At one end of the garden—an area in the city’s largest park that could easily have accommodated Defiantfor landing—a group of Vahni marched solemnly up onto a proscenium. The lack of ordered sounds, disturbing to Vaughn even before the tragedy, he now found almost unbearable. The shifting mass of bodies in the garden made a noise like a collective death rattle. For comfort, he clung to the sounds of the crew, sad though they were; more than half of the ship’s complement had accompanied him to the ceremony, and all had wanted to attend. The memorial had lasted nearly two hours now, and as the crew had listened via their translators to the sentiments of the several Vahni officiating, tears had flowed. Sam Bowers had been particularly hard hit by the loss of Gerda Roness, though Nog, T’rb, Kaitlin Merimark, and Jeanette Chao had also been close friends of the young ensign. Dr. Bashir had also seemed very moved during the Vahni tributes, though Vaughn suspected that the doctor’s emotions were further beset by his concern for Dax; besides her own harrowing experience in the shuttle, she now faced dealing for the first time with losing a person under her command.
The Vahni on the stage had arranged themselves in rows atop a tiered platform, and one of them stepped forward from the center of the lowest row. Two large displays, one on either side of the stage, ensured that all in the crowd could view the proceedings. “My [untranslatable]Vahni Vahltupali, and our honored friends from the United Group of Planets,” the woman conveyed, “as we conclude our observance, we would like to share our grief through a rite of [untranslatable].”Low tones stood in for the missing words.
Around the garden, the Vahni all bowed, and Vaughn saw the ocular organs ringing the heads of those nearest him squint closed. Then a change passed through the many-hued assemblage, the flesh of all the Vahni drifting from their natural colors to an indigo so dark that it was almost black. No sounds came through the translators. Vaughn bowed his head and closed his eyes, wondering what human analogue there might be for this communal experience. Were the Vahni crying? Chanting? Was this a moment of silence—a moment of darkness?
Right now, darkness suited Vaughn. The irony of what had happened here, with respect to his own life, had not eluded him. He had recently climbed from a life of secrecy, struggle, and death, into one of openness, cooperation, and exploration. And here, less than two weeks into his first mission of discovery, the darkness had risen up behind and overtaken him. But Vaughn would not lament his own fate at a time when the futures of so many had been ripped away, and the futures of those left behind had been irrevocably damaged. What he would do was what he had done for decades: he would fight.
Already, the easiest battle had been won. In the three days since the destruction of the Vahni moon and the quakes on their world, the crew of Defianthad obliterated the potentially deadly fragments of a planet in the Vahni system that had also been destroyed. While Sagan’s extensive damages would require a week to ten days more to repair, Chaffee’s plasma leak had quickly been patched. The mended shuttle and Defianthad tracked down those planetary fragments that had might have, in time, headed toward the Vahni world and caused great devastation.
The tougher battle, though, still needed to be fought.
This time, the enemy would likely not be as easy to detect or vanquish as rocks floating through space. Since the Vahni moon had shattered, Ensign ch’Thane and his team of scientists had been able to determine that a strange, unidentifiable energy pulse had passed through the system at warp speed. The velocity implied an artificial cause, but although he crew had been unable to ascertain the exact nature of the pulse, all observable indications actually indicated a natural source.
Vaughn heard a rustling sound, and he raised his head and opened his eyes to find that all of the Vahni had reverted back to their regular colors. The Vahni at the front of the stage stood up fully and again addressed the crowd. “Now, please join us as we [untranslatable].”Without turning—what need did they have to turn, Vaughn realized, when their eyes encircled their heads?—she raised her tentacles high, paused, and then brought them down dramatically. The flesh of the group on the stage erupted in a panoply of colors and forms, the individuals synchronized for the first few seconds, and then diverging in an amazing visual display. The translators captured the initial seconds—“We look to the sky and see”—and then delivered only the low tone that signaled uninterpretable communication. All around the crew, Vaughn saw, the Vahni in the crowd began changing the colors and shapes on their flesh in time with the changes occurring on the Vahni onstage.
They’re singing,Vaughn thought in wonder. His sense of appreciation for this extraordinary species only served to redouble his resolve to prevent the destructive force of the pulse from ever being visited upon them again. According to the Vahni, such events had been taking place on their world for more than two centuries. They had always occurred without warning and in no discernible pattern, except that the length of the intervals between them had decreased each time, while the level of destructive power had increased. Two hundred years ago, the quakes had happened decades apart, causing little damage; the latest event had followed the previous one by less than a year, and obviously had been the most powerful they had ever experienced. Worse than that, Ensign ch’Thane’s simulations revealed that, had the Vahni moon not been in the path of the pulse, effectively eclipsing it and preventing most of it from ever reaching the planet—and Defiant—the surface of the Vahni world would have been devastated, and many of its inhabitants lost. Vaughn knew that if another pulse passed through the system, with no moon to provide even the possibility of escaping its full force, the Vahni civilization would likely be wiped out.
And Vaughn would not allow that to happen.
24
The door chime signaled, and Kira looked up from a padd to see Admiral Akaar outside her office. “Come in,” she said flatly. Although pleased that the meeting she had requested three days ago would at last take place, she did not feel particularly happy about having to deal again with the laconic and disobliging admiral. This time, though, she vowed that she would wrest some answers from him.
The doors parted, momentarily allowing the bustle of ops to enter along with Akaar, then shut behind him with a click, isolating her office once more. She put the padd down and opened a hand in the direction of the chairs in front of her desk. “Please, Admiral,” she said. “Have a seat.” She walked out from behind her desk and over to the replicator. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
As he sat, Kira noticed a padd in his left hand, its display dark. “No, thank you,” he said, and she thought she detected a tinge of annoyance in his voice.
Of course,Kira thought. This is my office, my territory, and I’m in control.Even something as simple as offering food demonstrated that, she knew. It had not escaped her notice that for her first meeting with Akaar, he had insisted that they use a conference room aboard Mjolnir.Since then, he had been to her office one other time, to bid farewell to Commander Vaughn. Her only other contact with him had been via companel, when she had attempted to learn more about his—and Councillor zh’Thane’s—continued presence on the station, which was when she had requested this meeting.