A Time to Harvest
Page 28
Picard added, “According to the preliminary reports we’ve already received from them, they’re confident the alterations made by the Satarrans can be reversed and Data’s original idea can be implemented.”
Data, working with the remaining members of Science Minister Creij’s team and in coordination with Terraform Command, had developed a theory to counteract the changes introduced by the Satarrans, as well as to ensure that the planet’s atmosphere would allow for the same life-sustaining effects as the radiation provided by the asteroid field. It would require a strategy not unlike the android’s original plan, and the ultimate results would take several more years to realize, but all parties were confident that the effort would be successful.
“If it is anything like the vision offered by Hjatyn and Creij,” Myjerol offered, “we will one day live in a world of beauty perhaps unparalleled even by Dokaal itself.” Then his expression sobered a bit. “Of course, only they would be able to tell us for certain. They will be missed by everyone in our community.”
“Ijuuka will provide a lasting monument to them and to all they contributed to your society, Minister,” Troi offered. “I can think of no better way to honor them.”
Nodding, the Dokaalan’s blue features seemed to brighten as he considered the counselor’s words. After a moment, he returned his attention to Picard. “As for the Satarrans, what will become of them?”
“They will be remanded to Federation authorities once we reach our nearest starbase,” Picard replied. “After that, I honestly don’t know what will happen.” With no treaties between the Federation and the Satarrans and neither they nor the Dokaalan being a member world, the captain was not sure that anything could be done, at least from a legal standpoint, except to transfer the Satarran renegades into the custody of their own authorities. Picard knew that such an action was equivalent to releasing them altogether, but there was little he could do about that.
“I do not consider them evil for what they did,” Myjerol said. “I understand that they were acting on behalf of their people, just as we have been. While I find tremendous fault with their methods, I can do nothing but empathize with their situation and wish them good fortune in the days ahead. I only wish that there was something we could do to help them.”
Remarkable, Picard thought. Despite everything the Satarrans had put them through, the Dokaalan leader still found a way to be merciful and benevolent toward their would-be oppressors. After all that had happened here, it was a sign of wisdom and maturity that the captain found particularly comforting.
Smiling in approval, he said, “We have extended another offer to assist them, as well, though Starfleet tells me the Satarran government has not yet responded.” With any luck, they would, perhaps avoiding another situation such as the one they had created here.
“Well, then perhaps Dokaa will smile upon them, as well,” Myjerol replied.
As one of the ministers approached him, carrying what appeared to be a large parcel, Picard’s attention was drawn to the signal of his combadge. Tapping the unit, he said, “Picard here.”
“Lieutenant Vale, sir,” said the voice of the Enterprise’s security chief, whom Picard had left in command of the bridge while he was off ship. “Just informing you that all shuttlecraft and personnel have returned to the ship, and engineering reports we can get under way at any time.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Picard replied. “We’re almost finished here and should be departing shortly.”
“Take your time, sir,” Vale said, and the captain noted a somewhat lighter tone in her voice. “I think I might just be getting used to sitting in this chair. Enterprise out.”
As the connection was severed, Riker made no effort to conceal a teasing grin. “Sounds like she might be after your job, sir.”
Without batting an eye, the captain replied, “Or yours, Number One.”
He turned back to Myjerol as the Dokaalan accepted the bulky item from his assistant. Picard now saw that it was unmistakably a large book, composed of hundreds of pages and bound within a sheath of some heavy woven material that the captain did not recognize.
“A parting gift, if you will allow me, Captain,” the minister said, offering the book to Picard. “I solicited the services of your Commander Data to translate it into your language, but I thought it important for it to be represented in the form closest to what the First Minister intended.”
Taking the tome gingerly in his hands, Picard studied the simple cover, which bore only a single word: Hjatyn.
“What is it?” he asked.
“His journal,” Myjerol replied. “Hjatyn kept a chronicle of everything he experienced, from the days before Dokaal’s destruction up until the final entry, recorded just days before his death.” Reverently placing one hand on the book, he added, “There is nothing like it in our society, and we would be honored if you carried it with you and allowed it to serve as the formal introduction of our people to yours.”
Stroking the cover with the tips of his fingers, Picard found himself awestruck by this gesture. The entire epic history of these people, as recorded by someone who had witnessed it all firsthand, was a tremendous gift and a marvelous means of telling others the remarkable story of the Dokaalan.
“The honor is mine, Minister Myjerol,” Picard said, his voice heavy with emotion. He reached out to take the Dokaalan’s hand. “Good luck to you and your people, sir.”
“We wish you and your crew a safe journey, Captain,” the Dokaalan replied, “and hope that you will one day return to see the fruits of our combined labors.”
Buoyed by Myjerol’s unfettered compassion and gratitude, Picard realized he now felt more alive and confident than he had in weeks, more so than even a few moments ago when Beverly had offered her heartening words.
In fact, even if his next mission was destined to be as unglamorous as this one was supposed to have been, that did not matter. For the first time since the encounter with the demon ship, he allowed himself to believe that his future, and that of the rest of the Enterprise crew, had finally begun to burn a bit brighter.
For the last time, Picard bowed his head formally to the Dokaalan leader. “Minister Myjerol, I for one will most certainly look forward to that day.”
About the Authors
DAYTON WARD has been a fan of Star Trek since conception (his, not the show’s). After serving for eleven years in the U.S. Marine Corps, he discovered the private sector and the piles of cash to be made there as a software engineer. He got his start in professional writing by having stories selected for each of Pocket Books’ first three Star Trek: Strange New Worlds anthologies. In addition to his various writing projects with Kevin Dilmore, Dayton is the author of the Star Trek novel In the Name of Honor and the science fiction novel The Last World War. Though he currently lives in Kansas City with his wife, Michi, Dayton is a Florida native and still maintains a torrid long-distance romance with his beloved Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Readers interested in contacting Dayton or learning more about his writing are encouraged to venture to his Internet cobweb collection at www.daytonward.com.
After 15 years as a newspaper reporter and editor, KEVIN DILMORE turned his full attention to his free-lance writing career in 2003. Since 1997, he has been a contributing writer to Star Trek Communicator, writing news stories and personality profiles for the bimonthly publication of the Official Star Trek Fan Club. Look for Kevin’s interviews with some of Star Trek’s most popular authors in volumes of the Star Trek Signature Editions. On the fictional side of things, his story “The Road to Edos” was published last year in the Star Trek: New Frontier anthology No Limits. With Dayton Ward, he has also written a story for the anthology Star Trek: Tales of the Dominion War and seven installments of the continuing e-book series Star Trek: S.C.E. with more to come. A graduate of the University of Kansas, Kevin lives in Prairie Village, Kansas, with his wife, Michelle, and their three daughters.
Time to Harvest