"The Demon Haunted World"

written by

Michael Gray

Cyrus Wakernaggle watched the sun hang just above the collection of buildings which was San Francisco. He rarely took a moment like this for himself. There was always so much to be done. His life had become a never ending series of one crisis after another, each a worse threat to the perfect world he had inherited and swore on his life to protect.

Why couldn't they all just enjoy it? Why did he have to sacrifice his own happiness because of a galaxy full of malcontents?

He smiled.

If not I, then who? And who could I trust to get it right?

He released a long breath and turned back to his desk and the display of appointments he still had to fulfill before finishing his day.

People from a hundred worlds sought out the attention of Earth's ambassador to the Federation for small reasons and large. As the representative of one of the founding members of the Federation, his voice demanded attention, and his influence was at times the only bridge between a dream and its birth into reality.

And Cyrus Wakernaggle was a man of dreams. His own had brought him to his current station in life. But when it came to those held by others, sometimes he gave dreams life... sometimes he crushed it from them.

However, the man coming to see him today seemed to have already given birth to a new dream, at least that's how many saw it.

Cyrus was realistic enough to understand that the difference between a dream and a nightmare was often defined by the smallest of margins. More so when it came to issues of religion.

The door opened, revealing a white haired man taller than Wakernaggle. The light behind the new arrival gave him the appearance of an apparition. Whether of heaven or hell, Cyrus couldn't yet tell.

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Cyrus stood and motioned the man to the chair across from him. “Mr. Forcas, how good to see you.”

“The honor is mine, Ambassador Wakernaggle,” Forcas said as he sat. “I understand you had to alter your schedule to accommodate me. I do appreciate that.”

Wakernaggle returned to his seat and took a moment to appraise this man who had recently caused quite a stir on several outlying worlds of the Federation. His message of a unified destiny for the offspring of the Ancient Progenitors had found far more fertile ground to germinate in that Cyrus would have imagined, but then people were hungry for such things these days.

Cyrus chalked it up to merely a cyclical thing, however, followers of faith meant power. Cyrus Wakernaggle had a nose for power and, knew in the right hands, what it could accomplish.

“You represent a new direction in the affairs of the Federation, Focas,” Wakernaggle finally said. “As a representative of the people, I would be remiss not to hear you out.” He let a faint smile creep across his features. “What can I do for you?”

Forcas smiled wide.

But it were his eyes that held Cyrus' attention. Their magnetism explained how Forcas had been so successful.

“As you are no doubt aware, my movement was built upon that begun by Janus Osmand,” Forcas said.

Wakernaggle offered only a nod of acknowledgment.

“And as such, there are certain legal restrictions which I have had to adhere to up to this point,” Forcas said. “Specifically, open travel to Earth and a number of other Federation worlds being the primary things forbidden to me. I had to arrive at a certain understanding with Earth officials just to meet with you here today.”

“I am afraid that Mr. Osmand has committed certain infractions of Federation law which must be accounted for before any...”

“And if his status were to change?”

Wakernaggle smiled. “What are you suggesting?”

Forcas stared at him for several quiet moments. “Do you believe in destiny, Ambassador?”

Wakernaggle's smile faded. “If you seek to convert me to your religion, sir, you'll find that a waste of your time.”

Forcas didn't miss a beat. “Destiny doesn't require a religious point of view, simply that the universe, and what one does in it, has meaning.”

Wakernaggle weighed his words carefully. “I believe what I do has meaning.”

“We have that in common then,” Forcas said. “While we might disagree as to the source of that destiny, we can agree that men of destiny, those who see a purpose greater than themselves are the ones who shape history.”

He is rather good at this, Wakernaggle thought.

“But how history is shaped is always an important detail, one that I am most concerned about,” Wakernaggle said.

“The bringing together of different lifeforms and cultures is at the heart of what the Federation is about. And it is at the heart of my beliefs.”

Wakernaggle nodded. “But the Prime Directive is also central to the Federation's ideals.”

Forcas smiled. “And if I were to assure you that it would never again be violated by my movement?”

“That would be very welcome news.”

“I have not agreed with Janus Osmand's activities in that regard,” Forcas said. “Lesser developed worlds should be cared for, but they should also be allowed to prove themselves as the Federation has rightly understood.”

“Then non-warp capable worlds will be left to develop on their own?”

“Yes,” Forcas said.

“And what of Janus Osmand? Does he agree with this?” Wakernaggle asked.

“Janus is ill. He has been in a coma for several months.”

“Interesting.”

“Of course, I realize the Federation has accused him of crimes, and as such, he should answer for them.”

“But given his condition, that hardly seems possible now,” Wakernaggle said. “Might we be able to examine Osmand?”

“I propose more than that,” Forcas replied. “I wish to have him placed in Federation custody, both for his medical care and as a sign of goodwill.”

That surprised Wakernaggle. His innate sense of suspicion went into overdrive to consider the possible advantages for Forcas. They had pursued Osmand for several years. To now have one of his associates hang him upon the tree of the Federation legal system was more than Wakernaggle would have ever hoped for. “That would definitely be viewed as a good turn by the Federation.”

Forcas took a long breath. “Will it be enough to lift the travel restrictions currently in effect on thirty worlds?”

“It will have to be approved by the appropriate committee, but I think I can almost guarantee its passage.”

Forcas smiled. “How soon do you think before I can openly proclaim my message here on Earth?”

“Again...”

“I understand procedure must be followed, Ambassador.”

Wakernaggle grinned. “Perhaps a week, at the most two.”

“Excellent. I will have Janus brought to San Francisco within the next six hours.”

He knew he was being played, but Cyrus Wakernaggle was too curious not to play along. He wanted to know more about Forcas. “Earlier, you spoke of destiny.”

“I often do.”

“Whose destiny in particular are you most concerned with?” Wakernaggle asked.

“The children of the Ancient Progenitors.”

“You are aware the Ancient Progenitors are not seen in the best light these days,” Wakernaggle said, curious about the reaction it would bring. “They stand accused by some of committing genocide on an unimaginable scale.”

“A lie I intend to dispel.” Forcas frowned. “The Ancient Progenitors had a dream of a unified galaxy. But then as now, there are those who would seek to threaten that dream. Only by bringing the children of the Ancient Progenitors together can we hope to fight these forces of darkness.”

“To what end? Unifying the galaxy is all well and good, but I have found bringing people together is far easier than keeping them together.”

The warm and inviting smile returned to Forcas' face. “That will be accomplished when the Ancient Progenitors return.”

Wakernaggle felt his heart race. The Ancient Progenitors were a dead race, how... but then he remembered, he was listening to a religious man. Metaphor and symbolism were his stock and trade.

“You mean in the form of unified humanoid life?” Wakernaggle asked.

Forcas leaned forward in his chair. “I mean the literal return of the Ancient Progenitors, Ambassador.”

Madness! Here I thought I was dealing with a reasonable being and I find myself confronted by an insane shaman. No more, no less.

Too bad. I was beginning to like him.

Wakernaggle smiled. “Was there anything else we needed to discuss, sir?”

Forcas laughed. “You think me mad, don't you, Ambassador?”

“We all have our eccentricities, Forcas.”

“Imagine the technology the Ancient Progenitors will bring with them, Cyrus Wakernaggle. Your worries about the Borg, the Dominion, or other enemies will be a thing of the past. The savage frontier will be tamed as it was meant to be. Civilization will be brought to all the galaxy... the civilization of the United Federation of Planets if my message takes root here.”

Wakernaggle's eyes narrowed. “You should be careful not to make the mistake of religious zealots throughout my planet's history by promising far more than you can ever deliver.”

“And if I can deliver what I say? What then Ambassador?”

He didn't want to encourage too long a trip down the rabbit hole, but there was something about Forcas that prevented Cyrus from dismissing him completely just yet. “Then the history of the galaxy as we have known it would come to an end. But I have no intention of believing in such a thing until I have some evidence.”

“As well you should,” Forcas said, standing from his seat. “Over the months to come, I hope to bring you what you seek.”

“And what am I seeking?” Wakernaggle asked.

“An end to the threats to your perfect world.” Forcas gave a quick nod, then left.

Cyrus Wakernaggle sat in silence for several minutes.

He laughed. “Madness!”

But Forcas touched something deep within Cyrus Wakernaggle, a voice which had been buried for far too long beneath six feet of cynicism and the hard ground of reality.

Was this the key? Was it why his dream of a larger Federation had never had a chance to rise to realization before now?

Without the wars and conflict of the past century, the Federation would have made great strides, spreading across unheard of territory, making the unknown known, and then making it a part of the larger whole.

Always conflict stood in the way of progress! Wars from small powers and great always kept them from expanding the exploration zone of the Federation. The constant bickering between the Romulans and Klingons, between the Cardassians and just about everyone else, and the Orions, the Fergeni, the Breen... all of it was the constant noise which prevented any real defense against powers like the Borg and the Dominion. No matter how hard he worked, it seemed more contentious elements rose up to replace those he had just quashed.

But if Forcas could bring them together... if...

He smiled like a boy on Christmas morning, looking upon the presents sitting under the tallest tree imaginable, knowing that within those ornate paper covered boxes his wishes were about to be fulfilled.

For the first time in decades, he let a single flash of hope strike his thoughts, and in that moment something was born within the heart of Earth's ambassador to the Federation.

Hope became joy, then longing. Then he dared to believe again.

If...

Then the dream of a young Cyrus Wakernaggle, bright eyed with optimism on his first day in the Federation Council, perhaps that bold dream of a galaxy free of the unknown and unexplored might become reality before his winter days froze him into the darkness of eternity.

And if it required him to promote and use a religion he did not believe in, that was certainly a small price to pay to create the perfect world he'd imagined for a galaxy that desperately needed what it... and Cyrus Wakernaggle, had to offer.

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Dark Horizon Story and Characters Copyright ©2009 Michael Gray

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