode between the conn and ops, making his way back to the command chair. “Uteln,” he said, “get me the captain.”

  • • •

  Sisko acknowledged the coded message with one of his own, which he and his first officer had decided upon before embarking on their two-pronged rescue mission. The captain had anticipated the failure of the transporter across null space, and so he and his crew had formulated a backup plan. While Robinson dove into the planetary system to attempt to beam the children to safety, the ship’s two runabouts, Acheron and Styx, followed at a distance and headed for the far side of the Dyson section.

  Sisko closed the channel, then looked to the woman seated beside him at the main console of Styx. “Go,” he told her. Ensign Anissa Weil reached forward and tapped a series of control surfaces in rapid sequence.

  “Engaging thermal conduits,” Weil said. “Signaling the Acheron to do the same.” Olive skinned, with short black hair, dark brown eyes, and a hawk nose, the ensign served aboard Robinson as an engineer, though she also had considerable experience as a pilot. She had helped install heating elements along the undersides of the two runabouts’ warp nacelles.

  Robinson’s run past the inhabited surface of the Dyson section had served not only as an attempt to rescue the children, but as a distraction should that attempt prove unsuccessful. With Lieutenant Stannis at the conn of Acheron and Sisko piloting Styx, the two officers took the runabouts to the artificial world’s convex, dark side. They each maneuvered their vessel to exit the normal continuum with the landing pads facing down. Momentum carried Acheron and Styx through null space until they settled with a thud beside each other on the far surface of the Dyson section.

  In addition to adding improvised heating elements, the crew had installed emergency evacuation modules in the runabouts. The preconfigured compartments included high-capacity transporters and accommodation for scores of passengers. If the Robinson crew couldn’t beam the children across the gulf of null space, Sisko had figured, he would solve that problem by using the runabouts to cross the inert region and land directly on the odd world.

  Once the two vessels had alit, the transporter officers—Crewman Stokar aboard Acheron, and Crewwoman Jentzen Spingeld on Styx—had scanned for the children, but sensors had been unable to penetrate through the dense metal core of the Dyson section to the populated side. That meant that the away teams would have to bring the runabouts closer. Knowing that might be necessary, Uteln had already devised a covert means of doing so.

  With word from Rogeiro that the Robinson crew’s attempt had failed, Sisko took the next step in their secondary plan. An ice sheet kilometers deep covered the dark side of the Dyson section. Lieutenant sh’Vrane theorized that the frozen expanse functioned as part of the artificial world’s hydrologic cycle, acting essentially as a fresh-water ocean, to which water was added and frozen, and fro
m which it was melted and retrieved. Uteln’s scans revealed a series of large tubes running between the inner and outer surfaces, a majority of them utilized to deliver water through filtration systems to the frozen side for purification and storage, and the rest used to return water to the inhabited side for use.

  “The ice is melting beneath both runabouts,” Weil said as she monitored the sensors. “It shouldn’t take long before—” Styx suddenly shifted, not as though it had dropped in the thaw below it, but as though something had struck the hull. “It’s the interface at the edge of null space. The runabout is reentering the normal continuum.” Like Robinson when it had been stranded, the Dyson section existed on an island of ordinary space, surrounded by nothingness. Once Acheron and Styx fully left the inert region, their crews could once again make use of their weapons.

  Sisko turned in his chair to face the other five members of his away team. Along with Spingeld on the transporter, that included Robinson’s chief medical officer and three security officers: Lieutenant Harris Rogers, who crewed the weapons panel, along with Ensigns Rita Bevelaqua and Grandal. “When the runabout fully exits null space, I’ll reorient the Styx to travel into the ice, toward the opening of the tube,” the captain said. “The Acheron will be right behind us. Use low-yield phasers on a wide-dispersion to liquefy the ice ahead of us, until we reach the tube and liquid water. If we encounter any structures inside the tube that we can’t navigate past, use the sensors to determine if we can cut or blast our way through, although our preference is to remain hidden. Our goal is to reach a point where we can lock on to the children on scans and beam them all back to the runabouts.”

  Styx shuddered again.

  “The runabouts are back in normal space,” Weil said.

  Sisko spun back to the main console and gazed through the forward ports, which sloped inward from the bow of the vessel. Directly ahead, filling three-quarters of the view, stood a wall of ice. Above it stretched a star-speckled span of the Gamma Quadrant night. The captain brought the impulse engines back online, then used the thrusters to alter the direction of Styx. The runabout rose and then pitched forward. The stars vanished, leaving the ship facing a wall of ice. “Fire phasers,” Sisko said.