They could have confined me to quarters. Recoded the locks, put a guard in the corridor, shut down my computer access, whatever was necessary. Apparently that wasn't enough.
I was locked in a cell.
There was one entire level of cabins specifically designed for disciplinary confinement, located one level beneath the cathedral. I knew from the sounds I head that a number of nearby cells were also occupied, but I didn't know by whom, nor did I care.
My cell was equipped with a bunk, toilet, shower cubicle, sink, and a wall screen with only the most restricted system access, and even that was incoming only. I was given one change of clothing. Meals were brought twice a day, trays of the processed food the downsiders lived on.
Strangely enough, however, I was reasonably content. Suddenly my life had become calm and quiet, and waiting did not seem so hard. Although I had no idea what would happen, nor any control over it, I could reflect at my leisure. I felt relaxed and pressure free.
I'd been incarcerated for nearly a week when Father O'Heron came to visit me. She was wearing an ordinary black cassock rather than the white I might've expected her to wear for an official visit to a prisoner. I asked her about it.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLgXlU8E3FU
"I thought you'd prefer a visit from a friend, rather than from a representative of the Church."
"Do you consider yourself my friend?" I asked.
"Of course. Don't you consider yourself mine?"
"I do."
We shared the wall bed, sitting at opposite ends. We were forced to sit somewhat awkwardly in order to face each other.
"No one's come to see me," I told her. "Nobody's told me whether or not I'm officially under arrest, or what I'm being charged with, or how long I'm to be in custody. Nothing."
Father O'Heron hesitated for a few moments before replying, and her expression was grave. "You are being charged with high treason, Pavel."
Not surprising, but still distressing to hear. This meant they probably knew everything.
"But you won't be tried," she added.
"What do you mean?"
"There will be no trials. Not for anyone."
"No trials?" I felt stupid. Was I hearing her right?
"No."
"Then I'll be released soon."
"No." Her eyes seemed to go heavy. "No," she said again.
I didn't like what I was hearing, the way she was saying it.
"What's going on?" I asked her.
"The Executive Council is distinguishing between those who followed, and those who led. Those who followed are being released with only minor sanctions."
"And those who led?"
"Charged with treason, but not to be tried. No convictions, no finite sentences. You are being imprisoned 'at the court's pleasure.' That's the phrase Bishop Worf used."
"Meaning what?"
"As long as they wish. Until they decide you've learned whatever lesson it is they wish you to learn. They were not specific."
It didn't matter. They were angry, and they would keep us locked up until their anger was spent. That could be years, or decades, I thought.
"I was not a leader," I said.
Father O'Heron gave me a tired smile. "Technically, no. But you were integral to their plans, and you joined the scheme willingly, without coercion."
With your influence, I wanted to say. But I didn't.
"What you provided for them," she went on, "---they couldn't have done it without you."579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4r5TKVkRNJ
"They didn't do it with me," I reminded her.
She nodded.
"Indefinite sentences," I said. "I could be here for the rest of my life."
"I know---it's incredibly unfair, and unjust. I've expressed my concerns to Bishop Worf, but that was futile. He's as displeased as anyone about what has happened."
"Why?"
She looked around my cell. Wondering, I don't doubt, if our visit was being recorded in some way. I wanted to tell her that of course it was, but her expression suggested she already knew that. She shrugged, as if to say that it really didn't matter.
"I won't pretend that I'm unaware of the political maneuverings of the bishop, and the captain, and others from the sidelines. I know that Bishop Worf has for a long time wanted someone else as captain...."
"He wants Bishop Worf as captain," I broke in.
"Maybe. It hardly matters now. Captain Picard is now the ship's hero. He learned of a mutiny, and put a stop to it with relatively no bloodshed. His position has been greatly strengthened, while conversely the bishop's has been weakened. More than that, the captain has managed to apportion a certain amount of indirect responsibility for the mutiny to the bishop."
The first hint, maybe, of what the captain had been plotting all that time. "Really? How did he manage that?"
"Do you remember the sermon Bishop Worf delivered on Sacred Thursday? When he announced our approach to the star system and the transmission we were receiving? I believe you were there."
"Yes, I was there. I had difficulty staying awake, as always, but I remember his sermon. Naming of Antioch. Bringing the word of God to all worlds, all people regardless of station or history. His usual colonization speech."
"Yes. Your captain has a transcript of the sermon. And he's pointed to one particularly passage, the one you were referring to, in which the bishop said that we need to spread the word of God to as many places as possible, that we need to colonize as many words as we can, putting permanent settlements in place so that when others come, be they human or alien, there is someone there to present to them God's word. The captain doesn't claim the bishop was helping to plan the mutiny, or even that he knew of it, although he suggests that those are surely possibilities----after all, recognizing that world is what the downsiders were trying to do. However, Captain Picard says, the bishop's sermon certainly can be seen as condoning such actions if they were to occur, or, if nothing else, fostering a climate that would encourage them. Very clever, your captain."
"Why do you persist in calling him 'my' captain?" I asked her angrily. "He's imprisoned me, and apparently has no intention of releasing me soon."
She didn't reply. Well, what could she say? I waved my hand, and said, "Never mind. Who else has 'my captain' imprisoned?" I wanted to know what had happened to Sulu, but I didn't want to mention him by name. It was just possible, I thought, that no one knew of his role. He had, after all, managed to get away before I did.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUZ4tPlqzW3
"Deanna Troi," she said. "Francisco Avila. Janice Rand. Joe Harris. And Justin Moritz." She paused, thinking, and I waited. "Yes," she said. "That's all. Everyone else has been released."
Not Sulu, I thought. So they didn't know about him. But that small bit of pleasure was short-lived.
"Do you know Hikaru Sulu?" she asked.
I was shocked by the question. Surely she knew of my friendship with him. I'd never made a secret of it.
"The dwarf," I said. "Yes, I know him. Why?"
"He, too, has been identified as one of the leaders. However, although they would like to arrest and imprison him with the rest of you, they cannot find him."
I thought I detected a touch of a smile from her.
"They can't find him?"
"No. They've been searching the ship for days. Speculation is divided between two possibilities. Either he is still aboard and well-hidden, or he somehow managed, in all the confusion, to get down to Antioch before we broke orbit."
"That doesn't seem likely, does it?"
"No. But there's a shuttle missing from the other transport hold. We don't know how, nor do we know if Sulu was even capable of piloting it. But we can't find it or him."
We sat without speaking for a while. It was good just to have her there in my cell with me. I didn't much mind being imprisoned, but I had missed her.
"No," I told her. "I have everything I need, everything I could ever want." But then I shook my head, and said more seriously, "No."
She got up from the bed. "I'll go now, but I'll visit again."
"Thanks."
She went to the door, tapped on it, and was let out. As soon as she was out of sight and the door locked shut again, I began to miss her. Once again, I smelled honey and cinnamon.
I hoped Sulu was alive out there somewhere. I imagined him, as unlikely as it seemed, piloting the shuttle out of the Enterprise, maybe struggling with it even as he guided it out of orbit and into a rough and ragged descent.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡELNHLQuXD0
Did he try to find one of the deserted settlements to begin his new life? Or did he head for unknown territory as mysterious and uncertain as his own future? I didn't know. But in my mind he landed the shuttle safely, and stepped out onto solid ground, alone and free.
The days continued to pass without change. I saw no one. I spoke to no one. Father O'Heron did not return to see me again. I tried not to speculate on the reasons.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBP6jvWvKhi
I thought a lot about our betrayal, and what Father O'Heron said, thought a lot about "my captain." I came to believe that he knew about the insurrection all along. He may have known about it even before I did. He'd told me he had plans to consolidate his positon, to take care of the bishop. I wondered, did he know of my involvement all along? Was I just a price he had to pay? Perhaps he never thought it much of a price.
I passed the time sleeping, meditating, exercising infrequently, and thinking. I did not become bored. I was in a kind of trance, as if I'd shifted out of normal time so that I had no sense of its passage. I existed, and I waited. For a time, that was sufficient.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRhjlgKygCM
Father O'Heron finally came to see me again. She was distraught, and apologized for not coming sooner. 579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ691GHpvVZ
"I was denied access to you," she explained.
"Why?"
"I still don't know. Maybe because of what we talked about when I was here; I was probably unwisely indiscreet. I've been permitted to visit any of the prisoners except you. It's taken all this time for me to work out permission for one final visit."
One final visit. I felt something hard and heavy sink into my stomach with those words.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll try to get visitation rights reinstated. I'll keep at it, but it may take time before I make any headway. Nobody has any interest in helping me, and nobody has any sympathy for you. The other leaders were all downsiders, but you come from the upper levels. They see your betrayal as greater than the others'. Everyone of influence is quite adamant about keeping you isolated."
"Let it go," I told her.
"What do you mean?"
"Just what I said: let it go. Drop it. It won't do me any good, and it surely won't do you any good." I tried to smile. "Maybe when things have settled down, when people are not so angry. But for now----don't bother. You're a priest. Save your energy for those you can help."
She said nothing at all in reply. She recognized the reality as well as I did, although I was starting to understand some things that she did not.
She approached me and took my hand in both of hers. "They've only given me five minutes." Then, still holding my hand, she said, "I'm very sorry, Pavel. Please take good care of yourself in here. It won't be forever." She let go of my hand, and it became immediately cold. "You might even want to try praying."
"Yes, I might," I said, smiling.
"Don't trivialize it, Pavel. There can be great comfort in prayer."
Then she turned away from me and left, and for the first time since I had been imprisoned here, I felt despair.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqFBtNO7SEY
A strange thing happened the next day. The door was opened, a guard put a tray on the floor, then quickly retreated without a word. On the tray was a large thermal pot and a glass cup.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuMKBOmVYwo
I sat and stared at the tray for a long time, thinking. Was I being offered poison? An honorable end? I couldn't imagine what else it would be, but at the same time I couldn't believe that it really was poison.
Eventually I went over to the tray, released the top of the thermal pot, and poured hot, dark brown liquid into the glass cup. It smelled like coffee.
I let it sit there streaming for a minute or two, then I picked up the cup and raised it to my face. I breathed in deeply, and the coffee aroma was strong, without any other detectable odors. I thought to myself: What does it matter? I brought the cup to my mouth and drank.
It was coffee! Hot, strong, and so delicious that I knew only one person could have made it.
I drank slowly, savoring it, then re-capped the pot to seal in the heat. Enough for two or three more cups remained, and I saved it; the thermal pot would keep it warm for another day.
I wondered where he was, and how long he could remain free.
No changes now. There were no more visits from Father O'Heron, nor anyone else. Every five or six days another full pot of coffee would arrive, and each time I rationed it. I relished it greatly, but I wished I could contact him somehow and tell him not to send any more, tell him not to risk his freedom. And yet----the coffee was a great comfort to me, and I knew I would miss it if it stopped, just as I missed Father O'Heron.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDnJGonFJml
I thought of her often. Prayer, for me, was still impossible. I suspected it would always be.
I had been imprisoned for several weeks, but I was still content; at least I came to understand why: I didn't believe I would be locked up for very long.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4k16kgbDsH
I had heard nothing at all from the captain, but his sense of security on this ship would not last forever. He was the "savior" for the moment, but this would pass, and people would realize that little had actually changed; the Enterprise was still a ship without a mission, and the maneuvering would resume, the probing of weaknesses, the pushing, the stresses. The captain would find himself pressured from all sides; he would find himself alone, with no one he could trust, and he would find himself once agfain in need of my advice. The day would come when he needed me.
If I was any judge of what things were like on this ship, and of what people were like, that day would come soon. And when it did, someone would come to the door, unlock it, then step aside for me, and I would be free.
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