After the Fall

by Peter David

  “Oh,” she said finally. “Right. Of course not.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  “I’m…sorry.” She blinked owlishly, then brought up her arm to shield it from the rays of the morning sun filtering in through the large window nearby. “Just…finishing a conversation…”

  “What conversation?”

  “Having it…in a dream.”

  “That makes sense,” said Si Cwan. He looked at her a bit accusingly. “You slapped my hand away.”

  “Did I?” She glanced at his hand. “Sorry. I just…you startled me awake, that’s all.”

  “You usually like it when I—”

  “I know, I know. I just…” She reached over and patted his shoulder consolingly. “I didn’t sleep well. Had a lot of bad dreams.”

  “About what?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me, Robin,” and he propped himself up on one elbow. “Among my people, dreams can be indicators of pre-science. They should be studied for the slightest hint of what they may reveal about the future.”

  “Cwan…” Robin Lefler was shaking her head. “You’re overreacting….”

  “I am reacting just precisely as much as is required. Now tell me your dream.”

  “All right,” she said. “You were explaining to me how you were going to far prefer being a woman from now on, and then Mackenzie Calhoun—nattily attired in a black tuxedo which nicely complemented your chiffon evening gown—swept you away across a ballroom while his late son, Xyon, led the orchestra in a rousing polka.”

  Si Cwan briefly considered this, and then said, “Then again, there are times when dreams should simply be dismissed as the mute ravings of a demented mind.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” she agreed.

  Once more he reached over toward her, clearly intending to cup her breasts, and yet again she pulled away. “Robin—!”

  “I have a headache, Cwan! I know it sounds cliché, but I do. That happens when I don’t get much sleep. I’m just…I’m not in the mood right now. Okay? It’s not that I don’t love you, or that I’m not attracted to you. You know I’m still attracted, right?”

  “Of course I do. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t be?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “Right. Okay. So just…ease off, all right?”

  “All right,” he agreed. He paused and then said, “You know…you might just want to take the day off.”

  “Oh, really. And what would I do on my ‘day off’?”

  “I had that holosuite built for you. You could do whatever you wanted. Go wherever you wanted.”

  “I know, I know,” she sighed. “Maybe I will. I don’t know. Just…look, don’t hate me just because I’m in a bad mood….”

  “Of course I don’t hate you,” he said, sounding surprised. “What an absurd thing to say.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  He watched her slide out of the bed and admired her naked body for as long as it took her to slip a robe on. He began to ask her if she would be joining him for breakfast, but all too quickly she made her way across their large bedroom chamber and into the bathroom. Moments later he heard the hydro shower come on.

  Si Cwan flopped back onto the bed, allowing his head to sink into the pillow.

  It appeared this day, for which he had such high hopes, was already off to a less promising start than he’d anticipated.

  ii.

  The news that the Priatians had arrived was initially brought to Robin Lefler. It was brought to her because none of the aides on Si Cwan’s staff wanted to deal with the prospect of bringing it directly to Si Cwan himself.

  This quickly became evident to Robin as she looked up from her work when Ankar delivered the news. Ankar was one of the senior aides, and he was very careful not to simply barge into Robin’s small but efficiently organized office. As Si Cwan’s wife, she could have had the largest office in the Protectorate manor. But her position as Starfleet liaison entitled her to something far more modest, and she had opted for conservative appearances over ostentation.

  “Come,” she had called upon hearing the door chime, and the door slid aside to reveal a clearly agitated Ankar. From his face, one would never have known he was concerned about anything, for his inscrutability was legendary. But Robin had learned to read him well, and could tell there was something up from the aimless way in which his hands moved about.

  “What’s the problem, Ankar?” she asked, turning aside the computer screen upon which she had been studying recent updates from Starfleet on known hostile races.

  “It was felt you should know,” said Ankar, “that a group of Priatians have arrived.”

  She stared blankly at him. “Have they?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you felt it necessary to tell me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Should I know who the Priatians are?” she inquired.

  “There is no reason for you to, ma’am,” Ankar assured her. “They have had no interaction with either you or the Prime Minister since you and he were intimately bonded over a year ago….”

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I cannot emphasize to you how much I prefer the term ‘married.’ ”

  “ ‘Married’?”

  “ ‘Wedded’ would suffice. ‘Joined in bonds of holy matrimony’ even works. But ‘intimately bonded’…I mean, God, it sounds like something out of a romance novel.”

  “ ‘Married.’ ” He rolled the word around on his tongue experimentally, then nodded in apparent satisfaction and continued, “The Priatians have not really been heard from since you and Si Cwan were…married. With so much going on, between the wars, the rebuilding of the empire into the Protectorate…it is easy to understand how they may have escaped your notice. That you wouldn’t know who they are.”

  “Okay,” she said uneasily. “I appreciate your letting me off the hook in that respect. But that still leaves the question on the table as to why you’d tell me that a delegation…I assume it’s a delegation?” He nodded. “A delegation,” she continued, “of Priatians has arrived. I mean, are they here to see me?”

  “Not as such, no,” Ankar admitted.

  “Meaning they want to see Si Cwan.”

  “Yes.”

  “And not me.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “But you—meaning you and the other aides—are trying to fob them off on me.”

  “I would not use the term ‘fob off,’ ” he corrected her cautiously.

  “Well, I sure hope you’re not gonna be going with ‘intimately bonded,’ because…” Her voice trailed off and her lips thinned. Understanding began to dawn. “I may not be familiar with these Priatians…but Si Cwan is.”

  “Yes,” said Ankar. His shoulders sagged in what appeared to be relief.

  “And for whatever reason, he’s not going to be happy to see them.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t want to have to deal with his reaction, so you figured that if I brought them to Si Cwan, his reaction would be far more restrained.”

  He crisscrossed his arms and bowed to her. “Madame is wise beyond her gender and station.”

  “And you are gutless beyond your years.”

  “Thank you, madame,” and he bowed again. “Shall I…?”

  “Bring them in?” Robin leaned back in her chair and gestured expansively. “Why the hell not?”

  For a third time he bowed as he backed out of the room. Minutes later there was another chime at her door, and it slid open to reveal what she immediately took to be the Priatian delegation.

  There were three of them. They did not, at first glance, seem particularly impressive. Subsequent glances did little to improve the initial impression.

  Actually, they reminded her a bit of squids.

  Their heads were soft, fleshy and elongated, with two silvery black eyes fixed upon her unblinkingly. Two tentacles were protruding from either side of their copious ro
bes, somewhere right around the middle, about where their waist would have been had they been human. When they moved forward, it was with a soft sound that was a combination of popping and sucking, very faint but constant. It made her wonder just exactly what their means of locomotion was, and then she decided that she’d really prefer not to find out.

  The lead Priatian spoke, and he didn’t seem to be opening anything resembling a mouth. She quickly realized that the angles of his head served to hide a remarkably narrow jawline and that there was indeed a mouth hidden somewhere beneath there. She made no endeavor to try and figure out where their organs for smelling and hearing were, suspecting she might not be too thrilled with the answer.

  “Greetings, Ambassador Cwan Mate,” said the Priatian in a warbling voice. “I am Keesala. These are my associates, Pembark and Marzan.”

  “Actually, I’m not technically an ambassador, since I’m still attached to the Office of Interplanetary Affairs, a division of Starfleet. Due to the specific circumstances of my situation and the volatile history of the region, I’m here in more of an advisory capacity and guarding Starfleet’s interests. So the best way to address me would be as Lieutenant Commander Lefler.”

  “Oh,” said Keesala. “Very well. Lieutenant Commander Lefler, I bring you greetings from—”

  Just to satisfy her curiosity, and sensing that the introduction might last some moments, she mumbled a unique code word, which shut off, for four seconds, the universal translator embedded in her ear. Just as she thought, the result was a series of clicks and what sounded like slurps coming from the Priatian’s mouth. Seconds later, the universal translator kicked back in.

  “—and our ancestors going back six generations,” finished Keesala. His face was hardly the most expressive thing she’d ever seen, but he seemed pleased that he had accomplished the introduction. She gestured for him to take a seat. Not surprisingly, he and the others remained standing. “We have come here seeking an audience with Prime Minister Cwan and the advisory council of the Thallonian Protectorate.”

  “I see.” Even though nothing had been discussed, Robin had the strangest feeling that she was seriously about to put her foot into a hornets’ nest. Certainly if Ankar had been so determined to avoid Si Cwan’s reaction, it wasn’t going to be anything good. “And would they know what this is in regards to?”

  “I suspect they will, yes,” Keesala said gravely.

  “Would you care to tell me?” she asked.

  “Would it benefit us?”

  She gave that a moment’s consideration. “I don’t see how it could hurt,” she said. “I mean, I’m getting the distinct feeling—just a hunch, mind you—that you think you’re not going to get a fair hearing.”

  “Your hunch,” said Pembark, speaking up for the first time, “is most canny.” Marzan glanced at Pembark but remained silent.

  “So, that being the case,” Robin said, “it’s all to your advantage to garner my alliance. I can get you heard where ordinarily you might not be.”

  “Very well,” said Keesala who, when one came right down to it, hadn’t been all that difficult to convince. “We have come here over a matter of some territory.”

  “I see. Whose?”

  “Ours.”

  “All right.” Lefler was with them so far. “So where is this territory?”

  “It is beneath your feet.”

  Robin’s eyebrows knit as she stared downward. “You mean it’s subterranean?”

  “No. It is the planet upon which you are currently dwelling.”

  She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “You’re saying this world that’s now called ‘New Thallon’ was once your world.”

  “That is not correct.”

  “It’s not?”

  “We are saying,” Pembark spoke up, “that all the planets are ours. All of them.”

  “In the Milky Way galaxy?” As claims went, she was having a good deal of trouble buying into it.

  “Of course not,” said Keesala.

  “Well, that’s a re—”

  “Merely all the planets in Thallonian space.”

  “—lief,” finished Robin, feeling suddenly a lot older. She shifted uneasily in her chair. “So you’re saying…what? That you’re planning to conquer Thallonian space? Is that what this is? A threat?”

  “Not at all,” Keesala assured her. Pembark and the still mute Marzan made some odd gesture that appeared to be nodding in agreement, although Robin couldn’t be one hundred percent certain.

  “So you’re not threatening us.”

  “No.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  Although Keesala’s face continued to convey little in terms of expression, she was positive he was regarding her pityingly. “How tragic that an appeal to compassion, to justice, to rightness…these things are incomprehensible to you. That all you understand are threats.”

  “That is not fair!” Robin protested. “No one’s said anything about compassion or rightness. I have a very highly defined sense of justice, thank you very much, and the United Federation of Planets, which I represent, shares that sense. The problem is that you still haven’t made clear to me exactly what the nature of your cause or complaint is.”

  “We have told you. We desire the return of our planets.”

  “Okay, here’s the thing,” Robin said, getting to her feet and deciding that now might not be a bad time to usher them out of her office.

  And suddenly Marzan spoke up.

  As opposed to the higher-register, quavering sound of the other Priatians’ voices, Marzan’s voice was deep and powerful. Robin almost felt as if the walls around her were vibrating slightly in response. Marzan glided forward a few feet. When he orated, it was with such authority that Robin sat back down without even realizing she had done so.

  “In the days of our ancestors,” Marzan intoned, “we were as many in number as the stars in the night sky. The Many Worlds were ours, for they had always been ours. Other races, other species developed on them as well, with their own societies and beliefs. But all of them acknowledged that we were first among equals, and deferred to us in all things. We were the children of the founders of life, and all these worlds had been bequeathed us. Our population stretched from one end of this stellar territory to the other. And the founders of life, whom we called ‘the Wanderers,’ looked upon the population that they had placed upon the Many Worlds, and found it good. At which point, they opted to continue their Wanderings, so as to place more of their seed in other realms. ‘Wait for us here, our children,’ they said unto us, ‘for eventually, we shall return from our wanderings when our work is done, and we will settle here and reside with our children on the Many Worlds. We will bring with us the final great peace and the final great prosperity.’ ”

  Robin started to ask a question, but Marzan kept right on talking. Quickly she closed her mouth, not wanting to appear rude…and at the same time dreading the prospect of having to provide a report of this incident to Starfleet. The other Priatians, in the meantime, barely seemed aware of their surroundings. They had been caught up in Marzan’s narrative, bowing back and forth slightly and continually murmuring under their breath what could only be described as prayers.

  “And then,” continued Marzan, “long after the departure of the Wanderers, the New Ones arrived. They came to the Many Worlds seeking refuge, claiming their own environment had become inhospitable to them. We allowed the New Ones sanctuary in the Many Worlds. We did not understand that these New Ones were not the last. Not remotely. They were the vanguard, and more New Ones arrived, and more. We, the children of the Wanderers, were a peaceful folk. We did not realize the threat the New Ones presented until they had so insinuated themselves into our society that it was too late. We gave them entire worlds, for we felt it would be selfish for us to deny them residence in the Many Worlds. That the Wanderers had left us such a bounty, it would be sinful to prevent others from sharing in it. We were wrong. Wrong and foolish, for
however much we gave the New Ones, they demanded more. And more.”

  “And more,” intoned the others.

  “And more,” said Marzan.

  “And—”

  “I get it!” Robin blurted out. They looked most surprised at the interruption, and for a moment Robin felt badly, but only for a moment. Then she took a breath, let it out slowly, and repeated more softly, “I get it. The point is made. They kept wanting more. The situation isn’t incomprehensible to me. Believe it or not, it’s not even unprecedented in human history. So…what you’re saying is that these New Ones, these are the ancestors of what we would now refer to as the Thallonians?”

  “That is correct,” said Keesala. Marzan, as if responding to an unspoken cue, stepped back so that he was in line with Pembark. “Over many years, they kept at us, wearing us down in many ways. First we met them with compromise, and then we eventually met them with force. But they had many ways to undermine us, and were far craftier than we.”

  “Some believe,” Pembark spoke up, “that the Wanderers sent them as a test…a test that we failed.”

  Keesala fired him what appeared to be, even with his fairly inscrutable mien, a warning glance. “Others, such as myself, do not believe that,” Keesala said cautiously. “In fact, most of us do not. We believe we treated the New Ones as the Wanderers would have wanted us to—with trust and compassion. And that we were betrayed as a people. And that the Wanderers will avenge this inequity upon their return.”

  Abruptly they lapsed into silence, and Robin felt the need to try and fill that silence. “Look,” she said, rapping her fingers on the desk, “there’s no doubt your people got something of a raw deal. But by your own admission, it was a long time ago. History is not like a starship. You can’t change the course of it simply through willpower.”

  “With respect, madam,” replied Keesala, “that is the only way one can change it.”

  “All right, fair enough,” she allowed with a small smile. “But what I’m saying is that, even if it all played out exactly the way you describe it…there are people on those worlds now. Whereas all of you are on…what? One?”