Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: Tue, 10 Feb 2004 19:22:33 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net Title: Planetfall Author: Julie Evans Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com Series: VS7.5 story 39 Codes: others Rating: PG Part: 2/9 Date Posted: 2/9/04 Stann remained silent, since he did not trust himself to speak. Her hand slipped from his shoulder. "We'll see you down there," she said with another gentle smile. Stann watched her join several other colonists headed to the transporters. He was immensely grateful for her words, and he recognized the truth in them. The colonists had been more than kind to him, including him whenever they could. They were of more than a dozen species, and treated each other equally. Together they had a created a larger, unified fraternity fostered by many decades of interaction--their Federation--which defined them as unquestionably as their individual cultures they each represented with pride. Even those who weren't part of the Federation, like the Klingons and Romulans, were still part of an intermingled society, distinguished partly by their relationships with each other. Keaynn had never had the opportunity to join such an intergalactic community. He was the only representative of his planet's rich culture, the only one who'd survived to tell of it. Stann sighed heavily. As determined as he was not to dwell constantly on the loss of his people, so he continually failed at that goal. It seemed nothing could quell that gaping emptiness in him. "Hey, Stann! Prebb, a Bolian and a historian by trade, approached Stann, a wide grin on his face. "Are you headed for the transporters?" Stann shook his head sideways, the typical Federation motion to indicate the negative, instead of the Keaynn short upward jerk of the head that was more natural to him. "I will be going to the surface tomorrow morning." "That's probably a good choice," Prebb said. He grimaced. "I hear it's a disaster in the transporter centers right now. But I'll just have to brave it, since Tarsh and I are beaming down at thirteen forty-five hours." He hefted the duffel he was carrying higher on his shoulder. "I'm probably running out of time--" "You have eight minutes, fifty-two seconds," Stann told him, using the Federation standard of time he translated quickly in his mind from Keaynn corcals and dorcals. Prebb's eyes widened. "It's amazing how you do that." He readjusted the duffel again, as well as the box under his other arm. "I wish I had two extra arms like you, Stann. I've gotta go. I've heard the turbolifts are crammed near the cargo bay decks too." He started jogging away as he spoke. "Hopefully I make it before Tarsh has to leave without me. He'd never forgive me! We'll see you down there!" Prebb's final words were shouted as he rounded the end of the corridor. The Bolians were among the most gregarious and high-spirited of those Stann had met on Pioneer, always seeming to find enjoyment in whatever they did. He liked that about them, just as he liked the gentle empathy of the Betazoids, and the spirituality of the Bajorans. Each of them seemed to represent an integral trait of the Keaynnin. Others were very different from the Keaynnin, but he liked and admired them as well. The humans, who were very brash but also intensely loyal, and the two Trill on the medical team were so wise and centered, old somehow despite their youth. The Andorians--well, besides Ambassador Diaza they were quite gracious. The Klingons scared him with their booming voices and fierce expressions, but he had to admire their fearlessness. The humans especially seemed to admire them without trepidation, which Stann took as an endorsement. The oddest of all to Stann were the Vulcans, with their lack of emotional reactions. Odd, yet fascinating. In their straightforward logic there was no subterfuge, and no simmering hostility beneath the surface, as there was with the Romulans who they so strongly resembled. And the Romulans he definitely didn't like. Stann realized he was standing still--delaying his purpose--and he resumed his course. He fingered the PADD he held in one of his hands. When he was still on Voyager Chakotay had offered him this device, so he could record his thoughts, and his memories. On Pioneer, Prebb had listened to his stories about Keaynn and its people, insisting Stann record it all for posterity. Posterity. After Prebb had first used that word, Stann had looked up that unfamiliar term. It meant future generations, descendants, heirs. Progeny. When he'd told Prebb that there were no future descendants, no heirs to a world that no longer existed, Prebb had given the word a different definition, assuring Stann that the Federation sought knowledge of all cultures. There were even those whose actual job was pursuing knowledge of cultures long extinct, "archeologists" like Chakotay, who desired to understand people and events they'd never known, as if such understanding had intrinsic value in and of itself. It was not a concept familiar to Stann, but he had begun to understand. Prebb's interest had spurred Stann to recall so much of his world, more than he would have thought possible. Not just the large things--like the autumn arts festival in Hewyddi City that had been the foremost gathering of artisans and musicians for over a thousand years--but the small things too. The sound of the Beynni birds warbling their songs to the sun at daybreak, the feel of soft Maselk-woven scarves on the skin, the sight of the brightly colored fishers' skiffs bobbing gently at their moorings off the Kertor pier in the early evening... At first those memories had been very painful, even though he wanted to remember them. But now he had even more reason not to forget the details. For the six metadorcals of this journey to his new home, a place that was very far away from all he had known, not only in distance but also in so many other aspects, Stann had contemplated a radical notion. He was far from radical by nature, and at first he'd shied away from any more than halfhearted musings, and vague what-ifs. But as time passed, the idea had become more and more compelling. While it was true that the colonists treated him as one of their own, he was not one of them. He wanted--no, he needed communion with his own kind. Stann stared at the data on his PADD again. At no time in the history of Keaynn had artificial means been used to simulate such a basic biological process. Since no such intervention had ever been necessary, there was no stated prohibition against it. He knew from his research that many species' represented on Pioneer required such intervention on occasion. Some even used artificial means as their primary method of reproduction. Despite the incomprehensible strangeness of it all, and the trepidation that filled him when he thought of actually pursuing such a course, if it could succeed-- The turbolift stopped and Stann quickly stepped out as several Bajorans stepped in. They smiled and called him by name, and he nodded back in greeting. He did not know all their names, though they all knew his name, as he was the only of his kind onboard. He started toward Sickbay as the lift doors closed behind him. He hadn't scheduled an appointment with Doctor T'Pren, but he knew she would greet him with equanimity whether she was swarmed with patients or was engaged in quiet study. He even envied her impassivity. If he did not possess emotions, pain would not be ever present for him, nor this confusion he was feeling now. Jim Morrow, a human Stann saw frequently in the Colonist's Mess Hall and liked quite well--even if his sardonic observations were sometimes baffling--had said that Doctor T'Pren even more than most Vulcans talked as if she'd swallowed a dictionary. Stann found her precise language, and her foundation in fact and logic, reassuring. He was particularly grateful now that she would consider his highly unusual and emotional request with a dispassion he could not hope to possess. Stann stepped into Sickbay and found the large main ward completely deserted. Even the nurses and techs he'd seen here on previous visits were gone, perhaps already on the surface setting up the medical facility. He knew most of them would remain behind to render their services to the colonists. There was a movement in the doctor's office, and T'Pren stepped out. She didn't react with any surprise at his presence, but waited for him to speak. "Doctor T'Pren." Stann bowed his head slowly, a traditional Keaynnin deference to someone of great status he couldn't--and didn't want to--break. "I hope this is not a bad time. I have an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you." T'Pren waved him into her office. As Stann sat in the chair she indicated she did not move behind her desk, but took a second chair next to his. She faced him, her gaze astute, as if she already knew what he was about to say (though how could she?). Her first words seemed to confirm that interpretation. "I have been expecting you." ^*^*^*^*^*^ New Earth, early evening: Jim Morrow crested the hill he been climbing for the past ten minutes and immediately leaned over, hands braced on his knees, to catch his breath. He was winded from the short climb. Four months on a starship had undone whatever conditioning he'd managed to acquire during his stint on Hellstone. Pioneer had gym facilities and holodecks, but with over two thousand colonists and nearly two hundred crew, both were constantly booked and overcrowded. He wasn't all that fond of crowds, which was part of the attraction of New Earth. There would certainly be no crowding here. Jim straightened and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of the evergreen trees around him and the fecund soil at his feet. Then he stepped beyond the trees and took in the view he'd climbed the hill to see. To the north sloping hills gave way to steeper mountains that stood purple against the horizon. The coastal plain that spread to the west and south rolled gently, rockier in the south and dotted with scattered stands of bushes and low-lying trees amidst meadows of short, golden grasses. It was bisected by a narrow river, visible by the dense ribbon of taller trees that lined its length. The river, and its several tributary creeks, flowed into the sea two kilometers to the south and southwest. Or maybe it was an ocean. He was never sure about the distinction. He took another deep breath of fresh air. He detected a sweet scent, perhaps from the bright blue wildflowers that dotted the grass around his feet. The sun, slightly more orange than Sol appeared on Earth, rose in the west and set in the east, and it was low behind him now in the early evening sky, its coppery light filtering through the trees behind him, where more hills faded into the east. Reflected in the slanted sunlight, and spread across a kilometer or so of the coastal plain below him, were the temporary shelters of the nearly two thousand colonists who had already beamed down, along with scattered piles of building materials, crates, equipment, small pieces of furniture and household goods. Practically dead center was the site of the future embassy building, the Federation flag already flying over it somewhat imperiously. The Romulan runabout was parked nearby and Jim was surprised they hadn't stuck the Romulan flag on it, for equal representation. The colony's own fleet of six shuttles were lined up on a flat meadow practically straight down the hill from where Jim stood, where the future shuttlebay and landing field would be located. Other than the peripheral location of the landing field and the embassy's deliberate central position, there was little order imposed on the settlement, though shelters were generally arranged in family groupings. He noted that the small Klingon contingent--a mother, two daughters, their husbands and the three children between them--had set up their shelters, which were less commodious than standard Federation shelters, somewhat distant from the rest on the hilly northern side of the colony area. They weren't being particularly antisocial. Klingons liked to be near their hunting area, and they planned to hunt here for small game, to satisfy their preference for live food. While they weren't of the warrior class, and their matriarchal lineage was unusual on Qo'noS, the head of that clan was plenty fierce. The old matriarch, M'Resh, had drunk him under the table one night in the aft Colonist's lounge, even though he'd been drinking synthehol while she'd downed several bottles of blood wine with little obvious effect. Jim smiled at the memory, then started as he heard several twigs snap nearby, disturbing the silence around him. A moment later voices joined in as two figures approached through the trees. "--and I'm too old for that, Raul." "Then you can be Cedric--hey!" Raul spotted Jim and pointed the long stick he was carrying. "Who goes in the Forbidden Forest?" "Give it a break," Luis said. Raul waved his stick at his brother. "Silenco!" Luis rolled his eyes. "Hi, Jim." "Hello, Luis, and--er, Harry Potter, I presume." Raul beamed, while Luis said, "He and Lajen started reading those books in class. Now they're play-acting as Harry and Hermoine." "I read them when I was a kid," Jim said. He didn't know anyone from Earth who hadn't read those classic tales as a child. "I recall being Harry Potter once myself. Now I guess I'll have to settle for...Professor Snape!" Raul laughed at Jim's lop-sided sneer, then shook his head. "Nah. That's Ambassador Diaza." Jim quickly converted a chuckle into a cough. Someone not quite evil, but definitely unpleasant and best avoided whenever possible. It fit Ambassador Diaza almost too well. "This isn't Hogwarts, Raul. It's New Earth. That's Newww Eaaarth." Raul ignored Luis and grinned at Jim. "Besides, I decided you're Sirius Black." Jim's eyebrows rose. The accused murderer who'd been loathed and shunned by good wizards everywhere, except those few who saw the true person beneath the surface. He supposed there were similarities, except he had committed his crime, whereas Sirius had been innocent. He managed a brief smile for Raul. "Sirius Black it is. So, what are you boys doing up here?" "Dad said we could explore a little, as long as we stay within sight of the colony," Luis said. "And we can see it really good from here," Raul said, looking at the long stretch of shelters and supplies scattered across the landscape below. He pulled on Jim's hand. "Look! There's our house!" Raul was pointing excitedly toward an area near the river where several shelters were clustered. Michael and Kajee's tiny figures could be seen moving around the shelter Jim knew was theirs--at least, he assumed it was them. "It's only a temporary shelter right now," Luis said. "But Dad says the house should be built in a couple of weeks." Raul, who didn't concern himself too much with exact definitions, shrugged. "It's still our new home. See, Jim, Angelo and Celes are right next to us, and you're next to them." Jim had already erected his tiny single-person shelter, and he'd left his few belongings inside, unpacked as yet. As one of the original "Voyagers" he was part of the Ayala-Tessoni "family" by default. Though he'd been welcomed from the beginning, he sensed Michael's acceptance had recently been more grudging than genuine. "Dad said since he won't have the replicator working until tomorrow, we can have a campfire tonight and roast the hot dogs we brought from Pioneer." Raul's voice rose again with excitement. "Maybe we can make s'mores for dessert!" "And then we can all sing Kumbayah," Jim murmured sardonically, his gaze still focused on his single shelter. It was close to the others, yet it looked somehow lonely. "What's Kumbayah?" Raul asked while Luis looked at Jim curiously. "It's..." Jim shook his head. "Never mind." His boy scout days were long behind him, both literally and figuratively. "You'll be there, won't you?" Raul asked anxiously. Jim had tended to drift in and out of the "family" gatherings on Pioneer. As Michael had said to him recently, with more than a hint of irritation, he seemed to decide his intentions at the last minute. It was hard to explain his reasons to a child, though Luis's sharp look comprehended more than it probably should. It certainly had nothing to do with Michael's boys, of whom he was very fond. He ruffled Raul's short hair. "I'll be there," he promised. The boy smiled back at him, satisfied. "But you two better head back down now. I'm not sure this is what your father had in mind when he said to stay within sight of the colony area." "It *is* within sight, technically," Luis said, displaying a bit of adolescent bullishness Jim figured had to be a good thing. "Let's go," Raul said to his brother. "I want to go to the beach before it gets dark. There might be some dolphins." "There aren't," Luis said. "There are no mammals in the oceans here. But there are some octopus-like creatures that come up into the shallows. Octopi on Earth are pretty intelligent, and Doctor Tanaka says the ones here might be even more intelligent." "Really?" Jim said, though he figured Luis knew well enough since the boy had been doing a class-related internship in Pioneer's biolab. Raul's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Cool! Let's go look for them, Luis. Maybe they'll want to play with us." "I wouldn't count on that." Luis gave Raul severe look. "Besides, you know we can't go in the water without permission." Raul waved his stick/wand at his brother. "You're Percy!" he taunted, which Jim took as a synonym for spoilsport, then started to run. Luis rolled his eyes again, with the tolerant exasperation of older brothers everywhere, then followed his energetic younger brother. Jim watched them disappear into the trees, knowing Luis would keep an eye on Raul, and keep the younger boy from wading into the water. He was glad they'd found each other again, and that they'd found their father. And that they'd all found Kajee, a remarkable woman indeed. Jim looked down at the colony again and his lips thinned as he recalled his confrontation with Michael three days earlier. It hadn't been a confrontation, exactly. More of a civil dispute. But it still rankled. He'd wanted to take the boys and Lajen to the holodeck, one of the few times during the whole journey he'd managed to secure a reservation there. He'd even picked something quasi-educational; a mid-twentieth-century adventure story Tom Paris had told him about that contained historical references to the era. He'd expected Michael and Kajee to like the idea, not to mention the opportunity to enjoy an evening to themselves. Instead Michael had been against it. *I'm not sure you should be supervising three kids alone.* Those had been Michael's exact words. As if the snakes, or Nazis, or demons from the Ark of the Covenant could actually hurt the kids, on a holodeck with full safeties engaged, for chrissakes. Or as if he wouldn't be with them the whole time. TBC -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to:http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service. From ???@??? 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