Strange New Worlds VIII

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “Who will write songs about a hunter hiding in his forest? They write songs about warriors who valiantly fight, even if they valiantly lose and die.” Torias whispered.

  He never spoke again. He grunted and wailed sometimes, but he did not speak another recognizable word.

  Perhaps he spoke the native Trill language, which Gorkon would not even know, if such a language existed.

  When they reached the lodge, he carefully placed the Trill in the one bed. The alien breathed but was racked with convulsions and bled from nearly every opening now, not great rushes of blood, but slow, sluggishly oozing blood.

  Without an idea of what frequencies to try, Gorkon started running through the spectrum, bouncing a signal from the subspace relay in order to reach around the planet to where he assumed the Federation colonists must be. It took hours before he received a response and nearly another hour to explain that he was with Torias Dax and that the Trill needed medical care immediately.

  The Federation doctor told him to keep Torias comfortable. He might die before they could get there, but there was nothing else the Klingon warrior would—or could—do for him.

  He left his transmitter open as a beacon and checked on the Trill. Sometime while Gorkon worked the radio, Torias Dax had died. Gorkon threw his head back and roared.

  * * *

  The Federation shuttle grounded just outside the lodge and several people rushed out of it to stare at Gorkon, who was standing in the doorway of the lodge in his traditional armor, spear and d’k tahg in his hands. He stood nearly a head taller than any of the Federation people.

  He stepped aside from the doorway and waved toward the inside with his d’k tahg. “He is in there. He has died.”

  Most of them rushed into the building to perform arcane rituals over the inert body while a tiny person that must be a human female stood near the shuttle and watched him.

  In a short while, one of the Federation doctors came out cradling a brown, lumpy mass in a towel, and rushed to the shuttle.

  One of the other doctors stopped by Gorkon. “We have three days to get this . . . thing . . . to Trill, according to the instructions we received from that world.” She reached toward Gorkon’s arm, paused, and then let her hand drop. “The Trill say that this . . . whatever it is, symbiont . . . will probably survive, but we need to take it back to our lab where we can start treatment of the radiation exposure.”

  Gorkon gestured back into the lodge. “And what of his body?”

  “Yes, well, can you keep it here until we can send someone for it? Our shuttle is full and we need to get the symbiont back as soon as possible.”

  Gorkon looked down on the doctor, a small human male with the same ring of hair as he himself had, but without the ridges on his forehead.

  “If there is no objection, I will bury his body here. Unless his family wishes it back.”

  “Um, well, actually they did not give us any instruction. In fact, they showed no interest when we asked. I suppose you can give him proper burial.”

  Gorkon stiffened to his full height. “I would be honored to care for him.”

  The Federation doctors flew away in their shuttle.

  Gorkon carefully wrapped the body of Torias in the Klingon manner and buried him on a crag high above the lodge, building a rock cairn over the grave.

  He stood facing the setting sun and thrust his bat’leth toward the sky, and shouted, “I will remember you, Torias Dax! Your bravery will be my example for all time!”

  Returning to his lodge, he arranged for transport back to Qo’noS.

  Torias Dax had told the truth.

  No one would write songs about a hunter hiding in his woods.

  * * *

  A little over two years later, Curzon Dax traveled to the Klingon capital on Qo’noS and found Gorkon, son of Toq, of the House of Makok. They talked of Torias Dax and of Klingon politics.

  The Traditionalists were making a comeback.

  Gumbo

  Amy Vincent

  RECIPE FOR SEAFOOD GUMBO

  1) First, make sure you have the right atmosphere to prepare and serve the gumbo. You can make similar dishes on other worlds, including the one you’ve come to think of as your true home, but they will never taste exactly the same. Using a replicator is out of the question. You need your food to come from Earth, where your dad and your grandpa were born. Most specifically, you need to shop in New Orleans, in the markets only a few blocks away from your grandfather’s restaurant. The selection is the best you’ll find in the galaxy, and you know your way there and back by heart.

  Ask your grandfather to let you take over the private dining room for the evening. You know he’ll say yes, but ask anyway, to give him the pleasure of agreeing and seeing your smile. He likes to make you happy. It puts a light in his eyes that hasn’t been there that often since your father went to dwell with the Prophets. Let him clap you on the shoulder and offer you his good Kentucky bourbon to go with the meal. Pretend that he is not looking at you as if he is searching for your father’s features in your face.

  2) Invite the two guests who you think will feel most out of place to go shopping with you, because nothing makes people feel at home like inviting them to do something they’re good at.

  Try not to notice Quark’s snide comments at the lack of security in the open-air markets. Try especially hard not to notice the looks on the grocers’ faces as Quark loudly points out the differences in pricing between different booths, scattering customers accordingly. Concentrate instead on Nog’s delight in discovering everything new—the scent of the shrimp, the soft leaves that top the celery, the right way to test the ripeness of a tomato. Laugh a little louder than you should when Quark leans too close to the seafood tank and a crab claw clamps down on his ear.

  On the way back to the restaurant, stare in disbelief as Quark falls for the street con who bets him five credits that he can tell Quark where he got his shoes. Watch Quark puff up, certain that the man on the street won’t guess that his boots come from Ferenginar, though it wouldn’t be a difficult answer to come up with. Shake your head as the man informs Quark that he got his shoes in New Orleans right ten minutes before their encounter—look at ’em!

  Hurry home instead of listening to Quark argue with the man about whether or not he must pay the five credits. The seafood needs to be fresh, after all.

  3) Take the vegetables you’ve bought—onions, celery, bell peppers, and okra—and start chopping. Offer Nerys a knife and praise her by telling her she should be a natural at this.

  Be unsurprised when Nerys is a natural at this—not the cooking part, but the chopping. Listen to her pretend that she didn’t find Earth to be all it was cracked up to be, now that she’s had a chance to look around, and gripe about having to speak to Starfleet Command when she’s no more under their command than she ever was. Wonder if she still resents Earth and humans and the Federation for not having endured the miseries Bajor went through—or, to be more precise, for having endured them and gotten them over with long ago. Then consider that there are some areas of the French Quarter that would terrify people from far more troubled worlds than Bajor.

  Watch her figure out how to use a garlic press in about five seconds flat. Realize how adaptable she is, and wonder if that was part of what helped her fall in love with Odo. Wonder if either of you will ever see Odo again, and realize for the first time that you miss him, something you never really expected to do.

  4) Begin making your roux. Set the burner to medium heat. In a large, heavy stock pot your grandfather’s used for fifteen years, heat two cups of vegetable oil, then begin to gradually add flour. Hear it sizzle and know that you’ve got the temperature just right. Let Kasidy use the whisk to stir the roux constantly. Because she is unsure of her skills in the kitchen, tell her she is doing it just right—this part is easy, even though it looks hard, she doesn’t have to know that it isn’t.

  Listen to her observations as though you’ve never heard them before�
�the descriptions of the changing color of the roux as it darkens into richness. Watch her free hand spread over her swelling belly, and wonder whether your sister can hear all of this, the talking and the laughing and the sounds of the kitchen. Realize all at once that you will teach this little-girl-yet-to-be to make gumbo someday, that you might be the one to pass along all the many Sisko family traditions your father taught you. Feel a strange jab of anger at your father for not being there, even if it is just for a little while. Then feel guilty. Concentrate on Kasidy again, because she is a thousand times more lost than you are.

  5) When the roux has reached the browned-gold color of peanut butter, begin adding the vegetables into the pot, one by one. Let Nerys help you, and make sure Kasidy keeps whisking the roux. Hear them laugh about how they’re both lost in kitchens, then be surprised when Nerys begins drawing Kasidy out about her pregnancy, reverent as she talks about a child of the Emissary. Be unable to believe that you forgot Nerys was pregnant once, albeit not with a child of her own. Realize how much Nerys and Kasidy have in common now—tough, smart, independent women who fell in love with men who had destinies to follow, destinies they couldn’t share. Wonder if this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Let them add the water and okra as the beginnings of the gumbo start to caramelize.

  6) Prepare your blend of seasonings. Individual preferences will vary, but begin with what your father taught you: black pepper, red pepper, celery salt, basil, thyme, and—secret ingredient—a few drops of crab boil. Then consider that you can add seasonings of your own, and begin tasting the various spice blends to find what you like. This is your grandfather’s restaurant and your father’s tradition—but this is also your dinner party and your pot of gumbo.

  Get help with the spice-tasting from the most fireproof palate around, the visiting ambassador from Qo’noS. Explain to Worf that tabasco is not like most human seasonings. See the skepticism in his face, and wonder whether any warning you could offer would be more effective than letting him have a taste.

  Watch Worf take a few mouthfuls of tabasco, directly from the bottle.

  Watch Worf swallow the tabasco as though it were water, then give you a pitying look you obviously deserve.

  Listen to Worf tell you stories about the seasonings they have on Qo’noS, and be torn between wanting to avoid the planet forever and wanting to come up with a Klingon-infused gumbo recipe.

  Decide to try the Klingon version someday, and someday soon. Resolve that Grandpa is going to be in on the creation of this recipe too. But realize that you must stick to the basics for your gumbo tonight. Stir the seasonings in with the diced tomatoes as the roux thickens and acquires its flavor.

  7) Go to the refrigerator and get the shrimp you bought at the market this morning with Quark and Nog, the ones you shelled and deveined all afternoon with Ezri Dax. Remember how much your father said Curzon Dax loved to do this, drinking and joking all the time, and how he developed his own recipe for shrimp Creole, which turned out so great, it made the menu at Sisko’s. Remember that Jadzia Dax didn’t care as much for helping in the kitchen, but that she enjoyed eating the results even more.

  See that Ezri Dax finds the process of cooking tedious, and that she’s not looking forward to the food. Notice how drawn her face is, how seldom she smiles, and how weird it is to see a Dax who isn’t smiling all the time. Realize that she’s come here more out of a sense of obligation than a real sense of belonging.

  Remember that when Curzon died, your father told you that he wasn’t really lost, that something of him lived on—and how deeply you believed it after you met Jadzia and could still see the twinkle that had once been in Curzon’s eyes. Wish you had talked with your father more about this, about the mystery of Trill immortality, so that maybe you would understand now.

  Prepare the crab claw meat yourself, because you know this Dax won’t be up for cracking open crab shells all day. But let her shuck the raw oysters, their shells coarse and smelling of brine. Realize that Ezri can shuck them even faster than you can, with that twist of her knife that she remembers from lifetimes past. Wonder again what it is that lives on, and what it is that dies.

  8) Stir the seafood into the roux and let it simmer for a while—perhaps a quarter of an hour, maybe five minutes more. Keep the stovetop at medium heat and resist the temptation to make it hotter in an effort to speed the process up. It will all be better for the patience and the savoring.

  Watch Julian talking to Ezri as they sit at the long, low table in the kitchen. See that there is a light in Ezri’s eyes when she talks to him that was never there with Jadzia, and be glad for Julian’s sake.

  Also notice that Julian doesn’t quite have the same light in his eyes that he used to have with Jadzia, and wonder what that’s about, exactly.

  Using a wooden spoon, take a taste of the gumbo for seasoning and for texture. Wonder if it lacks spice, and add a little more. Recognize that the texture is far too thin, though that is normal for this point in the process.

  Take your filé powder and begin stirring it into the gumbo. Go slowly, so that the filé has a chance to be blended smoothly with the rest and thicken the roux.

  Set Julian and Ezri to work chopping up the last of the green onions. See them move like one person instead of two, working together so smoothly that they could almost be reading each other’s minds. Wonder if maybe you’ve read those two wrong all along. Then wonder if maybe you should mind your own business. Add the chopped green onions for the last few minutes of simmering.

  9) Agree when Keiko tells you that she’ll handle the rice. Watch her do it anyway, as it goes against Sisko family tradition to let someone else work alone in your kitchen.

  Notice that, after all these years of marriage, she and Miles don’t work together nearly as smoothly as Ezri and Julian just did—or, for that matter, Nerys and Kasidy. See that Miles is in her way a couple seconds before Miles does, then wince when Keiko says something sharp to him about it.

  Remember your own mother—dead for almost a decade now, as hard as that is to believe—and the gentle warmth she shared with your father. Be glad that this is your idea of marriage, and wonder if that is the greatest of all the many gifts your mother gave to you.

  Be alarmed when some boiling water spurts from a chink in the pot lid and splashes on Keiko’s hand. Fail to reach her before Miles does, concerned and careful as he takes her to the sink and runs cool water over her hand. See Keiko smile at her husband gratefully as he takes care of her.

  Wonder if this is what it comes down to, in the end—being there for someone, all your lives, even when you don’t feel like it. Resolve to worry about this when you’re older.

  10) Give strict instructions to the restaurant staff, though they know the rules for serving gumbo by now. Hang around to watch them start before you trust them enough to go upstairs, to the dining room.

  Find everyone waiting, your grandpa sitting at one head of the table. At the other, see an empty chair and think for a moment that it must be for your absent father. Then realize it’s for you.

  Take your place and preside over the serving of the gumbo. See that the restaurant staff has done everything right—put just enough rice in the bottoms of the bowls, ladled out just enough gumbo, and gotten it to the table while it’s still piping hot. Watch Grandpa pour the bourbon for those who want it, decide you do too, and hold up your glass for a toast.

  Watch everyone’s face and see them expecting a tribute to your father, maybe to the others lost in the Dominion War. Say instead, “To all of you, for joining us tonight.”

  See them smile, and know that you’re doing the right thing—looking not at those who are absent, but those who are here.

  Listen to the conversations that spring up around the table: Julian and Miles retelling old holosuite adventures, Ezri and Kasidy laughing about their trips to Earth, Nerys and Keiko discussing how Yoshi’s growing, Nog and Worf sharing tales about being the only one of your kind at Starfleet Academy.
Be amazed that Quark has it in him to be polite—after a fashion—to your grandpa, and unsurprised to see that Grandpa takes delight in every single one of his guests, varied and odd as they undeniably are.

  See your grandfather realize that, when he’s with all the people who cared about his son, the ones who made up all the different parts of his life, that it’s not unlike being with his son again. Be proud that you were able to give him this, and grateful that he thinks it’s a connection he made on his own.

  Wonder what your grandfather will do when you make the journey you’ve begun planning, if you don’t come back with your father like you hope to do. Then decide there’s time to worry about that another day—and that you’re sure you and Dad will make it home. You know your way there and back by heart.

  Promises Made

  David DeLee

  An incoming round whistled through the night sky. Kira hunched and ducked to the right. It exploded less than a meter away, showering her with pebbles and dirt.

  The ground thumped with the distant explosions of more charges. Yellow and magenta energy beams knifed through the thick, hot air, lighting up the billowing clouds of smoke. The light show was accompanied by the shouts of advancing ground troops and the sudden, shocked screams of those hit by disruptor fire or cut down by the blade of a bat’leth.

  Ignoring the bloody hand-to-hand battles around her, Kira zigzagged around a fallen pillar and leaped up the steps to the darkened entrance of the administration building. The grand iron doors lay bent and scorched on the portico. She stepped over them and into the heart of the Cardassians’ notorious Lazon II prison camp.

  She swept the devastated room with her phaser rifle ready in defense.

  Empty.

  The central monitoring console and the floor were covered with debris and a layer of gray, dusty grit. Only one wall sconce remained lit; the light flickered erratically with the effort. Two photon torpedoes had slammed into the building. One had ripped a gaping hole through the domed roof. The other had taken out most of the east wall.