by Dayton Ward
“Captain?” prompted Counselor Troi, rousing him from his reverie. “Are you all right?”
Aware that she would be sensing the cavalcade of emotions running through him at the moment, Picard knew it was pointless to deflect the question or attempt to offer any false reassurance. “Just considering the enormity of the situation, Counselor.” Turning his attention back to Data, he said, “Commander, I assume you’re continuing your investigations and attempting to devise possible remedies to this condition?”
“Absolutely, sir,” the android replied, nodding excitedly. “I have already begun a full analysis of the…”
“Bridge to Captain Picard,” said Lieutenant Vale, her voice interrupting the conversation via the intercom. “First Minister Hjatyn has hailed us and is requesting to speak with you, sir.”
Sighing heavily, Picard exchanged knowing looks with his senior staff. How many more times would he be forced to convey unpleasant news to these people? At each unfortunate card that had been dealt to the Dokaalan since the Enterprise’s arrival, Hjatyn and his fellow leaders had shown unwavering forgiveness and understanding. There had to be a limit to their ability to offer absolution, not that he was particularly interested in discovering that threshold.
I’m not interested in hiding from it, either.
“Put him through, Lieutenant,” Picard said as he rose from his chair, taking the moment to straighten his uniform jacket before the observation lounge’s viewscreen activated and displayed an image of the aged Dokaalan leader.
“Captain Picard,” Hjatyn said by way of greeting, and the captain saw that the events of the day were most definitely taking their toll on the first minister. The Dokaalan’s eyes seemed heavier and he appeared to stand even more stoop-shouldered than the last time Picard had seen him. In addition to overseeing preparations for the ceremonies and other memorials in honor of those lost in the Mining Station Twelve disaster, no doubt he and the rest of the Zahanzei Council had spent much of the day dealing with the latest developments on Ijuuka and its effects on the rest of the colonies. There would be much in the way of explanations and investigations already under way, to say nothing of trying to assure the people that the situation was not as dire as rumor was sure to have cast it.
But, he wondered silently, are they lying?
“First Minister,” Picard said, “I have no words that could possibly begin to offer sufficient apology for what we’ve done.”
Hjatyn held up a feeble hand, stopping Picard from saying anything further. “Captain, did you intend deliberate harm toward my people?”
His voice was tired, but Picard still picked up the strain behind the words. The captain paused for a moment before answering, realizing as he did so that he had actually allowed his mouth to fall open in surprised response to Hjatyn’s blunt question.
Schooling his features to resume his normal, composed expression, Picard said, “Of course not, sir. We were as horrified to learn of the results of the operation as you undoubtedly were.”
“I somehow doubt that, Captain,” Hjatyn replied, and for the first time Picard thought he sensed bitterness in the aged leader’s tone. “Have you been able to ascertain a cause for what you…for what has happened?”
“No, sir.” The words were like daggers in Picard’s heart. “Please know that my crew and I will not rest until we have found not only an explanation but also a remedy.”
Hjatyn nodded, his expression taking on an almost wistful air. For an odd moment the captain was reminded of a similar mannerism that his father had employed on those frequent occasions when he discovered one of his sons perpetrating some act of mischief. It was a look of understanding, one which often conveyed that Jean-Luc or Robert Picard, or both, had failed once again to out-smart their wizened father.
Dammit, Picard thought. I don’t want to be understood, or forgiven.
On the viewscreen, Hjatyn said, “As I am sure you are aware, Captain, today’s…unfortunate events have caused a significant amount of unrest among my people. Many are calling for an immediate and complete severing of contact with you.” The small, tired smile returned as he added, “Naturally we have no means of expelling you from our community, or of taking any other form of offensive action against you, but I am being pressured to ask you and your ship to leave.”
The hesitation was there. Picard could hear it in the Dokaalan’s voice, and he also noted how Hjatyn had phrased his statement. He did not agree with those calling for the Enterprise to depart Dokaalan space. There was still a chance to salvage something from this situation, to somehow assure the elderly leader that all was not lost and that he and his crew would exhaust every option to help these people.
“If that is your decision, First Minister, then you have my word that we will leave as we came—in peace.” He stepped closer to the viewer, holding his hands out in a gesture of supplication. “But I would ask that you consider all of our actions since arriving here before making that decision. Give my people a chance to analyze what’s happened on Ijuuka and attempt to find a solution. Let us help you, in whatever way we can.”
Picard heard voices blaring through the intercom, their owners somewhere beyond the range of the communication’s visual pickup. The words were muddled, but there was no mistaking the sounds of disagreement among members of the chambers of the Zahanzei Council. Hjatyn turned away from the screen, trying to restore order in the room.
“Nothing like being the center of attention,” Riker said, softly enough that his voice would not carry across the connection to the Dokaalan.
Ignoring the remark, Picard instead glanced over his shoulder to where Troi was standing. “Counselor?”
“There is a considerable difference of opinion over whether or not we should be asked to leave,” Troi replied, also keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard by anyone on the other end of the communication. The captain noted how her brow knit as she worked to focus her attention on the emotional frenzy apparently unfolding among the Dokaalan leadership. “The council seems divided into factions for and against the idea, with anger, sympathy, even desperation running rampant. First Minister Hjatyn is attempting to maintain his own composure, but he is understandably torn between the two sides.” She had more to say, but she stopped as Hjatyn returned his attention to Picard.
“Captain,” he said, “as you can see, tensions are running high. There is much understandable discouragement at the situation on Ijuuka, but already we are learning that there may be some good news. Science Minister Creij tells us that we may be able to adapt our reformation efforts to account for the sudden changes in the atmosphere.” The aged leader actually shrugged at his own words. “She will need time to investigate her theory, of course, but it would seem that our goal remains attainable even if the challenge has become greater.” He nodded, ostensibly more to himself than to Picard or anyone else, before adding, “It is a glimmer of hope, but one that we will embrace with the same passion that has allowed us to face other obstacles.”
“If Minister Creij desires or requires anything from us, she has only to ask,” Picard pledged, seizing on the sliver of optimism Hjatyn seemed to be offering. Being asked to leave now, without an opportunity to somehow make right what they had done so terribly wrong, would be worse than the failure itself. There was no way he could slink back to Federation space and report to Admiral Nechayev that he had left the Dokaalan in more adverse straits than he had found them. Such a proposition was simply unacceptable to him.
“Do not worry, Captain,” Hjatyn said. “You and your crew have more than proven your sincerity. I believe those who do not currently share my opinion can be swayed, but it will take time.”
The Dokaalan leader stopped as Science Minister Creij stepped into view, bowing her head formally in Picard’s direction. “Captain.”
“Minister Creij,” the captain responded. “If you wish to coordinate your research with my people, we can arrange for the necessary personnel and equipment to be transferred to
your location. Given the difficulties your people seem to have after spending prolonged periods aboard the Enterprise, this seems the better way to go.”
Her pale blue features warming as she smiled, Creij said, “I may well take you up on that offer, Captain, but there is something else that a few of us have been discussing.”
“Creij, wait,” Hjatyn said. “We need to talk more….”
Placing a withered hand on his shoulder, the science minister offered what Picard took to be a reassuring smile. “Worry not, old friend.” To the captain, she said, “There are a handful of us on the council who have been debating the merits of a suggestion you made earlier, Captain, that of relocating us.”
Picard had not been expecting that, and made no attempt to share his look of surprise with Riker and Troi, both of whom wore expressions that mirrored his astonishment. When he had first broached the subject of relocation to the council leaders during one of their first meetings, Hjatyn had expressed polite yet firm opposition to the idea. According to him, a majority of the Dokaalan were driven by the desire to complete the terraforming of Ijuuka, seeking to create both a new home for the colonists and a memorial for the millions of people lost generations ago along with the Dokaalan’s home planet.
“It’s certainly an option, Minister,” the captain replied. “We would be happy to assist you in any way that we are able.”
Sighing, Hjatyn said, “We have given this matter some discussion, Captain, even before the…unfortunate incident earlier today. The idea of remaking Ijuuka into a world for us to settle is a grand ambition, and at the time it was first envisioned it was one of a very limited number of options for our long-term survival.” He leaned forward until his withered face nearly filled the viewscreen. “Your arrival has changed that in ways we scarcely hoped to dream about, even when First Minister Zahanzei himself approved the launch of the drone ships so long ago.”
“There are many worlds where we come from that are ideally suited to your people,” Troi said. “You would be welcomed with open arms by any of the races who are members of the Federation, or we can find a world for you to call your own.”
“Please understand that this matter is still being debated by the council,” Creij said, “and that we have not yet even posed the question to the populace in order to gauge their opinion. I know that we were rather adamant in declining our earlier offer to relocate us, but there is growing sentiment among our fellow council members that we can forge a new life for ourselves on another world, to say nothing of creating a suitable monument to those who perished with Dokaal.”
The notion of leaving this existence behind for life on Ijuuka, risking the uncertainty of an artificially engineered planet at the expense of the relative familiarity of the asteroid colonies, would undoubtedly have been a difficult concept to embrace for many Dokaalan. Picard could not help but wonder how they would react when faced with the prospect of traveling across the galaxy, to one of the many stars that had never been anything more than a faraway pinpoint of light. He tried to imagine being faced with the concept for the first time, but found himself ill equipped to envision such a set of circumstances. Though he had spent the majority of his own life traveling among the stars and still believed he possessed an appropriate sense of wonder and awe at doing so, he would never again be able to appreciate the sense of excitement, or trepidation, that came with the idea of journeying to the stars for the first time.
I envy you that, he silently conceded.
As was explained to him during an earlier meeting with Hjatyn and the council, nearly two-thirds of the community had been born on one of the asteroid-based outposts, having never seen the world from which their forebears had come. Many of the younger Dokaalan had not yet been born when the terraforming project began, and many still would not live to see its completion. For them, this was the only life they had ever known. In contrast, Hjatyn himself actually had lived on Dokaal as a much younger man, but he was now approaching the end of even his people’s average yet comparatively protracted life span.
“First Minister, the Federation has specialists trained in handling these types of situations,” Riker offered to the Dokaalan leaders. “We’ve relocated people for all sorts of reasons like war recovery and even natural disasters like what you’ve endured. It will take time and work, but it can be done, and done well.”
On the viewscreen, Hjatyn said, “Many of our people have looked to your arrival as a gift from Dokaa, Commander. I realize you do not share our religious beliefs, and I confess that I myself am not a spiritual person.” Smiling, he nodded in that genial, paternal manner that undoubtedly reinforced his image as a leader of the Dokaalan people. “Still, when I see the power and abilities you wield and the generosity with which you employ them, I have to wonder if the more devout among us are right after all. With that in mind, I find myself wondering how best to graciously accept your generous offer so that I may honor Dokaa’s wishes.”
“They may not be able to do that.”
The voice came from behind Picard, and he turned to see Dr. Crusher standing in the doorway to the observation lounge. So intent was he on the conversation with Hjatyn that he had not even heard the doors open. Having long ago become accustomed to reading her facial expressions and body language, he could tell by the taut line of her jaw that she had brought unpleasant news with her.
“Doctor?” he prompted, the word barely a whisper as he felt his heart beginning to sink.
“We’ve figured out the problems with the Dokaalan when they stay aboard the ship too long,” Crusher replied. “As we suspected, the radiation field does have something to do with it, but that’s only part of it.”
“I do not understand,” Hjatyn said, confusion lacing his words. “What else could it be?”
Crusher drew a deep breath before responding. Finally, she shook her head in resignation. “According to our findings, the Dokaalan did this to themselves.”
Chapter Twelve
Translated from the personal journal of Hjatyn:
GLANCING BACK THROUGH the pages of this journal, it occurs to me that I have not often received the opportunity to record something positive or uplifting that has happened. Instead, it seems as though I am always writing about one of the many trials that continue to face our people, or even of a grave tragedy that has occurred.
Today is different. A minor victory, yes, but a victory just the same. Given the meager existence we have managed to carve for ourselves in the time since Dokaal’s destruction, any success is to be celebrated, and writing about it only serves to heighten my enthusiasm. After all, it is yet another in a string of triumphs our people have forged, all of which I have taken pride in chronicling here. Perhaps one day, we or our descendants will find a way to make a more lasting home somewhere far away from these artificial environs, and someone will read what I have written in these pages and come to know the real story of how the children of Dokaa persevered.
Beeliq contacted me today with information from the Medical Ministry. According to research a group of their doctors have been conducting for some time, we will soon be able to lessen our dependency on the medications everyone must take to combat the radiation that permeates the asteroid field. Additionally, the doctors believe that if this trend continues, we may eventually be able to end the periodic inoculations permanently.
This is wonderful news that everyone will be happy to hear, and my wife is currently working with the first minister and his preparations to address the entire community later this evening about this discovery. It means that yet another of our evening meals together will be sacrificed while she carries out her duties as special assistant to the Zahanzei Council, but we are used to that now. Beeliq has always been consumed by the need to serve others, particularly in government and leadership matters. That did not change following the loss of our homeworld. If anything, that passion only gained a new intensity as those of us left behind found ourselves facing a new and uncertain future.
Even before Dokaal’s destruction, as evacuation plans were under way to transfer a pitiful number of fortunate souls to the mining colonies, we confronted the challenge of how exactly to house and support these people. The habitat modules designed to house miners, support personnel, and their families had been intended for temporary use, with workers and dependents being rotated back to Dokaal at the end of their contracted work cycle. As such, these facilities lacked a number of amenities that were commonplace in more permanent residences. With the colonies being pressed into service as long-term homes for those of us who would outlive our planet, the process of converting them for such use required much planning, coordination, and cooperation to complete.
Still, even that task was easy to accomplish when compared with the larger and more daunting task of acclimating those evacuated from Dokaal to the harsh environment created by the asteroid field that forms the foundations for our only remaining home.
The field’s ambient radiation raised sizable concerns during the first manned space flights from Dokaal to the other planets in our system. Several of those first travelers to the asteroids suffered debilitating illnesses and slow, agonizing deaths owing to their prolonged exposure. Even beyond the simple tragedy of losing such brave souls, their sacrifice also raised pointed questions about our ability to live and work not only in the asteroid field but also in space altogether.
Despite these setbacks, scientific and industry leaders could not resist the lure of the asteroids as an incomparably rich storehouse of valuable minerals and other raw materials. Powered by that incentive, medicines were soon developed that allowed our people to live in the asteroid field for extended periods, which allowed the construction of permanent habitats and other facilities there. All personnel who contracted to work for the mining operations, be they actual miners or maintenance and administrative personnel as well as those who would support the families of workers, were given a series of inoculations to combat the radiation’s effects.
