( * Two were selected.)
First off, download the whole book from Tranquility Press right here for free.
Rewind with me to August of '25. I was unemployed and the job search was going ... swell. Just swell. OK, it was not going swell. Whatever. I was ruminating on an idea or three for my next creative endeavors when I happened across a post by Tranquility Press on BSky. They were accepting submissions for a Dominion War writing project. The deadline was just a few days away.
The writing prompt was simple but thought-provoking. One day in the middle of the Dominion War. Not focusing on the major characters or anything ... just a day in the life. Of anyone.
I think I went for a walk in the neighborhood and pretty quickly had an idea for and worked out the basics of my first story, "Loading Torpedoes," by the time I got home.
(You can read "Loading Torpedoes" below.)
I banged it out quickly. Just a few hours for the first pass and then another pass or three in the following days. I think it turned out well.
As I wrote "Torpedoes," I had an idea for another story. An interrogation of a Vorta series of clones by a Romulan operative who was tired of the whole thing. Obviously, that became "Jolan Tru All Over Again." I incorporated some Romulan lore created for Picard and threw in references to several events in Deep Space Nine's history around that time ... it's a fun story of two professionals trying to get at truths the other doesn't want to reveal. Time is too short, of course, for progress to be made. Writing this one took a bit longer as I kept wanting to adjust the dialogue, make it funnier here, hint at something else there ... Reading it in its final form made me want another pass, but that's OK.
(I might have caught the mistake I made ... did you spot it?)
 |
| Art by Radinka Daynara |
At some point while writing "Jolan Tru," I had another idea. Something with Klingons. I looked at a map of the Galaxy used on the series and spotted a little spot inside the Empire but near Federation space, so I had the thought that a colony there could be blended ... humans and Klingons together. Far from the war in the Beta Quadrant but the war wasn't far from their minds. That, of course, became "naD tetlh."
 |
| Art by Mika Kurzmann-Abrams |
Like "Torpedoes," writing this one went very quickly. The characters were fully formed in my head for whatever reason. It was almost like I only had to transcribe what happened and what they said. When the first pass was done, it was just about done-done. Subsequent passes only tidied things up, made new word choices, and the like. When it was done, it was immediately my favorite.
While writing that, I had the thought that I should do something with the "bad guys." And I had a germ of an idea: a disgraced Jem'Hadar unit trying to regain their status, trying to regain their lives as only victory could. It took another day, but I wrote "To Be the First." A slight story, to be sure, intended as mostly an action piece with the Jem'Hadar we follow trying to survive a harsh planet and win the favor of the Founders.
With four stories now complete, I sent them off to Tranquility ... only to then see that they had extended the deadline. Oh well. A few months later, I got the good news that two had been selected. I think they made the right choices.
To this day, I don't know what creative alchemy was going on and how I was able to crank out four complete tales in so short a span of time. I wish I could bottle it and partake of it now and then.
Thanks to the editorial people and judges at Tranquility Press who chose my stories. Thanks also to the two artists who depicted my characters (as seen above). It's been fun.
So, what are we writing about next?
(To read "Loading Torpedoes" and "To Be the First," click the JUMP)
LOADING TORPEDOES ON MERAK V
"Want me to put you in for a medal?"
The ensign looked up. "What?"
"I can put you in for a medal." The doctor turned off the laser and put it on the cart. "This is a weapons depot that services multiple fleets in a time of war."
"I didn't move my hand in time and a crate slammed down on it."
"Your injuries matter, too."
The ensign slid off the gurney and shook his head. "No. No medal, please."
"As you wish." The Bolian wheeled the cart to an empty space by the wall. She turned and said, "You can return to duty."
"Thanks, doctor."
When the doors to sickbay opened, the quiet solitude was replaced with the bustle of the depot. The yelling of foremen. The clanging machinery of conveyors. The woosh of supply trucks. Hums of anti-grav load lifters. The ever-present voice that announced throughout the base, "Loading torpedoes."
Merak V. A barely habitable world on the edge of Federation space, not far from Cardassian space. Not far from Chin'toka.
The brutal battle of Chin'toka was waged just a few weeks before Ensign Joel Thacker, human, arrived at the Merak Depot. It was on his mind constantly.
I could've been there. Instead I'm here.
Thacker rolled up the sleeves of his duty jumpsuit and went to his foreman, Lieutenant Jidx. "Ready for duty, sir."
The Edosian nodded as she tapped on a PADD. "Bay One, Feeder Three."
He saluted and moved between two stacks of containers. After a train of small anti-grav loaders passed, he jaunted into the open and jogged toward the large chamber ahead.
"Loading torpedoes."
The ground beneath him shook as the underground vault was opened. A conveyor sprang to life and began bringing torpedoes up from the depths. He dashed to a small station and pulled ear protection off the side, quickly slamming its earpieces over his lobes. A few steps later, he was by the third piece of active machinery and he slapped his companion on the back.
Ensign Kona Dorl, Bajoran, turned and smiled. She yelled to be heard over the rancor, "That was fast! You coulda taken longer!"
Joel shook his head, "Nah! Too quiet in there! And that's the last time I help Daysa with her load lifter, though!" Kona laughed and looked into the machinery. Thacker stepped by her side and looked down into the teeth of the lifting apparatus, down into the shielded vault that was meant to protect everyone should there be some sort of accident below. Or attack that could start a chain reaction. When the first casing came into view, both stepped back and performed their tasks.
Kona ran a scanner over its label, cataloguing its transfer from the depot to the massive cargo transporter pads above, and then, the receiving starship. Thacker held an engineering tool against a sensor port, raising his arm as the torpedo was lifted higher and higher. Finally, the screen on his tool flashed. The torpedo's systems were fully operational. He knelt to the floor and pressed the tool against the next casing's sensor port and slowly rose with it up the feeder.
Every damn day. The same thing. Scanning photorps up the feeder.
He remembered himself just ten years before, running through his grandmother's house with an Excelsior-class model. Hissing to fire phasers and launching torpedoes with his tongue, flashing them through space with his other hand and into the hull of some imaginary Klingon or Cardassian or Romulan vessel. He thought of this often and wondered how many torpedoes his imagination had fired. If only that child knew the effort that went into loading each one, that there'd be some poor bastard who had to do all that work …
And that I'd grow up to be that poor bastard. He shook his head and knelt to the floor to start scanning the next one, but none came up.
"Thunderchild complete," the loudspeakers announced.
The feeders' machinery slowed and then stopped. The ground quaked as the vault's blast doors beneath them closed. Joel pulled one of earguards away from his head and said, "That's an Akira-class."
Dorl didn't hear him. She tapped on her scanner and sent the catalogue upstairs. They both looked up the feeder's shaft and waited. Finally, a glow engulfed the largely unseen room and the torpedoes were gone.
She took off her ear protection and immediately said, "When's your leave again?"
Joel kept his headset on; he just pushed the right guard behind his lobe. "Next week. My first one."
"Going to Merak II?"
He shrugged, "Where else? I've only got three days." She rolled her eyes. "What's it like?"
Kona leaned against the feeder and sat in its teeth. "The planet's pretty enough. The people are nice to the point of being boring. If you want to have anything close to a good time, you'll have to stay in the capital and hang around the offworlders. There's a couple of Ferengi bars. I remember a Klingon club, too. Eh, it's been a while."
Dorl was unlike any Bajoran Joel had met before. Not spiritual, no earring, didn't seem to care about the war or Cardassians …
"Oh, if you want to gamble, be careful. Betazoids like to hang out on Merak II." He looked at Kona quizzically. "They read your mind? Remember?"
"No, I know. I mean, they don't, but I know. It's just," he glanced at Jidx as she walked by, "why should I watch out for Betazoids? They're our allies. Every one I've ever met is nice …"
"Not all of them are nice, believe me." Dorl stood up from the feeder and mumbled, "Cost me almost a bar of latinum."
"A bar?!" Thacker started laughing. "Where'd you even get a bar?"
"I didn't have an actual bar, OK?" She finally laughed, too. "It was seventeen strips."
"Yeah, OK. That's a lot."
"Loading torpedoes."
The floor rumbled with the opening of the vault doors. Kona put her ear protection on again and looked at her scanner. "Alright, bridge-boy. U.S.S. Adirondack?"
"Uh." He knelt by the feeder's opening. "Steamrunner, I think?"
"Buzz! Norway." The feeder's conveyor began to cycle and they could feel the clanging of the metal in their chests.
"Hard to keep track! They're commissioning so many …"
"Yeah, right!"
Before he could retort, the first torpedo emerged from the floor. As fun as it was to be paired with Dorl, she didn't like to talk when the feeder was going. He didn't blame her; any lost seconds could carry the casing beyond their reach and they may not get a proper scan. That meant the long stretches of torpedo loadings were filled with only his thoughts.
Ordnance-handling commendation as a sophomore. Of course. Stupid. Stupid. Could've been anywhere. Should be anywhere else. 'Your sister's on the Sovereign. Wouldn't you like to be on the Sovereign, too?' With her? No. But a Sovereign-class ship. A Galaxy. An Akira. Shit, I'll take one of those ugly Frankenstein things they're cranking out of the shipyards. Anything's better than here. Loud machinery. Can't think. Smell burns my nose. Shoulda studied science more. I should have. Barry was right. I could be with him on the …
"Adirondack complete," the speakers announced.
Thacker was still kneeling on the floor by the now-quiet feeder opening when Kona removed her ear protection. "Just a few more hours."
Joel slid the left earpiece back this time. "You ever work anywhere else here? Or just on the feeders?"
"When I first got here," she pointed to the ceiling, "I was upstairs working the lines as they were deposited on the pads." The transporters engaged and the hidden brightness swelled and then dimmed. "Then I drove one of small anti-grav trains. Now I'm here."
"I wish they'd rotate us or something."
"They do. You just haven't been here long enough."
"Unloading torpedoes. Bay Three. Unloading. Bay Three."
"'Un-loading?'" Joel asked. He looked at Kona and saw her lowered head. "That's new. What's that mean, 'unloading torpedoes?'"
She didn't answer. She just started walking.
Thacker watched her go and then noticed that everyone in their bay, including Lieutenant Jidx, was leaving. He dropped his ear guards on the floor and jogged to catch up to Dorl. A sudden quiet had fallen over the depot and he softly asked, "What's happening?"
"C'mon. You'll see."
At the junction, supply trucks and anti-grav lifters were stopped and parked haphazardly. Drivers, foremen, workers, and more were clustering and beginning to move into the third loading bay. There were at least two hundred, maybe three hundred, workers in the bay. A few officers were standing by the feeder and then, for the first time, Joel saw the feeder move in the opposite direction. A torpedo descended from the ceiling. When it reached waist-height by the workers nearest it, the feeder stopped. Thacker's eyes widened when he saw the Federation flag draped over the casing.
"Chief Ty'ken Kellogg Shro'an," the commander announced loudly. "Andoria. U.S.S. Atalanta."
A pair of workers, just like him, stepped forward with grav units. Once they were placed at the head and foot of the casing, they began to walk the body through the waiting gauntlet of Merak Weapons Depot workers. Thacker stared at the torpedo as it hovered past.
"Ensign Michelle Tria Lavalle. Earth. U.S.S. Atlanta."
The workers along the wall and stacked cargo slowly advanced forward as another pair took the casing and walked it into the confines of the depot.
"Ensign Otto G. Sushita. Alpha Centauri. U.S.S. Atlanta."
Joel and the others shuffled forward a bit more and watched as another was walked past.
"Lieutenant Storrn. Vulcan. U.S.S. Atalanta."
Thacker and Kona were just a pair of workers away from the feeder now. His breathing quickened and he felt a pit in his stomach.
"Lieutenant Commander Elisabeth Anne R'chel. Mars. U.S.S. Atalanta."
The torpedo was carried away and the Bajoran stepped forward. A second later, Joel moved to the other side of the feeder without realizing it. A lieutenant gave each of them a grav unit.
The torpedo lowered. His eyes wide, Thacker scanned the curvature of the casing and his eyes fell along the side to the blue flag that now brushed against his hand.
"Captain Halima Sadau Okan. Luna. U.S.S. Atalanta."
Kona attached her anti-grav unit and looked at Joel. He was staring at the heart of the Federation seal.
"A captain?" he whispered. He looked up and said, "A captain. I can't."
The commander put his hand on the ensign's shoulder and softly said, "It's alright, son. Go ahead."
He swallowed hard and said, "Yes sir."
He had used an anti-grav unit almost daily for two months. Now he struggled to get it in position. He pressed the button and the casing lifted out of the feeder's teeth. He started to walk backward and almost immediately stumbled.
"I'm sorry. Can we switch?" Dorl didn't answer. They rotated the casket and allowed him to push.
They walked through the lines of personnel and Thacker looked at both sides of faces as they passed. Some looked at the casing. Some were just looking at their feet. Some were staring at the feeder ahead, waiting their turn.
Joel returned his gaze to the torpedo before him. He stared at the edge of the flag, imagining that the captain's head was right there. Again, he remembered himself at his grandmother's. Sitting in that overly upholstered fancy chair, the one with the big armrests. He sat there and played captain for hours. He imagined visiting strange new worlds and fighting exciting battles, but he never imagined anything like this.
They turned into a large, open cargo chamber. The preceding torpedoes were already on the floor. They were guided to the next open spot by an ensign Thacker didn't recognize. With the casing on the floor, Joel disengaged the grav and slowly stood. He kept looking down at it and Kona pulled on his arm. They handed their grav units to another ensign and then walked to the bulkhead of the chamber alongside the previous pallbearers. A line of hovering torpedoes entered after them, filling the chamber. Finally, after a long, silent while, the parade ended and the commander entered.
"We have been entrusted with the crews of the U.S.S. Atalanta and the U.S.S. Tar'hana. We shall give them honor and safety before they are returned to their respective homes."
A pair of security officers stepped forward with phaser rifles. The lieutenant said, "Honors! Hup!" Everyone inside the chamber and those outside came to attention and saluted. Joel held his breath, scanned the nearly two hundred caskets, and then found the captain's again. His eyes were welling and he felt his chest about to burst. He wasn't sure if he could hold it in any longer.
"Dismissed," the commander said. Slowly, the depot workers filed out of the chamber, leaving only the two security officers at its entrance.
The walk back to their duty stations was quiet. Kona didn't lift her head until she had put her ear protection back on. Thacker sat on the floor by the feeder opening and held his ear guards in his lap. He managed to take only one full breath before his reverie was broken.
"Loading torpedoes."
The floor rumbled beneath him and he clasped the earpieces over his lobes. He picked up his tool and watched the machinery rumble to life again. The teeth carried up emptiness for a moment before the first torpedo rose. He scanned it and kept his mind clear.
TO BE THE FIRST
"As of this moment," the Honored Elder said, "you are all dead. You go into battle to reclaim your lives. This you do gladly, for you are Jem'Hadar. Remember: victory is life."
The younger soldiers answered, "Victory is life!"
The Elder paced across the front of the group and said, "We are here on Tevak Prime because there are those who believe you Alphas need greater conditioning." Many of the Jem'Hadar looked angered and they tensed their muscles. "After your failure at Chin'toka, I must agree." Now they lowered their heads in shame. "You have been bred for battle on this Quadrant's worlds so you shall be tested on one of the harshest. Thin atmosphere! Wild forests! Predators! Poisons!" The Elder waved at another Gamma Jem'Hadar to the side and he walked among the soldiers, removing the vials of Ketracel-White from their dispensers. "Deprived of the White! Deprived of your weapons!" Another soldier walked through the crowd, pulling rifles, pistols, and blades off them. "Deprived of your ranks! You are no longer First, Second, Third, Fourth, or any other number! You are nothing!" The soldiers looked at each other and then back to the Elder. "You are dead! To reclaim your lives, to claim your rank, you must defeat this world!" He pointed to the tall peak several kilometers away. "That is Alpha Mountain. Brave the forest and its perils, reach its summit, and activate the beacon there. The first shall be the First. And so on thereafter."
"Honored Elder," the Vorta said, "I think perhaps these Alphas will surprise you."
"They may. But to do so, truly, they must overcome tremendous odds. Hypospray." Two Jem'Hadar walked into the group of soldiers, pressing the nozzle against their necks. Once the liquid was injected, the presence of White in their systems was rendered inert and they were crippled by the sudden pangs of withdrawal. All fell to their knees.
"Victory is life!" the Elder said as he pressed a button on his sleeve. The Vorta and the other Gammas were beamed away. Only the hobbled Alphas remained.
Rodan'iklan heard someone stumble into the forest off to his left. On his right, he heard a soldier take a step and then collapse. He looked toward the distant peak and slowly stood erect. He willed the pain and fatigue away, lurching off the platform and down into the brush.
The blue knee-high ferns were easily pushed aside and then Rodan'iklan encountered the first of the larger hard-leaf trees. Stiff, broad leaves with serrated edges. One sliced between the scales on his cheek. He stopped and stared at the tree, wondering at the sudden burning sensation. He touched his face but felt no blood. He kept moving.
A short while later, the soldier came to a wide stream. He could see that it wasn't deep, so he jogged across it. Water splashed up onto his boots and pants before he felt the first nibbles which brought him to a stop. Three long tubules were attached to his legs and chewing through his uniform. He ripped one out and felt a stabbing pain. Rodan'iklan threw the creature away and darted across the rest of the stream. Two more razorworms had attached by the time he reached the other side and he collapsed onto the ground in the blue grass. After just a moment, he felt the tiny legs of small insects climbing from the grass blades and onto his flesh.
He sat up and flailed, brushing the ten-legged ants off his neck and head. Off his arms and torso. The Alpha looked at the four tubules that remained attached to his legs and thought, Had I my knife, I would cut them from me.
Then, one simply dropped off. Then another. Deprived of their water, they could not survive for long and they simply let go. Within a minute, the last two razorworms released Rodan'iklan, too. Reinvigorated by the pain and the sight of his amber blood, he turned toward the peak and ran into the forest's cover.
A kilometer in, he saw a long, fallen branch. He studied it briefly and then picked it up. It appeared to be a sturdy stick with a sharp end. This will do. Using the branch, Rodan'iklan parted groups of leaves ahead of himself as he walked.
Shame. I have brought shame to myself for failing the Founders. It is well that I should die on this world. He heard leaves crunch behind him. He slowly turned and crouched low, bringing the point of his stick to aim on the blue hard-leaf trees.
A Jem'Hadar soldier emerged. Out of breath, he nodded once and said, "Third."
"I am no longer Third." Rodan'iklan stood. "And you are no longer Fourth."
"You bleed. I followed you."
Rodan'iklan looked down at his legs and realized the razorworms must have some sort of anticoagulant in their mouths. He tore portions of his sleeves and then bound his wounds with the fabric.
Ator'agar tried to see the top of the mountain through the forest. "It will take hours to reach the summit."
"Then let us hurry."
The Alphas ran into the brush again with Rodan'iklan taking point, pushing aside branches and leaves with his stick. After a while, they came across another fallen branch. The former Third knelt by it and then handed it over his shoulder to the former Fourth. Ator'agar studied it for a moment before they began to ascend a slope.
"Victory is life."
Rodan'iklan turned to see why his comrade said that when the branch was brought across his face.
He had no concept of how long he had been unconscious; he only knew that insects were all over him again. Again, he leapt up and flailed, brushing his body as quickly as he could. Ator'agar seemed to have left his former superior where he fell because Rodan'iklan recognized this place. He looked up the slope and then around the blue plants for his branch. He took it. Ator'agar had left behind his own broken stick. Rodan'iklan picked up both pieces and realized they were still useful. He ran up the hill.
The pains in his stomach and head were there, but they were overshadowed. Anger, rage powered him. Rodan'iklan would find Ator'agar and reach the beacon first. May the Founders bless me.
The Alpha pushed aside a blue fern and entered a clearing under taller trees. He stopped immediately and found a glistening thread of silk in his path. Without moving, he looked all around himself and saw that a web completely blocked the way ahead. Using his left stick, he began to ensnare the web and wind it about its end. From the branches above, a Y-shaped millipede emerged. Larger than Rodan'iklan's hand, it descended along the silk toward his face.
He swiped it with his right stick and the large insect fell to the ground. To his surprise, it got up and came after him. Rodan'iklan brought the end of one stick down on the two forward thoraxes of the thing. Its rear thorax, longer than a finger, flexed and unfolded, exposing more than a dozen sharp barbs. He ground the stick hard and its exoskeleton finally cracked. After a prolonged tremor, it died. Rodan'iklan placed the insect's body at the end of one stick with its barbs facing outward. After winding more silk around it to secure it in place, he continued up the slope.
A while later, he found it harder to breathe. The Honored Elder said the atmosphere was thinner … The sound of leaves and branches again. He raised his sticks, ready to strike Ator'agar, but nothing came. Rodan'iklan surveyed the trees and bushes. He saw nothing. After another moment, he turned and continued to hike.
He stepped quickly, quietly, and listened the whole way. He neared a tall tree with long, dangling vines. For a moment, he pondered gathering them for use in scaling the summit, but then he noticed the rows of sharp thorns along their lengths.
The rustling of leaves again. Rodan'iklan turned and made a defensive stance.
Branches parted and it was not Ator'agar who emerged. It was a two-meter-tall amphibian with enormous forearms that it used to propel itself forward. It had no discernable eyes but it definitely had a mouth. It was open nearly a meter and making ready to devour Rodan'iklan whole.
The Jem'Hadar slid between the thornvines and ran to the trunk of the large tree. The creature encountered the vines face first and barked in pain. It backed away and closed its mouth, turning its head from side to side to see its would-be prey better. It circled toward Rodan'iklan and tried to stick its head between the vines, yelping when one of the thorns scraped its flesh. It then came as close as it could and opened its mouth. It inhaled deeply and tried to suck the soldier in.
Rodan'iklan ran to the other side of the trunk and sidled out between the vines. He turned toward the mountain and ran up to the nearby rocky ground. He jumped onto a small rock wall and stepped onto the ledge. The creature circled the vine tree and sprang toward the rocks. It stood beneath the Jem'Hadar and bayed at him with its absurd wide mouth. He didn't know why the creature didn't try to climb any higher; he was just glad it didn't. He turned and began to ascend the slope when Ator'agar tackled him from the side.
There was a sharp pain in Rodan'iklan's ribs. He knew the former Fourth had tried to spear him with the branch. The former Third punched Ator'agar in the face in one direction and then brought his elbow across his face in the other. As Ator'agar kneed him in the belly over and over, Rodan'iklan's fingers probed toward his opponent's neck and found the White delivery tube. With a quick wrench, it was pulled.
Ator'agar growled in pain and backed away. Rodan'iklan quickly found his sticks and when Ator'agar ran toward him again, Rodan'iklan struck him in the belly with the body of the dead millipede. The former Third stepped back to watch.
Ator'agar was staring at his abdomen and the eight barbs that protruded from it. A small gurgle escaped from his throat and he looked up in surprise at Rodan'iklan. Golden brown blood began to pour from his mouth, nose, and eyes. Foam formed in his mouth and the victor decided to end his suffering. With a quick boot to the chest, Ator'agar was pushed off the rock ledge and into the waiting mouth of the creature. Its lips stretched over the soldier's entire body and, satisfied, it began to walk away.
"Victory is life."
The vegetation was nearly non-existent as he ascended. There were small plants with bulbous, bright-yellow fruits, but he avoided them. The air was thinner and he found it harder to breathe, but he kept going. The rockface was only somewhat steep and there were plenty of footholds. Ascending would have not been an issue were it not for the thin air.
He maneuvered around an outcropping and climbed atop it. Then he noticed a smear of amber blood on the face of the mountain. He touched it. Warm. His eyes traced it up to another outcropping and he decided to climb toward it. It took a few minutes, but he easily found purchase on the ledge. Once he steadied himself, he saw the body of Ixor'Ukan, his former First. Rodan'iklan looked up and down the mountain and saw no one and nothing. After a brief examination of the body, he thought, He must have fallen.
The Jem'Hadar reached above his head and grabbed another rock. He pulled himself up and strained. He got his footing and pulled himself up again. Another ledge. Another rock. Rodan'iklan was breathing hard, deep breaths. He looked toward the summit and it seemed insurmountable. He climbed to another outcropping and saw one of those small fruit plants there. He ignored it and maintained his ascent. He got to another ledge and tried to stand erect. Instead, he became dizzy and fell.
He landed on the outcropping just two meters beneath him and what little wind had been in him was knocked out. Rodan'iklan looked up into the black sky and at the spray of stars marking the Galaxy.
Founders, I have failed you. Again. I am worthy of defeat.
He closed his eyes and took one last breath. Finding it oddly satisfying, he took another. And another. He opened his eyes and looked to his left at the blue plant there, its boughs weighed down by three large yellow fruits. Rodan'iklan moved his face closer and could smell fresh air wafting off it. He lifted one of the blue branches with its blue leaves. No, the air wasn't coming from them. He sniffed the fruits. Yes.
Using his fingertips, he pried one open and saw that it was made up of six sections. He lifted the flesh of one section to his nose and breathed deeply. Do I dare put it in my mouth? He hesitated and then decided there was little to be lost by not trying it at this point. Since the Jem'Hadar did not eat food, they had no taste buds, but the cool juice flowed over his tongue and throughout his mouth. More importantly, oxygen was released and filled his lungs. Rodan'iklan smiled and put the rest of the fruit in his empty holster. He climbed again.
The climb went quickly. After a while, he no longer felt satisfied by the fruit so he spat it out and put another section in his mouth. He began to wonder if he should have gathered more, but he would keep an eye open for other plants.
There was a shriek. An animal cry from behind him. Rodan'iklan looked over his shoulder and saw only stars in the black sky. Then, a shadow moved across them. Some sort of bird? Perhaps they eat the fruit, he looked toward his holster, and it smells the fruit on me.
He climbed quickly and cursed himself for not bringing one of his sticks on the ascent. When he reached a bare outcropping, he put a peeled section on the rock and kept going, hoping that would prove to be a sufficient distraction from the soldier.
Several minutes later, he was several meters higher. There was another shriek and Rodan'iklan looked down. A large lizard thing with fleshy wings had landed on the outcropping and was eating the fruit. It then looked up at the soldier and shrieked again. He spat another spent section down and the lizard nipped at it. The Alpha then put a new section in his mouth and threw the last section down the mountain. The lizard dove off the outcropping and toward it. The Jem'Hadar took advantage and climbed even more quickly.
There was a bit of a ledge above and Rodan'iklan intended to stop there to peel the second fruit. When he climbed over the edge, to his surprise, he saw that he had reached the summit.
He rolled onto his back and slowly sat up. Now that he had gotten there, the pains in his stomach and head returned. His scales ached. His teeth and horns stung. He stood and walked across the open space to the beacon. Once there, he pressed the button. The light changed from yellow to blue and he was beamed away.
"Congratulations," the Honored Elder said. "You are now First."
Rodan'iklan straightened with pride and, almost as quickly, wanted to collapse. A Gamma came to him with a hypospray to undo the effects of the previous medication. Once that was injected, the worst of the withdrawal pangs were gone, but he was still without White.
The Vorta opened a large container and stepped back. A Founder approached and took up a position by it. "Congratulations, First."
Stunned to be speaking with a Founder, Rodan'iklan lowered his head and dropped to one knee. "Thank you, Founder."
"I know you Alphas believe your actions demonstrate loyalty to us more than words," the Changeling lifted a vial of Ketracel-White from the vessel and studied it, "but given your past failures, perhaps we should reinstitute some of the old, proven ways, hm?"
"As you will, Founder."
"I will it, First. Rise." Rodan'iklan complied. "The rest of your squad is not yet here," the Changeling looked toward the distant mountain, "and many may not survive, but nonetheless, can you vouch for the loyalty of your men?"
With as much reverence and pride as he could muster, Rodan'iklan replied, "We pledge our loyalty to the Founders from now until death."
"Then receive this reward from us. May it keep you strong."
Gently, Rodan'iklan took the vial from the Changeling's hand and placed it into his pump. Almost immediately, there was the familiar warmth that spread first from his neck, into his chest, and then through the rest of his body. After the warmth came strength. And a desire to fight.
"Thank you, Founder." He lowered his head again and the Changeling walked away.
Rodan'iklan reached into his holster and removed the two yellow fruits. As he looked at them, the Vorta asked, "What are those?"
The First dropped them to the ground and walked away. "Something I no longer need."
Thanks for reading.
No comments:
Post a Comment