I stepped into the dark, silent transport hold and came to a halt, searching through the shadows. When I saw the bulky forms of the shuttles, my chest tightened, cutting off my breath. Almost a year, but the memory of that day was still vivid, and carried with it everything that had happened since---five masked and armored men coming for me with electronic shackles; the days of waiting for a trial that never took place, then the months of isolation and deathly tedium; the fear that I would go out of my mind; my release, and the end of a lifelong friendship with Jean-Luc; the awe and wonder of an alien starship; and finally this: preparing to lead and exploration of that ship with all of its dangers and wonderful possibilties.
My life would have been so different if the insurrection had been successful. Everything about it would have been different. I would not be here, I reminded myself; I would be on Antioch. I might be dead by now, killed by some strange and deadly organism or toxin, or an accident caused by unforeseen dangers. Or I might be sitting on the bank of a river, watching the water flowing passed with alien aquatic life, basking in the heat of the sun.
I turned and looked at the hold doors, which were now closed and lifeless. I would never forget the sight of the harvesters rising into view, that silent and terrible nuclear fire slowly swirling, hypnotizing me. My world coming to an end. Or so it seemed at the time. It was only change, but I hadn't understood that.
Across the hold, the shuttles were nearly lost in the darkness, camouflaged by shadow. The tiny firefly lights far above me provided just enough light to illuminate the floor. I walked toward the largest of the shuttle, my footsteps echoing dully.
I had asked for complete authority over the expedition, and was granted most of it. First, I'd decided the trips in the maintenance module were inefficient. Instead, I would take eleven other people on one of the shuttles, with enough suppolies and support for several lweeks, and we'd park the shuttle right beside the alien starship. With twelve people, we could form three teams of four, or four of three, depending on which seemed more effective. We would stay there and make regular trips, sharing information and insights, intuitions and assessments. We'd learn how to work together, we'd acquire a feel for the ship, and the exploration would be our only focus.
That's what I hoped for. I didn't really know if it would work that way, but it made more sense to me than the haphazard, directionless excursions that had been undertaken in the weeks since the alien ship had been discovered.
I stopped in front of the shuttle, tried to look into its darkened interior, but I couldn't see a thing. Twelve of us, plus the pilots and a med-tech. It was a good team, for the most part. A couple of people I was apprehensive about: Kevin Doyle, the bishop's man: and Constance, which showed how much Jean-Luc trusted me---as much as I trusted him, apparently. But there were also good, experienced people like Amber Faulken, Ben Jammer, and Rose Lunde, who had all spent a lot of time in the alien ship. Myles Smith and a medical man called Gardner, neither of whom had spent time on the ship, but who were by all accounts both competent and diligent. Jill Lowe, whom Hernandez said was the best "fixer" on the Enterprise---she could repair or jury-rig almost anything. Also part of the team were Sophia Garcia, Barclay's apprentice, and Deanna Troi----Troi was my biggest surprise, and the best. And finally, Sulu. I had to fight for him, but I won.
I put my hand against the hull of our shuttle, the Little Enterprise. It was cold and hard, but not as cold as it would be out there in deep space. In a few hours the preparations would begin----not just provisioning the shuttle, but modifying it. One of the cargo bays would be converted to a combination airlock/decontamination chamber. Sleeping cots and food preparation equipment would be installed. We would need a large monitor to follow the teams, and a wide variety of equipment and tools, testing and measurement instruments. The list went on. Four days. Maybe five.
"Hey."
The voice startled me. I couldn't see anyone, couldn't hear anything. Then Charles stepped silently out of the shadows.
I barely recognized him. He had grown, and was taller and lankier now. His hair was long and ragged.
"Hello, Charles."
"Hm," was all he said at first. He twisted his head and neck and I heard a soft cracking sound. "I want to go with you," he said.
"Go with me? Where?"
"To the alien starship."
I almost laughed, but then I realized he was serious. "The team's already been selected."
"Change it," he siad. "Or just add me. I want to see it. Take me with you."
"I can't, Charles. Besides, you're too young."
"I am not! I'm a lot older than you think. I'm older than I am."
I suspected there was a kernel of truth in that stattement. But I couldn't do what he wanted.
"I'm sorry, Charles."
"I thought you were different," he said. "You're all the same."
"Charles...."
He turned and, just as quickly and silently as he had appeared, retreated into the shadows behind the shuttle.
I felt bad, as if I had made some mistake, or misunderstood something. I almost called after him, but held back. There was something about Charles that moved me, and I wished I knew how to make things better between us. But I felt stupid, and I had no idea what to do.
Footsteps broke into my thoughts. I turned, and saw Father O'Heron standing just inside the hold, scanning the darkness.
"Pavel?"
"I'm here."
"Where? I can't see you."
I stepped away from Little Enterprise. She saw me and started across the metla floor, her steps loud and echoing.
"Sulu told me you would probably be here." She smiled, and seemed genuinely pleased to see me. 'So it's true, you've been released." Her smile faded. "I'm sorry I never could visit again. You asked me to let it go, but of course, I couldn't. For a while I tried to convince Bishop Worf or the captain or the captain that you should be allowed visitors, but it was futile. I finally stopped trying after two or three months. But I did think of you often."
"Did you pray for me?"
"Not the way you might think." I thought she was going to explain, but she didn't.
"I tried to see you as soon as I was released," I told her.
"Yes, Father O'Day told me."
"He said you were gone, and that no one knew where you were."
She nodded. I waited for an explanation, but it soon became obvious she was not going to give me one.
"He seems to think the alien ship has been delivered to us by Satan," I added.
I expected her to laugh, or at least smile, but instead she sighed. "There's something about that ship, Pavel, something....."
"Evil?" I suggested.
"Not exactly. Malign, maybe."
"I don't understand. Is there a difference?"
"Maybe malign is the wrong word. 'Dangerous' might be better. Lethal. But without intent. I don't know. I can't explain what it is I feel, but it's something substantial. "She glanced at the shuttle. "You're taking Little Enterprise?"
"Yes," I hesitated. "I wish you were going with us."
"I wanted to," she said. "Despite my reservations about that ship. Bishop Worf told me that Kevin Doyle would be going as the Church's representative, and I asked if I could replace him. The bishop refused." She paused. "Maybe it's better this way."
"Why?"
"I don' tknow. Maybe it is, that's all."
I wanted to know what she was thinking, but apparently she wasn't going to tell me.
"How soon are you going?" she said.
"Four days. Maybe five. I don't think there's any rush."
"Let me know when everything is ready, and I'll come by and bless the ship."
"And will you pray for our success?"
"Someday we'll have to talk about that."
"Talk about what?"
"Prayer. Most people have the wrong idea about it."
"And what's that?"
"That prayer is to ask for things. To make requests of God."
"It's not? Then what is it?"
She shook her head. "Some other time, Pavel. It's a serious subject, and no to be dealt with lightly."
"All right, some other time."
"Do let me know when you're prepared to leave."
"I will."
She turned, and I watched her walk away, feeling as always an aching sense of loss. Pathetic!580Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQxGVhMqU9F
