Star Trek New Frontier 06 Fire On High

Star Trek Deep Space Nine - Fire On High

ELSEWHERE...

THE ONLY SOUND ON THE PLANET Ahmista is the sound

of a woman singing.

Oh, there are a few other sounds as well, but they

are merely the sounds of the planet itself. The gentle

breeze glides across the plains, moving the ashes

through the air with subtle urging. (The ashes have

been there for quite some time, but they dwindle in

quantity with every passing day and every vagrant

breeze, to say nothing of the cleansing provided by the

occasional storm or downpour.)

There are also the normal grindings of tectonic

plates, and a continent away there's an island of

volcanoes that can raise a particularly impressive

racket. Birds flap their wings against the wind; waves

lap against shores, occasionally leaving a film of ash

decorating the beaches.

But other than that... nothing.

The noise is rather conspicuous in its absence. No

noise of a living, breathing population. There are

none of the sounds of industry. Nor are there the

sounds of people laughing or talking, or children

crying out to be tended to. There are no sounds as

subtle as lovers whispering in the dark, or as officious

as bombs whistling through the air. Nothing but her singing.

It is an odd song in that the tune seems to vary from

one moment to the next. She lilts her way through it,

never stopping except at those times when her fa-

tigued mind and body require sleep. She does not like

to give in to those urges, because it interferes with her

vigilance, but every so often her head simply droops

forward of its own accord and sleep steals into her

head. Hours can pass with her in that condition, but

then she snaps awake and is neither conscious nor

caring of how much time has genuinely passed.

Even if there were sounds of any living beings on

Ahmista, it is unlikely that she would hear them. She

lives upon a mountain, if such a term as "lives" can be

applied to her existence. It is not the highest moun-

tain on Ahmista, but it is a fairly nice one, as

mountains go. She is not quite at such an altitude as

to feel a significant chill... not that she would even

if it were subzero temperatures, because her lover

keeps her warm.

In fact, her lover does more than that. Her lover

keeps her company, her lover keeps her close. Her

lover is the be-all and end-all of her existence on the

planet, of her existence in the universe. She feels her

lover in her mind, and she is content.

Her lover is sleek and gray, vaguely cylindrical in

shape but with a variety of sections branching off in

an assortment of directions. Its sections are inserted

directly into her nervous system at a dozen points. In

a way, her lover looks like a great thorny bush with

limbs trailing off and intertwining with one another.

And ultimately, all the branches come back to her,

and she comes back to it, for together they are one.

Together they are a whole. They complete one an-

other.

She is singing to her lover more than she is to

herself.

Her lover never tells her what it thinks of her songs.

That's okay, really. She doesn't need to hear her

lover's approval, because she knows she already has

that. How could she not? After all, she has given her

life over to her lover. She neither needs, nor wants,

anything else. Her lover gives her so much. Gives her

nutrients, gives her life and the ability to live. And all

she need do is make her lover her entire reason for

living. That she has managed to do.

It suddenly pulses in a different manner beneath

her fingers. She has been drifting slightly, but the alert

manner of her lover snaps her back to full focus. She

reaches out with her mind, reaches out through her

lover.

There is a creature.

It has just hatched from an egg, approximately

twenty miles away, deep in a forest that is otherwise

devoid of life. It is small, covered with fur, and

looking for a mother who is long since dead. It has no

claws, not yet. It's fairly helpless, really, at this point.

Without its mother, it might very likely die on its

own. However, it might be resourceful enough to

survive, to grow and thrive. And possibly someday be

a threat. Birds... birds have never been a threat, and

for some reason she has always considered the sounds

of their wings comforting. This, though, she cannot

chance. She knows that. Her lover knows that. Or at

least, she knows it now that her lover has told her, but

she is--of course--in complete agreement.

At her urging, her lover reaches out with a crackle

of energy, shudders slightly in her grip, and belches

out an energy ball. It's nothing particularly large,

because none such is needed. The energy that her

lover is capable of disgorging is directly proportionate

to whatever job is required. In this instance, it's fairly

insignificant.

The energy ball covers the intervening distance in

no time at all. The newborn creature senses some-

thing coming, looks up, and feels a source of light and

heat. Its little eyes are still blind and so it cannot see

what is approaching, but nonetheless makes the

falsemir understandable--assumption that it's about

to meet its mother. It opens its mouth wide and

makes a small yeep sound.

A second later, it's enveloped by the energy. The

creature didn't really have time to have a full sense of

its own existence before it didn't have an existence

anymore. Instead it is reduced, in no time at all, to

little more than a pile of ash. There is a hint of a tiny

claw in there, and a few stray tufts of fur flutter away,

caught in the breeze that quickly stirs the ashes into

nothingness. Otherwise, though, there's no sign that

the creature was ever there.

Back on the mountaintop, she begins to tremble.

She wraps herself more tightly around her lover than

before, for she knows that it has acted to protect her.

The knowledge is exciting to her, stimulates her, and

she begins to tremble.

She runs her hands along the surface of her lover.

She has stopped singing. Instead she is beginning to

quiver in anticipation, for this is how she always feels

when her lover shows its strength on her behalf. And

her lover knows that it has pleased her, and that

knowledge excites it in kind.

She gasps out a name... a name known only to

her and her lover. A name that has never even been

spoken aloud, but is instead something communi-

cated without need of clumsy speech. It is something

deep within their mutual soul, for her lover was

soulless until she had joined with it.

It had been so long since she felt the fire within her,

that for the briefest of moments she entertains the

notion that her lover had sought out something to kill

for her. Something to obliterate, because that was the

only way that it could possibly find sufficient stimula-

tion to give her, and itself, what it needed.

But then she quickly dismisses the idea from her

mind. Her lover would never do that, would have no

need to do that. Her lover is not the embodiment of

destruction. No. Her lover is the giver of light, the

provider of joy.

The heat fill her mind, radiates from throughout

her lover, and she can feel her heart speeding up,

thudding against her chest with such abandon and

power that it threatens to burst through her rib cage.

If that were to happen, of course, then she would die,

but she is not concerned. She trusts her lover implic-

itly. She knows it would not hurt her.

Her lover, though, is not mortal. She realizes that

on some sort of base level. Her lover is something

else, something special. Something beyond anything

that she has ever known before.

And she comes to the realization, even as its love

floods through her, that she can never return to

anything that once was.

Her lover prefers the silence, for it makes it that

much easier for it to hear her as she starts to sob with

the pure joy she derives from their bonding.

It used to come much more frequently, back when

there was more life on the planet. As each thing

threatened her, her lover dispensed with it, and each

demise would fill her with orgasmic pleasure. Such

encounters now are few and far between, but that is

all right with her. She has her memories, and she has

her lover to keep her warm, safe, loved.

Slowly, so slowly, she tries to steady the pounding

of her heart. She sags against her lover, clutching it

even as her fingers open and close spasmodically.

Deep in her chest she laughs softly to herself, enjoying

the warmth her lover has given her and the sense of

security and safety.

"Thank you," she whispers, which are the first

words spoken on the planet in some time. "Thank

you... for that. Thank you for being mine. Thank

you... for choosing me."

Her lover does not reply, nor does it need to. It

simply continues to pulse against her, and if it is

pleased that it has given her pleasure, or displeased at

her reactions, or completely uncaring, it's really im-

possible to say. It just sits quietly, unchanged, unre-

acting. She strokes it once more and she feels her

consciousness drifting. She wants to stay awake, un-

willing to surrender to a hazy sensation of bliss that

threatens to carry her away to slumber. "Not...

tired," she moans like a petulant child being shunted

away for a nap, and she does her best to resist.

Ultimately, however, she fails. Her eyes flutter

closed, her head sags forward and thumps gently

against the metal sheath that is the exterior of her

lover. Moments later, still warm from the gentle

pleasures of her lovemaking, she falls into a peaceful

sleep. She does not snore, does not make any extrane-

ous noise. And so, for a time at least, there is no

vaguely humanoid sound on the planet Ahmista aside

from her soft breathing as she sleeps. Sooner or later,

though, she will awaken once more. At that point, she

will be gin singing again in that odd, aimless way she

has, remembering what her previous lovemaking was

like and wondering when the next opportunity will

come along ....

COMMANDER ELIZABETH SHELBY ran the video log of the

bridge of the Excalibur, not quite able to believe what

she was seeing.

Nearby Dr. Maxwell was watching her with an

apologetic expression on his face. Behind him, sick-

bay personnel were going on about their business as

Shelby sat in the private office usually used by Dr.

Selar, studying the last moments of consciousness she

had known before keeling over several days ago. She

had been certain that she was fully recovered but

now, watching the video log with a growing sense of

doom, she was wondering if perhaps she should take a

permanent sick leave.

Through her off-the-cuff strategy, she had just man-

aged to dispatch a warship belonging to the dreaded

Redeemers by using, literally, the power of a sun to do

so. But she had come on to the bridge still suffering

from head injuries sustained during a disastrous

landing expedition to the planet Zondar. All she

remembered was that she had passed out right after

saving the Excalibur from destruction, but now she

was watching the immediate aftermath.

She watched herself leap to her feet, her fists

exuberantly pumping the air over her head. She called

out triumphantly, "Hah! Spectacular! Engineering,

great job! You too, McHenryI Excellent all around!

Oh! Look!" She pointed into midair.

"Look at what, sir?" McHenry was asking.

"Colors!" Shelby called out excitedly--and then

she pitched forward, Si Cwan just barely catching her

before she hit the floor.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

She wasn't unconscious, oh no. No, that would've

been too merciful. Instead she had stared up into the

air as Si Cwan had said with concern, "Are you all

right, Commander?"

"They're all different colors!" Shelby had said.

"Blue, green, pink..."

Si Cwan looked with confusion at the others on the

bridge, who seemed equally perplexed. "What are,

Commander?"

"The colors!" Shelby had said again, joyously. And

then she had passed out.

In sickbay, separated from the event by several

days, Shelby clicked off the video record and tried not

to display the pain she was feeling. She was not

especially successful, unfortunately.

"You said you wanted to see it, Commander,"

Maxwell reminded her as if concerned she was going

to be angry with him. "I advised against it, re-

member."

"I remember," she sighed.

"It's not important, Commander. It was just a...

a stream of consciousness comment. Dreaming with

your eyes awake. I guarantee you, no one's going to

think about it or even remember it by now. And I'm

certain that absolutely no one is going to kid you

about it."

She looked up at him bleakly. "On this ship? No

way are they going to let it go," she said as if she were

awaiting her turn to step into the cart that would

bring her to the guillotine. She put her face in her

hands. "Face it, Doctor--I'm a dead woman."

"She looks rather healthy for a dead woman."

Mackenzie Calhoun, captain of the Excalibur,

scratched his chin thoughtfully as he studied the

picture that was staring back out at him from the

computer screen. On either side of the table, Ambas-

sador Si Cwan--former head of the ThaiIonian ruling

class--and Lieutenant Robin Lefler, the ship's Ops

officer and part-time assistant to Cwan, had just

heard him make this pronouncement. Although Lefler

generally had a very ready smile, it wasn't on display

at that particular moment. Si Cwan, who customarily

had something of a deadpan, didn't look any different

than he usually did.

Calhoun leaned forward thoughtfully as if closer

examination might yield some bit of information that

he'd previously missed. The picture on the screen was

of a woman with long, dark hair, a square chin,

narrow nose, and a steady gaze that appeared to have

a piercing, intensely intelligent air to it. Not an easy

thing to project over a mere photograph made for

computer identification, but somehow she had man-

aged it. He could only wonder what she was like in

person, if that was how she came across in a simple

photo.

"So let's see if I've got this straight," he said after a

moment, meeting Lefler's gaze. "The Momidiums,

out in the Gamma Hydrinae system, claim that this

woman was rooting around on their planet about five

years ago. This would have made her a trespasser as

far as both the Momidiums and the overseers of the

ThaiIonian Empire"--and he gestured suavely to Si

Cwan--"were concerned." "That is correct."

"If the Momidiums had turned her over to the

ThaiIonians, they likely would have executed her."

"I dislike the term 'execute,'" Si Cwan said. "It

sounds distasteful to me. Cruel and most imper-

sonal."

"Your pardon, Ambassador," said Calhoun. "How

about 'killed'?"

"Much better."

"As you wish. They likely would have killed her."

He watched Si Cwan nod his head in agreement and

continued, "However, they had no desire to overlook

the crimes of trespass and perhaps spying, so they

imprisoned her. Have they given any indication as to

precisely what they have to hide that they thought was

subject for a spy's interest?"

Si Cwan glanced at Lefler, to whom the question

seemed addressed, but she made no reply and he

came to the realization that she was barely listening.

He lightly tapped her shin under the table while

stepping in himself to say, "No indication at all,

Captain. They have been fairly circumspect in that

regard. As with most sentient beings, they like to have

their secrets."

"Fine. We needn't dwell on that at the moment. But

now," he said thoughtfully as he drummed his fingers,

"they want to make nice to us, so they offer to turn

this female over to us. One Morgan Primus by name."

Even though he knew the name he nonetheless

glanced at the computer screen for reaffirmation,

much as someone who has just looked at his watch

will look at it once more if someone asks him the time

even a second later. "They offer her in exchange for

certain promises which you, Lieutenant Lefier, feel

are not unreasonable."

He said her name with sufficient emphasis that it

appeared to jolt her from her slightly dreamy and

distracted state. "I'm sorry... ?" she said as she

realized she wasn't focused on the question.

"The Momidiums," Si Cwan gently cued her.

"About their demands..."

"Oh. Not unreasonable at all, sir," she said quickly.

"They are a fairly simple people, actually. They desire

some advice from any agricultural specialists on de-

signs for a new irrigation system they've developed

for their farmland. Oh, and they have a flu epidemic

in one of their outlying provinces. They believe that

they've managed to synthesize a cure, but it will take

them approximately two weeks to finish running tests

on it, and they want to know if our facilities could

possibly cut that time down." "And--?"

"I've already run it past Dr. Maxwell, sir. He

assures me that our labs could test the effectiveness of

the cure through cross-matching and molecular analy-

sis within three hours of receiving it."

"Good. And if the good doctor finds flaws in the

formula, I imagine it would not be overly demanding

for him to correct those flaws, now, would it."

"Bordering on Prime Directive violation, isn't that,

Captain?" inquired Si Cwan.

"Bordering but not over the line, Ambassador,"

replied Calhoun. "However, in this instance, Starfleet

agreed to give us some latitude. So, Lieutenant, in

exchange for these agreements, the Momidiums will

present us with this human female." "That's right, sir."

"A female whom you claim could pass for your

mother's twin."

"No twin, sir," said Lefler and she tapped the

screen with a knuckle. "That is my mother."

"The mother whom you said died in a shuttle

accident about ten years ago."

Lefler squared her shoulders, pulling herself up

straight, for Calhoun had made no effort to hide the

disbelief in his voice. "That's correct, sir. Morgan

Lefler. At least, that's the name I always knew her by.

'Primus' wasn't even her maiden name, so I don't

know where that name came from."

"And was the shuttle accident anywhere in this

vicinity?"

"No, sir. Actually, it was in New Jersey. She was on

vacation, visiting family there. She was flying a pri-

vate shuttle and it went out of control and crashed

into the Atlantic Ocean."

"You'll excuse me if I don't seem properly sympa-

thetic to your, uhm... loss," he said, leaning back in

his chair, "but do you have any theories or guesses as

to now your late mother managed to get all the way

from a watery grave to the Gamma Hydrinae

system?"

"I believe," she said promptly, for naturally she had

given the matter no small amount of thought, "that

she never died in the accident."

"Well, that would certainly follow."

"Her body was never recovered after the crash.

They found the shattered remains of her personal

transport shuttle, but it was cracked open and there

was no sign of her. Since there were no traces of

transporter energy or any other intelligent agency that

might have rescued or abducted her, we had always

assumed that some... some oceanic form of life had

simply made off with her body and, uhm..."

"Eaten it?" Si Cwan supplied after she was silent

for a moment.

She fired him an icy look. "Yes, thank you," she

said, although she didn't sound especially apprecia-

tive. "That was the phrase I was searching for."

"You're welcome," replied Si Cwan graciously,

sarcasm being totally lost on him.

"It is my belief," continued Lefler, "that she

allowed us--my father and me--to believe that she

had been killed."

"She could have been kidnapped."

"She had been."

"But I thoug ht you said..."

"She had been, to my knowledge, abducted at least

eight times in my lifetime. She was not a stay-at-home

kind of mother. Each time she escaped within hours

and returned within days. After the accident, my

father and I held out hope for a long time. Hope that

she would just walk in the front door. In the end, we

had no choice but to assume she was dead."

"Were your parents getting along? Happy marriage

and all?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes, sir. Certainly

nothing my father said to me indicated otherwise. He,

uhm..." She looked down. "He... passed away

several years later, shortly after I entered Starfeet. He

was never quite the same after she was killed, and it

was like he just... just drifted away from life, and

was only waiting until my life was on track and settled

before he..."

Si Cwan reached over and put a hand upon one of

hers. The contrast could not have been greater, for his

hands were large and red, while hers were small, pale,

and rather delicate. Under other circumstances, the

physical contact between her and Si Cwan would have

sent a secret little thrill of pleasure through her, but as

it was she was simply grateful for the gesture. She

squeezed his hand tightly in acknowledgment and he

nodded slightly as if to say that he understood.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Lieutenant," Calhoun told

her. "But that still leaves us with the question of why

she would vanish without a trace ten years ago only to

show up in ThaiIonian space."

"I don't know!" Lefler cried, her voice raised, and

she quickly realized that her tone was inappropriate

for such a response, particularly considering that she

was addressing her commanding officer. She looked at

him nervously, but he simply put up a calming hand,

indicating that she shouldn't get too concerned over

the breach of etiquette. "I don't know," she repeated,

far more calmly this time. "I suppose that's why I'm

rather eager to find out. When can we leave, sir? Our

mission on Zondar is concluded, but we're still in

orbit here. We could easily depart immediately

for--"

"In case you haven't noticed, Lieutenant, our sci-

ence officer is still not aboard."

"Yes, of course I noticed, sir," Lefler said. "She's on

the Zondarian surface exploring some sort of archae-

ological dig. Can't that be concluded another time,

sir? Or perhaps we could come back for her?"

"Lieutenant, as much as I appreciate your anxiety

here, this is simply not an emergency."

"Captain!"

He shook his head, a grim smile of amusement

playing across his lips. "If it's really your mother,

Lieutenant, and you've believed her dead for the last

ten years--and she's been stewing on Momidium for

the last riverathen a few more days isn't going to

cause the total collapse of the galaxy as we know it."

"Then let me go on ahead."

"Negative, Lieutenant. The last time I sent any

members of this crew 'on ahead' in a shuttle, it was

with the best of intentions with the most cataclysmic

results."

"Captain, this is hardly the same situation," Si

Cwan said. "I know what you're referring to When

the science vessel Kayyen Ryin informed us that my

sister was aboard, it turned out to be a trap set for me

by an old enemy. But the situations are hardly analo-

gous, Captain. It's not as if the lieutenant has enemies

in this sector."

"I'm not saying she does, Ambassador," replied

Calhoun. "The point is, the moment I send any of my

people away from the Excalibur, I'm sending them

into potential danger. I won't hesitate to do so if I feel

it's necessary. In this instance, I don't feel it is."

"But Captain..." began Lefler.

He looked at her levelly. "Lieutenant, are you

under the impression that my decision is open for

debate?"

She opened her mouth a moment, then closed it

and looked down. "No, sir," she said quietly.

"Good. The fact is that Lieutenant Soleta's investi-

gations are potentially very important for our on-

going mission, and I'm not going to put a phaser to

her head and tell her to hurry it up. Nor am I going to

abandon her on Zondar so we can head off to retrieve

your alleged mother."

"Yes, sir," sighed Lefler.

Calhoun tapped his commbadge. "Calhoun to

Soleta."

After a moment, the science officer's voice came

back. "Soleta here."

"Lieutenant, I'm not trying to rush you, but a

matter has come up that may require our attention.

Can you give me a rough estimate of when you'll be

completing your investigation of Ontear's cave and

Star Trek New Frontier 06 Fire On High

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