Star Trek: 9.
Movements of the Unseen Hand
by Charles Hackney
The scream tore its way out of Mar Teshem�s throat with such force that Doctor Bashir feared the Bajoran might damage his vocal chords. In front of them lay the inert body of Mera, Teshem�s little daughter; the harsh lights of DS9�s infirmary making her deceased form appear false and unnatural. Above her head, the biobed�s readouts showed the steady flatline of her nonexistent life readings.
As Teshem fell weeping to his knees, Bashir softly said �I�m sorry,� as he pulled the blanket gently up over the small child�s face and deactivated the biobed�s scanners. The Bajoran vedek standing near the infirmary door came forward and placed a comforting hand on Teshem�s shoulder. Teshem leapt to his feet, violently shoving the vedek�s arm away. �Don�t you dare touch me!� he shouted into the vedek�s startled face. �I have been at the temple for weeks, praying for my daughter�s recovery. Every day, all day! I have fasted, and given everything I own to the temple to show my sincerity, and the Prophets did nothing! Nothing! It wasn�t enough they took my wife, they had to take my daughter, too?!� With a strangled, wordless cry, he ran from the infirmary, elbowing the vedek out of his way.
Tears streaming from his eyes, Teshem ran blindly through the corridors, stumbling into bulkheads and people, until he finally reached his destination. He charged into the station�s Bajoran temple, knocking over a candelabra, and pointed at the shrine at the head of the temple, which contained an Orb of the Prophets.
�I trusted you,� he screamed at the shrine, �I gave you everything! I had total faith in you, and you betrayed me!� The temple vedeks tried to gently escort him out, but he shook free of them. Tearing the earring, a symbol of his faith, from his ear, he hurled it at the shrine. �You are no true gods of Bajor! I reject you! I reject you!� Horrified, the vedeks reached out for Teshem, but he shook them off, spat in the direction of the shrine, and ran from the temple, wailing his misery to the surrounding stars.
Deep within cargo bay number four, Thornn smiled. It had found its Sargon.
Teshem slept fitfully, tossing and turning on his tear-soaked pillow. Within his mind, nightmares came fast and hard; nightmares about the Cardassian soldier who had raped his wife, and then killed her for resisting him; nightmares about the disease that slowly, painfully, killed his daughter, despite the best efforts of Bajoran medicine and the Federation doctor; nightmares about the Prophets, laughing and aloof as they hurled torment after torment upon Teshem�s weeping form; nightmares of his daughter asking why she had to die; nightmares about his wife asking why he couldn�t protect her; nightmares of the Human doctor saying �I�m sorry.� Then the nightmare images were replaced by a face. Gently smiling, the Bajoran male in Teshem�s mind spoke: �I know, Teshem. They have betrayed all of us. We gave then our hearts, and our thanks was a kick in the teeth from a Cardassian boot. The Prophets never cared about us. If they had, they would have helped us. Instead, we languish under Federation rule, too weak to defend ourselves.� The man�s face grew hard. �They couldn�t even save one little girl. They and the religion they force on the Bajoran people are a blight, a stain to be erased, a cancer to be cut out.
�I can help you, Teshem. For eons I have watched, helpless as the Prophets enslaved the Bajorans I so loved, waiting for someone to be my emissary. For you, Teshem. Let me give you the power to strike back, to make the enemies of Bajor suffer as you, as we, have suffered, to send the Federation and their interfering condescension back where they belong,� the stranger�s voice approached a fever pitch, �to tear down the Celestial temple around the Prophets� cruel ears! To show then that Bajor is not their impotent plaything! To show them that Bajor is theirs no longer!�
�Yes,� murmured Teshem in his sleep.
�Come to me,� called the stranger.
Teshem awoke, still feeling the presence of the stranger. Rising from bed, he felt himself imbued with a vast and terrible power. Following an unheard command, he dressed himself and left his quarters. The middle of the night, the corridors were sparsely populated, but those who did see Teshem shied away from him, frightened by the fierce intensity in his eyes and the fell purpose in his gait. By the time he got to cargo bay four, he was alone.
The voice sounded in his head again, �In here. You�re so close.� Teshem approached the door, which was locked. As he reached for it, however, it silently slid open, as if it had been waiting just for him.
Teshem stepped into the darkness, striding with directness past boxes and crates, until he reached that one particular box; small and insignificant, yet it seemed to Teshem to throb with barely contained power. He reached out and opened the box, revealing a lovely but nondescript ring.
�At last,� whispered Thornn to Teshem as the ring was lifted from its container. �At last we will have our great revenge. At last we will make our enemies pay.�
Teshem whispered into the darkness as he slipped the ring on his finger, �At last.�
Arthur crouched low in the bushes, trying desperately to calm his racing heart as he clutched his sword tightly. He forced himself to relax as he waited for his quarry�s footsteps. He did not have to wait long. The soft scraping rustle of gravel beneath feet signaled the approach of the object of his hunt.
The target, a wealthy Klingon, moved with arrogance, flanked by Norssican bodyguards. As they reached Arthur�s hiding place, he leapt from cover, slicing one guard�s abdomen with his gleaming katana. The second guard, roaring in anger, drew his own sword, a jagged piece of steel in the Norssican style, and swung at Arthur�s head, meaning to separate it from his shoulders. Arthur stepped inside the wild swing, skewering the inept guard, burying his katana up to the hilt in his sternum. He twisted the blade, and blood fountained from the guard�s chest, and from his back where the tip of the sword extruded through his ribcage, as the guard slumped to the ground. Arthur held his sword still, letting the blade slide its way out of the man�s torso as he fell. The once brilliant blade now reflected a dark red. Arthur swung the sword sharply downward in a chiburi; flicking the excess blood off the blade, as he turned slowly to face his target.
The man was fat, and dressed in the manner of a Klingon warrior, as did all members of Klingon nobility. This man�s attire, however, was very obviously only an affectation of warrior trappings, too shiny and elaborate for battle. True Klingon warriors preferred their raiment simple and functional.
�You have shamed yourself,� growled Arthur as he approached the quivering weakling, �and brought dishonor upon your house.� He brought the point of the sword level with the mark�s face, pointed straight into his eyes. �Only your death will erase the stain from the honor of your house.�
�No,� said a voce from the trees above. �This man, unworthy of his station as he may be, is no traitor.� A figure, dressed in muted browns and dark greens, the better to blend into the surrounding foliage, dropped to the path between Arthur and his prey. His katana, similar to Arthur�s, was stained a medium brown so that the normally bright blade would reflect none of the fading daylight. Again the newcomer spoke. �The evidence you found was fabricated, placed there by the true traitor.� He paused. �Your master, Kotar, is the one who betrayed the Emperor.�
�I will have your lying tongue on a pole for that,� snarled Arthur as he stalked toward the interloper, blood dripping from the tsuba handguard of his sword.
The two warriors began circling each other, watching for weakness, looking for openings. Arthur slipped on some loose gravel, momentarily off balance. Without hesitation, his opponent struck, thrusting his katana toward Arthur�s heart. Arthur, however, had engineered the �slip� to draw his adversary in, and knew exactly what he was doing. He parried the thrust and followed up with a vicious slash at his enemy�s throat. The stranger avoided the strike, collapsing into a ball and rolling backwards. The stranger was now back on his feet, and had gained himself some distance. Ten feet now separated the two combatants. The target of Arthur�s assassination attempt wisely kept his distance from the two.
Arthur assumed a dramatic stance, his katana held in his right hand pointed at the stranger�s face. As he menacingly said �You�ve seen your last sunrise,� his left hand surreptitiously reached behind to a pouch on the back of his belt. In rapid succession, he flicked three shuriken at his opponent: one at his sword arm, one at his abdomen, and one at his face.
With practiced ease, the stranger whirled his sword in a peculiar pattern, deflecting all three throwing stars. The manner in which he did so caused Arthur to gasp in recognition.
�Where did you learn that?� he demanded. �Who is your master?�
�I had a master once, but no more,� replied the stranger. �Kotar.�
�I should have known,� hissed Arthur angrily. �You�re Ka�ol. The rogue. The deserter.�
�I left Kotar because I recognized what he is: a manipulative, self-serving monster; a sociopath with only a thin fa�ade of honor. He is a traitor.�
Arthur�s face filled with wrath. �Thou liest, thou shag-eared villain!� He feinted a thrust at Ka�ol�s face, and when Ka�ol parried, Arthur disarmed him with a twisting flick of his blade. The dun katana flew into some nearby bushes, and Arthur stepped in to finish the job. He aimed a cut at Ka�ol�s neck, but his opponent sidestepped the cut and countered with a kick to Arthur�s groin. The pain was tremendous. Arthur backpedaled, nearly losing his balance.
Ka�ol circled slowly, understandably wary of approaching a man armed with a sword. Arthur, having regained his composure, closed on his enemy with predatory intensity. He cut, and cut again; Ka�ol avoiding his attacks by the slimmest of margins. In his rage, Arthur made the cardinal mistake of not paying attention to where he was, and when he thrust a fierce stab at Ka�ol�s heart, Ka�ol sidestepped and Arthur�s katana lodged itself in the trunk of a tree. Ka�ol struck the side of the katana with the heel of his palm, snapping the blade.
The two men grappled, jostling each other and maneuvering for an advantage. It was Arthur who obtained the advantage, disrupting Ka�ol�s balance and placing him in an armlock. Though immobilized and in danger of having his elbow broken, Ka�ol produced a knife from his boot. As Ka�ol�s knife hand came into view, Arthur�s free hand, like a striking cobra, shot out, seizing Ka�ol�s throat in a tiger mouth grip.
Ka�ol did not resist Arthur, but placed his knife over Arthur�s heart. �Stalemate,� he rasped around Arthur�s harsh grip.
�Don�t be too sure,� growled Arthur. �Unless you strike perfectly, you will only puncture my lung. I can live with one lung; can you live without a throat?� His grip tightened.
Without warning, a chime sounded that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. A pleasant female voice said �Time has expired.�
�Nuts,� said Arthur as the two combatants released each other. �Does this mean we�re done?�
His opponent, Ensign Gerard Nagato, straightened up and stretched his back. �We can continue later. The next person who signed out this holodeck starts his time slot in five minutes.� Nagato rose his voice and addressed the surrounding environment. �Computer,� he said, �save program Nagato-seven-three. End program.� The forest and Arthur�s quarry dissolved into nothingness, revealing the black and red grid of the holodeck walls.
The two men exited the holodeck and walked the corridors toward Ensign Nagato�s quarters, where they would exchange their ninja-like attire for something more appropriate for lunch at ten-forward. As they walked, Nagato turned toward Arthur.
��Thou liest, thou shag-eared villain�?�
�Macbeth.�
�Oh.�
�So, what happens next?�
�We eat lunch.�
�I mean in the story.�
�Oh. After having battled to a standstill, Ka�ol and Varth decide to call a truce until they can find proof of who really betrayed the Emperor. They sneak into Kotar�s fortress and overhear him bragging about the betrayal to a confidant.�
�And then they kill him?�
�Him and everyone else in the castle.�
�Okay.� Arthur thought for a moment, then said, �When it�s over, if you can show me how to program the holodeck, we can play �Enter the Dragon.� I�ll be John Saxon, you can be Bruce Lee.�
�What�s the plot?�
�We infiltrate an island stronghold by competing in a martial arts tournament, find proof of the villain�s drug operation, and bring it crashing down.�
�Sounds fun.�
�Yup. At the end, I fight a monster of a man with arms the size of tree trunks, and you fight the main villain who has an artificial hand made of knife blades. Hey, if Ensign Walker wants to play too, he can be Jim Kelley. His character actually dies in the story, but we can rewrite it just a bit.�
�I�ll ask him.�
The pair continued on to Nagato�s quarters. After N�Rawll had completed the orientation, Arthur had spent a great deal of time in the holodeck, reveling in the wondrous technology. He had been Beowulf, Samuel Spade, Macbeth, Macduff, King Arthur, King David, Ranma Saotome, Bilbo Baggins, Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, Captain America, Batman, and the third Blues Brother in the past few days. He had had the idea of using the holodeck as a dojo to maintain his martial skills (He later found out that he was by no means the first person to have had this idea, but we still have to give him some credit.), and when he began searching the database for appropriate programs, he found Gerard Nagato�s name listed as a frequent user and/or designer of some of the most exiting-looking programs. He contacted Nagato (an extremely young Ensign on his first assignment out of Starfleet Academy), and two met for lunch one day. Gerard, who had often felt rather alone among his fellow Humans in his passion for the martial arts in this pacified society, found a kindred spirit in this living relic, and the two quickly became inseparable.
At ten-forward, the two relaxed at a table and ordered lunch. Arthur was feeling adventurous, so (with advice from Gerard) he found himself eating a sandwich containing meat from a regulan eelbird, Vulcan neshui (a leafy vegetable), and saurian meth eggs, topped off with catsup. Not bad. Turns out eelbird tastes like chicken. Gerard (with advice from Arthur) was becoming acquainted with early 21st-century cuisine (Federation cooking had by this time become so cosmopolitan that it was a chore to find a dish with ingredients from only one planet.), so he had a hot dog with mustard and a side of potato chips.
�So,� spoke Nagato around a mouthful of hot dog, �what was this about you having written a book?�
�I didn�t finish it,� replied Arthur, picking a meth egg out of his mustache. �I only got a couple of pages actually written before I had the accident and got frozen.�
�Oh. What was it about?�
�Martial arts in the twenty-first century and the Christian warrior tradition.�
Nagato looked confused. �I�m confused. I thought Christians were all nice and peaceful.�
�You say that like it�s a bad thing. Yes, we are. One of the things in the Bible is an admonition to live at peace with everyone, but with the qualifier �as much as it is up to you.� When threatened or attacked, we can fight to defend ourselves or our loved ones as ferociously as anyone else. Did you know that an assassin holds a place of honor in the Bible?�
�You�re kidding me.�
�I kid you not. The book of Judges records the story of a man named Ehud. He concealed a short sword in his clothing and used it to kill an evil king who was oppressing Israel.�
�So is that the kind of thing you put in your book?�
�Sort of. It was more about applying Christian principles to the martial arts and martial principles to the Christian life. I�ll give you an example.�
�Okay.�
�Ever hear of the Japanese term �zanshin�?�
�I think so. It means alertness or something.�
�Something like that, yes. There�s a story I once read about a young samurai who went to a master swordsman for training. Instead of teaching him lessons, though, the master put the kid to work chopping wood, cleaning, cooking; all of which bruised the samurai�s aristocratic ego. After about a year of this, the master starts sneaking up on the kid, knocking him head over heels with a stick. Eventually, the kid starts dodging the master�s attacks because he hears the master�s footsteps or the rustle of his clothing. He gets so good at this that the master can�t even catch him unawares by attacking him in his sleep. One day the young man was squatting down by the fire, cooking, when the master came at him. Without even batting an eye, the kid just blocked the strike with the pot lid and continued cooking. The next day, the master presented the samurai with a certificate of mastery, saying that he had nothing more he needed to learn. That�s zanshin. Awareness.�
�Wow. What does that have to do with Christianity?�
�We Christians are told to be alert and self-controlled, so we can deal with spiritual opposition without being ambushed by Satan. We are also told to always be ready to do good, especially to deliver the good news of salvation when opportunity knocks. We need zanshin in spiritual combat just as much as a samurai needed zanshin for physical combat.�
�You really take this stuff seriously.�
�As should you. Spiritual matters are of vital importance. You�re staking more than just your life on the accuracy of your beliefs.�
Gerard shook his head. �I don�t have any beliefs. I think we all just evolved by chance, and after we die we just cease to exist.�
�First of all, you do have beliefs. What you just said, that�s a belief. Second, how do you know? How do you know that death is only a gateway to oblivion? What proof do you have?�
�Proof?�
�Proof.�
�There�s no such thing as proof when you�re dealing with issues like these.�
�On the contrary, proof is the one thing Christianity has that no other religion or philosophy has.�
�What?� Nagato�s voice was quite incredulous. The voices of the two were carrying, and a crowd was beginning to gather around the table, composed of people trying to listen but not look like they were listening.
�Well, think about it. Every religion claims to know the truth about life after death, but only one is centered around a person who proved it by dying and coming back.�
�You�re talking about Jesus, right?� There were slight murmurs of disapproval from the crowd at the mention of His name. �But you don�t know if he really came back from the dead or not; I mean, it was so long ago!� There were a few grunts of approval from the crowd. Obviously a partisan bunch.
�Remember, it wasn�t always long ago.� Arthur was well aware that their discussion was quickly becoming public domain, and his eyes addressed members of the audience as well as Gerard. �It started with the same people who lived, ate, and talked with Jesus. People who watched Him die. Not too long after his death, they and over five hundred others began telling people that he had risen from the dead and they had seen him alive. The disciples spent the rest of their lives in poverty preaching this gospel, and all of them died a gruesome death when they refused to stop when told to. First question: If this was just a scam for money or power, why didn�t they get any money or power, and why would they all have been willing to die to defend that scam? Second question: This new belief was hated by the local authorities. All they would have had to do to nip this whole Christianity thing in the bud would be to show everyone Jesus� body. They didn�t, because they couldn�t. So, where�d the body go?�
Someone from the crowd angrily snorted, and replied �The disciples stole the body.� Someone else offered �Maybe he didn�t really die. I think I read that somewhere.�
Arthur grinned. The more things change, the more they stay the same. �Okay, let�s look at those ideas.� Arthur held forth at some length defending his faith, the crowd growing increasingly angry at his �intolerance,� yet unable to really offer any substantive rebuttal. I was there, of course. How could any Believer go into battle without his trusty guardian angel? I watched as the Spirit spoke into his mind the things God wanted him to say, and bolstered his courage when he thought of the sheer number of people who were against him in this, and their increasing ire at his impertinence. It was quite a success, if I do say so myself. Arthur opened up the eyes of the Starfleet officers to a way of thinking that had been virtually outlawed for decades, and he did so in a way that they were not prepared to deal with. They had been fed the popular notion (popular even in your time among some) that anyone who espoused a belief in absolute truth rather than �many truths� or the �truth that works for you� was a benighted nincompoop propping up his weak mind with backward notions and itching to enslave your mind to those same notions, yet here was an obviously intelligent, articulate, compassionate individual who presented his beliefs in a nonthreatening manner despite his uncompromising stand for the truth of his beliefs. I think his interpersonal style won them over more than his steady theology or rational mind did. His gentle manner and friendly demeanor were at odds with their notion of a Christian as a primitive lout, and they quite frankly were not equipped to handle it. There were Christians in that era, of course, but they were a scattered and weakened minority among minorities, a remnant surrounded by wishy-washy �new Christians� and the overtly hostile popular culture. Tolerant and enlightened society my eye. Just wait, though; their day is coming.
Several were quite impressed with him that day, and a few were almost convinced. Nagato in particular was practically ready to repent on the spot, but his long-nurtured pride in being a �highly evolved man� held him back. Don�t worry, though; he comes around later. Hope I didn�t spoil the surprise.
Some time later, Arthur stood before Captain Stone. The rugged man wasted no words. �I�ve received some complaints that you�ve been preaching in my ten-forward. You will stop.�
Arthur was quick to point out: �Actually, sir, I was not preaching. I got involved in a discussion regarding spiritual matters with my new friend Gerard, and some others joined in. I defended my beliefs when questioned, and I thought it turned out to be a good discussion of some serious issues.�
�You offended some of those people, and I am inclined to agree with them. My ship is not your pulpit, Mister David, and you will cease your dogmatic proselytizing.�
Arthur�s temper began to get the better of him. �Make me.�
�What?� This was as close to an overt display of anger as Arthur (or, truth be told, almost anyone else) had ever seen from the Captain.
�You must not know your history if you think that Christians can be intimidated into silence by a few stern words.�
�I can do a bit more than that. To maintain the smooth functioning of my ship, I have broad discretionary powers. I can throw you back in the brig, and you can rot there until we reach Deep Space Nine.�
�Your brig is still an improvement over my Orion cell back on Tesla IV; and once we�re at DS9, you�ll hand me over to the authorities, who will release me since I haven�t broken any laws. And what kind of message will that send to your crew, oh Captain my Captain? The brave Stone who panicked over a temporal vagabond�s ramblings and resorted to a violation of his rights to silence him? I did a bit of checking, and they still believe in individual rights in this century, including that of free speech. I did not, nor do I, �preach,� but anyone who asks me a question about my beliefs will get an honest answer, no matter where we are or how many people are listening.�
This was not good. It was good, of course, that Arthur was standing up for himself and his faith, and Stone (begrudgingly) knew he had a point; but his undiplomatic handling of the situation was forcing Stone to an ultimatum. The captain must not appear weak or easily manipulated, and for him to back down would be coming dangerously close to a loss of face and a potential weakening of his ability to command respect.
He settled for threats. Leaning forward, his hands on his desk, Stone said �Because you�re unfamiliar with the way we do things, I�m willing to cut you some slack. But I�m warning you, the next time you offend someone with your preaching, I�ll throw your butt in a cell so fast it�ll make your head spin.�
Arthur leaned back as he sat in his cell. Outside, Ensign Nagato was shaking his head in bewilderment. Nearby, Security Chief Varg sat at a desk filling out the report on the desk�s computer terminal. It hadn�t taken long for someone to become offended at Arthur, and Stone, true to his word, had immediately ordered Arthur�s imprisonment.
Nagato spoke. �I can�t believe you disobeyed the Captain like that. You weren�t out of his office two hours before I heard about this incident.�
�Gerard, there was no incident. Commander Saavik asked me a question. I answered it, and it turned into a discussion. It�s not my fault Lieutenant Miravet overheard and got upset. I�m having a nice, civil discussion of issues with Saavik, and Miravet interrupts and she starts screaming at me, and I�m the one accused of disruptive and offensive behavior? Is this your free and tolerant society?� The words were bitter, but spoken without any real rancor.
Nagato didn�t know what to say. He knew the injustice of the situation, but at the same time he didn�t want to criticize the Captain. �You just� You just don�t go against Captain Stone like that.�
Varg, finished with his report, snorted in disapproval and left the room. Nagato watched him leave. He turned back toward Arthur. �Well, that�s something you don�t see every day. Varg sympathizing with a prisoner.�
�He didn�t look very sympathetic to me.�
�You don�t know Tellarites. First of all, they�re naturally belligerent, so don�t expect any displays of warm feelings. Second, they love to argue. Debate is a favorite form of entertainment on their planet, and for someone to go up against a superior or against several opponents at once is considered a sign of high courage. By your willingness to debate that group in Ten-Forward, Captain Stone, and Commander Saavik, you have elevated yourself considerably in his eyes. You�re practically a hero to his two sons. And to lock someone away for arguing is an unspeakably low act on his planet, even if it is technically legal under Starfleet regulations.�
�At least I�ve impressed someone around here. Too bad Stone doesn�t share Varg�s opinion of me.�
Nagato fidgeted. �I�ve got to go. I have to report for duty soon. I�ll come by and see you later.� Clearly tormented, he left the brig.
Stone nearly fumed. �Dammit, Saavik, if you think I�m wrong, just say so.�
�Very well; I think you are wrong, sir.�
Saavik stood at parade rest in front of Stone�s desk, her overly formal manner causing him no end of consternation (He suspected that she knew exactly how much it bothered him and did it specifically to put him off balance. He was right.). He stood, on the verge of pacing, behind his desk, refusing to sit down and allow her to be taller than him. He was the boss here, damn it. �I gave him fair warning, Saavik. He knew I wouldn�t allow him to continue pontificating on my ship, yet he had the brass to do so to my first officer. Had Miravet not filed the complaint, I would have expected you to do so.�
�Your position is not logical, sir,� responded Saavik. �My rights were in no way violated by Mr. David�s discussion with me. It was I, in fact, who instigated the conversation by asking him about a facet of his religious beliefs, as I indicated in my statement for the incident report. My experiences with individuals of Mr. David�s religion have produced contradictory and nigh-incomprehensible results, and I was attempting to refine my understanding of Christianity.�
�Here�s all the refining you need, Saavik. I spent a full year of college rooming with a Christian, and a pompous, self-righteous ass he was, too. Never missed an opportunity to criticize others, calling them �immoral,� �sinners,� and so on. He made the year unbearable with his constant harassment. Christians are nothing but a bunch of hypocritical fanatics who think the universe revolves around their own narrow beliefs, and just can�t wait to shove it down your throat. Throwing that zealot in the brig was the best thing I�ve done all month, and I�ll rot in his imaginary Hell before I let him out.�
Saavik was taken aback by this burst of venom. She paused, and replied �This has not been my experience with Mr. David, Captain. He has thus far shown himself to be a person of character and rationality, despite his unorthodox beliefs. I suspect that your encounter in college has led you to unjustly prejudge Mr. David. If I may also say, sir, I have noticed that, while the crew of this vessel has previously shown no hesitancy to discuss matters of ideology and give even the most divergent practices a �fair shake� as they say, their response to Mr. David�s �gospel� has been characterized by an inordinate amount of intolerance and contempt. If I may ask, sir; what are you all afraid of?�
�Mr. Saavik, you are coming dangerously close to insubordination.� Stone was growing visibly red in the face.
�It is a common belief among sociologists and social psychologists, sir, that fear is often the motivating factor behind such behavior. If I am mistaken, sir, I await correction.�
�You�re damn right you�re mistaken, Saavik! Fanatics like David are the cause of the most suffering and pain in this galaxy! They don�t just fight over resources, like the rest of us, they enslave people�s minds, squashing every ounce of individual thought and free will.�
�Sir, if I may point out��
�You may not, Saavik! I will tolerate no more discussion on this topic. You are dismissed!�
Saavik watched Stone, on the verge of losing his infamous self-control, turn to the portal to watch the stars. Clearly, the conversation was over. She said �A formal protest of this decision will appear in my log, sir.� He did not respond. She left the room.
Saavik went to the brig. As she entered, Arthur was dancing, an unusual activity for prisoners. The forcefield did nothing to contain noise, and a raucous, high-spirited music emanated from the cell. Saavik found the style to be unsophisticated, but oddly compelling. The song seemed to be centered around a young man�s romantic feelings toward a young woman, and Arthur was singing along (just a bit off-key) with enthusiasm and vigor. Saavik silently approached the cell, waiting for Arthur to finish. If Captain Stone were here, thought Saavik, would he persist in his claim that this religion diminishes a person�s individuality?
Arthur got the feeling that he was not alone, and when he turned toward the forcefield, he saw Saavik and stopped singing in mid-word. He was also in mid-dance-step, and he stumbled as he regained his balance.
�Oh, uh, hi, Commander.� Arthur was obviously a bit embarrassed at having been �caught� dancing with such abandon. �Computer, reduce music volume by seventy-five percent. What�s up?�
�Up?�
�Oh. Twentieth-century slang. It�s an inquiry as to what you want or what the situation is.�
�I see. To begin with, what is that music you were listening to? It is not familiar to me.�
�Well, I just did a bit of digging in the computer, and I found out that my favorite swing band released four more albums after I went into cryogenic storage. I was listening to them.�
�Ah. Now, as to what is �up,� I was hoping we could� finish our conversation. I doubt we will be interrupted in this venue.�
Arthur laughed a loud bellow. �I doubt that, too, Commander.�
Saavik, looked at Arthur thoughtfully. Not since David Marcus had she found a Human this� intriguing. She had no interest in a romantic relationship, of course; she was nearly eighty years his senior (if you didn�t count his three and a half centuries in cryo-stasis). But, she found him to be unlike any Human she could recall encountering, and his bold stand for a belief system which she found utterly perplexing enticed her on many levels.
�Please,� she said to Arthur, �call me Saavik.�
