Mere Anarchy Book 1: Things Fall Apart

by Dayton Ward

  Among the casualties suffered by the people of Mestiko were many members of national and provincial governments across the planet. Chief among the losses were several heads of state who, in addition to leading their own countries, had also served on the Zamestaad, the planetary association founded out of circumstances similar to those that facilitated the creation of both the League of Nations and the United Nations on Earth in the twentieth century. Whereas the Zamestaad originally had been formed with the stated goal of fostering communal peace and security, its hastily created replacement now carried the simple yet daunting task of trying to lead their people from the ashes of despair and perhaps toward whatever fleeting remnants of hope might still remain to those who had survived worldwide catastrophe.

  Turning to Kirk once more, Raya did not say anything, but instead seemed to study his face as though attempting to gauge the sincerity of his words. After a moment, she said, “I do want to believe you.” Nodding in the direction of the viewscreen, she added, “While many, myself included, recognize and appreciate your attempts to help us, the general consensus is to blame you for our plight.”

  Despite the guilt he had been harboring since the moment the deflector grid failed and sentenced Mestiko to its tortured fate, Kirk still found himself unprepared for the stark allegation. “It’s an understandable sentiment.”

  “Perhaps for those who do not know better,” Raya countered, “but not for those with access to more comprehensive information.” Looking to the viewscreen and its image of her world once more, she said, “Embracing your people while we come to terms with what has happened will take much time, and it will present a formidable challenge. But as I have already told the Zamestaad, were it not for your efforts, we would not be here to undertake that challenge in the first place.”

  For the first time since the pulsar had inflicted destruction upon Mestiko, Kirk felt the initial faint glimmer of hope. “I only hope that more people come to feel as you do.”

  “Several members of the Zamestaad would not even agree to meet with you,” the Payav woman replied. “Much of that is fueled by fear at the prospect of facing beings from another world, of course, but my people are very hurt, and very angry. I am here because I see the necessity of meeting with you given your pledge to render assistance.” She smiled once more. “I must also admit to a bit of selfishness. The opportunity to visit a spacecraft from another world was too precious an opportunity to ignore.”

  “I’m only happy you agreed to transport up here to meet with me,” Kirk replied. “I wanted you to see firsthand everything we’re trying to do.” Motioning her to accompany him around the bridge’s upper deck, the captain led Raya to the communications station. “Mr. Alden, can you show our guest what you’ve been picking up in the way of audio broadcasts?”

  The young lieutenant looked up from his console and nodded. “Of course, sir.” To Raya, he said, “We’ve been monitoring various low-level frequencies since after the incident. There are numerous transmission points scattered across the planet—pockets of survivors trying to make contact with one another. We’re thinking most of these broadcasts are coming from large underground structures, probably shelters similar to yours, with equipment designed to be protected against effects such as those inflicted by the pulsar.” Looking to Kirk, he added, “One group in particular seems to be having a great deal of success, making contact with people at twenty-three separate locations.” Alden pointed to one of the status display monitors at his station. “Their equipment is definitely more powerful than most others I’m picking up.”

  He reached out and tapped a sequence of colored buttons, which resulted in a burst of static from his console’s intercom speaker followed by a faint but unmistakable male voice saying, “Praise be to our god for your joining us in the aftermath of the cleansing. Blessed be the mar-Atyya!”

  “Interesting,” Raya said, and Kirk noted the cloud that seemed to darken her ashen features, if only for a moment.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, the Payav woman replied, “No, not really. What we are hearing is the broadcast from a religious sect known as the mar-Atyya. I do not pretend to understand the various tenets of their chosen faith, but I seem to recall that according to their beliefs, this event was foretold—in a manner of speaking, of course.” Pausing for a moment, she added, “It seems they were right, and were prepared, if I understand what you were saying about their shelters and equipment. I wonder how they will fare in the times to come.”

  “As well as anyone else on your planet,” Kirk replied. “At least, that’s our hope.”

  Raya said, “I and others have urged our peers to accept your offers of assistance in order to best serve the immediate needs of the people in our time of crisis. There has been much resistance to that idea. Several Zamestaad councillors are worried about how far they may have to subjugate themselves to you.”

  While he had expected such concerns to be voiced, Kirk nevertheless found himself swallowing a sudden lump in his throat when confronted with the issue. “Under no circumstances will that happen, Raya. Your world is yours, and always will be.”

  “I want to trust you, Captain,” she replied after a moment. “I can sense your commitment to helping us…and perhaps even a bit of remorse as well. I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but such trust must be earned. Only time will allow us to see whether that can happen.”

  Kirk knew from the reports he had received that Raya elMora had found herself thrust into the position of leading her province simply as a consequence of being the highest-ranking individual of her people’s government to live through the disaster. Only then had she been told, by surviving members of the original Zamestaad, about the Enterprise and the team from the Federation that had been working in secret with trusted Payav science and government leaders. While those original council members held seniority, of course, the captain’s instincts told him that this woman was no fool, and that she soon would become a significant voice in the renewed body that would oversee the rebuilding of Mestiko.

  “Captain.”

  Turning toward the voice, Kirk saw Spock standing behind him. The captain could not be certain, but he thought he detected the first hints of fatigue finally beginning to show through the Vulcan’s stoic countenance. Kirk knew that his first officer had been working without respite since the disaster, overseeing the monitoring of its aftermath and coordinating not only the Enterprise’s limited ability to render aid but also status reports to Starfleet Command in order to facilitate its deployment of relief assets and personnel from throughout the Federation.

  “Yes, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.

  “We have received an update from Starfleet Command,” the Vulcan replied. “They inform us that a flotilla of medical and colony support ships is en route at high warp and should be here within the week. Other ships and supplies are being dispatched as well. We can expect a steady stream of support vessels, supplies, and personnel for the foreseeable future, sir.”

  “Those supplies will alleviate much suffering,” Raya said, “and will help build this trust we both want. Let us hope that such gestures do not become too little, too late.”

  The statement was not delivered in an accusatory fashion, but Kirk felt the sting of the words just the same, and he could not help but feel that such a charge was not misplaced. Could the Federation have been better prepared to deliver the much-needed assistance in a more timely fashion? Should it not have anticipated that the pulsar’s effects would only be mitigated, rather than either being simply diverted altogether or allowed to wash unimpeded over the surface of the planet?

  Enough.

  Kirk pushed away the irritating, defeatist thoughts. Even now, the greatest minds in the Federation were mobilizing, all of them driven by the single goal of devising a solution to the planet’s staggering environmental issues. Leading terraforming experts already were hard at work studying the issue and contemplating the best course of action in the shor
test possible time, knowing full well the number of lives hinging on what they did or failed to do. From her bed in sickbay and much to Dr. Piper’s vexation, Professor Cameron had demanded to be included in such efforts, using a computer interface to remain in constant contact with the special team that had been formed at Starfleet Command on Earth. Should whatever efforts devised for aiding Mestiko fail, Kirk was confident that it would not be for lack of trying.

  Even if there was precious little he himself could do here today, about anything.

  Well, there is one thing.

  “Raya,” he said after a moment, “I know this won’t sound like much right now, but you have my word that my people will do everything they can for Mestiko. The Federation’s greatest minds will work tirelessly to heal your world. They’ll do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, to see that Mestiko is made whole again.”

  Looking to him once more, Raya locked eyes with his, and Kirk could sense that she was measuring his words against whatever it was she saw in his face.

  “You seem determined, Captain,” she said after a moment, “and I admire your passion, but are you in a position to make such pledges, no matter how sincere they may be?” Nodding, she let her question go unanswered. “Nevertheless, I appreciate your convictions.”

  “My convictions are all you need,” Kirk countered, feeling his confidence beginning to return, if only to the slightest degree. “Your people deserve every chance at returning to the life that was taken from them. It’s the least we…the least that I…can do.”

  Despite his vow and even as he gazed once more at the viewscreen and the tarnished, aggrieved world displayed upon it, Kirk could not deny that accomplishing what he had promised would be a struggle, to say the least. The assistance Mestiko required could conceivably take decades to render, if not longer. While he was certain the Federation would provide that help without reservation, was it truly possible to repair the harm done to these people—both by nature and by the actions of those who many on the planet believed should have been friends as well as benefactors and even saviors?

  Surely some revelation is at hand?

  James Kirk knew that only time and effort would provide that answer.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to editor Keith R.A. DeCandido, for inviting us to participate in the development of Star Trek: Mere Anarchy, and trusting us to come up with the initial concept intended to drive all six books. It was an exciting opportunity, and one we relished.

  Thanks also are due to our fellow writers on the series: Mike W. Barr, Dave Galanter, Christopher L. Bennett, the incomparable Howie Weinstein, and one of our favorite “old school” Star Trek novelists, Margaret Wander Bonanno. Developing the series with this collection of talented writers was far more fun than any job has a right to be, as evidenced by the trunk-load of e-mail we all exchanged in the weeks before the first word of story was actually written. The spirit of collaboration permeating every moment of this project was a reward all its own.

  As always, we save our final thanks for our wives, Michi and Michelle, who continue to support us and our writing, as well as everything that comes with it, not the least of which is remaining tolerant of two boneheads who have yet to discover the secret of actually acting like…you know…adults. We love you, ladies!

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  DAYTON WARD has been a fan of Star Trek since conception (his, not the show’s). His professional writing career began with 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 novels The Last World War and The Genesis Protocol, as well as short stories that have appeared in Kansas City Voices magazine and the Star Trek: New Frontier anthology No Limits. 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. Visit him on the web at http://www.daytonward.com.

  For more than eight years, KEVIN DILMORE was a contributing writer to Star Trek Communicator, penning news stories and personality profiles for the bimonthly publication of the Official Star Trek Fan Club. On the fiction side of things, his story “The Road to Edos” appeared in the Star Trek: New Frontier anthology No Limits. With Dayton Ward, his work includes stories for the Star Trek: Tales of the Dominion War and Star Trek: Constellations anthologies, the Star Trek: The Next Generation novels A Time to Sow and A Time to Harvest, and ten installments of the original Star Trek eBook series S.C.E. and Corps of Engineers. Their latest full-length novel, Summon the Thunder, the second in the Star Trek: Vanguard series, was published in July 2006. A graduate of the University of Kansas, Kevin lives in Prairie Village, Kansas, with his wife, Michelle, and their three daughters, and is a writer for Hallmark Cards in Kansas City, Missouri.