Chapter 6
The Pathfinder arrived, maximum outer orbit around Triskelion, cloaked. Tuer began passive scans, looking for signs of Garcia and McCoy, which would have been prominent signature if they were still wearing their uniforms. He was detecting a variety of species that he knew were not from this system. One of them he recognized as a species exploited by Klingons that had not even advance to space travel. There were species that he couldn’t identify by signature alone, meaning it would require visual contact and tricorder to get more specific information.
“I thought they were going to arrive before us,” McKnight said.
“They did.”
No one seemed to hear this. Losira heard it. She turned her head to where she thought she heard the voice come from. There was a cat sitting in the command chair. “Well, technically they arrived in the 23rd century, which is in the future, but they did arrive here faster than we.”
Losira was confident what she was hearing was coming from the cat, and further, it wasn’t telepathic. She explored seeing in frequencies beyond human perception, including ultraviolet and infrared, but still saw a cat. For some reason she decided to play with her visual frame rate and frequency… The shift was like slowing down a film so you could see individual frames… She didn’t see frames, but as she walked closer to Isis, depending on angle, she either saw a cat, or female, apparently human, but probably not human. When she held the view that gave her the female, her crew seemed frozen, unmoving. She had long straight, black hair, and dark skin, appropriate of someone who might have lived in Egypt in the days of the Pyramids’ final construction. Her outfit was a blend of old Egypt and ultra-modern, bohemian. Her belly was exposed. Losira liked her attire a lot, reminding her of her own formal wear.
“So, you can finally see me,” Isis said, crossing her legs. She owned the command chair as if it were a throne. “I was wondering…”
“This is how Garcia sees you?” Losira asked.
“Not consciously, no,” Isis said. “But, he intuits. And he is more comfortable tuning into and responding to the hypnogogic voice that is always there, but usually out of reach until you’re passing into sleep. Humans rarely explore all the information available to them.”
“You could have tried harder to get my attention,” Losira said.
“You heard me when you were ready,” Isis said.
“What species are you?” Losira asked.
“I defy your labels,” Isis said. “We could spend years trying to narrow that down to have concordance. Can we proceed, agreeing that some things are unknowable?”
“Your species travels through time, like Q?” Losira asked.
“Same, different. We’re more closely related to the species you call Traveler, if you insist on pursuing this,” Isis said. “Or, we can discuss me taking you to where you need to be.”
“You want to negotiate? Isn’t Seven with Garcia? Aren’t we supposed to be helping each other?” Losira asked.
“You can get to the future on your own, but you will miss the window, and this future will be lost,” Isis said. “I cannot explain that better. Seven doesn’t know everything. Some things are simply need to know. Even I don’t know everything. I do know quite a bit, but within the frame work my interactions are limited by an ethical code. I must preserve free will. I am allowed to influence, but at certain threshold I take on penalties. Other Players are allowed to advance their own interest.” “We’re all just a big game to you?” Losira said.
“No. You are us,” Isis said. “As we were, as we are, as we will be. I will get you to where and when you need to be. You will save the day. But you must do three things for me.”
“I am listening,” Losira said.
Isis reached forward to hand her an item that had not been in her hand previously. “This is, essentially, an AI virus. I need you to take it to the planet below and download it into their system. Consider it a seed that will increase the odds that my agents and Garcia will survive what is to come.”
Losira had no qualms about doing that. She didn’t even hesitate. The device in her hand was beamed to another agent. The agent, utilizing her system, knew exactly where to go to. She had already been examining the planet for the highest potential for sabotage, and there was one particular location that a power outage would cripple half their planet’s computer networks. It would be an event likely to result in planet wide chaos. The location also had the least activity, with limited monitoring, because it was an old system, perhaps over a hundred years old, and no longer considered relevant or more care would have been taken in terms of upgrading and or protecting.
“Done,” Losira said. Technically, it was in progress, but would be done before Isis finished giving her next request.
Isis produced a diamond out of thin air and offered it to her. It was perfectly cut, and might make a great ring.
“Nice, but I have recently been offered bigger,” Losira said.
Isis smiled, actually purred. “Yeah, this is a chip off of that,” she said. “But more, it is a miniature Kalandan computer system. It does everything your present system does, and more. The holographic features alone are capable of producing an entire, functioning starship out of force fields. A pocket spaceship. Everyone in the future has their own sentient ship and life companion. You have a virtual copy of Garcia downloaded into your system. I want you to download the entirety of him into this, as well as a functioning copy of yourself. Then delete Garcia from your system.”
“I will not…”
“You will have your memories of him. You will have sufficient sense of him that you be able to function as normal. Well, normal enough you will be able to tell your child about him, but it will no longer be a perfect memory,” Isis said. “You will remember imperfectly, just like everyone else.”
“I will not…”
“Would you give up the love of your life to save him?” Isis asked. Losira hesitated in responding. She was looking for the trap.
“There are more people trying to eradicate Garcia than there are people trying to preserve and promote him. If they win, he will be erased from all histories,” Isis said. She stood up, drawing close to Losira. She took a nail down her arm, turned her palm up, put the diamond in it. She joined hands with her, enveloping the diamond between them. “Unfortunately, he is also the bridge back to the Utopian view of the Founder, The Great Bird. I have found a quiet harbor to preserve all he is, and maybe even a little more. But to do this, I need your copy and no memory or record of this transaction. I will keep this safe. I will keep you and your love safe. Who knows, maybe it will manifest in some young man’s fiction. Maybe from one source, a tiny pebble in a river the story of Garcia will ripple out from there, and like Gilgamesh, after a certain amount of time and certain threshold in people following, it becomes real again. Or maybe, this tangent of you becomes the dream agent of the host, the Torchbearer for that to come. I am not permitted
to know, I only know this is a path, and you are Pathfinder.” Losira was tearful.
“You’ve never given something up,” Isis said.
“On the contrary, I gave up everything to be the Guardian of my people,” Losira said.
“I promise, with this option, your people will be remembered throughout all time,” Isis said. “Do this, and I will grant you your greatest wish.”
Losira began the download. It went much faster than she imagined it would; with the exception of the Kelvan computer, she had yet to meet a Federation computer that could match her exchange rate. Deleting the files was more difficult. She didn’t want to do it. Even though she knew the diamond held it all, it was all preserved, it was difficult to let go. The memories of Garcia were as precious to her as dew on a grass shining like diamonds. Even after she committed, she had to make choices about what memories were allowable to keep; memories so elaborately involved that it might be possible to backwards engineer the lost files had to go. When it was done, she felt as if she was missing a part of her soul. She was profoundly sad, but able to function.
“I have given everything. I can’t imagine what else you could ask, but know this, if you ask for my child, I will kill you,” Losira said.
“Your child is yours. You will watch him grow into adulthood. You will be a part of his life,” Isis assured her. She pulled in close, hugging her. Losira didn’t reciprocate, it wasn’t earned; it sparked a memory from her childhood, she was sad, resisting parental direction, and her mother had hugged her but she wasn’t wanting comfort, she was wanting to continue doing what she was doing… She wondered why she was remembering that now, and she couldn’t remember what she was doing that was so important that she didn’t want to come inside when her mother called her. She remembered trees. There were trees in the yard. There was a cat… She gasped. Isis was whispering in her ear. “Remember.”
“How…” Losira asked.
“The third request is an imperative. Under no circumstances must Garcia come into physical contact with Spock. If he does, this time line will be lost. Even if you have to kill him yourself to block that, he must not touch Spock. Ideally, it would be best if he never learns about Spock.”
Losira understood. Garcia and Spock were both telepathic, but because Garcia had held Spock’s katra, and they were family, one touch could unfold the entirety of what he was carrying into this Spock, and this Spock may or may not be able to handle the information, or not act on it. Losira blinked. She was standing by the command chair, a cat’s paw in her hand, the cat Isis was standing in the command chair. The Bridge crew seemed unaware that anything had transpired.
“Helm, rev up the transwarp drive,” Losira said.
“Heading?” McKnight asked.
“I got the helm,” Losira said. “Crew, prepare for temporal warp.”
In the flash of an eye, they jumped, with very little apparent shift in orbit. Isis was gone. No cat, no woman. Directly in front of the Pathfinder was a 23rd century Starship, apparently unmanned and powered down.
“The USS Discovery,” Tuer was saying.
Losira was surprised by her irritation. She could read the name on the ship herself with the way the hull was sparking in the sunlight. A hint of a smile crept up at the fact that she was irritated. She was responding to real emotions. Another realization happened… She was severed from the Kalandan computer. She was real! She sat down in the command chair, a hand on her stomach. Her other hand lighted on the Kelvan grip at the end of the chair. She quickly tore off the Velcro cover that prevented Garcia from making contact and logging in. She gripped the metal. Nothing. She could not access the Kelvan computer.
“Fuck me,” Losira said; it was out and carried across the Bridge before she could contain it. She bit her lip, her eyes wide with joy as she tried to contain it and stay focused on the present situation.
The Bridge crew looked at her, concerned. McKnight had to turn around.
“Captain?” Sendak asked.
“We’re cloaked, right?” Losira asked.
“Yes,” McKnight said.
“Um, well, that’s nice,” Losira said. “Have you found Garcia?”
“Affirmative. I have locked onto both Admirals,” Tuer said. “I could beam them up…”
“No,” Losira said. “That would likely stir up the hornets’ nest. We need to gather intel…” She had been part of the Kalandan computer for so long she wasn’t sure how to proceed. “We need to conference…”
♫♪►
Garcia and McCoy found themselves before Master Teel. His hands went to his hip as he looked at the two. Some of the thralls were making derogatory comments about Garcia and the fact he looked like he was with child, laughing and taunting.
“I am pleased that Master Neves has chosen to train with me, but disappointed he has not come in person,” Teel said.
“I am sorry, he was delayed,” Garcia said.
“I will conduct the training then,” Teel said. “Freestyle, proceed into the ring.” “Wait a minute. I am Doctor,” McCoy said.
“Good, you can treat your own injuries,” Teel said.
“He’s only here to hold my portable womb while I fight,” Garcia said. “Neves did not communicate this caveat, therefore you will fight just as a woman would fight under the same conditions,” Teel said.
“Can’t we…” McCoy said.
“Why else would Neves send you to me if he didn’t expect you to fight or follow my instruction? Now fight, or penalty,” Teel demanded.
Garcia bowed and pulled McCoy along with him, advancing on the arena. As they advanced, Teel called out two of his best. The arena was basically a triangle arrangement, with a Triskelion pattern inside, the center point of the three land marks had pedestal at three different heights. The two opponents that emerged from the line up were extreme in difference. Though he was bigger than a midget, one was small, with Asian features. The other was a giant of a man, like a Tongan linebacker advancing, crunching his knuckles. It reminded Garcia of high school football in Texas; he and McCoy were sixth graders, and this was a full adult recruited by the high school to win.
“You take Andrea the Giant,” Garcia said. “I got the little one.”
“Have you lost your mind?!” McCoy snapped. “I got the little one.”
“The little one knows how to fight,” Garcia said. “The big one, he’s a pussy, uses his looks to intimidate.”
“It’s working,” McCoy said.
“Begin,” Teel said.
Not wanting to waste time, Garcia advanced on the little one, expecting Thai kick boxing. The little one ran towards the smallest pillar, jumped and managed to pull himself up before Garcia got to him. He revealed a feature of the arena Garcia hadn’t expected: force field stepping stones bridged the pillars, making it possible to climb to the next. The steps illuminated only when stepping on them, and so, one would have to know where they were in advance. Garcia pursued. He was climbing the invisible stairs even as the little one reached the second pillar. The little one jumped, revealing another feature… Jumping on the platform temporarily disabled the steps. The force field went inactive and Garcia fell. He managed to tumble out of it, but he would have to start his pursuit over. McCoy was on the verge of being rendered unconscious due to a choke hold. Garcia decided to help McCoy, but the little one picked up throwing knives from the second pillar and began throwing them. The first one hit Garcia in the shoulder, causing sufficient pain he had to turn back. He caught the second one, advancing on the second pillar even as the little guy was about to throw the third. Garcia threw the knife he held simultaneously as the little one threw the third knife. Garcia’s throw hit the little one dead center of the forehead. He tumbled off the platform. Garcia caught the third knife and was about to threaten the giant when the match was brought to a halt.
Teel stormed onto the floor. The giant stood up, letting McCoy go. McCoy fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air.
“This was a training exercise. Excessive force resulting in death demands a penalty. You now belong to me!” Teel said, his eyes flaring. Garcia’s collar changed, then he disappeared from the floor. Teel turned to McCoy. “I don’t know what kind of game Neves is playing, but if he thinks eliminating my top player will help win the tournament, I will show him. Return. You are useless.” Eyes flared, and McCoy was delivered to chambers designated as belonging to Neves.
Chapter 7
Provider Orlena, a female brain, lived her life in a bubble connected to all, but in a solitary arrangement, in a tower. There were windows that wrapped around her space, and had she eyes, she could see the city she helped to regulate. She could see. Camera orbs shifted along an outside track, and she could look in any directions she wanted. She had access to the forest of dish antenna rays. There was a Vulcan standing there, wearing a mobile life support. His hands were holding a bubble and inside the bubble was a brain. They were conversing about the concepts of space/time when Seven arrived.
“You’re late my friend,” Orlena said.
“I am… Spock?” Seven said.
“Have we met before?” Spock asked. His voice didn’t come from his body, but from the orb containing his brain.
“Orlena?” Seven asked.
“I apologize. I am tracking multiple divergent tangents and did not tune into this situation until after the Brain was stolen. I was able to capture Kara with the stolen brain while she was in transport,” Orlena said. “The Discovery crew followed the ion signature back to us, and consequently have been captured and bought by Providers for entertainment purposes. They are scattered across multiple regions. No one wanted the Spock shell, so I was able to obtain it easily. We do not have the technological skills to put his brain back in the shell. This technology exist in the Sigma Draconis system, on Kara’s planet. I will not be able to transport you directly there without a serious energy expenditure which would raise too much interest requiring explanations I cannot provide. I can, however, transport you to the Pathfinder. They can get you there in the time necessary to complete the medical procedure.” “The Pathfinder is here already?” Seven asked.
“I am aware of their presence, but they are invisible to everyone else.”
“Has Isis changed the plan?” Seven asked.
The brain laughed. “I would not be so presumptuous as to understand her ways.
She does have access to more real-time, infield data. Oh, there is a message here for you.
Interesting I am only discovering… ‘Seven, forget the plan. Forget everything you know.
Trust your agents as you would trust yourself.’ That sounds like her.”
Seven was shaking his head. “This is a huge distraction from our mission…” Seven began.
“That mission has failed, Seven. We are not going to divert what’s coming,” Orlena said. “Even now, the storm is gaining momentum. The best we can do is ride it out and try to keep the primary pieces on the board. Spock is the queen. You don’t want to play chess without the queen.”
Seven rubbed his face. “Let me collect McCoy…”
“He is here, too?” Orlena asked. There was a hint of mirth. “I didn’t see him on the Discovery’s registry….”
“He’s not this timeline’s McCoy,” Seven said.
“Still, a synchronicity event. It’s meant to be,” Orlena said.
“No,” Seven said. “Don’t think that way. This is just coincident.”
“When you have been in the field as long as I have, you will find the word
‘coincident’ fails to satisfy your experience of this thing we do,” Orlena said. “Go, collect your Away Team, and notify me when you’re ready.”
♫♪►
Garcia found himself in an enclosure that had the feel of being cut out of solid granite. There was a wide opening, with an engaged force field; it was much bigger than it needed to be for a simple exit, but then, its primary purpose was to showcase the inhabitants, like a zoo exhibit. He reached for the dagger in his back, but couldn’t reach it. As he turned, contorting and chasing the hilt, he realized he wasn’t alone. In the dimly lit space, kneeling on a rock unconcerned, but ready to attack if she had to, was what appeared to be a reptilian humanoid. As his eyes adjusted to the dark at this angle, he realized it was the new species of Klingon. He froze.
“What? Never seen a Klingon this close before?” it asked. Its voice suggested she was female.
“My name is Tammas,” Garcia said. “Would you help me with this?” “Why should I?” she asked.
“Because we’re cellmates?” Garcia asked.
She came out of the hollow, threatening. “I am not your mate! And you are an idiot! You turned your back on an opponent.” She came closer, sniffing. “I am confused.
You’re human, male… But you’re with child?”
“I am carrying a portable womb, twins, a girl and a boy,” Garcia said. “I wanted to name them Luke and Leah, but the mother is opposed.” His humor was lost on her and he wondered why he even rambled on as far as he did, but then, he remembered he was in pain and humor was a distraction and an anesthetic. He pointed to his back. “The dagger?”
She motioned for him to turn his back to her. He did. She immediately took him to the far wall, shoving his face against it hard, hard enough he was going to have a bruise; a part of the wall cut his cheek, a cat scratch. Simultaneously with slamming into the wall, she removed the dagger. She put it to his throat. He assessed, ‘dull,’ and thought, ‘this is going to hurt.’ He also thought of injuring her, with a high rate of surviving a cut with this knife, potential injury to the ‘twins’ inhibited him.
“Stupid. Again, you turn your back to an opponent,” she said. “I should kill you now.”
“Spare me, and when I escape, I will help you escape,” Garcia offered.
She chuckled. “When my people come for me, and they will come for me, I will kill you first,” she said. “Until then, I need you alive.”
She man handled him back to her rock bed and forced him to lay down. The belly pouched shocked him, and he moved to his side.
“Be still, while I mend this wound,” she said.
“Mend? Mend how?” Garcia asked, and then saw she had a small emergency box concealed in her clothing that contained needle and thread in her uniform pocket. He assumed the Providers allowed her to keep it. “Oh…” He removed his pouch and then his shirt to give her better access to the wound. He steeled himself for pain. She probed the wound, pulling it wide to explore the depths, using his shirt to wipe blood.
“Stop flinching,” she insisted.
“What’s your name?” Garcia asked, seeking distraction.
“You do not need to know,” she said. “You will not live that long.”
“Might be useful to drop your name when you send me to Sto-Vo-Kor,” Garcia said.
She plunged the needle hard into him and pulled tight. She was sickened by how soft the tissue was, how easy her needle punched through. “What would you know about such things?”
“Not enough.