Part 15 (2/2)
Humbly, the s.h.i.+vantak nodded.
Chapter Twenty-Six.
Artas A MEADOW OF GRAY-GREEN GRa.s.s. A breeze. A deep blue sky. A dark, mysterious sea. Clouds, too, silver clouds fringed with gilt and purple; the moon that danced and the moon that wept.
A bridge across the ocean.
The bridge woven from the insubstantial; from the webs of arachnids in the deep forest, from the shadows of running children, from the fringes of rainbow-and yet the bridge seemed to support his feet as he took a few tentative steps.
Beneath him, the ocean howled. In the distance, a dailong breached the tide, and many moons danced over the jeweled waves.
You don't have to forget anymore.
He could hear his mother's voice, singing to him in the wind.
But Mother, why do you sound so ancient?
Time has pa.s.sed, my son. Time for you to begin to heal.
My anger - Let it go.
Am I dreaming? Am I truly dreaming?
You have stood at the brink to the country of dreams for five millennia, son, and now you will cross over to the other sh.o.r.e -the far side of the sea.
Are you. really my mother?
Yes.
But this is a dream.
You have lived a dream up till this moment.
Am I dead?
Life, death -these are the concerns of those who still inhabit the world of shadows.
Am I to forget?
No, son. Remember. Remember everything. And when you have remembered to the full, as though you downed a full gla.s.s of the most potent peftifesht-then let go. Let it all dissipate into the air. And then, when you are ready, cross the bridge. I'll be waiting.
For a long time, Artas stood on the first step. The memories came flooding back. The song was the catalyst. He remembered hearing the song, lying in his mother's warm embrace, long before he even knew the meaning of the words. His mother had heard the song too, and her mother before her; that lullaby was what connected him to pasts beyond remembering, to futures beyond imagining.
He knew he would be ready soon-but he wanted to savor the sound of the ocean-just another moment-just another-another-
Chapter Twenty-Seven.
Ready Room THERE WAS A QUEUE to see the captain; for a few moments, Picard sat back, enjoying rare solitude. But duty called. A captain cannot afford too much of the luxury of aloneness.
The first ones to come in were his officers-one at a time, he commended them, said those things that a captain must say to boost morale and to congratulate them on a job well done. And then there were the arrangements for Patricia Ballard's funeral; Picard had not known her well, but her death saddened him; there had been, perhaps, no need for casualties on this mission.
Perhaps, as the Thanetians believed, her n.o.ble sacrifice would allow her to be reborn in a higher caste.
”Next,” said Captain Picard. ”Ah, Dr. Halliday.”
The venerable xenologist barely made it through the door. His son Adam was in tow.
”Good job, Adam,” said Picard. ”And Dr. Halliday-your reports were invaluable to Starfleet and the Federation. Thank you.”
”Just doing my job, Captain,” Halliday said, ”and gaming a lot of weight in the process. With seventeen castes and hundreds of subcastes and all those dietary laws, there certainly were a lot of dishes to taste on Thanet.”
”I have been asked to offer you a temporary consuls.h.i.+p on Thanet,” said Picard, ”until such time as a permanent diplomatic mission is established.”
”Yippee!” Adam cried. ”We're staying. Can Commander Data stay too?”
”I'm afraid not, Adam. We wouldn't be able to do without him.”
”But he was the only one I ever made friends with here.”
”I believe Commander Data has a rug he needs to return to someone on Thanet; shall we-lend him to you for a few days?”
”Captain, you're the best!”
”Thank you, Captain,” Dr. Halliday added. ”I must admit that sometimes I get a little-distracted. But it gives me pleasure when my son is happy.”
They said their good-byes.
Then there was the young ensign Envig, his wounds quickly healed through Dr. Crusher's rapid intervention.
”So,” Picard said to Tormod, ”do you think you'll have something to report back to the prizewinning essay committee?”
”Yes, indeed, sir!” Tormod said.
”Perhaps you'll consider a career in Starfleet in the future; I am sure I can provide a letter of recommendation. As long as you keep those grades up.”
”Yes, sir,” said Tormod, saluting smartly. ”In these past days, I've done everything-I've helped rescue a planet, lived through a diplomatic crisis, seen a millennia-long feud averted, and made friends with some great people. I've touched history, Captain, shaken its hand. If this is what a week in Starfleet is like, I can imagine what an entire career would be-”
The next person to come in was Lieutenant Simon Ta.r.s.es. He was with Kio sar-Bensu-and she looked particularly fetching in uniform, for Picard had made her an acting ensign for the duration of the voyage back to Earth.
”Lieutenant Ta.r.s.es reporting, sir.”
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