“Affirmation”
Stardate 74542.3;
July 17, 2397
Episode 63
Written by Chris
Adamek
Prologue
It was always desirable to start off the day
with some clarity. It
kept the mind sharp and focused, and gave one the willpower necessary to
maximize efficiency, while at the same time ensured one was able to keep an
open, yet objective mind. This moment
of clarity might last seconds… minutes… it was difficult to say—but duration
aside, this fleeting moment would set the tone for the entire day.
Previously, in a time long before darkness
had swept the galaxy, achieving a state of clarity was a simple task. I would simply close my eyes and imagine myself
amidst the calm of a tranquil universe, existing harmoniously with the basic
elements that brought me into this world.
During those few precious moments, I could see the path before me—and it
was crystal clear. But then one fateful
day, the clarity vanished, and the darkness prevailed.
From then on, the path before me was no
longer certain. It was dictated by
elements beyond my control, and as the path descended into chaos, so too, did
the galaxy. It was the dawn of a new
age, and as my people emerged from the shadows of a long forgotten realm, the
only thing that became a certainty was war.
I did what I thought necessary to stem the tides of darkness—it was a
long, arduous process, and I am not proud of the dark deeds committed during
the war. But I allowed myself to
believe it was a necessary evil—that it was for the greater good of the galaxy,
but until I could close my eyes and see clearly the path before me, there would
be no respite from the dark.
I needed to get away… to distance myself from
the Federation and seek the clarity that had once guided my every action. I needed to go home…
The decision to leave the Starlight
was not an easy one to make. The vessel
had been my home for nearly three years, and it had done well by me. The confines of the small vessel had allowed
me to flourish like never before; I made many new acquaintances, perhaps, a few
friends—and of course, there was that matter of winning the war against my
people. Still, the fact could not be
denied: in the aftermath of that victory, my usefulness to these people had
dwindled. Not only was my clarity
obscured by darkness, by path was truly uncertain.
Admittedly, I did have some stature with my
people—in fact, the Cerebrate deemed me her successor. At a moment’s notice, I could have retreated
to the territories once controlled by the Breen and taken control, but I was
not hungry for power. I was well aware
of the mentality such hunger incurred—and I had little desire to become a
maligned despot like Xi’Yor. So I remained
on the Starlight…
Four months have passed since the end of the
war. In galactic terms, that was barely
the blink of an eye, but for me, it was more than enough time to realize that I
needed to move on—at least until I learned the truth about my being…
“Finished packing?”
As I stepped onto the bridge, I duly noted
the Captain’s voice was as pleasant as usual.
Of all the people on the Starlight, he was easily the one I most
respected. We spoke frequently, and
though he was often pompous and egotistical, Alan Christopher never backed down
from a challenge; in his mind, losing was not even an option. But perhaps the quality I admired most was
his sense of humor; it was strange, but managed to keep the crew calm even in
the most dangerous situations. And on
that thought, I turned my gaze upon the Captain and produced a faint
smile. “No,” I said, approaching the
mission ops station. “Not yet.”
The Captain nodded. “Erin wanted to throw you a going away
party,” he continued, “but I managed to convince her otherwise.”
A part of me almost desired to see what
Commander Keller would have done. If it
were anything like the reception she had thrown for Admiral O’Connor several
weeks ago, my tenure on the Starlight certainly would have ended in
fashion. Of course, I was never one to
enjoy parties in my honor. “Perhaps you
should encourage Commander Keller to instead focus on wedding plans,” I
suggested. “Besides, if all goes well,
my absence from the Starlight should last no longer than a couple of
weeks.”
The Captain immediately raised a dismissive
hand. “Take as long as you need,” he
said kindly. “You’ve been away from
your people for a long time. There is
little use in rushing your visit.
Besides, if you really think you’re going to miss me, I could easily
provide you with a holo-image.”
I shook my head. “That will not be necessary.”
“Are you sure?” asked the Captain. “I’m working on a wall-sized version.”
In the moments that followed, I soon realized that I had
underestimated the size of Captain Christopher’s ego. And while it was a certainty that many of the senior staff had
tart comments on the tips of their tongues, none of them had a chance to speak,
for a sensor alert promptly erupted from the tactical station. I immediately came about to hear Lieutenant
Bator’s report.
The Phobian tapped at the controls for several moments, during
which a slightly confused look fell upon his face. It was an unusual occurrence, but nothing to warrant much
concern. “We are receiving a distress
signal,” he said a moment later.
“Can you determine the source?” asked Commander Harrison a moment
later.
Bator shook his head. “Its
point of origin is in the Beremar System,” he said, “however, I cannot be more
specific than that.”
“There are unusually high levels of teryon particles in the
Beremar System,” added Commander Keller.
“They are no doubt giving the sensors a bit of trouble.”
Though I was hardly as accomplished a scientist as Commander
Keller, I was familiar enough with teryon particles to know that they
were not a naturally occurring phenomenon.
“Can you specify the source?” I inquired.
“No,” Keller promptly replied.
“There’s too much interference.”
A few stray thoughts crossed through my mind—most notably the
realization that the phaser banks on Elorg vessels generated teryon
particles. But it was an errant
thought. The last time I checked, the
nearest Elorg vessel was more than three weeks away—and it was an unarmed scout
ship. Left with more questions than
answers, I looked forward to investigating the mysterious distress call.
But the Captain’s face did not harbor the look of determination I
had been expecting. He was concerned,
but for reasons that were obviously beyond my comprehension. “Bator,” said Christopher quietly, “inform
Starfleet Command of the situation. We
can’t afford to stray from our path…”
The words echoed inside my head for a long while… Stray from the
path? What path? Certainly my rendezvous with Elorg space
could wait while the investigation proceeded—but as Bator complied with the
Captain’s order, it became obvious that I was the only one that had a problem
with this.
Not only had my usefulness on the Starlight decayed in
recent months, it now seemed that I was no longer privy to the goings-on of the
senior staff. To use a human
colloquialism, I was out of the loop—even so, I was not about to surrender the
lives at stake in the Beremar System…