STAR TREK - TNG - 46 - To Storm Heaven

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Star Trek - TNG - To Storm Heaven
Prologue
"DEATH!" OLD SE'AR MOANED, writhing in pain on her pallet. "Ay me, death is coming!" "Hush,
you're ill. Lie quietly," the maiden soothed, kneeling on the hard floor of beaten earth. "You must save
your strength if you want to get well, Mother Se'ar, you know that." "Well..." The old woman repeated
the word as if it were one of the local oberyin's magical healing chants. She shook her head. "Do not lead
me astray with false hopes, child. I am old. I know what I know; and I have always known when death
would come." A hollow chuckle escaped her fever-cracked lips.
Yes, she thought wearily. Death has been to me the best of friends. The best of husbands as well. Has
not: death himself fed me, clothed me, provided for me all these years? I know when it will come, when
the soul will leave the shell and find the glories of distant Evramur. Always before I have been right in my
predictions, but always before it was another's death I saw approaching. Aloud she said, "Now it is my
turn at last." "Don't speak of that," the maiden insisted. "Your time has not yet come." "And how would
you know?" A sudden burst of indignation flared up from the old woman's fading spirit. She made a great
effort, heaving herself up on one elbow, and stabbed an accusing finger at the girl beside her. "Don't give
yourself airs, just because I've taken you in. For your mother's sake I've let you share my roof, my bread,
the fear-offerings of our friends and neighbors, but you don't share my gift! How dare you presume--" A
sudden fit of coughing racked her bony body and she sank back down onto the sweatstained sheet. The
reeking straw beneath the coarse cloth crunched and crackled.
The maiden got up swiftly, gracefully, and fetched a clay bowl full of fresh milk, the cream beaten back
into it to fortify the sick woman. She set it to Se'ar's lips and helped her drink. Only when the old woman
had had enough and waved her off did she say, "I didn't mean it that way, Mother Se'ar. I know I have
no gift like yours." She lowered her head as if in submission to the will of the gods, but beneath the.fringe
of blue-green hair, her eyes blazed with resentment.
The old woman seemed not to have heard the girl's words. Outside the hut the sun was setting, staining
the sky pink and purple. Her life ebbed with the day's dwindling light, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
I was never wrong, never. When I said that such a One wouM die, he was as good as dead. In time, the
people knew this. Was I wrong to turn my gift to trade?
Ay, what choice did I have? I was widowed young, no sons to labor for me, my daughters all wed to
shepherds even stupider than the usual run of such shell-skulls.
Well, I suppose it was the best they couM do, poor girls, with no dowry worth the name.
"A shepherd's wife," she mumbled. "Nothing lower could befall any woman." Her eyes rolled aimlessly
from side to side as her mind wandered.
The maiden at her side wrung out a cloth that had been soaking in a bowl of water nearby and laid it
across the old woman's brow. It soon turned warm and she gave it another cooling dip. "Be at peace,
Mother Se'ar," she soothed. "Let nothing trouble you.
You did what you had to do to live, as we all do. Don't worry about it now." Without warning the old
woman siezed the maiden's hands in an iron grip, pulling herself upright so that their eyes met. "You don't
understand!" she wailed. "I took what was holy and sold it as if it were milk or fleece or grain! Because I
could foretell death, my neighbors thought that I could also forestall it.
They came to me with food and drink and cloth, begging me to spare the lives of their loved ones." She
paused, panting for breath as painful memories assailed her. Fools. Sorry fools. Those who were bound
to die, died anyway, despite my silence. When that happened, I tom them it was because the gods willed
it, and they had caused me to utter the doomed one~ name in dreams. How couM anyone prove
otherwise?
Who wouM stand against the way of the blessed Balance? They did not understand, and I let them live
on in ignorance because it suited me, and because it let me lead a life of comfort, plenty, respect.
"Nothing can justify what I have done," she wheezed, shaking her head. "Nothing!" "You are not
responsible for what others choose to believe." The maiden slid her arm under Se'ar's back and tenderly
lowered her to the pallet once more, feeling the nubs of her spine poking against the ageslackened skin.
The old woman gazed up into the maiden's tranquil face and sighed. "You are a good gift, Ma'adrys. I
Wish I could tell you how often I have prayed to the Lady of the Balances to work her holy
transformation on you and make you my own blood. But she would not hear the prayers of a cheat and a
trickster." ,It doesn't matter," the maiden comforted her.
"Even though I am not your blood kin, in all these years you have never begrudged me a single mouthful
of your bread." The old woman sighed. "I only hope that you haven't suffered for sharing it. It was
contaminated with the taint of how I earned it. Oh Ma'adrys, what if that's it? What if that's what's kept
you from your :heart's desire? What if that's the flaw that Bilik saw in you when he forbid you tom?"
"Hush," the girl repeated, dabbing at the old woman's waxen face with the damp cloth. "Don't upset
yourself. That's over and done with." "But you're such a clever girl, such a good girl, you shouldn't be
excluded just because--" "Mother Se'ar, what good will it do either of us knowing why my petition was
refused?" the girl asked quite reasonably. "It won't change the way things are." "True, true." The old
woman's voice trailed away like water trickling through stones. Her eyelids lowered. It seemed that she
slept. The maiden settled back to oversee her rest.
The old woman's words came suddenly, taking the girl by surprise. "Maybe it wasn't my fault after all,"
Se'ar murmured, her eyes still closed. She spoke as if she were alone in the hut with none but herself to
hear. "The girl's kind, yes, but headstrong, too bold about speaking up to the men, too demanding. Well,
who can hold her to blame for that? Father lost in the winter storms before the Feast of Flowers, mother
died birthing her, poor youngling left to run wild.
Not that she ever had a proper mother to start, that one. Easy to see where the daughter's strange ways
come from. Yes, everyone knew. Where that mother of hers came from, I'll never know. Mad, most
likely, and driven out of her own village by folk with more sense than we ever had. All her high-sounding
talk, all just ravings, ravings. Offensive to the Balance, her life thrown back into the scales to pay for her
words, poor soul. Poor mad soul." Beside the deathbed, the maiden Ma'adrys sat back on her heels, her
back unnaturally stiff, her face drained of all expression. She tried to exclude the old woman's babbling
from her mind, but she could not: It was nothing she hadn't heard before, all the village talk of her dead
mother. As a child she'd gotten into more than a few fist fights with the other children when they'd taunted
her by repeating the things they'd heard their parents say. She'd lost more battles than she'd won, and the
elders had always punished her afterwards for the few fights she did win. When she was a little older,
she'd tried to train herself to play deaf to the gossip and the snide remarks, the whispers she always
heard behind her back, but it was beyond her best efforts. In time, she'd learned that there was only one
safe thing to do when someone-- even a dying woman no longer responsible for her own
ramblings--spoke of her mother.
'TII be right back," she announced, rocking back on her heels and standing without needing to push
herself up from the ground. "The air in here's too sour to do you any good. We should burn some
dawnsweet flowers to freshen it. It's early in the season for them, but I think I saw a patch in bloom in
Avren's meadow yesterday. I won't be gone long." She was out the door before Se'ar could utter a word
to stop her.
The old woman never noticed her departure. Her eyes remained closed, her wrinkled lips moving over
words that were no longer audible to any but herself. tn time she drowsed.
In dreams she was young again, a maiden herself, a girl whose brilliant golden eyes ensnared half a dozen
suitors. She was sitting on the steps of the village shrine to the Six Mothers, whispering delicious secrets
with her girlfriends--Dead now, all long since dead! a wraith of reality moaned through the dream-- when
a shepherd came by, down from the mountainside, and the girls paused in their chatter to tease the lad.
Like all shepherds, he was slow witted, with hardly more brains than the beast that led his flock.
Everyone made fun of the shepherds, no one thought anything wrong about doing so, and the shepherds
themselves lacked the intelligence to understand that they were being ridiculed.
But something was wrong: This shepherd understood. He heard the dream-young Se'ar's taunts and
scowled darkly at her. She was taken aback for an instant, then shrugged her misgivings aside. He can't
possibly understand. t she thought. He's only a shepherd. Ma says if you give one of them a piece of
bread, he'll be as likely to stick it in his ear as in his mouth.
No hurt's possible where there's no wit to mind what's said. Having reassured herself, she launched
another verbal barb at the lad, and capped it with a rude gesture with both hands.
But she was wrong. He did understand. He let out a roar of anger and leaped for her, siezing her by the
shoulders and shaking her while her girlfriends fled screaming.
She wanted to scream too, but she was helpless, voiceless. Her captor shook her harder, harder still,
until she fell down and her teeth chattered together and her head banged against the steps of the Six
Mothers' shrine. She could still hear her girlfriends screaming, only now their screams had turned into her
name, shouted over and over while the enraged shepherd tried to batter the life out of her bones.
"Se'ar! Mother Se'ar!" She snapped back into the waking world, a hand on her shoulder shaking her, but
gently. She looked up' into the broad, bland face of Kinryk, the innkeeper's son, and what she saw there
made her forget to breathe. Easygoing Kinryk, lazy Kinryk, slack-faced Kinryk who everyone said was
only a half step off from shepherdhood himself, this same Kinryk had become transformed. His whole
face was alight, radiant with bliss, and his squat, flabby body quivered with the effort of trying to contain
some astonishing piece of news.
"She's gone!" he gasped. "Oh, Mother Se'ar, I was there. I saw it myself. She's gone! She's been taken!"
"Who?" A veil of shadow passed over the old woman's eyes, the sign that always visited her when she
knew that a death was coming to the village. She knew: "Ma'adrys." It was a whisper, like a fall of
pebbles into one of the mountain crevasses.
She went to gather flowers to sweeten my sickroom, Se'ar thought. Avrenk meadow. The main track up
that side of the mountain 's fine, but the shortcutk still half gullied out by the winter storms. She wouM
take the shortcut, my wiM one, in a rush to come back to tend me, and now-- "Have they... fetched her
body?" The old woman tried to sit up, her thoughts roiling. Taken so young, poor unlucky orphan. No
man's child, a mad mother's daughter. Ay.t As if a hard life were the fee to let us purchase the hour of our
death./Lady, in mercy give me back only a handful of my oM strength. Let me see to the proper arraying
of her corpse. She gathered breath with a great effort and panted, "Thatmthat box by the hearth, My
wedding dress. She shall have it for-- for her burial. Take it. Take it andreand bring it to--" Kinryk
laughed as if Se'ar had told him the best jest in all the world. "Dress, Mother Se'ar? Ma'adrys needs no
dress where's she's gone. I saw them take her, the shining ones, and the light almost blinded me, but
when I got my eyes back I saw her clothes left there in the grass, all in a muddle. No need for any but the
robes of star and sunlight where she dwells now." Se'ar's almost toothless mouth gaped. What was all
this gabble? Some of the village wags must have put the boy up to it. Their idea of sport, setting the
innkeeper's slow-brained son to play a prank on a dying woman. Passionately she wished for strength
enough to flay this fool alive with curses. But I am too weak... too weak, she thought. And my poor Ma'
adrys is gone.
"Evramur!" the boy sang out, and from outside the old woman's hut she heard a chorus of excited voices
echoing the holy name. "Our own Ma'adrys, worthy to be taken living into the eternal garden, the shining
city, the undying refuge Evramur!" "Evramur," Se'ar repeated, unable to believe with her mind what her
heart had at last accepted. From the time she'd been old enough to hear the good teachings, she'd heard
the name of Evramur, haven of all blessed spirits after death. Yet sometimes a spirit appeared whose
great goodness couldn't wait for death to free it from the flesh. That spirit's power was so intense that it
cried out until the servants of holy Evramur came seeking it and took it, flesh and all, to its rightful home.
Se'ar had heard of folk so blessed, but such privileged ones always seemed to live leagues away; they
were the stuff of legend.
.No longer. Se'ar still saw the veil of death before her eyes, but now she knew it was not for Ma'adrys.
She gazed at the innkeeper's thick-witted son with pity. "Kinryk," she said softly, "carry me into the air."
Beaming with joy, he scooped up the old woman's frail body and carried her out of the hut. Night had
fallen, one moon already visible high above the horizon, the other two lagging behind. By rights all the
villagers should have been in their own homes, eating their evening meal, getting ready for another day of
hard life and harsh labor. Instead, the narrow, crooked path that led up to Se'ar's hut was choked with
people, all chattering and wide eyed. When they saw the old woman, they surged forward, hands
outstretched.
As if my touch could make them holy because she touched me, Se'ar reflected. She tilted her head back
and looked up into the night sky.
Yes, there it was, beyond the glimmering disc of the lone risen moon: the red-gold sphere that the good
teachings named the Gate of Evramur. She imagined that if she stared at it long enough, hard enough, she
could almost see the laughing face of her lost Ma'adrys waiting for her just beyond the threshhold.
I have bartered holy gifts for gain, Se'ar thought. I will never see you again, my dear one, for I have made
my spirit unworthy of Evramur. The realization broke her heart and she began to weep.
No, Mother Se'ar. Was it an illusion or did she truly hear Ma'adrys's voice in her ear? Recall the good
teachings: It is never too late to make your spirit worthy. Not even now. One last time, use your gift as it
was meant to be used.
"Yes--" The old woman's word was lost in the clamor of the crowd closing around her. While they strove
to reach her, she placed her lips close to Kinryk's grimy ear and whispered, "Listen to me, boy. I have
seen the veil of your death before my eyes." She felt him freeze and quickly added, "Don't fear it. It's
yours no more. For her sake I will take it from you, take it upon myself. For the sake of the one who
walks the shining gardens of Evramur in flesh and spirit. For Ma'adrys--" The breath caught in her throat
and was gone in a gurgle and a sigh. Se'ar was dead. Kinryk burst into sobs, crying out the news of the
old woman's final prophecy and the blessed Ma'adrys's first miracle. At the back of the crowd, the
oberyin Bilik surreptitiously wiped his cheeks and called down a curse on any villager who might dare to
pillage the blessed Ma'adrys's own miserable dwelling in search of relics.
Overhead, the red-gold Gate of Evramur looked down impassively upon the wailing villagers, as distant
from their deaths as from their lives, and on the hillsides the shepherds danced and dreamed.
Chapter One
"WHAT IS THE reason for this delay?" Legate Valdor of Orakisa slapped the conference table, leaving
a ghostly impression of his splayed palm on the formerly spotless surface. The cluster of multicolored
crystal baubles at the base of his official topknot-- each one the mark of a successfully completed
diplomatic mission--chimed and jangled against each other. "This is unbearable! A deliberate insult!
When we return, I will file a complaint with the Reclamation. I will not be treated in such a way by a
merew" "Father, please." The younger Orakisan at Legate Valdor's elbow spoke in a voice so burdened
with embarrassment as to be almost inaudible. His own pale silver topknot was adorned with a single,
lonely crystal pendant small to the point of invisibility. "I am sure that there is a perfectly logical
explanation for her absence." "With respect, I agree with your son, Legate," Captain Picard put in.
"Ambassador Lelys herself requested that we call this briefing. She would gain nothing by delaying it on
purpose." "Nothing but another chance to remind me thatre" The legate's voice dropped to angry,
incomprehensible mutterings. From his place directly across the table from Valdor, the android Mr. Data
observed the older Orakisan's sulks and grumblings with marked interest.
At that moment, the door to the conference room opened as Dr. Crusher entered, foliowed by a tall,
alien woman of striking height and exotic beauty.
"Sorry to be late, sir," Dr. Crusher said, taking the chair between the captain's and Counsellor Troi's.
"Ambassador Lelys made it a point to call for me in person, but just as we were about to leave, I was
unavoidably detained." A mysterious smile flickered over her lips.
"Unavoidably?" Captain Picard echoed, regarding her closely. He preferred his mysteries solved.
Before Dr. Crusher could reply, the alien woman spoke up. "Captain Picard, I accept full responsibility
for our lateness. If you must undertake disciplinary action against anyone for the offense--" "Madam
Ambassador, I assure you that nothing was farther from my mind," Picard replied. "I only wished to
knoWre" "Good," the Orakisan woman cut in. "Then we can proceed. Captain, if you please." She wore
a gown that held all the brilliant shades of an Earth sunset, the sleeves mere wisps of iridescent drapery
secured at wrist and shoulder with sunbursts of faceted gemstones, and when she extended one slender
hand bearing an information chip it was with the sinuous grace of a trained dancer.
"Certainly, Ambassador." Picard felt a momentary twinge of irritation at being interrupted, but he quickly
put it aside. He inserted the chip into the control unit at his fingertips, and immediately a holographic
projection of a gold, blue, green, and white planet set against a field of stars materialized in the center of
the conference table.
"Ah. Skerris IV," said Mr. Data automatically.
"S'ka'rys," the ambassador corrected him. She glided to the head of the table where a chair stood empty
at Captain Picard's right hand. Instead of sitting in it she passed it by in favor of the vacant seat next to
the younger Orakisan male. As soon as she settled in beside him, he took an intense interest in his
datapad. The crystal pendant in his hair trembled violently.
Ambassador Lelys noticed none of this. "I beg your pardon," she said to Mr. Data. "I did not intend to
make you feel inadequate. I should not have expected you to know how the name is pronounced in the
old style." "Quite the contrary, Ambassador." Mr. Data replied. "In preparation for your arrival aboard
the Enterprise, I thoroughly familiarized myself with Old Skerrian as a matter of course, as well as all
variations of that language as currently spoken throughout the Skerrian daughterworlds. As I understand
it, it has become the fashion for the Reclamation colonists on S'ka'rys to adopt old-style ways as much as
possible, although I must confess I fail to see a practical purpose." He cocked his head briefly to one
side, then added, "S'ka'rys. I believe that means the mother in the old language." Ambassador Lelys
inclined her head in agreement, a charming smile illuminating her face. Silky hair the color of a
storm-ridden sea swept forward, clusters of crystal droplets making their own music. Like her
colleagues, she too wore a topknot, but hers was the merest tuft of hair caught up in a tiny golden ring.
She was not the sort of person who needed to rely on official symbols to establish her authority. "You are
a credit to the Federation, Mr. Data. I am privileged to count you among our most valuable resources.
With someone like you helping us, I feel certain that our mission will succeed." "Thank you," the android
replied. "However, given the nature of the problem that your colonists are facing, I would say that Dr.
Beverly Crusher will be a much more valuable resource than I." "Why do I suddenly feel like a med
probe?" Dr.
Crusher murmured to Counsellor Troi behind latticed fingers. The Betazoid declined to comment.
"Yes, of course," Ambassador Lelys was saying, turning the power of her smile on Dr. Crusher. "As
soon as I volunteered for this mission, I made it a point to request transport by the Enterprise, chiefly
because I knew you were assigned to this ship. Your reputation as a xenobiologist is extraordinary, and
we may well need the extraordinary before we are done. I can not begin to tell you how unnerved I was
when we were informed that you might not share this voyage with us." "I was attending the Ark
conference on Malabar Station," Dr. Crusher explained. "I received direct orders from Admiral Mona to
return immediately.
Unfortunately, the orders didn't include more than the barest briefing. I know that there's a health crisis of
major proportions on Skerris IV"mshe didn't even attempt to pronounce that world's name in the old
styleto"but if that's so, I don't see what we're doing in this sector, nowhere near the Skerrian system, and
heading farther from it by the minute."
Ambassador Lelys sighed, her eyes full of sorrow as she gazed at the holographic projection slowly
turning on the conference table. "How beautiful," she said, the ornaments in her hair chiming softly. "And
how great a pity that we did not appreciate its beauty soon enough." She fell into a heavy silence which
no one-- not even the impatient Legate Valdormtried to break.
From his place, Captain Picard, too, regarded the slowly turning projection of Skerris IV. The story of
that lovely world's ugly fate was a familiar one--far too familiar--in the scope of universal history. Once a
thriving word, Skerris IV had made great technological progress, conquering interstellar travel and
seeding countless other worlds with her colonies.
"What fools we were," said Ambassador Lelys with a sigh.
"Fools?" Legate Valdor snapped out the word, his pale skin darkening with rage. "Is this how you speak
of the Ancestors? Mark me, Ambassador Lelys.
Disrespect to me is one thing, but disrespect to the Ancestors must and will be reported to the--" "Very
well, Legate," Lelys said with the patience of a mother dealing with a fractious four-year-old.
"Report me with my blessing. You have done little this entire trip but collect incidents, evidence, and
assorted sins I have supposedly committed. By the time you present the full catalog of my offenses, I will
have retired from the diplomatic service, so by all means, enjoy yourselfi" The legate's fleshy lips pressed
together, the dull orange irises of his eyes expanding until the thin rim of white surrounding them was no
longer visible. He started to rise from his chair, fists on the table.
"Father~" The younger male tentatively reached out to sieze the legate's arm. "Father, Ambassador Lelys
only said the same thing that you and I have heard many times from the lips of respected Council
members. She speaks within the law. The glories of the Ancestors are holy, but the follies of the
Ancestors must be acknowledged." "A fool's law," Legate Valdor muttered, subsiding.
He jerked his arm away from the younger male.
"Small wonder you know it so well, Hara'el." The younger male bowed his head and meekly said, "Yes,
Father." "But is it not true, Legate Valdor, that any law that allows us to extract present wisdom from
past errors is not only valid but essential?" Mr. Data asked. He received a venomous look from the
Orakisan for his troubies.
"What are we to learn?" Valdor demanded. "To this day, no one is certain of precisely what became of
Skerris IV." He pronounced the world's name Federation style, and gave AmbassadOr Lelys a look that
defied her to correct him.
"You are quite right, Valdor." Again she rose above the potential confrontation with her subordinate.
"We do not know the precise chain of events that led up to the complete annihilation of our motherworld.
For many, it is enough to know that such a disaster happened, that it did not need to happen, and that we
must strive to ensure that it never happens again. The death of S'ka'rys was more than the death of a
world, it was the death of knowledge," "Not--not all knowledge, Ambassador," Hara'el ventured. For
this, he was rewarded with one of Lelys's warmest smiles.
"Your pardon," she said kindly. "I did ask you to handle this briefing, didn't I? Yet here I am, in love with
the sound of my own voice." She did not notice how the color rose up Hara'el's neck when she said love.
"Please proceed."
Hara'el cleared his throat and fidgeted in his chair, then stood up and tried to compensate for his
nervousness by adopting a professorial pose. With an unnecessary gesture at the holograph, he said,
"Orakisa was one of the more recently founded Skerrian colonies, relatively speaking, and was an
extremely prosperous world from the first. We were very fortunate on both those counts, since
prosperity allowed our founders the leisure to preserve history; Otherwise we might have come to believe
that we had no roots beyond Orakisa after S'ka--Skerris IV-- destroyed itself." He, too, used the
Federation style pronunciation after an uneasy sideways glance at his father "All knowledge of the
motherworld--and thus of our sister colonies--would have been lost." "What I don't understand," Dr.
Crusher began, "excuse me for interrupting, but Ambassador Lelys told me some of this on our way to
the conference room and I didn't quite follow her. What I don't understand is why Orakisa didn't know
of the other Skerrian colonies until recently." "In their wisdom, the Ancestors would have it so," Valdor
intoned. His expression made it clear that, as far as he was concerned, that was enough of an explanation
for anyone.
Ambassador Lelys disagreed. "We can only theorize from recovered and reconstructed information, but
most likely it was one of our Ancestors' deliberate policies concerning colonies. As far as possible, new
daughterworlds were kept in ignorance of older ones, and more established daughterworlds were not
informed of new foundations, which was an easier task." "Yes, but why?" Counsellor Troi asked. "What
did the motherworld hope to gainT' "Independence." Hara'el spoke up, and most of the people at the
conference table did a double take, as if they'd forgotten his presence even though he was standing right
in front of them. "If you believe that your settlement is isolated from all others, if you don't even know that
there are any others, you will develop self-reliance because to your mind, you have no other choice."
"And diversity," Legate Valdor put in. "Nothing evolves, nothing progresses without diversification, not
even a CUlture. Our Ancestors, in their wisdom, realized this. If every daughterworld were a clone of her
sisters, then any cataclysm capable of wiping out one would be able to destroy the rest. But if the
daughterworlds were forced to evolve separately, then in time of crisis, one colony might have developed
the resources to save her sisters." "Except for the fact that no daughterworld was aware that her sisters
even existed," Ambassador Lelys amended. "I am afraid that our Ancestors' motives were far less noble:
If the daughterworlds couldn't possibly rely on each other, they would have to rely on S'ka'rys. Until a
colony was secure enough to be totally self-supporting, there would be no chance of the motherworld
losing control of it." Legate Valdor shot out of his seat, the pendants in his topknot clattering loudly. "I
will not allow myself to be subjected to this--this pollution! You may defame the Ancestors all you like,
Ambassador, but you can not force me to bear witness to such sacrilege." With that, he stormed out of
the conference room, the door hissing shut behind him.
Hara'el stared after his father's violent departure.
The younger 0rakisan male looked ready to sink into the floor. Ambassador Lelys patted his arm.
"Proceed," she said.
"But--but if he's gone how can I?" "The purpose of this meeting is purely informational. All Star fleet
personnel crucial to the success of our mission must have a complete view of the situation on S'ka'rys.
While your father has served Orakisa capably for many years as a diplomat, he has never been able to
present the facts as they are, without benefit of emotional coloration. An unfortunate shortcoming, and
probably the reason why he's still a legate. Since we don't need to reach any sort of decision or accord at
the moment, we don't need him." She spoke with a cool, logical detachment worthy of a Vulcan. "Go on
with your presentation, Hara'el." Hara'el took a deep breath before obeying his superior. "As I was
saying, Orakisa was one of the last colonies founded before the fall of Skerris IV. In time, we came to
think of the motherworld as a legend, but a legend that might have some basis in reality." "Atlantis,"
Captain Picard murmured.
"What?" Ambassador Lelys's luminous amber eyes were suddenly on him.
"A legend of Earth," he explained. "Supposedly all early cultures were colonies of a superior civilization
that was lost when the continent of Atlantis sank into the sea." "And did any of your people believe that
this Atlantis was more than just a legend?" Picard nodded. "Many. Some even mounted diving
expeditions to locate the sunken land. Unfortunately, most of their discoveries were of dubious scientific
worth. Some legends are merely legends." "Ours was not," the ambassador said demurely.
She indicated to Hara'el that he should go on.
By now the younger male was so ill at ease that he adopted the terse, thoroughly unemotional delivery of
someone reading aloud from an encyclopedia: "The first Orakisan expedition to Skerris IV revealed
planet-wide extinction of our founding civilization, but also that the motherworld was on the path to
ecological recovery. The expedition's report caused a great stir on Orakisa. Once it was determined that
the legendary motherworld did exist and that it was once more capable of supporting life, there was a
great movement to reclaim and resettle Skerris IV." "I remember reading about the medical aspects of
the Reclamation movement," Dr. Crusher said. "I can't say I approved of some of the more radical
adaptation procedures your people used." "We had no choice," Hara'el responded. "Even though the
motherworld was no longer barren, the radiation levels were still somewhat heavier than our people could
bear." "They could have chosen not to go," Dr. Crusher pointed out.
"Out of the question, Dr. Crusher," Lelys said.
"Well, perhaps not so, if viewed from a strictly practical standpoint, but in the days of the rediscovery
and the Reclamation no one on Orakisa was in a strictly practical mood. The Reclamation was not a
sober, carefully considered undertaking. It was a crusade. Those who decided to resettle S'ka'rys were
willing to have their bodies genetically altered so that they and their descendants could survive existing
conditions on Ihe motherworld, even though the procedure meant that they would be unable to live
anywhere else. As you yourself said, Dr. Crusher, it was a radical adaptation, a strain that no body could
undergo twice and survive, but the colonists had no intention of going back. They were determined to
take an irreversible stand. They said that S'ka'rys gave Orakisa birth and now it was time for Orakisa to
give S'ka'rys rebirth. True, nothing forced our people to return to the motherworld. Nothing but a dream.
But we will give up much for the sake of dreams." Dr. Crusher was silent.
"The Reclamation enjoyed great initial success," Hara'el resumed. "The Orakisan crops and stock animals
that the settlers brought with them did better than expected. They not only flourished, they acheived
nontraumatic coexistence with the native plant and animal life that had survived the devastation." "Hardly
surprising," said Mr. Data. "I assume that when Orakisa was first settled, the colonists brought plants and
animals from Skerris IV. The Reclamation settlers no doubt wished to avoid any problems that might
arise from importing truly alien life-forms to their new home. They must have taken the precaution of
bringing back only the descendants of originally transplanted stock," "As you say." Hara'el nodded. He
was beginning to lose a measure of his nervousness, and when he spoke on, he no longer sounded
younger than his years.
"The Reclamation was going well. Optimistic reports from the first comers encouraged more settlers to
join the movement, which in turn made it necessary to scout out more land that had recovered enough to
support communities. It was during one of these explorations that they made their most momentous
discovery: They unearthed Miramik, chief city of the motherworld." "And among the ruins of Miramik we
found our history," Lelys said. She made a small, self-effacing gesture. "I beg you to forgive me, Hara'el;
I spoke out of turn. But the discovery of Miramik is a source of unpardonable pride for me, since it was
my own brother who led that expedition." Hara'el's recently reclaimed self-control vanished as soon as
Lelys addressed him directly. Flustered, he stammered out, "Why, why, yes--yes, of course it is.
It--it ought to be! Your brotherwthe honor-- perfectly pardonable, any pride you take in--all that
followed." He was making a fool of himself and judging from the look on his face, he knew it. With a
great effort, he stopped babbling and said, "It would be only proper for you to speak of it." He sat down
with the air of a man who would not open his mouth again if his life depended on it. Counsellor Troi gave
him a sympathetic look, but his eyes were resolutely lowered and it was wasted on him.
"What we--what my brother's expedition found in the ruins of Miramik was astonishing," Lelys was
saying. "More than astonishing, a miracle! As they were investigating the sublevels of an apparently
unimportant structure on the outskirts of the city, they stumbled across a door almost entirely buried in
rubble. They would have ignored it--they had no time for more than a cursory exploration--but for the
fact that my brother caught sight of the sign attached to the wall beside it. He was an academic when he
still lived on Orakisa. He'd studied the written form of the old tongue as it survived in our records, and
the moment he interpreted the sign, he knew that they had to get into that room. He was right. The
blocked door guarded a treasure greater than anyone could have imagined, a government data bank,
shielded and sheltered, almost perfectly preserved, with most of its information intact and retrievable. It
was only an auxiliary backup unit--the main storage facilities had been destroyed utterly--but it contained
the official records of all colonies ever seeded from the motherworld. That was how we learned that we
were not the only child of S'ka'rys. The universe thronged with her daughters. We had given life back to
the planet that had given life to ours, and we had been rewarded. Orakisa rejoiced and immediately
began plans to contact our long-lost sisters." "It was my privilege to attend one such ceremony of
reunion, when Orakisa reestablished ties with Kikal," Counsellor Troi said.
"We still recall your service with gratitude," Lelys said. "Kikal is one of the oldest colonies, and her ways
have become very different from ours. Thanks to you and to the Federation we were able to convince a
world of strangers that they are truly our kin." "And to bring that world into the Federation," Picard
commented, "among others. The discovery of the S'ka'rys data bank may lack the glamor of King Tut's
tomb, but on a galactic scale it has proven itself to be infinitely more valuable." "King Tut's tomb?" Lelys
inquired.
"The multi-chambered burial site of King Tutankhamen, a major archeological find of the early twentieth
century," Mr. Data provided. "The discovery of a virtually undisturbed royal interment belonging to
Earth's ancient Egyptian civilization was an event which greatly enhanced contemporary knowledge of---"
"Thank you, Mr. Data. Ambassador Lelys can pursue the references in the ship's library for herself if the
subject interests her," Captain Picard interrupted.
He turned to Dr. Crusher. "Unfortunately, the troubles on Skerris IV began soon after the Miramik find."
"Tut's curse," Dr. Crusher murmured under her breath. It was still loud enough to be heard. This time
both Mr. Data and Ambassador Lelys regarded her quizzically. She smiled briefly and said, "Just a story.
When the archeologists opened Tutankhamen's burial chamber, some people claimed that their invasion
of the site invoked a curse. Supposedly, when the Egyptian priests sealed the king's tomb, they used
magic spells that would destroy anyone who disturbed their royal master's eternal rest." "And this curse,
is it truly just a story?" Lelys asked.
"Naturally," the doctor replied without hesitation.
Counsellor Troi gave her a knowing look. "Is it?" she echoed.
Dr. Crusher colored slightly. "There were a number of incidents following the discovery of the tomb--
tragedies touching members of the expedition--but as for hard evidence, well," she shrugged, "people will
believe what they want to believe and interpret facts to suit their own preconceived ideas. A romantic
would choose to believe in the magic of an ancient Egyptian curse rather than in mere coincidence."
Before Troi could question her further about her own views on the subject, she quickly asked, "What
happened on Skerris IV? A medical crisis, I know that much, but what are the specifics? Did the opening
of the sealed data bank room release some sort of dormant microbes? We've handled similar cases on
other worlds many times before this. A Federation medical team should have been able to take care of it
easily." Ambassador Lelys shook her head. "We contacted the Federation as soon as the first problems
manifested themselves among the colonists. That was their initial analysis, soon proved wrong. My
brother's expedition hadn't released any curse out of S'ka'rys's past. In fact, if we hope to save our
motherworld from a second obliteration of her children, the answer will Come from the Miramik find."
She signalled Captain Picard, who touched a control, altering the projection in the center of the table.
摘要：

StarTrek-TNG-ToStormHeavenPrologue"DEATH!"OLDSE'ARMOANED,writhinginpainonherpallet."Ayme,deathiscoming!""Hush,you'reill.Liequietly,"themaidensoothed,kneelingonthehardfloorofbeatenearth."Youmustsaveyourstrengthifyouwanttogetwell,MotherSe'ar,youknowthat.""Well..."Theoldwomanrepeatedthewordasifitwereon...

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