"Atlas Trip"
written by
Michael Gray
“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.”
-Abraham Lincoln
Arthur cradled the fragile lump of flesh, unmoving, limp. He stumbled in the mud, almost losing the load.
He held fast, collapsing to his knees into the putrid soup of earth and water. The stench of rotting death filled the air everywhere he turned.
His eyes through tears finally focused on the blue skin. His hopes...
But it didn't move.
Fifty dollars. Half a month's... How could I have ever gotten that much?
He touched the blue creature, hoping some part of his life would fill the frail emptiness.
I should have broke into that owner's house and stolen everything he had! A real man...
The rain started as mist, then full force. Only the wide brimmed hat kept rain from his face. He looked up at the two moons in the sky, begging anyone to help him.
“Please...”
Arthur pulled the soiled blanket over the face of the small body.
A long breath.
He forced his legs to stand, and trudged into the woods to bury his stillborn son.
***
“I hope your accommodations are sufficient, Ambassador,” Jack McCall said as Cyrus Wakernaggle, Earth's ambassador to the United Federation of Planets, finished his inspection, stopping at a box he'd unpacked.
Wakernaggle pulled out a tall bottle.
“Quite acceptable, my boy,” Wakernaggle replied, walking with two glasses and the bottle to join Jack. “In the past, I often had little more than a bunk and a toilet. No, this is fine indeed.”
He set a glass in front of Jack and filled it with gold liquid.
“I understand you enjoy a good scotch,” Wakernaggle said.
“Yes, sir,” Jack said, taking the glass. “Thank you.”
Wakernaggle poured for himself, then sat across from Jack, slowly rolling the glass in his palms.
“You've gotten yourself into a number of messes throughout your career, Jack,” Wakernaggle said with a stern look. A moment later, a smile emerged. “But you've also had quite a knack for turning those messes into startling triumphs.”
Jack grinned but a moment. “I just do my best, Ambassador.”
“I think it's time such resourcefulness be given a proper venue.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I have asked Admiral James to place your name in nomination for promotion to flag rank.”
Jack's jaw sagged. “Me?”
“I believe Starfleet should have another Admiral McCall.”
Jack shook his head. “I appreciate the gesture, Ambassador, but...”
“But what?” Wakernaggle's face wrinkled to a frown.
“I like commanding this ship, and the opportunity it gives me to make a difference.”
Wakernaggle nodded. “As an admiral, you would have far more opportunity.”
“I fought hard to get this command back.”
“And quite an accomplishment it was, especially considering Temporal Investigations was dead set against it.”
“They were?” Jack asked, surprised by the revelation.
“Very much so.” Wakernaggle leaned back in his chair. “But I know a few individuals within that organization, and they were amenable to my counsel.” He took a long breath. “An attitude you should adopt.”
Jack considered the possibilities, but was still unconvinced. “I like it here.”
“Starfleet isn't about finding a comfortable place to relax. The galaxy needs you, Jack. Be the kind of man who takes the reins and turns the world the direction it needs to go.” He watched Jack. “The Zeparan negotiations have gone nowhere since your father died. You could step in and make an incredible difference.”
“I don't know anything about them.” That wasn't true. The two Zeparans he'd met in the past had nearly killed him.
He thought a moment. Maybe that's a good reason to...
Damn it! He's sucking me in.
He saw Wakernaggle smiling patiently at Jack's inner debate.
“But you'll need more than Admiral James signing off on a promotion.”
Wakernaggle frowned. “True. For it to be formally accepted by the Council's Starfleet Operations Committee, Admiral Olanski will have to agree.”
“And she's been less than... agreeable?”
Wakernaggle nodded. “She's had it out for you ever since your escape from that Glazyalan prison camp.”
“I can't say I'm surprised.”
“The woman is completely unreasonable,” Wakernaggle moaned, talking more to himself than Jack. “Stubborn in the extreme, and blind to larger concerns.”
“Then I guess that's...”
“No,” Wakernaggle smiled. “I believe I may have a way to influence her.” He leaned forward. “And you are the one to help me accomplish it. That is if you're up to the challenge.”
“Of influencing Olanski or becoming an admiral?”
“In this case, they are one and the same.” He smiled. “What do you say, Jack?”
“I'll have to think about it, sir. And I'd like a chance to discuss it with Melissa of course.”
“A new optimism is sweeping across the Federation, my boy. You can catch that wave and ride it into the brighter future which is before us.” Wakernaggle's eyes widened. “There are many who took note of your stance during the recent Baku crisis, and your decisive handling of Admiral Sanol over Goranidra. You're making a name for yourself, and people are noticing.”
Jack had no interest in politics. But the ambassador was providing an opportunity. The question was an opportunity for what? “I wouldn't want to dismiss anything out of hand.”
Wakernaggle smiled.
“I suppose I should tell you about our mission,” Wakernaggle said, taking a sip from his own glass, now seemingly more relaxed. “The Romulan government contacted us last month about a human colony they found in their territory. Stranger still, it has been there for almost three centuries.”
Jack's eyes widened at that. “And the Romulans only found them recently?”
“We have confirmed it.” Wakernaggle downed his drink, then began refilling his glass from the bottle. “Lucky for these people they weren't found before now.”
“I'd say so,” Jack replied.
“Chamberlain will take me to this planet, and I will begin negotiations to bring them into the Federation while you and your officers assess their qualifications for membership.”
“Sounds routine enough,” Jack said. “I am curious... how did they get there?”
“While early twenty-second century Earth was a place of promise as we took our first bold steps to the stars, there were those who didn't like the brand new world we were building. With Cochrane's miracle of warp drive, they were free to take the old ways to worlds where they could live as they wished.”
Jack frowned. “But that's what we built on Earth, a place where people could live as they wished... wasn't it?”
Wakernaggle took a long drink from his refilled glass. “While Earth had become more tolerant of difference, these were people who liked the old bigotries, some of whom lived in ways even the most tolerant of us could not tolerate--- criminals, sociopaths, and various unmentionable nightmares--- things few speak of in our age.” He leaned back in his chair. “The people of the time were glad to see them go.”
“And you believe this might be one of those groups of problem humans?”
“According to a manifest dated 10 April 2105, a group of colonists led by a man named Milton Akston left Earth in search of a world where they could start over,” Wakernaggle said. “Akston and his companions fought against the economic changes beginning on Earth.”
Jack shook his head. “Those changes made Earth a better place.”
Wakernaggle smiled. “Sometimes people are afraid of giving up beliefs which have defined them for generations.” He leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Something the people of our day still suffer from on occasion.”
There was always an unspoken message with Wakernaggle.
Jack stood to leave.
“One other matter,” Wakernaggle said.
Jack stopped. “Yes?”
“When I go down to the planet, I'd prefer to go by shuttle.”
Jack smiled. “Of course.”
“I believe you have an officer aboard named Zaylie Burton.”
Jack's brow tightened. “Yes, Ensign Burton is one of our conn officers.”
Wakernaggle nodded. “I'd like it if she were to pilot my shuttle.”
“If it's not too invasive, may I ask why?”
Wakernaggle nodded with a grin. “I hear she has Admiral Olanski's favor.”
“Really?” Jack asked, surprised anyone but Kyle Hoffman shared that dubious honor.
“Yes.”
“So is your interest in Burton simply for her benefit or to curry favor with Olanski?”
“Why not both?” Wakernaggle asked with a wide-eyed smile. “Olanski's approval is necessary for your promotion to admiral. Why not take advantage of the situation?”
“I'm not sure I like this.”
“This is how things are done.” Wakernaggle said.
***
Jack's thoughts wandered while he waited for the turbolift to make its way to the bridge.
Wakernaggle often had plans within plans going. This time, it was something directly related to Jack. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in one of Wakernaggle's tangled webs.
One option loomed larger than it had before.
They're pulling you into their mad world. Get out now, he told himself. Resign and never look back.
Jack knew he wouldn't. He had fought too hard to regain his command. This was where Melissa was.
He filed his thoughts away when the lift stopped on Deck Eight to pick up another passenger.
Zaylie Burton smiled as she entered. “Hello, Captain.”
“Ensign,” Jack murmured.
The door closed and the turbolift resumed its journey upward.
“Any word on where we're going, sir?” she asked without turning to Jack.
He glanced at her. “Getting bored with cataloging nebulae?”
“Bored out of my mind... sir.”
Jack nodded. “We're headed for Romulan space.”
She perked up at that. “A real mission then?”
“Investigating spatial phenomenon is a real mission, Ensign.”
Zaylie rolled her eyes. “An automated probe can do that.”
The doors opened onto the bridge.
“I'll remember that the next time someone in Starfleet suggests we don't need conn officers to pilot starships,” Jack said with a grin.
“You'll always need me, sir,” Zaylie said, smiling as she made her way to the conn station.
Jack shook his head, wondering if he was that pretentious when he was her age.
God... Criticizing the younger generation... I am getting old, aren't I?
But before he could go any further along that depressing line of thought, Jack relieved Kadan Loftus of the command chair.
The beautiful Bajoran shot him a curious look as she took the seat next to his. “So, has his majesty the Ambassador informed you about our mission?”
Jack laughed. “Now commander, I think you're being a little hard on kings, comparing them to Mr. Wakernaggle.”
Loftus smiled. “My apologies, sir. I'll try to do better in the future.”
Jack glanced over his shoulder to see Melissa at the operations station.
She gave him a curious glance.
Jack turned forward.
“If I could have everyone's attention,” he told all on the bridge. “We have been ordered to proceed to the second planet of the Nyadran System in Romulan space.” He let that sink in a moment. “Not to worry, this is at the request of the Romulan government. It seems a lost human colony has existed there for nearly three hundred years. We are to assist Ambassador Wakernaggle in clearing them for Federation membership. The Romulans have agreed to allow them to continue living on the planet as long as the Federation is responsible for them.”
After Jack finished, Loftus leaned toward him with a lowered voice. “Why do I get the impression there's more to this?”
“Because you know life is never simple, Commander.”
“Course laid in, Captain,” Zaylie reported from the conn station.
“Warp Seven,” Jack ordered.
***
Jack rubbed his eyes. He'd tried reading the same paragraph four times in the last ten minutes.
He turned from the comm panel to look at Melissa as she lounged on the couch in their quarters, reading something on a PADD. She wore a long t-shirt, and from what Jack could tell, little else.
Melissa cast her eyes at him. “I take it that resource report is really engaging.”
Jack frowned and made his way over to her. “They could drive more command candidates away if they showed them all the reports they'll have to deal with.”
Jack sat on the couch. Melissa moved to give him space.
“Something wrong?”
He sat in silence.
“What?” she asked, setting the PADD aside.
“Wakernaggle.”
Melissa rolled her eyes. “You shouldn't have let him aboard.”
Jack wasn't in the mood for Melissa's usual playful banter.
“What's he up to?”
“He wants to promote me to admiral,” Jack said.
Melissa took a long moment to watch him. “Are you interested?”
“Actually, I kind of like the idea. If I got stationed in San Francisco, that would give me a chance to live on the ranch again.”
“But?”
“After all the favors from Admiral Hancock, I'd like to achieve my next promotion by myself.”
“Maybe you ought to go see Counselor Talfa,” Melissa said.
“Do you think that's really necessary?”
“It would set a good example for the crew to see their captain availing himself of the ship's new counselor.”
“I'll probably be busy with this mission for the next couple of days,” Jack said. “And I'd rather not make this any bigger than it is.”
“Your call,” Melissa said with a forced smile. She reached for her PADD, but before resuming her reading, she turned to Jack again. “Still having trouble adjusting to the complexities of twenty-fourth century life?”
“There are certain advantages to living in this century again,” Jack said with a nod. He leaned back and began to smile. “But back in the nineteenth century, I could really relax... nearly every evening.”
“But you can accomplish more in this time,” Melissa said.
“Sometimes I wonder if that's really true.”
She looked down a moment. “Admiral Jack McCall...”
Jack tried to fight off the grin coming to his face. “Strange thought, isn't it?”
“I think if it's what you want, it isn't strange at all.”
But Jack could tell there was something about this talk of promotion that troubled his wife.
***
The tall woman slithered into the ornate great room, her dress whispering across the marble floor.
She was careful not to disturb his contemplation.
But he knew she was there. He always knew.
“I take it you have word from the observatory?”
She stopped, her thin lips smiling at the game they played. “Yes.”
He nodded, and took a drink from his glass. “And is it... them?”
“If it weren't, you know I would have told you by now.”
He continued staring out the large window overlooking the sea. A storm brewed, sending waves against the rocks below.
“Jonas,” she began. “Is allowing these men from Earth to land on our world the best course of action? The ship which came through the asteroid field is...”
“They claim we are in the territory of an empire run by aliens called Romulans.”
She chuckled like a small bird chirping. “How conveniently dangerous sounding.”
“Yes... I had considered it was merely pretense to force our return to the human family,” he said. “When I told them we could defend ourselves, they produced information which cast that in doubt.”
“Of course they did,” she said with a snarl. “There's always some necessity of the moment which requires we surrender our unalienable rights.”
“So you suspect they've come for us finally?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“What else could it be?” she nearly spat. “They can't have us out here proving them wrong. The only surprise is it has taken them this long.”
He finally turned to her. “It has been three hundred years. Earth's economy was on its way to collapse when our ancestors left. It is possible Earth may have learned the parasite's way doesn't work. Perhaps we will be greeted by ideological brothers.”
“All of those who might have taken Earth that direction left with us,” she countered. “More likely they want us to come back to solve their problems. How many real producers can they have?”
He walked over to where she was now spread out invitingly on the couch, her gown clinging to the shape of her body. “I would like to think Earth returned to sanity over three centuries.”
“You're letting sentimentality cloud your judgment,” she chided him.
He knelt down next to her. “And isn't that how you captured me?”
“You know better,” she said, grabbing his tie and twisting it about her wrist. Her eyes cast pure defiance at him. “I wanted you and you wanted me in the most selfish sense. Not obligation. Not duty. A simple exchange of value for value.”
He smiled and pressed his lips against hers.
Her eyes closed as he moved down her body. “We chose each other because we are people of conviction. We are what humanity was meant to be.”
***
Jack walked into the shuttlecraft, making his way to the pilot section where a bright-eyed Zaylie Burton had just finished going over the pre-flight checklist.
“All set?” Jack asked.
“Aye, sir,” she said. “And thank you.”
“The ambassador requested you for this.”
“But you had to okay it, sir.”
Jack smiled. “I trust you with my ship, I can certainly trust you with one Federation ambassador.”
She nodded, and activated the shuttle's engines.
Wakernaggle walked up behind Jack. “Well, Jack, assuming I can convince them to accept Federation membership, and assuming your team doesn't find anything preventing it, this should be a quiet and uneventful mission.”
“That would be a nice change,” Jack said as he pointed Wakernaggle to their seats behind Zaylie.
“We're ready, sir,” Zaylie said.
“They've given us the coordinates to their capital city,” Wakernaggle said, settling into his chair. “I'd like it if we could make a wide circle around to get a good look.”
“Not a problem, Ambassador,” Zaylie said, activating the shuttle's thrusters.
The craft began to move out of the bay, arcing toward the blue-green planet the Chamberlain now orbited.
***
Jack looked about the cavernous hall. It was easily sixty feet in diameter, and twenty feet from floor to ornately decorated domed ceiling. In the center stood twelve chairs in a semicircle about a large desk. Sunlight from the system's star streamed in shafts through stained glass in the dome, giving the sense of a divine presence in the hall.
They'd been told by the guards who escorted them this was called The Hall of Prime Movers.
Wakernaggle had insisted Zaylie accompany he and Jack for this meeting, wanting her to be a fresh set of eyes for the Federation. Jack suspected it had more to do with impressing Admiral Olanski with special treatment for Zaylie.
From the other side of the room, a tall man and a nearly as tall woman, strutted into the hall.
“I am Jonas Wyatt, and this is the Lady Ariel,” the regally dressed man said, pointing to the stunning woman next to him.
She gave a slight bow their direction.
“We have been chosen by the council to represent them in these talks.”
“Then we will not have an audience with the entire council?” Wakernaggle asked with an odd look on his face.
“Not at this time.”
Jack wasn't sure if Wakernaggle was irritated at not meeting the whole council or pleased to only be meeting with these two. Being hard to read was a skill the ambassador was very good at.
“Shall we begin?” Wyatt asked, pointing to the chairs in front of the desk.
Wyatt watched them closely as they sat. Finally a smile altered his stoicism.
“So, given the captain's presence, is the Federation a military dictatorship?”
“No,” Wakernaggle said with a chuckle. “Starfleet, while at times having a military role, is primarily an exploratory organization.”
Wyatt nodded. “Like the sailing ships of seventeenth and eighteenth century European powers?”
“While there are important differences, that's an apt analogy,” Jack answered. “Many Starfleet captains view the military and diplomatic aspects of our duties as secondary to exploration.”
“Ah...” Wyatt began with a grin. “Being the first to plant your feet somewhere, to go where no one has tread, that's what drives you?”
“In large part, yes.”
Jack could see Wyatt was pleased, but he wasn't sure what exactly pleased him. Like Wakernaggle, he too was a hard man to read.
***
Three hours later, and after a large amount of diplomatic speak, they were led out onto the large steps of the hall, giving them a grand view of the sprawling city.
Wyatt watched them a moment. “Your people are free to move about our world, however, I did have a question about that.”
“Yes?” Wakernaggle asked.
“In the documents you provided, I took note of your Prime Directive.”
“Non-interference.”
“Yes,” Wyatt replied slowly. “Does that mean you will not seek to interfere in our social or political systems?”
“We are here to observe you in connection with your suitability for Federation membership. But we are guests,” Wakernaggle said with a wide smile. “Despite Romulan claims to this region of space, this is your world and we will treat it as such.”
“And those Romulan claims,” Ariel said. “Are they legal?”
“There is no judicial body which oversees relations between the Federation and the Romulan Empire. However, diplomatic relations between the two sides has improved greatly in the last few years. They have given us tentative assurances that if your world joins the Federation they will honor this system as Federation space.”
“And will your ships be stationed here on a regular basis to enforce that?”
“Depending on your needs and wishes, we could very well arrange such protection,” Wakernaggle said. “There are of course other forces in the galaxy you might need protection from.”
“Given we have remained here for three centuries undisturbed, I suspect that need is rather low,” Wyatt said.
***
“So what do you think, Ensign?”
Zaylie turned to the aging Wakernaggle with a smile. “This city's architecture is amazing, sir. If I didn't know better, I'd swear we'd traveled back to ancient Greece.”
“Ah... a student of the forgotten art of stone and mortar,” he said with a grin.
“More a hobby, sir. I took only a few classes at the Academy.”
“An Academy student's elective choices often tell more about them than their major track.” He turned to Jack. “Isn't that so, Captain?”
Jack nodded. “In many cases, yes.”
“What electives did you take, Jack?” Wakernaggle asked.
“Carousing and liquor.”
Zaylie couldn't prevent a laugh from erupting.
Wakernaggle frowned. “And for others, their major track tells the entire story. Fortunately, they usually experience character growth after graduation.”
Jack and Zaylie watched the ambassador wander off to a vendor of fine linen in the marketplace they'd been walking through for nearly an hour.
“That was mean... sir,” Zaylie said.
“Mean?” Jack asked with a grin.
“He's been talking you up for most of the afternoon.”
“Really?”
She smiled. “I haven't decided if he wants me to marry you, or if he thinks I have some magical influence with Starfleet Command.”
“Admiral Olanski.”
Zaylie laughed again. “She's a friend, one I have chosen never to impose upon.”
“In Wakernaggle's world a casual word between friends is the coin of the realm,” Jack said.
“What's he scheming?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. Best you carry on as you were.”
Zaylie frowned, apparently unhappy at not being allowed to peak behind the curtain of the political intrigue swirling about her. “You mind if I find something to eat, sir?”
“Try not to spend all of the money that Wyatt fellow gave us to use.”
Zaylie pulled out several orange paper bills, turning them in her hand. “I can't believe they're still using currency.”
“They are three hundred years behind the civilization you grew up with,” Jack said.
Zaylie shrugged her shoulders and walked off toward a food establishment.
After several minutes, Wakernaggle made his way back to Jack. “Where is our young friend?”
“Off to find something to eat,” Jack said.
“Perhaps we should join her.”
“She went into...
Smoke.
Screams.
Blue sky.
Jack could see blue. He was on his back.
“Jack!”
It was Wakernaggle. He helped Jack sit up.
Wakernaggle looked him over. “You've got something lodged into your back. The bleeding isn't too bad,” he said, forcing a smile. “Medic!” he called out to no one in particular.
The people about them were in chaos.
Then Jack saw the source of it all.
The restaurant was shattered into a thousand pieces, a smoking crater left in its place.
“Zaylie...” Jack whispered.
Not again, he thought. Another young woman under my command... dead.
“Where is she?” Jack insisted.
“I don't know,” Wakernaggle said.
Jack glanced at him--- not a scratch.
That figures.
Jack tried to stand, but felt his legs give way.
“Stay still, Jack,” Wakernaggle said. “Help will be here soon.”
But Jack couldn't stay down. He forced his legs to obey him. Finally, he was at his full height.
“What the hell happened?”
Jonas Wyatt walked up to them. “Not to worry, Captain. The terrorists responsible will be punished!”
“Terrorists? Why are they...”
“Freeloaders on society! Animals who produce nothing, but insist others provide them their sustenance.” Wyatt looked about. “Where is the young woman with you?”
“She went in there a few minutes before,” Jack said.
“You have my condolences, Captain.”
Jack felt his legs giving out again. He tapped his comm badge.
“McCall to Chamberlain... We...”
***
Jack's eyes opened. Above him hung the ceiling of his ship's sickbay. The next moment a smiling face stared down at him.
“Welcome back, Captain,” Doctor Taylor Preston said as he ran a med-scanner across Jack. “That was very dangerous you trying to stand like you did.”
“I'll keep that in mind the next time a restaurant explodes in my general vicinity.” He realized the pain was gone. “May I sit up?”
“Just go slow.”
As he reached a full sitting position, Melissa ran into Sickbay. When her eyes met Jack's, she smiled.
“He's okay?” she asked Preston.
“A few days of restricted duty and he'll be...”
“No,” Jack said.
“Now Captain, I can't have you running about, making yourself worse.”
“We have to find out what happened,” Jack said.
“It was a chemical explosive,” Melissa replied. “Located in the kitchen of the restaurant, near a gas line.”
“Damn,” Jack murmured. “Did you find Ensign Burton?”
“Not yet,” Melissa said. “I'm waiting on a report from the surface.”
“Contact Wyatt.”
A few minutes later, Jack sat in sickbay, speaking to Wyatt on a comm panel.
“We believe the perpetrators have run off to one of the work camps, Captain.”
Jack hesitated a moment, not sure he'd heard that right. “Work camps?”
“Villages where common laborers live,” Wyatt answered. “They often fester with malcontents, but this is the first time they have committed such a blatant act of destruction.”
Jack wasn't interested in this world's internal political problems. “Have you found Ensign Burton's body yet?”
Wyatt hesitated. “No. I regret, Captain, that all bodies have been identified--- all common laborers. It appears as if your ensign was too near the explosion for us to recover any remains.”
Jack considered a demand to have his people search, but with a man as arrogant as Wyatt, he knew better.
“Thank you for all of your efforts, Mr. Wyatt. I very much appreciate you taking the time to relate this information to me.”
“You are quite welcome, Captain.”
The screen went blank.
“That's it?” Melissa asked. “I can't believe you're giving up so quickly.”
“I'm not,” Jack said. “I need you to do something.”
“Name it,” Melissa said.
“Search the planet for Ensign Burton's comm badge. I figure a fifty kilometer radius around the capital should do it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What else do I do when I can't deal with something?”
Melissa gave him a confused look.
Jack grinned. “Take a ride in the captain's yacht.”
“Something tells me your course will match the coordinates of the ensign's comm badge.”
***
“How did you know?”
Jack smiled as he brought the yacht about. “If this had been just a coincidence, they'd have found her body almost immediately.”
Melissa's voice spoke from the other end of the transmission. “What now?”
“Have you scanned the area where her comm badge is located?”
“Yes,” Melissa said. “There's a group of about a hundred people in the vicinity. There are a set of hills to the East. You can land there, then move on foot without being detected.”
“Perfect,” Jack said. “Have a security team standing by in case I get into a mess.”
“I'd feel better if you waited for them to come down.”
“If my hunch is right, going in solo is the right way to play this.”
On the Chamberlain bridge, Melissa turned to Kadan Loftus.
“He'll be fine,” Loftus said, trying to be reassuring.
“I worry about him engaging someone who less than six hours ago set off a bomb in a crowded restaurant.”
Loftus gave a nod. “Let's hope his hunch is right.”
The smell reminded him of a nineteenth century slaughterhouse--- a combination of burning wood, blood, feces, fresh flesh exposed to the open air, and terror--- hell on Earth.
And the people here had that same look in their eyes he remembered the cattle did, a sense of impending doom, but from something they couldn't quite comprehend. He'd always imagined them thinking, “These men who have cared for us for so long couldn't possibly mean us harm.”
Only his understanding that cattle weren't capable of such complexity of thought allowed him to participate in that century's necessity of taking cattle to market.
What he'd imagined in the cattle, he now saw clearly in the eyes of real human beings.
Jack slowly made his way down to the village of rickety wooden shacks illuminated by oil lamps and the occasional camp fire. People wearing little more than rags sewn together stood about the fires, chatting away with one another in nervous avoidance of the reality of their lives. One man in particular seemed to be the center of attention as he offered a long explanation to a person across the fire from him.
It took a moment, but Jack suddenly realized who that person was... Zaylie.
He smiled in relief.
But in the moment of Jack's elation, the man speaking noticed him.
“Bring him over here!” the man called out.
Before he could raise his phaser, two burly men grabbed Jack's arms and pulled him over to the fire.
“Captain!” Zaylie called out. She turned to the speaker. “Arthur, this is my ship's captain. You can trust him.”
“I trust no one,” Arthur said with a snarl.
“And I'm not likely to trust someone who blew up a restaurant full of people,” Jack said.
“The bodies they found were those of our recent dead, Captain.”
“And the injured?” Jack asked.
“They got a taste of the fear and suffering we go through every day,” Arthur said, his eyes narrowed.
“I was one of the people injured by that blast,” Jack said.
Arthur smiled. “My apologies, Captain, but you do seem rather well for a man caught in an explosion.”
“Fortunately, my ship's chief medical officer is quite skilled.”
“You're a lucky man to have such resources.”
“If the point wasn't to kill someone, why did you blow the hell out of that restaurant?” Jack asked.
“We needed them to waste time searching for this young woman,” Arthur said, pointing to Zaylie. He smiled. “Ask them to show you the blood work on the bodies. You'll find they weren't eating in the restaurant or anywhere else. They all died of starvation.”
“Starvation?!” Jack asked. “With all the food we saw in the city?”
“The food stays in the city,” Arthur replied. “We are given none of it.”
Jack looked over at Zaylie, making sure she was okay. “What's this all about? Why did you go to so much trouble to bring her here?”
“We wanted news of our plight to get to you,” he said. Arthur then grinned. “But we didn't think you'd do us the favor of coming down here personally.”
“I take care of my crew,” Jack said, casting a smile toward Zaylie.
“I'm glad you're that kind of man,” Arthur said. “Perhaps the stories we've heard of such men from Earth, from the planet we have longed to return to, are true after all.”
Jack sat in front of the fire. “I am here to listen.”
Arthur nodded and sat as did everyone else about the fire.
“Have you ever lost a child, Captain?” Arthur asked.
“No, I haven't.”
“A week ago my son... my son was born dead. Not caused by any violence, nor a random act, but because my wife was ill during her last three months of pregnancy. She has a bacterial infection which will eventually kill her as well.”
“But there's a hospital in the city.”
“Those are for the makers,” a man sitting to Jack's right said.
“Makers,” Arthur spat. “We are the ones who make everything. It is our labor which...”
“They withhold medical care simply because you don't have money?! And your son died because of it?!” Zaylie nearly shouted. “No civilized world treats its people that way!”
The man to Jack's right was agitated. “The way of things, Arthur, is that some have a right to enjoy the labors of others. It is our privilege to provide it to them. You do nothing but stir up trouble with this stranger,” the man said, pointing to Jack.
“Explain that to my dead son. Explain the privilege he will have in his death,” Arthur said.
“They allow us to live.”
“My god,” Jack said. “You mean they wouldn't let you...”
“If I had the money I could have gone to one of a dozen hospitals. But without it, no,” Arthur said, holding back an obvious rage.
“Arthur, if you stir people up the same thing will happen again! We can't win!” the man next to Jack pleaded.
“Especially if we never try,” Arthur said. He turned to Jack. “About the only thing the makers, the owners, give us free are the Centers.”
“Centers?”
“Death Centers. A place you can go if you want it to end. You go in, but you don't come out.”
“They force you?” Jack asked.
“Oh, no. Completely voluntary. In fact, they give your family a small payment. My father went two years ago. Kept us in this place when there wasn't no work.” He looked down. “Hardest decision he'd ever made. He loved life. But he loved us more.”
“My god,” Zaylie started. “This is ghastly.”
“There's talk they're gonna clear off two million acres and plant orchards. Should be some good work for us then.”
“Where are they going to do this?” Jack asked.
“Here where we are now. Of course, we'll have to move to the outskirts and set up house again.”
“They'll up the rents. That's always part of the plan.” the man next to Jack said, shaking his head.
“So they force you out of your homes with the bait of work?” Zaylie asked, shocked.
“They don't like us establishing strong roots to any one place,” Arthur said.
“To keep you from forming too tight knit a community,” Jack said.
“I reckon so.” Arthur replied. “About a hundred years ago a group of workers told the owners to go to hell, and wandered out into the wilderness. Set themselves up their own camps, made their own rules, lived as one people together. Wouldn't work for the wages the owners wanted to pay. They made it well for about ten years. Then a plague hit several worker camps, and the labor was short. The owners went to the people's camps where they tried to dictate wages. Two days later, every one of those camps burned to the ground. Nobody ever proved it, but we figured the owners burned them out.”
“Mass murder?”
“Don't say that too loud or you'll get us in trouble,” the man next to Jack said.
“Would you have us remain silent, Clovis?” Arthur asked the man. “Would you have our voices go silent, the universe never knowing we existed?”
“We'll do fine if we just...”
“The time for going along with this madness is past,” Arthur said. “We must stand up for ourselves.”
“By telling these two?” Clovis asked, standing. “What can they do? Can they give us fields the owners won't take from us? Can they heal our sick?!”
Everyone in the circle turned to look at Jack.
“Arthur... I need to talk to Ensign Burton.”
“Of course,” Arthur said.
“Away from your people.” Jack insisted.
Arthur hesitated. “You are free to come and go as you please.”
That's what Jack wanted to hear. He stood and motioned Zaylie away from the fire.
“We need to make sure this isn't some veiled attempt by a faction out of power to sabotage this planet's entry into the Federation.”
Zaylie turned to him. “With all respect sir, people suffering isn't a political position in a factional debate. It's a problem to solve. Only a monster would think it's okay to let people suffer and die to gain power and wealth. The resources of a planet belong to all its people, equally.”
“I agree, but we have little context for what has gone on here for the last three centuries. We have to read the situation, not read into it our own preconceptions.”
Zaylie gave a reluctant nod.
Jack smiled. “I understand your feelings, Zaylie.”
She turned to him. “It's just I have trouble sitting back and doing nothing while these people are in the situation they are.”
“I sympathize,” Jack said. “But one of the things a starship captain has to keep in mind is acting can sometimes be worse than doing nothing, especially when it comes to interfering in the culture of another world.”
“I know,” Zaylie said. “But that's a lot easier to accept in an Academy class than when you're face to face with people you and I both know we could help.”
“We can't fight their battle for them.”
“This is an economic struggle, a battle for resources.”
Jack nodded. “The sort of struggle Earth hasn't seen in nearly three centuries.”
“People are starving here, sir. What more do you need to know?”
Jack walked back to the fire.
“Arthur,” he asked. “You mentioned money.”
“Yes?”
“What are the different forms on money on your world?”
Arthur frowned. “There is of course the orange currency, and gold as well.”
“Gold,” Jack said with a sigh. “What is it about that metal that always causes it to be seen as valuable?”
“Captain?” Arthur asked.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “But Earth hasn't had currency for more than two hundred years. And gold has little value.”
“There's no money? No currency?”
“No,” Jack said. “Earth operates under the basic assumption the planet's resources belong to all its citizens, not just an aggressive few who manage to get to them first and say, 'Mine.' From there, given Earth's energy abundance and the use of replicators...”
“Replicators?”
“Machines which use energy to produce any object, food, clothing from a recorded pattern.”
“Such a thing is possible?” Arthur asked, rising to stand, his eyes wide.
Zaylie looked over at Jack. “One wouldn't hurt anything.”
“I agree,” Jack said finally. He tapped his communicator. “Commander Kadan, could you have one of the portable replicators sent down?”
“Aye, sir,” came the female voice of Jack's executive officer from his comm badge. “It's on its way.”
Jack turned back to Arthur. “There's an accounting system on Earth which makes sure no one is using up more than their share of Earth's energy resources. If someone is say replicating diamonds or gold by the kilogram, mental health counselors visit them and suggest treatment.”
“Hoarding wealth on Earth is seen as a mental disorder?” Arthur asked with a chuckle.
“Well, diamonds and gold would hardly be considered wealth on Earth, but yes, I guess you could put it that way,” Jack said. “It's seen as morally wrong for a few to live like emperors while the majority are in poverty. If all beings are equal, by what right do those few live in luxury while others starve? Usually such individuals are revealed to be sociopaths, those having no empathy or compassion for their fellow beings.”
A tear ran down Arthur's cheek. “Do you think it's...” He could hardly dare to even express the hope. “You think we could do that here on this planet?”
Jack looked up at the two bright moons in the sky. “Your star produces more energy than you could ever need. Yes. You could do that here. But your people have to choose that path for themselves.”
An hour later, the entire camp was crowded around a small three foot cube shaped device--- a replicator.
“Okay, what would you like?” Jack asked.
The thin women cried. Arthur had brought her up first to sample the miracle they'd heard Jack speak of.
“What would I like?” the woman said. “Not nobody ever asked me that question before. I never even thought to dream such a thing.”
Jack placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “It's your turn to dream.”
She smiled wide, pulling the tattered clothing she wore tight about her. “I heard of something called a steak dinner once. The owners are partial to it.”
Jack turned to the replicator. “One steak dinner, medium rare, baked potato with butter, and a serving of corn. Also, a set of silverware.”
The unit hummed to life, and within the alcove on its side, a plate of hot food materialized.
Jack reached in and offered the plate to the woman.
“This is real? It's not sawdust and paste?”
“No,” Jack said. “It's very real. Taste it.”
The woman sat down next to Jack. She took her knife and fork, cutting into the steak. She sniffed at the meat a moment before placing it into her mouth.
“Oh my god!” she cried out.
The crowd murmured.
“It's true! This is real!” she turned to Jack, tears streaming down her cheeks. “But I don't have a right to this. It could feed ten.”
Jack knew this was his moment of decision. If he acted, this planet would never be the same again.
But damn it... Zaylie's right. I can't just let these people starve to death. I have an obligation to them as much as I do to the Prime Directive.
Jack turned to the woman. “I'm having five more of these machines brought down along with solar collectors and a backup fusion unit,” Jack said. “Before the night is over, everyone in this camp will eat as well as you.”
The crowd cheered.
***
Twenty-four hours later...
“You have been feeding people in the worker camps!” Jonas Wyatt bellowed.
Jack had been called to the Hall of Prime Movers less than an hour before by a tersely worded message from Wyatt.
“Do you have a problem with people being fed?” Jack asked, taking a step toward him. “Or is it that hungry people are easier to control when you're the only source of what few scraps they do have to eat?”
Wyatt fought back a grin. “They will only demand more.”
“They have a right to more,” Jack said.
“Right?” he asked, swaggering up to Jack. “We who built this world have rights. Those who suck at our teat have no rights except to do as they are told.”
“They are human beings,” Jack pressed.
“Then let them prove they are human. Let them build a world.”
Jack came up to him, nose to nose. “Wasn't it their labor which built this world?” Jack grabbed Wyatt's wrists. “I don't see much evidence of hard work on these hands of yours.”
Wyatt jerked away. “They were paid for their labor. They are entitled to nothing more!”
“But you who didn't labor one minute are somehow entitled to more?” Jack asked.
“You are diseased in your mind, Captain. I am amazed Earth has been able to survive with men such as you.” Wyatt walked back to the central desk and sat behind it. “We built this world, Captain. This is ours.”
“You designed an economy where you get all the benefits while doing none of the work.”
“Without us there be would be no world,” Wyatt said. “There are laws of economics which much be observed, Captain.”
“Economies are mere fantasies, given life by the mutual agreement of those who participate in them,” Jack said. “But in places like this, pull back the curtain, and all you see is a cheap carnival huckster out to convince ignorant settlers the snake oil he's peddling is the cure to all that ails them.”
Wyatt shook his head.
“Don't pretend there's some principle behind what you do on this planet,” Jack said. “This is all about your desire to be an emperor with subjects under you.”
“Not only have you not seen the truth of what we believe, but in three centuries you've fallen farther away from what little truth you had when our people left Earth!” Wyatt howled.
“Yes, we turned away from it because we found abhorrent the notion that our children were to grow up to be nothing more than human resources in some small elite's master plan for humanity.”
“Some are born to be leaders and some only followers. Does everyone have an equal voice on your ship... Captain?”
“I'm not a dictator on the ship. The newly graduated ensign can walk up to me and challenge my orders,” Jack said, turning to Zaylie who had insisted on coming to the hall with him. “Something Ensign Burton did just recently with another starship commander.”
“And your Starfleet tolerates this?” Wyatt asked with a laugh.
“If it's living by its principles, yes.”
“Those people you care so much about don't have the capacity to live as equals to us,” Wyatt said. “Once your interference gives them the ability to live without working, they will become idle and dangerous. They don't have the mental abilities to be anything more.”
“Perhaps if they'd had proper food and medical care, you'd discover what their true abilities were.”
“And who was supposed to pay for that? Us?” Wyatt asked.
“Is someone's value simply their utility to the society?”
“For those who take the reins of the world there should be a far greater reward. Those people you're talking about hang on for the ride.”
“You mind is imprisoned in a jail of your own making. If your economy is no longer based on scarcity, the very idea of payment will cease to exist in the way you've known it. And even if you did have to pay for it, it would be the human thing to do.”
“They are animals!”
“This isn't a question of them, is it? It's you wanting control.”
“We have earned the right to control. Democracy is tyranny by the idiot.”
“Don't they have the right to live free?”
“They have to earn that right,” Wyatt said.
“By the labor they've provided you, they already have,” Jack said. He turned to Zaylie. “Ensign, let's get the hell out of here.”
Jack and Zaylie turned to leave.
“If it is the last thing I do, Captain...”
“Keep your threats to yourself, Mr. Wyatt,” Jack said, not hesitating in his walk out of the room. “You'll have more important things to worry about very soon.”
After Jack and Zaylie were gone, Jonas Wyatt threw a glass across the hall where it shattered on the floor.
***
One week later...
Jack stood at the large window overlooking the city, its marvelous architecture now in flames. The doubts circling his mind were like a shark waiting to attack. In this case, the prey was his soul.
He kept telling himself there had been no way to prevent the destruction. This was simply the price of freedom.
Wakernaggle walked up next to him.
“Arthur just sent word... they have taken the Hall of Prime Movers.”
Jack closed his eyes, wondering how many had died in that battle.
“Your actions have made this planet's acceptance into the Federation a certainty,” Wakernaggle said with a wide smile. “The former economic system with its innate poverty would have made that impossible.” He handed Jack a glass. “Another well deserved feather in your cap.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he accepted the glass of some sour tasting blue liquid.
“The people here have you to thank for their new life.” Wakernaggle took his own glass and stood with Jack at the window. “Every world needs a hero. You are theirs.”
Jack took a reluctant sip of his drink. “That's not why I did what I did.”
“All the better, Jack. You acted on the best of intentions, not thinking of yourself.”
There was something Jack wanted to press the ambassador on. “How many more worlds are there like this one?” Jack asked.
Wakernaggle hesitated. “Hundreds... perhaps thousands.”
“Thousands,” Jack whispered.
Wakernaggle stared out the large window at the city in flames. “Some are truly horrible places.”
“Worse than what we found here?”
“Far, far worse. Nyadran was just a matter of an outmoded economic system ruining people's lives. There were some groups who practiced truly evil ways of life.” He watched Jack a moment. “We will need men like you to set them right.”
A light knocking sounded at the door.
Wakernaggle set his glass down. “I have a meeting with Arthur to attend. Would you like to come along?”
“No,” Jack said. “I need to get back to the ship.”
Wakernaggle nodded and left the room.
Jack went back to starring at the city. Smoke moved across the top of the buildings like an angel of death out to strike down the firstborn of every house.
The price of freedom...
“Celebrating?” came a female voice from behind him.
He knew the voice, and its tone. Jack didn't turn from the window.
“These people are free now. That part is worth celebrating.”
Melissa Vargas remained several feet behind her husband. “Why did you have replicators brought down?”
“They were starving,” he said. “I couldn't just let them die.”
“Did you even think of the Prime Directive?”
He cut her off. “I don't need a lecture!”
“But I think you do, Captain.”
Jack downed the rest of the blue liquid. “I had to act.”
“And you didn't see this result coming from your action?”
A part of him had. But he'd pretended the people of this world would find a different path than the violence which had consumed the city.
“Have you heard how many have died?” Melissa asked.
“Please, don't,” Jack pleaded.
“Jack,” she began. “Because I love you, I can't let you continue the way you're going. I have a responsibility as a Starfleet officer to stop you from...”
Jack spun about. “I acted to save lives!”
“And how did that turn out?”
“You didn't see how they were suffering,” he said. “How they had barely enough to eat. They were slaves, and like all slaves they had a right to revolt against their masters.”
“Do you think they'll see this as their battle ten, twenty, or a hundred years from now? No, they're already speaking of Jack McCall as the man who brought them freedom.”
“They did this for themselves,” Jack said.
“You did it for them! You took away their unique way of handling their own problems, something they would have learned from and used to build their own world.” Melissa walked up to the window, but stood at the opposite end away from Jack. “And now thousands have died.”
“I did the right thing.”
“You did what you always do,” Melissa said. “You save people.”
“Yes! And what's wrong with that?” Jack asked.
“It puts you in the role of savior, the great hero.”
“That's not why I did this.”
“It's why you do everything you do, Jack! When you can't do it, you torment yourself for years!”
“That's not true!”
“Larrisa James? Haven't you blamed yourself for half your life for her death? Weren't you blaming yourself when you thought Ensign Burton might have been dead?”
Jack turned away to look back at the city.
“The universe doesn't exist for you to set it right, my dear Jack.”
“Someone needs to do it,” Jack said and immediately regretted letting the words out of his mouth.
“My god.“ Melissa seemed barely able to catch her breath. “Is this who you really are? A man out to enforce his will on the universe?”
“You know me better than that.”
She stopped, her eyes going wide. “When you traveled back in time, what did you... did you ever help anyone in the past?”
Jack remained silent.
Melissa turned to him.
“The people of the town were starving then too,” Jack said softly, almost hoping she wouldn't hear. “I made sure everyone had plenty to eat.”
Melissa backed away from him. “Then you changed history?”
“I did what I thought was right!”
She took another step back. “Was I just another member of your crew before you changed the timeline?”
“Nothing changed between you and I.”
“But only you'd know that. Is that why Mei is so angry?”
“No! Damn it, Melissa, you'll have to trust me on this. You and I were very much in love before I went back in time.”
“That's how I remember it,” she said, looking away. “But was it that way in the world you came from?!”
“It was. If you believe nothing else, believe that I love you.”
Jack watched Melissa as she slowly made her way to the door of the large hotel suite.
Melissa shook her head. “You're like some divine being, handing out favor to those you judge worthy, changing the course of history to meet your own ends.”
“I'm nothing like...”
“You're very much like that.” She looked down at the floor. “How am I supposed to make a life with a demigod who transcends history, deciding who lives and dies according to his very human whims?”
“I'm just a man.”
“We're out here to explore and understand, not make the universe conform to our wishes,” Melissa said with a heavy sadness in her voice.
He stood silently at the window, not sure what to say to her.
“This was their world, Jack. Its future belonged in their hands, not yours,” Melissa finished as she left the room.
Jack McCall could feel the life he'd worked so hard to build begin to slip away.
Another life lost.
The price of freedom...
* * *
Dark Horizon Story and Characters Copyright ©2014 Michael Gray
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