The Price We Pay

[Chirakis 1]

The Price We Pay

 

 

Though the place was considered habitable, it was designated as such for the sake of engineering teams that would need access, and it was not exactly a place one would want to actually inhabit, in the fullest sense of the word. However, for Captain Chirakis, the topmost deck of the saucer section served her purpose. It was remote, quiet, and accessible only to engineering and command. Moreover, it serviced the access points to the subspace array. Appropriate, she thought, given her present state of mind, that tended to press her beyond the bounds of the ordinary and well into the extraordinary aspects of the universe.

 

“Who are you,” she finally whispered into the void as she leaned against the viewport’s narrow ledge to stare into space. She had been watching for some time, half hoping that she would find answers, or that something within her field of vision, or even her mental reach, would answer.

 

“Where are you?” she continued, more forcefully. “What is your purpose, and why have you chosen me?”

 

“They will not answer, Thytrin.”

 

Not a little alarmed, and somewhat angered by her bond-mate’s telepathic interruption, Kirel pushed off from the ledge to focus on his image, now vividly established in her mind. Though light-years away, her connection to Captain d’Ka of USS Missouri knew no bounds, a reality she found both aggravating and comforting: aggravating because she was acutely aware of and somewhat overwhelmed by his powerful telepathic abilities, yet comforting because she could call upon him at any time, anywhere, and he would respond if she or the station were in distress.

 

In her mind, she saw him in his meditation room, fingers steepled, staring into space as she had been.

 

“You know them?” she said aloud, refusing to participate in his telepathic exchange.

 

“I do.”

 

“Then tell me: who are they, and what is their purpose?”

 

Several minutes of silence followed, broken only by the steady hum of station activity: lifts, generators, environmental systems, the shift of systems from one to the other, and the movement of personnel. The sounds traveled from their origins through the outer shell and merged at certain points, one of which was here, at the station’s pinnacle.

 

She felt his sigh of resignation.

 

“I know them only from what they allow me to know. They are ancient. Elusive. Powerful.”

 

“Moreso than your species?”

 

“Much moreso than the Sindar.”

 

“And what have they to do with TKR-117?”

 

“That I do not know.”

 

“Then why do they contact me.”

 

“That I cannot say.”

 

“Cannot, or will not?”

 

Again he sighed, out of the exasperation he often felt when speaking with her, or so she thought. Or so she felt.

 

“Kirel, I cannot say. I know only what they allow me to know.”

 

“Then what do they allow you to know? Why are you thinking of them at this very moment, the same moment I think of them?”

 

“I do not know why we are meeting at this particular moment, if you want to call it meeting.” His fingers parted. He considered them a moment, then stood, turned away from the viewport in his quarters on the USS Missouri, and poured a small goblet of Sindarin liquor: mint green, creamy, and smooth. His first taste hit Kirel with all the force of a charging adult alpha male targ.

 

“I see only their presence,” d’Ka continued, unabashed as he swirled the beverage in its glass. “They watch the universe, but they are especially interested in TKR-117 and the asteroid belt. They also seem to have a concern with Qo’noS.”

 

After a moment of recovery, she asked, “Why Qo’noS?”

 

“That I do not know. Would you like another taste?”

 

“No!”

 

Kirel heard… no, she felt him laugh, and saw the corners of his mouth turn up in the best imitation of a human smirk she had ever seen.

 

“Thytrin,” his expression turned serious, “Do not torment yourself. You will not succeed. They will tell you when they… or you… are ready.”