Stardate 44943.1 I Want to Believe 1995 Annette Webster Gérémenik Drevilin was small for his people, and it was easy to go about unnoticed through the wide avenues. He was new to this part of Rekkin, and he still found all the writing on the walls here fascinating. It was eternally being updated of course, for these were tumultuous times; but the glowing displays along the residential buildings shone temptingly through the gloom and he wanted to know all he could about his new home.
It was wonderful to see that the talks with the Shrenis had gone so well, and the exchanges of expertise might go beyond trying to destroy the arsenal of weapons both sides had accumulated in their centuries of mutual hatred and fear. One day soon they might even get around to cleaning up the planet’s surrounds - those exploding orbital platforms had caused more damage to the outer atmosphere in a day than fifteen million itken of volcanic activity around the Mren Belt ever had.
Yet today it wasn’t the current news he was primarily interested in, no matter how fascinating it normally was to him. He had found what was called the ‘dark’ area soon after arriving. It wasn’t particularly well looked after, and some of the panels were dim, but the topic had always intrigued him, even before coming to this city, and the discovery of this place had been one of his greatest.
It was near the Learning Fields, though this place was a labyrinth of twisting and writhing corridors and tunnels; so alien when compared to the rest of this open, free city. It was always a shock to come here from class; the contrast to the fourteen linkit wide emptiness dotted here and there with the learning groups so drastic. Here one couldn’t even see the lowering grey sky as it stretched out to infinity.
All that was here was the information that had been amassed over lifetimes; and for the price of lives in some cases. Here was forbidden fruit, tolerated only here because it amused certain of the Learned to know that it was here, and that it was like a sticky fly trap attracting those who might end up problems and provided a way for these to be identified, noted and monitored on files too high for the common Learner to access.
Even a small man would be tagged once he went in here, but he didn’t care. There was always something new to know here, even if it was a new face who shared this dangerous passion to be noted by him for future reference.
Those who Believed were a rare and courageous breed, and he wanted to know them, for at his core, he was one of them.
The Dark sector was accessed by one dark doorway - how he’d discovered it again after he’d first arrived had to be more than luck or fate. Perhaps, he mused, it was the distinctive wet smell of rotting organics that did it?
Walking in there, hearing the hmmmmnnnnn of the sensors record his existence was always like moving into some kind of lost world where shadows flitted through the glimmers the scrolling green lettering created. It was an eerie light in here; without the faintly grey assistance of the suns through the dust laden sky, the writing became the only illumination; a sick and pallid wash causing his yellow skin to appear blotched and diseased. Someone, somewhere was laughing about that, he knew.
He walked on into the secrets.
The rumours of life existing on other planets had persisted for eons, as had the less dependable rumours that this life had visited this world, and these held the Believers in thrall. Some of the data here was rubbish, he knew; some was simply too far fetched to be believed - some reeked of Learned intervention. Yet he knew that if one stayed long enough, and searched hard enough, the truth would eventually be known, peeping out with green eyes to give him some answers to questions he hadn’t even formulated yet.
He held his breath as he slowed to read the weirdly oscillating text, watching it turn in upon itself and finding he was dragged into the urgency of its narrative, watching the scene it described play out in his mind as he felt the chill of excitement and cold fact wave throughout his wedge-like body; and didn’t notice the black close in around him.
Representatives of the aliens are already meeting with the Learned?
Out of the gloom, a hand touched his shoulder. He didn’t jump, though his mind insisted he should. So he turned slowly as one who is caught and knows it does, seeing only an exposed yellow hand waving past the traditional black hooded figure of a common Learner.
"Do you believe?" The voice seemed to come from elsewhere, out in the darkness and not from the figure holding him. He was stunned, but managed to stammer,
"I don’t know."
"Then why are you here?"
"To learn."
The sound of something being ripped away echoed off the slick walls and he distinctly heard a step. The hooded one beside him released the shoulder and slunk away into the shadows, though the ultra-alert Gérémenik hadn’t seen any sign of a signal.
"You were the last one I would expect here." It was a new voice, but yet it wasn’t. He knew that voice, despite its hesitant tone.
"I never realised you felt this way, Wrentisden, or I would have told you." he answered calmly, raising his chin as the tall, taller than he, male stepped out into the light. "No one is safe; not even here."
"No, my friend, but I can show you a place - if you will be silent about it. This is just the beginning of the Belief."
A promise of more? More than the Dark area? Of the Alien sector? Either this was more than fate, or a trap…
"How do you know I’m not of the Learned? Or one of their agents? I may not be what I seem."
"You admit to Learning beyond the confines of regulation, Géré!" The smooth snout of the new man tightened with wonder. "Agents and the Learned don’t, ever! To even say such a thing as a lie is enough for agents to die, and the Learned seek nothing beyond their rigid pockets of lore. And I know you. To answer so quickly and truthfully without having time to think, you are one of us. Come with me."
"And how do I know?" Still he resisted, pulling away from this man he knew as friend and workmate, the man who’d introduced him to the others in the vending area they’d shared without knowing they had more in common than occupation. "That you aren’t here to trap me?"
Wrentisden’s smooth conical face relaxed once more, but the hollows running from mouth to eyes were prominent. His tone reflected this quiet satisfaction.
"I want to believe, Géré."
Words said from the core of a soul are without comparison. A great actor can come close to emulating it by saying one set of words but meaning something entirely different. However actors are always looking for an audience to pitch to and will adjust a performance depending upon who that audience is. Souls do not pitch, they merely say what they mean. When he spoke these words, Wrentisden’s soul was in his large dark eyes; he truly wanted to believe.
Humbled, Gérémenik Drevilin no longer resisted.
"I’ll go with you, Wren."
Humming approval, the newcomer said nothing more, but grasped Géré’s arm with a determined grip to lead him through the moist and reeking passageways that made this place. Around him he could dimly see flashes of other figures moving with them, keeping pace with them as they briskly moved towards whatever goal they were headed for, but at no time were any of them save his guide visibly identifiable to him.
There had been talk of underground societies for or against various things since he’d come here, unusual in a community as rigidly enforced to one set of the ‘right’ ideals as this one was, and undeniably dangerous for the same reason. For anyone to have become organized in any manner like this was brave - but the question had to be asked; just how organized were they? And though Wrentisden knew him, Gérémenik, personally, what was their reason for choosing him to join? How could they know he wasn’t working for the Learned? To be approached openly on the street; either they were extremely organized and knew that he was no threat, or had no idea of the dangers they were playing around with.
Gérémenik never went into anything without a pre-arranged escape route, but if these people were doing what he suspected, could they say the same? Perhaps he shouldn’t have agreed to become involved, but on the spur of the moment, the desire to learn was so strong… There was no turning back now, no matter his doubts.
He had never ventured this far into the maze before, had never traced his way through the building miasma of gas and garbage to the black hole which was the Sector’s heart. The stink was almost visible here, a kind of methane based steam normally only seen in swamps and mangroves that glowed eerily and more strongly now than the all-but-broken-down wall screens.
It was in this weird netherworld that he saw the yellowish shape of his friend turn and for the first time since this journey had begun, start speaking to him in a hushed voice.
"Now we go through here." He indicated with a hand the vague direction of a shadow blacker than the others around them. Even Gérémenik’s sharp eyes couldn’t pick out what lay beyond the veil.
"When we go through here you’ll feel a slight disorientation as the sensors are blocked, but don’t hesitate. It’ll pass, and we’ll only have thirty-four brek before the Learned find we weren’t actually tagged off at the entrance and they will look for us." Emphasis on the will was deliberate and chilling, speaking plainly of methodical hunting downs and interrogations in small rooms before they were allowed to die. "We will be timed and told to go before our deadline to be re-tagged here is up. Follow me." Bowing as though to crouch his way through that greater darkness, the huge man was brought up short as Gérémenik refused to move either gripped arm or body.
"No. I need to know more about what I’m getting into." he said implacably as the other straightened and looked at him with the wide eyes of a frightened man. "What will I see?"
"After you have come so far?" he hissed, looking at his shadowy counterparts. "All I can tell you here is that none of this here is real!" Forms of his hands indicated the flickering displays around them dismissively. "We are too close to the sensors here, but if you want to learn, follow me. If you don’t, you are free to go - keep to the left of the passages as you saw on your way here; but I’m going."
They were friends in the outer-world, and he had to know. His gut told him there was no threat here, but his mind… the penalties for having to force an escape from these people could be catastrophic, and he had to choose now. Yet he already had when he’d chosen to come…
Gérémenik smiled his small smile and patted the hand on his arm.
"I’ll come with you." he announced. "Again."
With exasperation, but a touch of relief as well the other led the way. He saw a faint pink light around the first corner of the tunnel they crawled through, the ceiling of what appeared to be a maintenance duct too low for even he, the smallest of their party, to walk upright in. In a strange way, he was reminded of home.
As he passed through the band of light, the dizziness struck, and, momentarily paralyzed by the sudden change of pressure at the base of his skull, he lumbered into the wall. Wrentisden was too far ahead to notice - for a panicked time Géré thought he was going to be stranded this way until the Learned found him.
Relief coursed through him when he felt hands at his chest and sides, helping him to move along the tunnel until he felt his own equilibrium reestablish itself. Of course, he thought, the others were following and wouldn’t leave him to flounder impotently when knowledge was so near, nor allow him to however involuntarily lead the Learned’s forces to this hidden place. Or voluntarily, for that matter.
"We’re underneath the Sector." Wrentisden’s voice floated back towards them, giving Géré something new to concentrate upon to keep his mind off his brain’s dull ache and the unremitting blackness of the duct. "And we’re heading out of it to where we won’t be detected, under the city. But we have to move quickly for it’s quite a way from here."
Obligingly, Géré picked up the pace.
It seemed to last forever, the oblique corners to be molded around and the final deep slide had limbs screaming for succor at the end of that torturous trip; he was quite convinced that they would only be able to stay in this much-lauded secret place for one mrbek before having to go back again, he’d moved so pitifully slowly.
Now, however, he found himself in a huge domed cavern, too smooth to be a natural formation, where the text that was a given in this city’s structures crept up the glassy black walls, but their meanings were something he had never seen before in the city - something which caused him to straighten up in plain and simple horror after crawling out of the accessport.
"Gods…" he whispered to himself, fervourantly hoping none around him could hear as the import hit home.
"Overwhelming, isn’t it?" came a voice from behind him as a black clad figure squeezed out of the tiny hole. This one raised its hood, and Géré could finally see what lay beyond; upon emerging into the better light here, the individual’s eyes could be seen above a black metallic mask - a vocal enhancer, he realised. It was this Géré had heard ripping away in that alleyway as Wrentisden had chosen to reveal himself, for the sound of this one being removed was almost identical. He did not know the face behind it, however.
"I remember." this one said conversationally in a voice disconcertingly lower than it had been through the mask, "when I was a Walker and I first came here, I couldn’t believe. I didn’t want to believe. It was all too much to contemplate, much less comprehend. I remember I didn’t come back for almost three itken…" Then he smiled. "…But I came back." Looking around at the massive influx of data streaming around them, over them, his eyes softened in nostalgia. "How could I deny myself this?"
"I don’t know." Géré said numbly, looking meekly around at the information and barely knowing where to start. A hand clasped his shoulder - he hardly noticed it was Wrentisden looking down on him in sympathy.
"You made good time through the tunnels, Géré." he approved. "Better than most Walkers, too. Maybe it’s because you’re so small. I see you’ve met Drenillin." Then he fixed his black eyes upon the one behind them, the one who’d followed Géré into the room.
"Dren, do you mind Walking Géré through? I have to see Sérén about…" He nodded meaningfully, a gesture the younger man appeared to understand. "…You know."
"I would be happy to." As Wren strode away and out towards the set of central tables where reams of paper were being shuffled around by a group all hotly debating something Géré couldn’t quite hear, Dren slapped his shoulder painfully.
"As a Walker, you get told to follow quite a bit," he told him as the smaller man rubbed the afflicted part, "but you have to understand that there’s stuff in here even worse than what’s on display, and it frightens a lot of us who have been active for itken. For now, you’ll just get the basics from me, but as time passes, you’ll see the rest. If you want to. But if you come with me, I’ll show you the best place to st…"
Drenillik stopped, and like the rest of the room, turned as the sound of raised voices echoed out from the center of the room.
"…said no Walkers! Of all days, we didn’t need any first timers that we have no idea of the security level of!" Irate, certainly, but to Géré, the female’s voice sounded more petrified. "Why did you bring him here?" she demanded.
The crowd had parted away from the warzone, and Géré could see the two now - even Wrentisden was dwarfed by the immense but gangling woman who towered menacingly over him.
Wren seemed at a loss for words, but ventured,
"Gérémenik and I work together. We can trust him! And I feel he can help us, like Vrentilen did."
"But why today?" she groaned, holding her delicate muzzle in her hands in surrender. "Everything depends on this! And you know it!"
Something of importance was due to happen here; Géré could feel the anticipation and tension in the air, and he knew his presence was only making it worse. So he squirmed out from under Dren’s big hand and called,
"I am more than prepared to leave. If I’m to be considered a threat, I’ll go."
Sérén - or the one he assumed was Sérén - allowed her gaze to shoot straight through him. He felt as though he’d been pinned to the wall behind him, so penetrating was her look.
"So you’re the reason why I’ve almost burst my rindaak valve, Walker." she snarled. "Well, it’s too late for that because the important ones are too close to re-tag to let you get out of earshot before we start, so you’re going to have to sit there and listen. One word of this to anyone outside of this group and your insides will be feeding the brendaks on the Plains. Understand?"
"Understood." he said fervourantly, stepping back to Dren with his mind working overtime…
"Take him in hand, Dren." Sérén said dismissively, turning her back on them now. "This is a hell of a time for him to be Walked, though."
"He’ll do fine." Wrentisden affirmed, incurring Sérén’s wrathful glare again.
"SIT DOWN!" she roared at him. Unruffled, he did as he was told, taking a seat by the table with others who had joined them there. Then she sat as well and raised a hand, beckoning someone amongst the standing multitudes to step forward.
As this unidentified soul did so, all of the text on the walls stopped scrolling up - and blacked out. Psychologically the affect was profound. After all the excess movement on the walls of every building in the city, plain walls now bore the threat of bad news.
None in the room missed Sérén rubbing her eyes wearily.
"There has been another dissected body found outside Perdin." the new voice reported in the tone of the hopeless. "It shows all the usual signs, and it is in the approximate area of those illumination phenomena reported three weeks ago…"
"Illumination phenomena?" Géré asked Dren quietly, guarding his moving mouth with a hand.
"Pillars of blue light that appeared on the ground, shimmered and disappeared." Dren explained. "Keep listening."
Cold gripped Géré’s stomach.
"…was identified as Rekilin Lendis…"
Someone amongst them began to sob, even as a thick black silence descended over the rest.
"The Shrenis are only interested in why she was there; no explanation has been given by the Learners yet, but the rumor is we are going to be blamed.
"Now, I Believe," this person continued hotly now, black eyes flashing. "but the evidence at our command tells us quite plainly that there is no way Rekkin nor Shrenis technology could do the kinds of horrors they inflict on these people, nor could we get a body so far into Shrenis territory without outside Intervention! My question is this: why are the aliens trying to cause trouble between us, right when we’re so close to achieving peace? Then they make sure they take Believers and Believers only so we sound like utter fools and troublemakers when our tiny articles make it on to the Networks. Aliens took Rekkin Believers so none will know the aliens exist?" He made an explosive noise. "It sounds stupid even to myself! To the average, indoctrinated Learner, the explanation of the Believers are making trouble during the peace talks to air their own crazy ideas, or even the Believers are in league with the betraying Shrenis is going to sound more believable than our feeble ravings. Then the Learned will have won and we will be dead." Spreading his hands he proclaimed,
"That’s why I say the time for the Revelation has come! Let them see the proof of all our claims here before the news about Rekilin gets out on the posts, before we’re hunted down forever and our lore of knowledge is ‘proven’ by the Learned to be wrong!"
"But it’s not ready yet, Herit!" someone else disagreed from their seat near Wren. "We could only get a portion out at best, and that’ll easily be traced to here and we WILL be dead, never to see daylight again!"
"But even with a piece on the Networks, we could prove that the aliens do exist and have interfered, not us!" someone, one of Wren’s team that had brought Géré here, said as though it was plain. "If it was the right piece…?"
Sérén pointed at her emphatically. "That’s the problem! We can’t guess what piece will be seen and which won’t! So until we can guarantee we can get the whole thing out permanently, I’m not going to allow it. It’d be suicide."
An oath of silence can be the hardest oath of all to bear. Géré could see the solution to the puzzle - indeed, he had the final piece - but he couldn’t interfere no matter how much he empathized with them, no matter how good a friend he had in Wrentisden, no matter who he saw was wrong. So he stayed silent, though holding his mouth closed was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
"Either way it’s going to be suicide!" Herit pressed from the gallery. "I call for a vote."
"Seconded!" called Wren’s team member.
"Time!" someone off to the side shouted. "Time for Sérén, Herit, Deablan and Rokaar!"
"No time for a vote." Sérén announced as those called stood and made their ways to the accessport, the big form of Herit grumbling as he pushed past Géré. Fear was all around the gathering like one of their hoods. Time was of the essence, yet there was no time left, and soon they would be found…
After they left the postings on the wall resumed, but the debate hadn’t stopped. This was going to be decided as soon as Herit and the others had stayed away long enough to be able to safely return, and as had been emphasized, this had to be decided soon.
Géré jumped this time as the hand pounded across his back, but for all of Dren’s jovial friendliness, Géré could see the sick terror in his hollowed out face.
"Quite a first meeting, eh, Walker? Not nice to find the group of kindreds you’ve just found are a soon-to-be dying breed." A thin smile and Géré found himself being towed over to one side. "Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends. We can talk the average instead of this deadly stuff."
There was a small group gathered to the side of the main crowd, talking seriously amongst themselves. As they were among equals and friends, they had lowered their cowls and so it became apparent to Géré as he was led towards them that they were the younger members of this hidden society. In all probability, they’d been the most recent to Walk.
These younger Believers greeted both Dren and Géré warmly, quickly including them in what seemed one long, ongoing conversation that easily picked up from where it had been left, with a myriad of threads, hypotheses and theories that anyone was welcome to comment or debate points on. This was a discussion of pure intellectuals enthusiastic about their topic, but hampered by time restrictions and a shifting population of debaters. Given the time and resources, Géré felt that this one little group would soon know all they wanted to know and would find new places for learning more. That was why the Learned feared them.
"I don’t believe what Herit said is true." one of the women said softly. "I can’t believe it would take aliens this long to start doing this to us, when they’ve been coming here for so long. Why now?"
"Maybe we’ve attracted their attention with the bent space impeller in the Fields?" someone else - Regon, wasn’t it? - pointed out. "Maybe we’ve only just become a threat to them now that we can search them out and not wait for them to come here. Maybe there’s something out there we’re not supposed to see?"
"No, it’s like Berenii said in her text, ‘If there was that which should be hidden in the sky, they wouldn’t attract our gaze to it by arriving from it’." the woman insisted.
"No." Géré murmured to himself, completing the quote. "They’d walk among you, hidden." No one heard him.
"It seems too obvious to start the dissections now, again after all this time," she continued. "And to be taking only Believers is putting too fine a point on it. If they have achieved interstellar travel, they are far more intelligent than we are, and to only kill the ones who may reveal their existence, well, it just seems stupid to me. If I was trying to keep my existence a secret, I’d kill a few others as well, or else risk someone realising all the dead had something in common."
"We don’t know what their motives are." she was gently reminded by one placing their hand on her shoulder. "We have no idea how they think, even if they think the same way we do. They may have something to gain in pitting the Rekkin against the Shrenis - we don’t know what’s going on out there in the void."
"I didn’t become a Believer because I think everyone out there is the same as those on this world." she sniffed, shrugging away from her consoler. "I wanted some hope for us. I wanted to know that we might be able to evolve beyond our pettiness, like they did."
"The facts are beginning to say otherwise, unfortunately." Dren said quietly. "Keep an open mind is what I say. We will eventually know the facts behind it all."
"Do you think they’re testing us?" came the quiet hope from the back of the group. "Is that why they’re watching us from orbit?"
Géré’s eyes widened, and though he was staying in his listener’s state to the side, he suddenly found himself at the center of a loving support group who gathered around him to provide a circle of empathy and understanding.
"It’s hard to be a Walker, my friend." came a comforting voice, becoming the defining tone of the immediate murmur around him. "And these would be the worst times of all."
"It’s not going to be easy." Dren said sorrowfully. "I wish we could make it easier for you."
"It’s all right." Géré said emptily, looking a little haunted. "Don’t worry about me, I just have to get used to the idea."
It was actually a lot more than that which was bothering him, but the surface persona of overwhelmed Walker stood him in good stead.
Dren hugged his companion reassuringly, and the conversation continued.
"The fact that our satellites are tracking it doesn’t mean they’re doing something to us. They might just be studying us. Most of the other recent accounts have been benign…" "According to the stolen Learner files, these things only started happening after they came into range of the satellites, but can you believe that the official explanation of it is a rogue asteroid moving through our system? It’s pathetic!"
"Not another tangent, Perel!" Regon laughed "Haven’t you done the governmental ineptitude thing to death?"
"Walker hasn’t heard it." he replied, pointing at the solemn faced Géré.
"Time! Time for Nekkin, Srbosh, Merek, Dichla and Tranik!"
Some of those called were form his group, and the conversation faltered as two of the main speakers left. It frustrated Géré to realise that this would often happen, and no true progress would ever be made while they lived in such fear. It also angered him, for these people were beginning to represent a more enlightened and positive future for their world, but their survival depended upon keeping their visits here short - even the timekeepers had to hand over their duties every thirty brek; apparently the first thing they did before checking on those still there was to put in their own arrival times. It was a system that had so much potential for disaster.
As the elected ones left, grumbling discontentedly, one leaving from Géré’s group quickly farewelled them all as a group, then put her hand on his shoulder. The words she spoke were the first he’d heard her speak, and her voice was rich and vibrant as she admonished him to,
"Continue the Walk, Learner. Walk so that you might run someday." Then she left.
"Would I be able to see that file on the ‘rogue asteroid’?" asked without enthusiasm.
In life, he was used to taking command of a situation and offering new options and perspectives. Yet as a Walker, he couldn’t, no matter how much he longed to, so he couldn’t allow himself to become involved. He knew he was already in danger of doing so just by staying here, so to minimize the effect he had to keep all emotion in check as he got the information he wanted.
All looked at each other.
"Are you ready for it, Walker?" Dren asked in concern, leaning into his apprentice’s space to see his eyes. "This is absolute proof - none of these blurry images that could be glitches. This is perfect clarity."
Géré sighed nervously.
"Seeing as I’ve heard about it, I may as well see it." he told them.
Dren looked at his off-siders, and the corners of his mouth tightened. His long yellow face was hollowed with anxiety, but he beckoned Géré over to a panel as he tapped in a set of commands.
Everyone crowded in behind them as a huge off-white image appeared on the wall before them.
This time Géré’s face registered nothing as he took in the vessel’s - for it could be nothing else - sleek lines, his eyes caressing its boldly curving prow, around the oval front section to take in the tapering secondary hull with the strange engine-like projections growing from its back. A block-like decoration - writing? - followed that front sweeping section and a myriad of lights dotted all over it.
Irrationally Géré found himself thinking about home, his real home, as he watched its slow progress across the screen. Around him there was no sound - perhaps they were all thinking the same thing as him?
"Géré?" He continued to stare silently after this hail, not heeding the call. "Géré?"
Blinking, he finally turned from the compelling sight to the rest of his fellows.
"I’m sorry." was all he could think of to say.James Grieg sat alone in his quarters, thinking over the events of the past month with the same sense of restriction and needless waste that had accosted him whilst he was there. Sometimes he still felt he was Gérémenik Drevilin, vendor form Rekkin City, common Learner and would-be Walker amongst the Believers, and the world of the Fairburn was the alien one he had to acquaint himself with. The bright clear lights unsullied by atmospheric dust and walls clear of eternally scrolling information meant he was home, but they had somehow become unfamiliar to him. It was always hard after a First Contact mission, or any long-term infiltration assignment; that was why he was trained to maintain a distance even while seeming to make relationships with those he had to interact with.
Yet this mission had been harder than any other to carry out because of his emotions getting in the way of his judgment. By the end of his time there the people had become an important part of his life and it was difficult not to be swayed by their plight. Eventually he had convinced himself not to interfere as per the Prime Directive and was almost satisfied with his resolution of his inner quandary, but he knew that he was going to be living with the tragedy of their situation for a very long time. So he sat, feeling there was so much more he should be doing, but knowing that he couldn’t do any more than he already had. It didn’t stop him thinking about what he could do if he was given the chance, however…
He almost didn’t hear the doorchime, and the part of him that did responded to it automatically with his "Come in.". He certainly didn’t turn to see who it was he was admitting.
"We’ve missed you on the bridge these last few days, Commander." the Captain said as she stepped into the room, moving over to where he sat. He sat up a little straighter, but she saw the lingering regret in his eyes just before he managed to hide it. She continued, apparently oblivious to it as she sank on to the chair opposite. "We’ve been wondering when you were going to come back."
"Well, I can if you need me, Captain," he began, but she waved him down.
"No, that’s not what I meant, James." She smiled gently. "You take all the time owing to you. Heaven knows you’ve earned it - I read your report, and I have recommended we move the Federation teams off the planet, just as you suggested. It was a hard set of choices you faced there, and I think you did a fine job, even managing to preserve the Prime Directive as well. I’m glad it wasn’t me. I have a terrible time distancing myself from that kind of thing, and I know I would have cracked. Small wonder…" She seemed to check herself, and tried a new tack.
"K’Teira’s waiting to help, you know. She’s worried about you - as worried as she ever gets about anyone. But I think all you need is time, and so, that’s what we’re going to give you." She reached over to touch his knee. "So, these next twenty-four hours are yours to do with as you like. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not even aboard the Fairburn. Go to the holodeck, take some shore leave, stay here in your quarters… It’s up to you."
He looked up at her, truly focusing on her for the first time since she’d come into the room. Had he just imagined what he thought he’d heard, or was his mind twisting her words into what he wanted to hear? She was still smiling, but was there something more intent inside that gaze?
"Captain?" he asked, but wasn’t able to finish.
"We’re with you all the way, Commander." she said, rising to her feet and leaving.
James Grieg's Personal Log Stardate 44943.1 There are certain things that define me, that tell me who I am. My uniform and the codes of the Federation are some of those things, and I cannot ignore those lightly. I thought I had just cause for a time there on Tekenik Four, but I cannot break my training. I am an officer of the Fleet, and I represent truth and the Prime Directive. However, in this case I have had to question the use of the Prime Directive.
Although a good thing in that it keeps the Federation from imposing its own beliefs on other races, and keeps us from making a bad situation worse, we have to consider that it might also be damaging those who desperately need our help. What right do we have to stand by and watch the dreamers and the thinkers die while the criminals and despots take over. I have heard the argument "Earth grew out of it's childhood and we must allow others the same opportunity", and I used to believe it, but now I have to wonder if it’s right every time. Is it just an excuse not to get involved?
I am Starfleet, and I cannot go against its directives. But I can question them and I question them now. To do anything else would be wrong."May I have a word, Captain?" Grieg stood at the doorway of the ready room expectantly.
"Of course!" she answered, rising to her feet and nimbly dodging around the side of the desk. "Please, take a seat in the alcove - I was just about to have some morning tea. Would you like a drink?"
"A rhangosh, please." he said, settling himself down in the armchair to the side of her alcove. A sharp pain beneath him caused him to get up again with a start. He pulled out a tiny starship from beneath the cushion.
From the replicator, Randall growled,
"That son of mine! I told him to take away his toys! Sorry about that, Commander."
"It’s all right." he replied, turning the little Ambassador class ship over and over in his hands as he retook his seat. It was a cute little toy, well made. It didn’t even seem like a replicated item - he’d certainly never seen one like this before.
She placed a steaming mug of the Andorian beverage before him, and settled on to the couch.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" she smiled. "Oh, and by the way, it’s good to see you in uniform again, James."
Unconsciously he pulled at the material of his jacket.
"It’s good to be back in uniform, Captain. I realised the best place to work out the inconsistencies of Starfleet policy was on the inside, while doing the job.
"I need to tell you that I came very close to breaking the Prime Directive on this, sir." His eyes didn’t waver as he looked at her; he was making a clear confession out of a sense of duty and respect.
She set down her teacup to give him full attention.
"For a time after I returned from Tekenik, I contemplated doing something else to help those people. It ate away at me, thinking that the government was going to use our ship, our technology against them, to hide what they were doing. I wanted to send them teleporter scramblers, give them weapons to fight back with, give them the information to confirm that there is intelligent life beyond their world so that they could inform the rest of the planet beyond a doubt…
"But I couldn’t." He shook his head sorrowfully. "My Starfleet training kicked in, reminding me of all the things they tell us. The Prime Directive is there to protect them as much as it is us. What if the ones we help turn out to be worse for the planet’s development than the ones currently in power? Some things are meant to happen, to allow a planet to evolve naturally. Or be destroyed."
"So you’re feeling disillusioned, that perhaps Starfleet is wrong in its strict adherence to General Order One." she summarized. He nodded. "Well, I can’t say I blame you." she replied, taking up her rapidly cooling tea once more. "It happens to all of us at one time or another, though usually it comes a lot earlier in someone’s career."
"I have done worse in the name of the Prime Directive, Captain, and those decisions troubled me. But it was these people… they reminded me too much of myself."
"I see." she sighed. "James, the Prime Directive is a cross we all have to bear. We have to believe that for the most part it does us good, and that justice will prevail in the times that it doesn’t. The plight of the Believers touched me as well, and I am certainly glad I didn’t face your choices. In a way, as Captain, it was easier for me to adhere to it because I was distanced from it.
"But you can’t let disillusionment now influence you too much later. You’re a good officer, James; learn from this. Learn to see when the Prime Directive is right and should be adhered to, and otherwise. It’ll be easier for you if you can."
"Aye, Captain." he sighed. "I thought I had, but it seems I was wrong. Permission to go back on duty?"
"Permission granted, of course." she nodded. As the man rose to his feet she added, "Don’t let this eat at you, James. It will now go the way it should, without our interference." He nodded in return, and started to walk out of the room. Then he paused, turned and carefully places something on the Captain’s desk before taking his leave.
Susan frowned gently. The man hadn’t even touched his drink, and what was that he’d left on her desk? Curiosity got the better of her, and she unfolded herself off the couch in order to better see it. There, carefully placed on the wooden surface, was the Ambassador class toy. Picking it up, she smiled sadly.
"James," she sighed, "what is going to happen to you?"
Epilogue Wrentisden stood in the middle of the Learning Fields, his face turned up towards the sky. If he closed his eyes he could just remember how the night looked before the dust clouds had obscured it, and he relished the memory as a drowning man might relish air. He longed to see the stars just once more before he died, but knew that he wasn’t going to get his wish. He was being treated exactly the same way by the Learned as Rekilin and the others had just before they’d disappeared, but it didn’t matter, for he’d finally achieved his heart’s goal. He’d met one. He had been friends with one who wasn’t of his world, and he had found that all he’d believed for so long was true - they were not the ones to fear.
"Géré, my friend." he said reverentially, smiling gently, remembering Géré’s sudden, well-timed ‘family emergency’ that had called him away from Rekkin. "You cannot know what you have done for us. You could not know that the blocker at the entranceway to the meeting hall also samples DNA. Soon Sérén will be taking the readings, and she will discover the truth. I am sorry I had to deceive you in this way, but you have finally given us hope that we may someday be able to bring our knowledge of the stars to the people.
"I am proud and pleased to have been able to call you ‘friend’, and I wish you well in your journeys. Know that you will be missed, and that we owe you a great debt. We will not forget you.
"Good-bye."fin
