by Emily
Geordi's unnecessary funeral assemblage, Stardate
45892.4. The disappearance of the U.S.S. Hem, on which Geordi's mother was captain, Stardate 47215.5 ...
"Captain, the transporters will be ready in two minutes or less."
The freighter would only be safe for another four minutes, at most. Not enough time for a rescue team to find anyone, and he didn't want to risk it without knowing if the away team's combadges were operating. Beyond that, it was unlikely that a transporter beam could pull them out in time, the interference of the storms too great
Last resorts. They could try to use low-power phasers to nudge the freighter onto a new trajectory ... but given its condition, mere was no way to be sure it wouldn't cause catastrophic damage. Even if it worked, they might conceivably end up sending the freighter hurtling into the path of another plasma flare.
"Is security ready?" Picard snapped.
"Yes, sir. Mr. Dey is fully suited and standing by in transporter room A," a voice over the com called from security. "He's been briefed to objective.''
Beam in, call an emergency, beam out. They'd have to hope that all the away team members still had working combadges, and weren't somehow restricted from using them. It was the last realistically possible option; if they couldn't get the team out through the steadily closing time window, mere might not be any way to save them.
Something was wrong. Vaughn's internal journey through the past was starting to include events outside
of his experience, or one series of events, specifically— the loss of the Kamal, and the (kadis of the people surrounding him. The integration of memories not his own was gradual at first, but his alarm grew with each unfamiliar experience.
The woman on Panora who cursed us for letting the Jem'Hadar come. A stand of dead garlanic trees, poisoned by biogenic gas. A plasma storm, bursts of powerful energy buffeting the freighter, the impulse engines knocked out in the first wave of burning light...
Not me. That never happened to me.
Vaughn struggled to understand as the memories kept coming, so strong that he was nearly incapacitated. He forced himself to take a step forward, then another, practically blinded by the persistent wash of feelings and images, fewer and fewer his own.
The brilliance of exploding Jem'Hadar ships over Tiburon. The Cardassian captain shouting, ordering for power to be diverted to the shields. The controlled terror on the faces of the men guarding the prisoners, when they realized that life support had been cut by half.
The purplish light was growing in intensity, brightening, becoming bluer, and Vaughn sensed a familiar odor, comprised of unwashed bodies and desperation and overcooked soup; it was a prison smell, or that of a refugee camp. Sadly, he'd known enough of both to be certain. He took another step forward, remembering the soulless gaze of the first Borg he'd ever seen, and the soft prayers of a Bajoran couple who'd asphyxiated less than ten meters from where he now stood, and the ashy gray faces of the gasping Cardassian guards, still grasping their rifles—
—this is not some personal catharsis I'm having, 1 have to stop this—
—and there, at the back of the cargo bay, the source of the light. A twisting, fluid shape in an open box, less than a half meter in size, propped up on a broken crate. The object itself was barely visible behind the shining, pale blue rays of light that it emitted, the dark red of the emergency lights drowned out by its radiance. He stumbled toward it, suddenly sure that the light was creating whatever it was he was experiencing.
Dying, they were all dying, Cardassian and Bajoran alike, suffocating—
—the Cardassian Occupation. Bajoran history...
Orb. The Orbs of Bajor.
Another memory, but this time, mere wasn't another to push it away, as though it was a memory he was supposed to have and keep. The Orbs were religious artifacts, supposed to generate spiritual visions or hallucinations of some kind; the Bajoran faithful believed that they were gifts from their gods. Read about them somewhere...
It was still the past on the Kamal, the strained hisses of death all around him in the cold bay, but Vaughn felt stronger, clearer. And when he reached the box, studded frosted jewels or reflecting ice, he thought for just a moment that there was someone with him, standing at his side. A tall, dark human, a man who seemed to radiate a kind of serenity as strongly as the Bajoran artifact radiated light—
—and then Vaughn closed the box's intricately carved door and he was alone, standing in the cold, silent peace of the long dead Kamal
Only a few seconds later, an unfamiliar male voice
sounded in his helmet, identifying itself as a security officer and demanding that that everyone on the team trigger his or her emergency signature immediately.
Vaughn quickly hefted the box and set it by his feet before tapping the contact on the forearm of Ms suit, motivated by a. strangely compelling certainty that me Orb was ready to leave the icy, floating tomb where it had rested for so long.
12
After some thorough scans by Dr. Crusher, the away team reported to the observation lounge for debriefing. As soon as the captain finished reviewing Ae final damage assessments, he would join mem there.
Standing in front of the door, Deanna received a depth of chaotic and disturbed emotion, a feeling of darkness. She took a few deep breams, relaxing, centering herself. Allowing any personal distress to enter her mind at mis point would only hinder her effectiveness, which would inevitably make it harder to communicate, to listen and hear. It was a fundamental truth of effective counseling.
Still, she was concerned. The freighter had disappeared into the Badlands a full two minutes after the away team had returned, certainly close enough to trigger post-traumatic responses, but it was the discovery of an uncased Bajoran Orb that worried her. No one on the team would have been prepared for the kind of effects such an artifact produced.
She walked in and took her place at the table next to the captain's empty seat, the agitated feelings in die room assigning themselves specifically to each member of the team, except for Data. They were all confused, but in keeping with the history of the Orbs, the base feelings suggested personalized experiences. Geordi was emotionally exhausted, wrung out, but other than bewilderment and an uncharacteristic vulnerability, he was well. Kuri Dennings was similarly exhausted, but from pain. Kuri had visited Deanna a few times concerning the death of her brother, but had been handling her grief well; the raw depth of it had been revisited, and Deanna decided immediately to call in on her later.
Will... She could feel his strength, his desire to be brave for her, but he was struggling against a post-adrenaline low.... And something like self-doubt, possibly even shame.
He was scared, and quite badly.
She had to resist an urge to hone in on his feelings, to probe deeper for how the experience was affecting him. It was an important element in their relationship, to maintain a firm boundary between their private and professional lives, but there were times that she found it difficult Now, with the crisis past, she did what she could, accepting her personal concerns for him and setting them aside for later.
She turned her attention to Commander Vaughn just as the captain walked into the room, and was surprised by what she found there. She'd come to like Elias, very much, since they had first met, and though she still didn't know him well, she appreciated the weight of the unknown responsibilities he seemed to shoulder. He was a thoughtful, intelligent man with a strong sense of
decency and compassion, but he'd also been troubled since he'd come aboard for mis mission. She'd sensed great uncertainty beneath his polished confidence, the kind generated by meticulous soul-searching. In that capacity, the commander was like Captain Picard... but where Jean-Luc's foundations were solid, Bias had seemed to be in doubt of the very structure of his belief system. He handled himself well, though, and as he was an extremely private man, Deanna had not approached him about it But die highly charged energy coming from him now was so fundamentally di
fferent ...
... his doubt is essentially gone. Whatever he was struggling to decide about himself, he's decided.
She couldn't know what the decision was, but he was sending out waves of exhilaration, and she found her curiosity about the nature of this particular Orb soaring.
Vaughn waited until Picard finished telling mem what had happened during their absence before delivering his simple, concise report of their ordeal aboard the freighter. Everyone on the away team, even Data, had experienced vivid and incapacitating memories while separated, which had stopped as soon as the Orb had been shielded. Data provided a brief explanation of the Orbs themselves, describing them as "energy vortices," but admitted that the Orbs Federation scientists had so far attempted to study had consistently defied a more meaningful analysis. Of the original nine, only four were accounted for. Eight had been taken by the Cardassians during the Occupation; one had remained hidden on Bajor. Three of those stolen had been returned to Bajor over the five years following the Cardassian withdrawal, but the whereabouts of the remaining five
were still unknown. And given the present turmoil on Cardassia Prime, the Bajorans' expectations of recovering them anytime soon were low. A tenth Orb, previously unknown, had been discovered off-world only a year before, but that one had vanished after it had apparently fulfilled its purpose.
The captain was excited about their find, though he was outwardly calm. "It seems we've found one of the missing ones. And I think it's reasonable to speculate, from your experiences, that this is the Orb of Memory. It was originally discovered in the Denorios Belt more man 2000 years ago."
"What exactly did we experience?" Will asked. "How do they work?"
Captain Picard nodded toward Deanna. "Counselor?"
"As Data said, mere's very little scientific information on the Orbs," she said. "Except that they transmit an energy that works directly on neural pathways, affecting chemical and electrical balances. They're quite powerful. At least one has been known to function as a time portal. In most cases, however, the effect is more... personal. Having an Orb experience is often life-changing for those of the Bajoran faith; many believe that it offers a line of direct communication between themselves and the Prophets, the wormhole entities said to watch over Bajor."
The discussion continued, the decision made for Data to immediately begin work on the delicate realignment of subspace communications, the captain announcing that they would be moving away from the Badlands to run full systems diagnostics and to reassess options. The Enterprise needed a dock so that
the shield-emitters could be properly tested, and access to Starfleet command as soon as possible, to make their report. Will suggested that they plot a course for Deep Space 9, the closest Starbase to their current position and conveniently owned by Bajor; they could turn over the Orb to the Bajorans and await new orders as they carried out repairs.
Deanna could feel the flagging concentration in the room and decided to speak up before the captain started assigning responsibilities. He was unaware that Will and Kuri, at least, had been adversely affected by their encounter. "Captain, Orb experiences are generally quite draining. I strongly recommend at least six hours of rest for the team members before they return to duty."
Picard nodded, the natural concern he always felt for his crew intensifying slightly. Deanna had often wondered if he knew how paternal the tenacity of his feelings were.
"There's no immediate crisis, is there? Let's make it a full night," he said lightly, and stood up, smiling. "Data, I hope you won't mind the extra hours. I'd like the rest of you to contact your teams and tell them mat they'll have to do without you, that you're officially off duty until 0800 tomorrow. Rest well, everyone."
They all stood, Deanna deciding that she would walk with Kuri back to her quarters. She made eye contact with Will, and both saw and felt that he was holding up well; like Geordi, he wanted only to sleep at the moment
Not Elias, though. He was very much awake, she could get that much from the spark in his sharp blue eyes.
"Captain, if I could have a moment..." he asked, and Picard nodded. Both men lingered behind as the rest of them filed out, Data telling the weary La Forge which self-diagnostics he planned to run while he worked on communications, the others silent with fatigue. The counselor felt a twinge of wistfulness as she followed, wanting very much to hear what Elias would say to the captain, if he would talk about his newfound sense of determination and purpose. Intellectually, the change was only a simple shift of attitude—but the simplest were often the most profound emotionally.
Deanna sighed inwardly before turning her full attention to Kuri Dennings's sweet, anguished heart, starting the search for the words that might help.
Commander Vaughn didn't seem to be nearly as tired as the others had—nor did he seem as tired as he'd been only a short time ago, discussing bis retirement as they'd watched the storms. In fact, he seemed positively invigorated.
Perhaps I was right about that change of vocation, leading an exploration team seems to agree with him. That, or his experience inspired this somehow; he was closest to the Orb.
Picard couldn't help feeling vaguely sorry that he hadn't insisted on going along. To have found such a historically and culturally valuable object... it would certainly have put a spring in his own step.
"Captain, I just wanted to thank you for our conversation earlier today," Vaughn said, firmly meeting his gaze, even sounding different. Gone was the slight hesitancy, the careful measure of each sentiment expressed. "It set the stage for one of those 'powerful
experiences' that Deanna mentioned. I feel that things are much clearer now."
"My pleasure," Picard answered, pleasantly surprised at the man's mood for freedom of expression, part of him thinking that Vaughn was about to say he'd reconsidered retirement Something had certainly changed; the commander no longer seemed to have that cautiously watchful quality mat had drawn deep tines at the comers of his eyes and mouth.
"You seem to be in high spirits," he added, raising an eyebrow, not wanting to pry but curious about the transformation.
"I am," Vaughn said, folding his arms and leaning against the table. "The memories I experienced—I was reminded of things that I'd forgotten, of people I used to know, of events and the feelings I had when I was experiencing mem. And I realized that since the end of the war, I've been... I've been preparing to be old, if that makes sense. Because I'm tired, I'm sick of death and the destruction that accompanies it"
Picard nodded, understanding perfectly.
"Jean-Luc, do you know why I joined Starfleet?"
Picard considered his response before answering. "I suppose I always imagined it was out of an honest sense of duty, an earnest desire to serve and defend the Federation."
Vaughn shook his head. "That was why I stayed. I became a floating tactical operative very early in my career because I was good at it, and I was needed. It wasn't a career path I chose; it chose me. And when I was on the freighter, I remembered that, and how differently it all started for me, and for a moment I felt... I felt like the young man that I was, when what
I really wanted to do with my life was clear in my mind."
Vaughn brushed at his neat, silvery beard, smiling. "I want to learn, Jean-Luc. I want to explore, and live in each moment, and feel excited about my experiences— not because I want to recapture that blush of youth, but because it's what I've always wanted, and I'm too damned old to put it off for one more minute."
"Come, my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a newer world," Picard thought, smiling back at him. "Does this mean you're leaving Starfleet?"
Vaughn shook his head. "I don't know. And the amazing thing is, I don't know if it actually matters. If what I want to do doesn't fit in with Starfleet's agenda, I'll leave."
"Bravo, Elias," Picard said warmly, amusedly considering Starfleet's reaction to the news that one of (heir most capable officers, with clearance that probably went higher than the captain dared to
speculate, might be quitting in order to find himself. He instinctively offered his hand, which the commander promptly shook. 'I'm happy for you."
"Thank you, Captain."
They decided to meet for breakfast, and Vaughn left, his shoulders definitely straighter, his head held higher than Picard had seen previously. It was a real pleasure to be witness to such a shift of spirit; discovering a renewed sense of purpose at his age—at any age, really—was cause for celebration.
Picard suddenly felt an odd wave of deja vu, wondering when he'd witnessed such a startling transformation before. Then he remembered.
Seven years earlier, another Starfleet commander
he'd known had come to a crossroad in his life's journey, and its course also had been determined by an unexpected encounter with an Orb of Bajor.
The captain stood for a moment longer in the quiet room, thinking about Deep Space 9 and how Colonel Kira would react to their "surprise" visit. Knowing that the Cardassian relief efforts were being routed through the station, he hoped she'd be amenable to accepting unannounced guests. Now that he thought of it, he was actually looking forward to the stop; perhaps Vaughn's enthusiasm for new experience was catching. It would be interesting to see what had changed since Captain Sisko's departure, see how the staff and residents were building their post-war lives—and it would be a chance for the crew to see a few old acquaintances.
And considering that we'll be presenting them with a prominent instrument of their faith, lost for decades...
It was likely to be a most engaging visit.
Still thinking of the sharp new brightness in Elias Vaughn's gaze, Picard straightened his uniform and headed back to the bridge, unaware of the faint smile he wore.
Kira walked slowly to the briefing, collecting her thoughts, trying to relax. Her conversation with Ross hadn't gone well, but she saw no point in expressing the depth of her anger and disquiet to her crew, so she took her time. She'd gotten a lot better at controlling her temper through the years, but as tired as she was, she wanted the extra few moments to refocus. No one would like the news, and it was her job as commanding officer to provide a realistic example of calm leadership, regardless of her personal feelings.
