Manatoba Mayhem
Posted on August 13th, 2001 by Tommy Spark

Part 1

Tommy Spark sat on his office aboard the Atlantis, absentmindedly filling out reports. He’d been aboard the ship for a grand total of two weeks. As of yet, nothing particularly thrilling had occurred — at least nothing to meet Tommy’s grand expectations of wild space adventure. He was happy though, and enjoying the thought of knowing that something unexpected could happen at any moment — the thrill and expectation of being aboard a Starfleet vessel.

He’d spent most of his two weeks repairing minor injuries — fixing up routine elbow scrapes and such. He’d had few encounters with his CMO — a wispy blonde by the name of Lily Darian — but the encounters he’d had were, on the whole, fairly positive.

He’d had fewer encounters with the Assistant Medical Officer whose office adjoined his. Tommy was intrigued by Geileis Kael and her K’mai heritage. He was eager to meet and befriend her — possibly even tear down the flimsy wall separating their offices. However, she’d remained inaccessible, rarely leaving her office and requesting no disturbances. He had yet to even introduce himself.

The chirping noise that meant someone was standing outside his door interrupted his reverie.

“Come in,” he said.

Tommy smiled as Ensign Peter Kyle entered his office. Peter’s enigmatic but constant presence had been of great comfort to Tommy as he’d embarked upon his new life. Tommy would’ve been lying if he said his feelings for Peter didn’t exceed the traditional bounds of friendship. But that was just it — they were friends — and with Tommy’s breakup with Will still so recent, and Peter’s departure from the Atlantis a distinct likelihood, they would remain friends. Anything more could have devastating consequences.

“I have a proposition for you,” Peter said, smiling.

“A proposition?”

“I want you to take a trip with me,” he paused. “I’m taking on a new name — a Bajoran name.”

Tommy looked at him, confused. “I’m not sure I see how the two are related.”

“I’ve wanted to take a Bajoran name for quite some time. Bajor is a matriarchal society — it is customary for a child to take on his or her mother’s family name. My mother was Bajoran. I see this as an important step in finding a cultural connection for myself.”

“Okay

—

but I still don’t see what that has to do with a trip.”

“Impatient!” Peter smiled, teasingly. “I was getting to that. There’s a planet nearby — Manatoba V — covered in gorgeous forests. I’ve adapted some Bajoran customs to create my own naming ritual. I’d like to perform it outdoors, in a more spiritual setting. Manatoba V is the perfect place.”

“But what about our duty shifts?”

“I’ve already spoken to Admiral Zuriyev. He said he’s fine with the two of us borrowing one of the shuttlecrafts for a few days. We can reconnect with the ship before they reach Dennetar IV.”

Peter Kyle paused, a somewhat preoccupied look on his face. “I thought it would also give us some time to say goodbye.”

So he was leaving. Despite how much he’d attempted to prepare himself for the news, Tommy still felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to smile. “I take it you got the assignment?”

Peter was beaming. “I did. Captain Ashne’e Alkiara was assigned as commanding officer of the new ship. She was one of my mentors at the Academy — she was the one who encouraged me to pursue my doctorate in social history. She requested me as her social historian.”

“That’s excellent,” Tommy said. “You deserve this.”

Peter smiled. “So whaddya say — come to Manatoba V with me?”

“Alright,” Tommy said. “I’ll come with you. But not just to say goodbye — to celebrate your new assignment.”

 

Part 2

“It’s a somewhat contentious issue on Bajor presently,” Ensign Peter Kyle said as he piloted the shuttlecraft toward Manatoba V. He was expounding upon the role of

homosexuality in Bajoran culture. He looked at Tommy Spark, who was listening eagerly. This was what he liked best about Tommy — his enthusiasm and energy. He was used to people tuning out the minute he started talking. It was refreshing to be around someone who was actually interested in what he had to say.

However, being around Tommy also terrified him. Tommy was adorable. Peter loved Tommy’s innocence, romanticism and vitality. He had so much to give. And in the past, Peter had done nothing but take. His obsession with his work and difficulty connecting with people inevitably caused him to hurt others — and Tommy was just the sort of person he usually ended up hurting.

“Go on,” Tommy said, breaking Peter’s reverie. “Contentious how?”

“There is evidence to show that homosexuality has existed on Bajor throughout our history. Under the D’jarras system, persons understood to be homosexual were hidden from view & confined to the lowest caste. At other times, homosexuals have been lifted up in our art and architecture as examples of divine diversity.

“Now, there’s an attempt by certain forces to cover up that history. Though much of Bajoran society accepts and acknowledges the homosexuals amongst them, Kai Winn and others perpetuate an incorrect myth that homosexuality did not exist on Bajor prior to the Cardassian occupation.”

“In other words, it’s a “behavior”,” Tommy concluded, showing he was listening. “Acquired from your oppressors.”

“Exactly. It is common among oppressed groups to seek unity at the cost of diversity. Kai Winn understands homosexuality to be a divisive force. Unfortunately, this leads to suffering and silence for many Bajoran homosexuals.”

“Because they do exist,” Tommy said, concurring. “And you’re living proof.”

“But that’s just it. Kai Winn would claim that my gayness stems from my humanness.” Peter paused. “We’re descending on Manatoba V.”

Peter looked at the shuttlecraft’s sensor display, noticing some strange readings….

Suddenly, the shuttlecraft shook violently.

He glanced at the sensors. “We’ve been hit by some sort of weapons burst….. the signature’s unfamiliar.”

Another violent shock rocked the shuttlecraft. Peter was knocked off his feet. Quickly, he pulled himself up and returned to the sensors.

“We’re losing power. We’ve lost shields and navigation.”

The shuttlecraft shook. They were descending fast.

He ran his fingers across the controls, desperately trying to regain control of the shuttlecraft.

“It’s no use,” he said. “We’re going down.”

 

Part 3.1

The shuttlecraft lurched sharply toward one side and Tommy was thrown off his feet. Ignoring a stabbing pain in his lower back, he pulled himself back up and into his chair. He’d never understood why Federation ships weren’t equipped with seat belts.

“We’re going to what?” he finally asked.

“Crash,” Peter Kyle answered, his fingers dancing desperately across the shuttlecraft’s controls. “We’ve lost power to all major systems. I’m unable to regain navigational control. I can only attempt to lessen our impact.”

“What about communications?” Tommy gasped as the shuttlecraft shook. “Can we send out a distress call?”

“I’ve been attempting to secure a channel,” Peter said. “Perhaps if I reroute what power we have left from our weapons, shields and propulsion.”

Tommy watched as Peter attempted the task, realizing how much his life depended upon this man — and realizing how much he trusted him.

“Got it!” Peter said. “But I won’t have time for a very detailed message.”

Tommy nodded.

“This is Ensign Peter Kyle of the Federation shuttlecraft PERSISTENCE. This is a distress call. I repreat — this is a distress call. We are crashing on the surface of Manatoba V. Please send assistance.”

The shuttecraft continued to shake violently as it plummeted toward the ground below.

“We have an estimated 7 seconds until contact with the planet’s surface,” Peter said. “Brace yourself.”

Tommy clung tightly to his chair as the shuttlecraft hit the planet’s surface. Tommy felt the shuttlecraft bouncing, shaking and tumbling with great force as it skidded to its final stop.

After the power of the last thud, it all went black…

 

Part 3.2

“Computer — one Vodka Stinger.”

Captain Lane Winn watched as her syntheholic necessity appeared in a shimmer of light. Winn grabbed the cocktail and moved toward her ready room’s nicely sized window.

Beyond her office, blackness and stars extended for as far as her eye could see. Lightyears upon lightyears of exploratory possibilities for her dedicated, fully capable crew — and the only assignment Starfleet could find for them had been a routine transport between Earth and the edge of the Neutral Zone.

Winn couldn’t help but feel as though it were a slight against her and her crew. Though the Zapata was a somewhat newly commissioned ship, its crew was highly skilled and eager to prove itself. Winn new her officers were capable of more — much more — than transporting people to and from Admiral Zuriyev’s famed ATLANTIS.

Energetic and adventurous, Winn was among the youngest captains in Starfleet history. She was not cocky — she simply knew her crew deserved an assignment they could sink their teeth into. She hoped their next assignment — a diplomatic mission to a planet seeking membership within the United Federation of Planets — would give them a chance to fully prove the Zapata’s potential.

The chirping noise that signaled the presence of someone outside her Ready Room door interrupted her train of thought.

“Enter.”

T’Pakay, her Vulcan first officer, entered with a PADD under her arm. “Commander,” Winn said, motioning for her first officer to take a seat. “Care for a drink?”

“No thank you, Captain,” T’Pakay said, in her no-nonsense Vulcan way. “I come only on official business.” She handed Winn the PADD. “These are the plans for our diplomatic assignment. I felt you should have a chance to browse through them. Starfleet has ordered that we leave at once.”

“Well,” Winn smiled, scanning the information on the PADD. “Then I suppose we should obey that order.”

Winn set down the PADD, then took one last sip of her Vodka Stinger before placing the half empty — or was it half full — glass on her desk. The cocktail would have to wait. Duty called.

She followed T’Pakay through the doors of her ready room and onto the Bridge of the U.S.S. ZAPATA.

“Ensign Gutierrez,” she said, addressing the attractive Latino male assigned to Conn. “Lay in a course for Manatoba V — Warp 6.”

The Zapata shot forward toward its diplomatic destination.

 

Part 3.3

Emperor Seneva of Manatoba V looked into her diamond-studded mirror as she ran a comb through her spiked, purple hair. Her normally pale lavender skin was darker and pinker than usual — most likely a sign of the increased stress she was feeling.

Her throne room was opulent and lavishly furnished, with richly-colored silken draperies cascading toward the floor. She spent her days draped across the plush fainting couch, covered in pillows.

It was a lifestyle she enjoyed living — and she was not prepared to give it up without a fight.

Seneva examined the artwork adorning her wall — a detailed fresco of the Malakaba Forrest — the sacred gathering place of her people. Though her entire planet was covered by beautiful forrests, the Malakaba region’s beauty was unparalleled. Each year, the people of Manatoba V gathered within the Malakaba Forrest for the Kanakava Festival — their New Year’s celebration. It was the holiest of days on the Manatoban calender, a time for communing with the sacred spirits. It was also a time for ritual sacrifice.

Seneva sighed. It was the need for such sacrifice which had created the Palaka infestation — the single greatest threat to her political power. If the Palaka could not be removed from the Malakaba Forrest in time for the Kanakava Festival — just a few weeks away — it would give the extremist religious groups challenging her the clout they needed to overthrow her government once and for all.

Seneva shuddered. These negotiations with the Federation were her last great hope. Should Manatoba join the Federation, they would have access to technology far surpassing their own. Such technology would surely allow her to rid the Malakaba Forrest of the Palaka infestation and ensure she continue on as Emperor of Manatoba V.

She knew she couldn’t tell the Federation the truth of her situation. In order to gain membership, she would have to prevent the illusion of a unified, peace-seeking world. The political and religious turmoil on Manatoba V must be kept secret — as would the existence of the Palaka.

Seneva flashed herself a sly smile as she took one last look in the mirror. The Starfleet officers would be here shortly. She would do herself proud. She would stay in power.

 

Part 3.4

Kalava ran his hands across his weapons control console and smiled. He was pleased — very pleased. The time for atonement had come. At last, after years of living in hiding, all of Manatoba V would know that Kalava the Vanished survived — and that his time for vengeance was at hand. Every Manatoban would pay for their sins against him — against all the sacrificed. The dismantling of the sacrifice tradition was no longer enough to appease him — the creation of the Palaka had seen to that. True justice called for the destruction of the entire planet.

Kalava was a bitter, enraged man. He himself did not deny this fact — He reveled in it. It was all he had left. Now, that rage would empower him to attain his goals.

The Palaka were well trained. All they required was the dismantling of the energy field confining them to the Malakaba Forrest. Once free, the Palaka could descend upon the capital

and sacrifice the Manatobans — one by one.

Kalava had discovered some kinks in the energy field — enough for him to come and go from the forest as he pleased to gather supplies, and enough for his weapons systems to penetrate outward. However, for all the Palaka to be freed from their confinement required the full dismantling of the energy field.

Now, finally, he had the leverage he needed to make this happen. The two Starfleet officers were exactly the tool he needed to put his plans into action. Kalava’s informant within the Emperor’s Palace had made him aware of Seneva’s negotiations with the Federation. He knew how dependent she was upon their success in order to continue her rule of Manatoba V. Once she discovered he had two Starfleet officers in his possession, she would do whatever it took to see them returned safely to the Federation — including dismantling the energy field.

Kalava eased into the chair the sat in the center of his subterranean control room as he awaited the officers’ arrival. His weapons had been powerful and unexpected enough to dismantle the Starfleet shuttlecraft and send into plummeting right into the heart of the Malakaba Forrest. Within moments, his Palaka minions would descend upon the marooned officers and escort them to his compound, where they would be his prisoners.

The time for retribution had come. At long last, the time had come.

 

Part 4.1

Peter Kyle sighed anxiously, finding himself saying a silent prayer to the Prophets as he placed his fingers to Tommy Spark’s neck, checking for a pulse. All of their equipment had been damaged in the crash — he would have to do this the old fashioned way.

Peter tried to suppress his pangs of guilt as he focused on the task at hand. One weapons burst, however unexpected, should not have been enough to cause them to crash. He’d feared his relationship with Tommy could never do anything but hurt his energetic young friend, but he’d never pictured anything this melodramatic. He knew he’d never forgive himself should anything happen to Tommy.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a light and rhythmic throbbing against his thumb and forefinger. Tommy was alive. And with any luck, he would soon regain consciousness.

As he knelt over his friend, Peter found himself examining Tommy’s features — his smooth, unlined skin and soft eyelashes, his mouth turned up in a slight smile — an optimist even while unconscious. This was the sort of human being that kindled Peter’s fascination with species — his desire to understand individuals’ yearnings and strivings for happiness within a world of pain and degradation.

Tommy was just the sort of friend Peter had yearned for as a child, seeking companionship as he wandered alone through the corridors of the Federation science station on Pantuphlet 4, devouring text after text on the histories of species across the galaxy.

He was just the sort of friend he could never stop observing long enough to truly connect with.

Peter found himself moving his hand to Tommy’s cheek, and quickly pulled away. There were things to be done. Now that he’d cared for the wounded, he needed to assess their situation.

The cabin was dimly lit by several individually powered emergency lights — they had clearly lost all power in the crash. Through the viewport, Peter could see the sun setting through the trunks of two of the Manatoban Forrest’s gigantic evergreen trees — twice the size of Earth’s largest redwoods.

Peter began evaluating courses of action. Since their excursion had been completely recreational, the shuttlecraft was not equipped with any emergency rations. With the replicator out of commission, they would have to find some source of food and water to tide them over until help arrived — assuming someone had received their distress call. And even if the distress call hadn’t been received, it was a populated planet, and its forests were a popular destination — a tame pseudo-wilderness free from any large predators. With their combined Starfleet survival skills, he had no doubt he and Tommy could make it until help arrived.

He heard a stirring behind him, and he felt a weight lift as he realized Tommy was regaining consciousness. He rushed to his friend’s side as Tommy slowly sat up and looked around.

“We crashed,” Tommy said after a moment. “We actually crashed.”

Peter felt a sudden rush of concern for Tommy’s well-being. “Be careful,” he said. “You may have been injured — our medical tricorders were destroyed in the crash.”

Tommy smiled. “It’s kinda funny — the medical officer was the one to stay unconscious the longest.”

“I had noticed that,” Peter said. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, mostly. A little disoriented — but that’s to be expected. I don’t have any symptoms of concussion, and no open wounds or broken bones. I may have a few bruises, but nothing that won’t heal within a day or so.”

Peter smiled. “You’re a master of self-diagnosis.”

Tommy reached out his hand. “Help me to my feet — let’s scope this place out.”

Within moments, the friends had discussed their plan of action and agreed to survey the area surrounding the crash site. After prying open the shuttlecraft’s door using the manual override, they took their first steps onto the surface of Manatoba V.

A wonderful whiff of cool, dry air met Peter as he stepped through the shuttlecraft’s doors. He found himself immediately struck by the beauty of the place, exceeding his wildest expectations. The towering trees whispered to him in their silence. It was the voice of solitude, the same awe-inspiring voice that spoke to him whenever he stepped into the Okana Dessert.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Tommy said.

Peter nodded noncommittally. Despite his affection for Tommy, he found himself wishing he could have this moment to himself.

The sudden and loud noise of multiple footsteps around them destroyed his reverie completely. By the time he’d snapped to attention, he found them surrounded on all sides by a group of lavender-skinned beings.

From the research Peter had done in preparation for their trip, he knew they were Manatobans — but completely unlike the Manatobans he had seen pictures of. Their appearance was bedraggled, their violet hair long and tangled, their clothing covered in dirt. They looked as though they had spent months living in the forest.

Before Peter could open his mouth to offer a greeting, one of the Manatobans had come forward and the others had aimed sinister looking rifles in their direction.

“Be silent,” their leader barked. “Raise your hands in the air.”

Peter and Tommy did as they were told. Peter felt a chill creep up the back of his spine. He hated guns.

“We are the Palaka,” their leader continued. “And you are our prisoners.”

 

Part 4.2

Captain Lane Winn felt a rush of adrenaline as she watched her senior crew file into the conference room aboard the U.S.S. Zapata for their mission briefing. She’d left her Vodka Stinger glass sitting half full — and she had a feeling this diplomatic assignment would become the Zapata crew’s chance to finally prove themselves.

She felt a surge of unadulterated pride as each member of her crew took their seats for the mission — Commander T’Pakay, her Vulcan first officer and a master of discipline; Counselor and second officer Litia Bonaqua, a highly skilled psychologist/diplomat and a member of the artistic Glitterati race; Lt. Commander Ivy Blackman, her human chief engineer; Doctor Zheethoo, her Andorian chief medical officer; and finally Lt. “Squawk”, her chief of security and a member of a rare avian species, whose true name was a series of chirps unpronounceable in Federation Standard.

It was a crew of untold talent, a crew that ranked among the best Starfleet had to offer. It was a crew to be proud of. And in just under an hour, they would reach Manatoba V and sink their teeth into what would hopefully become a truly challenging diplomatic assignment.

“Welcome,” Captain Winn finally said when all her crew had gathered around the conference table. “In just under an hour we will arrive at Manatoba V — a Class M planet which has recently applied for Federation membership. I have placed Counselor Bonaqua, our resident diplomat, in charge of our mission plans. At this time, she will share with you what little we know of Manatoban history and culture, as well as what to expect these next few days.”

The Captain glanced at her diplomatic officer. “Counselor.”

Counselor Litia Bonaqua stood, her multi-hued, glittered skin catching the light and drawing attention to her sparkling eyes and lips. The Glitterati were truly stunning creatures, Captain Winn thought, realizing it was not the first time she had noted the Counselor’s intensely luminescent beauty. The Counselor was just the sort of woman that had the power to make the Captain wish she wasn’t her commanding officer.

“Thank you,” Counselor Bonaqua said, her smile sending light patterns dancing up and down the walls of the conference room.

“Little is known about the inhabitants of Manatoba V. According to the information we have been given by their ruling Emperor Seneva, it is a predominantly peace loving people with a rich artistic and religious history.

“Their planet’s forests are widely known for their beauty and grandeur. Each year, the people of Manatoba V gather in their most sacred forest for a New Year’s festival.

“Beyond that, we’ve had nothing but the most superficial contact with the Manatobans. This mission will allow us the opportunity not only to determine whether Manatoba V is ready to join the Federation, but also to gain new insight into their customs and culture.

“We will begin the diplomatic proceedings with a meeting between myself, the Captain and Emperor Seneva upon arrival at Manatoba V. Immediately following, we will hold a banquent in the Ship’s Lounge where you all will have the opportunity to meet and greet the Emperor and her people.”

“I’d like to add that you are Ambassadors for this ship,” Captain Winn said. “I know that little is known about the Manatobans — but attempt to be as culturally sensitive as possible. It should be a matter of common sense.” She glanced at Counselor Bonaqua. “Anything further, Counselor?”

Litia Bonaqua shook her head and flashes of glitter caught Captain Winn’s eye.

“No, Captain. That is my complete briefing.”

“Thank you, Counselor.” The Captain glanced around the room. “Do any of you have any questions for myself or the Counselor with regard to our mission plans?”

“How technologically advanced are the Manatobans?” Lt Squawk chirped. As usual, it took the Universal Translator a moment to decode his complex speech patterns.

“Their technological advancement is another factor we will need to observe as this mission progresses,” Counselor Bonaqua answered. “Though they clearly possess communications technology compatible with our own, and at least a rudimentary understanding of warp drive, there is ample evidence to suggest that our own technology surpasses theirs.”

“Could that be one reason they’ve applied for Federation membership?” Commander Blackman asked.

“If it is, it’s the wrong reason,” Captain Winn said. “And we will make that perfectly clear.”

“Does anyone have anything further to add?” the Captain asked after a brief pause. She looked around the room. Her crew was silent. “Then thank you. Return to your duty shifts, and I’ll see you all later this evening at the banquet.”

Lane Winn watched as her crew filed out the door of the conference room in much the same way as they had entered. In less than an hour, they would arrive at Manatoba V.

What did this planet have in store?

 

Part 4.3

The shrill sound of Danaka’s alarm clock awoke him from a deep sleep, sweat-drenched and heart racing. He had been dreaming.

He was walking through a desolate field of living corpses. The people of Manatoba V surrounded him — staring not at him, but through him, with hollow eyes and empty souls. This alone was almost enough to shock him into waking, but then he saw her — Seneva — a towering figure in the center of the field. In one hand, she held a golden scepter, which she horded tightly against her side. In her other hand, she held a test tube.

A shiver ran down Danaka’s spine as he realized this test tube was identical to the laboratory test tubes in which he’d first given birth to the Palaka. As he slowly approached her, she raised the test tube to display its contents. The sea of blank stares turned to not-watch as Danaka’s gaze rested on the test tube.

The picture which greeted him was terrifying. Inside the tube, all of Manatoba V rested like a giant experiment. Seneva tightened her grip on the test tube as she met his gaze, her nails digging into the delicate glass which held their world and its peoples. His heart pounded. At any moment, the glass could shatter — their world shattering with it.

Seneva stared at him, a sly smile spread across her lavender lips. The army of living corpses looked on, unseeing. Danaka’s stomach was cartwheeling, his pulse increasing — Seneva tightened her grip —

Danaka jolted awake. The incessant beeping of his computer roused him from his horrid nightmare. He deactivated the alarm ans stumbled toward the sink which sat on the opposite side of his quarters, cupping his hands and splashing cold water across his face. With each drop of water that ran down his pale purple skin, his dream visions became more distant. He made a mental note — no more naps in the middle of the day.

He glanced at the timepiece on his computer terminal — he was overdue in Emperor Seneva’s throne room. He exited his quarters and began making his way through the hallways of the Imperial Palace.

The Emperor was stretched out across her fainting couch as he entered. Seeing him, she rose, slipping her delicate feet and colorfully painted nails into her jeweled slippers. She sauntered across the room to greet him.

“Danaka, my dear,” she said. “Where have you been? The Federation ship may arrive at any moment. I must have my most trusted advisor by my side.”

Danaka found himself inwardly cringing as she said the words “trusted advisor.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry — that’s dreadful,” she said, placing her hand to his cheek. “But still, there is business we must tend to. Will you help me into my emerald cape?”

Danaka walked to the velvet cape’s resting place on the opposite of the throne room and carried it back to where Seneva stood. “Helping her into”the cape meant fastening it onto her while she stood perfectly still, watching him perform a task she was fully capable of performing for herself. As he fastened the front clasp, he noticed — not for the first time — how much the Emperor had changed in the time he had known her. Completely gone was the potential he had once seen in her for benevolent, exemplary leadership. It had been replaced by an overwhelming comfort with and desire for power.

Seneva had once commanded Danaka’s complete trust and admiration. But that was long ago — before he became responsible for the creation of a race of Manatobans born to be murdered. He hadn’t yet witnessed their pain upon discovering their fate, their struggle for freedom and their eventual imprisonment. He hadn’t secretly ventured into the Malakaba Forrest to provide aid to his creations, to assuage the guilt that had plagued him since bringing them into the world. It was before he had discovered that Kalava the Vanished lived — and before he had seen his potential to lead the Palaka toward their liberation.

No, perhaps he was wrong in thinking Seneva was the one who had changed — he had.

Now, he pictured a different sort of future for his people. Kalava was just the sort of leader who could usher in the new age of Manatoban liberation — a future free from this carnal obsession with sacrifice. Kalava would return the conscience of the Manatoban people.

Danaka was uncomfortable with Kalava’s decision to capture the two Starfleet officers — but there were times when true change called for desperate measures. He could only hope that no further deaths would be caused by Kalava’s rise to power.

Without warning, the face of an imperial aide appeared on Seneva’s inter-palace communications screen.

“Emperor,” the aide said. “The Federation Starship has arrived. Their Captain wished to speak with you.”

“Put her through,” Seneva responded. “I am prepared.”

The Emperor turned toward her advisor as the aide went about his orders. Danaka could see a sinister glint in her eye — a glint that spoke of her false notion that her power structure would remain intact.

“Danaka,” she said. “Remember this day. It is the beginning of the future for Manatoba V.”

 

Part 5.1

The Manatoban Forest at dusk was a magical place, the sun casting mysterious shadows across the forest floor. Long columns of light shone down through gaps in the gigantic conifers. With each step Tommy took, he was greeted by the sound of crunching needles. He could almost imagine fairies poking their heads out from behind the thick trunks. It was a stunningly beautiful place. Tommy found himself wishing he were relaxed enough to fully experience its sights and sounds.

The Palaka, as they called themselves, had lead Tommy and Peter away from the crash site and deeper into the forest, without explaining themselves or their purpose in capturing the two officers. All queries from Peter and Tommy as to their intentions had been greeted with the assertion that all questions would be answered once they arrived at their “destination.”

Tommy wondered what exactly their mysterious “destination” might be. Though he was afraid of what might be in store for them, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of excitement as a result of their circumstances. As a child, Tommy had often fantasized about being captured. He’d romanticized the notion of being held captive by some dastardly “villain.”

However, in those situations, Tommy always had some knowledge of who or what he was up against. Furthermore, his capture was always followed by his dramatic rescue and/or escape. The uncertainty of their current circumstances left Tommy feel uneasy — would they make it off this planet alive?

He looked toward Peter, who trudged along behind the Palaka’s leader. Peter’s jaw was set, his eyes focused as he methodically examined his surroundings. Once again, Tommy felt himself feeling overwhelmed by his affection and trust for this man. If there were a way for them to make it back to the Atlantis, he knew Peter would find it.

They rounded a corner, and walked into a large meadow. The field surrounding them was a stunning array of green grasses. At the center of the meadow, they came to a sudden stop. The Palaka leader raised one arm, and Tommy watched with wonder as a patch of tall grasses dematerialized, revealing a stairway that disappeared deep into the ground.

“Down here,” the Palaka leader pointed, and started down the stairway.

Tommy’s heartrate increased as he followed him — descending into the Palaka compound…

 

Part 5.2

Emperor Seneva smoothed her gown, and lifted her head triumphantly as she waltzed into the conference room of the U.S.S. Zapata, Danaka in tow. So far, everything had proceeded smoothly, and she was feeling a rush of wild optimism. The “transporter” which had instantly whisked them from the surface of Manatoba V to the Atlantis was an encouraging sign of advanced technology. The Manatobans had a much cruder version of this system — one in which molecular reassembly was a much lengthier process. After arriving on the Atlantis, Seneva and Danaka had been greeted by Captain Winn herself, along with her glittering diplomatic officer and executive officer — a strange creature with pointed ears.

They had exchanged greetings and polite small talk as she was ushered through the corridors of the Zapata to this conference room. The walls of this ship were far too simple in appearance. Seneva found herself missing the ornate tapestries which adorned every wall of the Imperial Palace — her Imperial Palace.

She smiled. Once these proceedings were complete, her future rule would be fully secure. She would be guaranteed a lifetime of opulent living. She would silence the fundamentalist voices once and for all, and rid Manatoba V of the pesky Palaka. All she required was access to the Federation’s advanced technology.

The glittering Counselor offered her a seat, and she slowly lowered herself, taking care to look as regal as possible. In these dialogues, appearances were her greatest weapon.

“Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Zapata,” the Captain said as they sat. “I wanted to take this time to briefly set the tone for our dialogues. We’ve planned a banquet in our ship’s lounge immediately following this meeting. You’ll have the opportunity to become acquainted with our crew in a less formal setting.”

Seneva could feel the Captain’s eyes looking her over — examining, criticizing, analyzing.

Seneva straightened in her chair and flashed the Captain what she knew to be her most charming smile. “Thank you for your hospitality, Captain. The Manatoban people have great appreciation for those who comprehend the proper way to receive guests.”

“Yes,” the Captain said. Then, after a moment, “Emperor — I’m going to ask you a question. You’ll have a chance to answer this in full at a later time, but I’d like to have some conception as we begin our dialogues. Why is Manatoba V applying for Federation membership?”

“The Manatobans are a peace-loving people,” Seneva said, beginning the speech she had been rehearsing for days. “As we’ve become more technology advanced, we’ve begun to understand the necessity of taking to the stars — of sharing our unique point of view with the interplanetary community. We wish to do this in cooperation with other species, so that we might share together in celebrating our collective art, culture and history. We wish to join hands with the Federation as you engage in peaceful exploration of our

awe-inspiring universe.”

Seneva paused for dramatic effect. She was ecstatic to find herself performing beyond her wildest expectations.

“Captain, the Manatobans have much to offer — and we are eager to learn.”

“Excellent,” the Captain said, nodding. Seneva found her expression unreadable. “Well, unless you have anything further –”

“I do have one question, Captain,” the pointy-eared woman said. “I’d like to ask it at this time.”

The strange, expressionless woman looked at Seneva. “Emperor, in our scans of your planet, we have discovered an area of forest on your western continent surrounded by a protective energy field. What purpose does this energy field serve?”

Seneva was glad she had come prepared with an answer to this inevitable question.

“The Malakaba Forrest is our most sacred region. As such, we have chosen to protect it from environmental damage,” she lied. “The forcefield ensures the forest is used solely for ceremonial functions. Beyond such functions, its pristine beauty remains untouched.”

The Captain nodded. Seneva was glad — the answer appeared to satisfy her.

“Well, then,” the Captain said after a moment, a somewhat deviant glint in her eye. “If there’s nothing further, I say we hit the banquet. I could use some good, stiff synthehol right about now.”

 

Part 5.3

“I must thank you for providing me with the information regarding the two Starfleet officers,” Kalava said, his face filling the viewscreen of Danaka’s communications console aboard the U.S.S. Zapata. He had decided to sneak off before the banquet for a necessary meeting w/ the Palaka’s charismatic leader. The Zapata’s officers had ensured him his communications channel was secure — For his sake, he could only hope this was true.

“Our mission was successful,” Kalava continued. Danaka found his presence commanding even on a tiny computer screen aboard a Starfleet vessel. “Our Palaka army are ushering the officers into their holding cell as we speak. Malata — my head Palaka — is composing their ransom message to Emperor Seneva as we speak. We shall be dependent upon you to see that it gets delivered.”

“I still don’t see why capturing the officers was necessary,” Danaka responded. “If anything happens to them –”

“Danaka, what have I told you about this before? There are times in a revolution when drastic acts — perhaps even violence — become necessary.”

Danaka felt himself becoming uncomfortable as he always did when Kalava began to discuss violent revolution.

“I understand,” he said, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“And you will do as I require of you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kalava smiled. “Then the coming of Kalava the Vanished is at hand. The Palaka shall be liberated.”

“Yes,” Danaka said, echoing this great leader. “The Palaka shall be freed. The time for liberation has come.”

 

Part 5.4

Kalava could almost feel vengeance approaching. He could hear the screams of his tormentors on the horizon, could smell their blood as he vanquished them in glory. He knew in his gut that all the years of waiting would be well worth it when he saw the terror on Seneva’s face as he offered her up for sacrifice.

As he walked through his compound’s subterranean corridors, he found himself thinking of poor, sad Danaka. If the Emperor’s advisor knew how wildly divergent their visions of the future were, he would be more than greatly disturbed.

But for now, his guilt was easily exploited — Kalava couldn’t help but take pleasure in this exploitation, and the knowledge that one day, Danaka would be dead and buried — like all Manatobans. The very thought filled Kalava with overpowering glee.

Soon, Emperor Seneva would be forced to remove the force field, and his years of planning would come to fruition. But first, he had smaller fish to fry — it was time to introduce himself to the Starfleet officers.

He rounded the corridor and moved toward their holding cell. They stood up as he approached, and Kalava examined them carefully. One officer was young-looking. His face spoke of innocence and romanticism — just the sort of thing that made Kalava want to vomit. The other officer had a look of greater maturity. His shoulders were broad, and his eyes were both intensely observant of his surroundings while remaining strangely detached. Neither piqued Kalava’s interest in any way — they were both merely pawns in his master plan.

“We are officer of the United Federation of Planets,” the older officer said, approaching him. “Please tell you why you have brought us here.”

“I know precisely who you are,” Kalava said. “Why else would I have taken you prisoner?”

“So we are prisoners?” the younger officer asked.

“Well, that would explain the bars holding you in place,” Kalava answered. “Not particularly intelligent, are we?”

The younger officers looked wounded. So he was emotionally week — Kalava made sure to catalogue this for further reference.

“Care to tell us who you are?” the older officer asked.

“I am Kalava the Vanished,” he said. “Soon to become Kalava the Vanquished. Your presence here is required for my master plan.”

“Master plan?” the younger officer asked.

“All in good time,” Kalava said, flashing the officer a sly smile. “For now, I have given you all the information you require.”

“My guards will be checking up on you,” he said after a moment. “Do not attempt to escape. Your efforts will fail. I’d be sorry to see you die.”

And with that, he turned away, and began making his way back to the compound’s control room…

 

Part 6.1

Captain Lane Winn gave the collar of her dress uniform a sharp tug as she entered the ship’s lounge aboard the U.S.S. Zapata. She hated the way the dress uniform confined her — at least the standard duty uniforms left room to move, to breathe. In her off hours, she kept her clothing casual — loose fitting white blouses, khakis, and a worn-in pair of Birkenstocks.

She scanned the room around her. Her senior officers — minus Lt. Squawk, who was commanding the bridge — were milling about the room, chatting as they sampled a wide array of appetizers from planets across the Federation.

Emperor Seneva stood at the end of the long serving table, sipping from a tall glass as she talked with Counselor Bonaqua. Something about the Emperor made Winn uneasy. She was too controlled, too prepared — too perfect. She couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to Seneva than met the eye.

What did meet the eye was more than aesthetically pleasing, Winn noticed as she watched her from across the room. Seneva’s delicately regal beauty and Litia Bonaqua’s sparkling luminescence made a particularly enjoyable combination. Perhaps this banquet would be more fun than she had previously thought.

The sound of a door behind her swishing open interrupted the Captain’s libidinal musings. She turned to see Danaka — the Emperor’s advisor — ambling into the lounge. He walked swiftly to Seneva’s side, looking slightly guilty. Strange that the Emperor’s advisor would arrive after the Emperor — As she made her way toward the bar, Winn made sure to mentally catalogue the event for future reference.

“Good evening, Captain,” the young male bartender said as she approached. “How may I help you this evening?”

The Captain leaned into the bar. “Ya got anything particularly stiff?” she asked, winking.

The bartender flashed her a smile of recognition. “At an official function? I’m surprised by you Captain.” He leaned toward her, keeping his voice to a low murmur. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Within moments, he had returned with an orangish-reddish liquid. “Try this,” he said. “I think it’s about what you’re looking for.”

The Captain took a sip of the concoction, savoring the overpowering burning sensation as it traveled downward. It had been far too long since she’d had good, hard alcoholic liquor — it was a full body experience.

Seeing the Captain, Emperor Seneva left the Counselor behind and made her way to the bar, carrying with her a Trill dessert which resembled a strangely-colored crumb cake.

“Captain,” she said. “I am glad to see you have arrived. We have eagerly awaited your presence.”

“I apologize for the delay. I had a few things to take care of.”

Seneva smiled. “Yes, well — I suppose a Captain’s work is never done.”

As if on cue, her communicator chirped.

“Lt. Squawk to Captain Winn.”

“Yes, Lt?” Winn asked, placing her hand to her communicator badge.

“Your presence is required on the bridge immediately. We have discovered a distress call from a Federation shuttle.”

The Captain turned to Seneva. “Looks like duty calls. I apologize for the interruption. Enjoy the banquet — I shall return shortly.”

The Captain exited the lounge and made her way toward the turbolift…

“This is Ensign Peter Kyle of the Federation shuttlecraft PERSISTENCE. This is a distress call. I repeat — this is a distress call. We are crashing on the surface of Manatoba V. Please send assistance.”

Captain Winn listened once more to the garbled distress call,

suspicion building inside her.

“Lt,” she said to the avian security chief. “Have you identified the source of the shuttlecraft Persistence?”

“The Persistence belongs to the U.S.S. Atlantis,” Squawk chirped. “It departed the Atlantis several days ago, carrying two juniors officers for a recreational leave of absence.”

The Atlantis– of all the shuttlecrafts to crash on the surface of the planet where her ship was conducting diplomatic proceedings. She couldn’t help wondering if Starfleet had planned this as a personal insult to her and her crew.

“Why did we not discover this distress call when we first arrived at the planet?”

“The officers appear to have crashed within the energy field,” the large bird answered. “The field must have distorted their distress call.”

So the officers could have been on the planet for hours. If they required any medical attention–

“Lt. — have you been able to discover the cause of their crash?”

“I am currently conducting a comprehensive scan.”

“Captain — I have discovered something,” the large bird twittered after a moment. “A foreign weapons residue near the presumed source of the distress call.”

“Are you saying that the shuttlecraft was shot down by weapons fire?”

“That would appear to be the case.”

Winn felt a flicker of anger. “Summon Emperor Seneva. I want to see her in my Ready Room — immediately.”

 

Part 6.2

Seneva’s head spun as as she paced through her quarters aboard the U.S.S. Zapata. In a split second, what had appeared to be her fully secure political future had quickly erupted into what could quite possibly be the worst disaster she had seen in all her years as Emperor. Danaka had lead her away from the banquet to inform her she had received a high priority communiqué from the planet’s surface. She had watched in horror as Malata — the Palaka’s leader –informed her of the imprisoned Starfleet officers, and of the Palaka’s demand for ransom.

She was livid. If Captain Winn found out about the captured officers, she would know that all Seneva had told her was a lie. Seneva’s carefully crafted plan for ridding Manatoba V of the Palaka menace would be in shambles. Were she to abide by the Palakas’ request, and lower the forcefield, there would be nothing preventing the Palaka from attacking the capital.

She was terrified. How could the Palaka possibly have gotten hold of the technology to shoot down a Federation shuttlecraft? The entire purpose of the forcefield was to keep them confined and imprisoned. Who had provided them with such resources?

She looked at Danaka, who sat placidly watching her, and suddenly found herself enraged by his seeming calmness. How could he just sit there when her entire world was crumbling around her?

“Emperor Seneva,” a strangely bird-like voice suddenly came over the ship’s communications system. “The Captain requires your presence in her ready room immediately.”

Seneva felt her heart jump out of her skin. Why had the Captain summoned her? She couldn’t possibly have discovered– Seneva took a breath, calming herself. There was no way Captain Winn could know about the captured officers unless the Palaka had informed her — was there?….

 

Part 6.3

Captain Lane Winn stood as Emperor Seneva paraded into her Ready Room, her green velvet cloak billowing behind her. It was all the Captain could do not to tear the cloak off her neck and rip it into pieces. The Emperor’s royal act was becoming obnoxious.

“Captain — you summoned me?” Seneva asked, flashing the Captain a self assured smile. Winn wanted to smack the smug look right off her face.

“I did,” Winn said. “Please sit.” She pointed to the small chair that sat in front of her desk. The Emperor slowly lowered herself into the chair, smoothing her gown behind her as she sat.

“Computer,” the Captain said. “Please play the shuttlecraft Persistence distress call.”

Winn watched Seneva’s face as the sound of Ensign Peter Kyle’s plea for help reverberated through the Ready Room. Seneva’s lips tightened as she straightened herself in the chair. Was she nervous?

When the distress call had finished playing, Winn moved behind her desk and hovered over the Emperor inquisitively. She wanted her to be the first to speak.

“My goodness,” Seneva said, squirming slightly. “Starfleet officers — crashed on Manatoba V!? How could that possibly have gone unnoticed?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Sitting in the chair, the Emperor resembled a trapped mouse. She looked as though she would like nothing better than to flee from the Ready Room and run somewhere — anywhere. Well, if that was the way it was going to be, then Winn was going to revel in her role as cat.

“We have reason to believe that the shuttlecraft crashed within the protective energy field,” she said. “We also picked up residue from a weapons system of some sort — any idea who might want to shoot down the shuttlecraft?”

Seneva smiled nervously. “Weapons residue? You must’ve been mistaken. The Manatobans are a peace-loving people.”

“Are you questioning my crew’s competency, Emperor?”

Seneva shook her head. “No, Captain — I would never dream of doing such a thing. — Is there anything I — we — can do to help you locate the missing officers?”

“We’ll need to send a rescue mission inside the forcefield. We would appreciate any assistance you may be able to give us.”

Seneva squirmed. “Inside the forcefield? That is absolutely impossible. The Malakaba Forrest is a protected region! Offworlders are forbidden to enter.”

“Really?” The Captain asked. “So what happened to ‘sharing together in celebrating our collective art, culture and history’?”

Seneva looked cornered. “Captain — the — the Forrest must be protected.”

“And I have a sworn duty to protect those stranded officers! Emperor, why do I get the distinct impression that you’re keeping something from me?”

“Captain,” Seneva said, standing from her chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do not take kindly to being called a liar. I am an emmissary of the Manatoban people — a people dedicated to art, to culture, to the advancement of our species. We protect our natural resources. I can not let your crew enter that forest.”

Seneva turned, ready to walk out the door.

“Emperor!” Winn called after her.

“Yes?” Seneva asked, turning back to face her.

“I presume this means our dialogues have come to a standstill?”

Without answering, Seneva turned and stormed out the door.

After a moment, the Captain tapped her commbadge.

“Lt. Squawk — what is the feasibility of transporting through the Manatoban forcefield?”

“It should be more than possible,” he warbled. “The Manatoban technology is weak in comparison to ours.”

“Very good — have Commander T’Pakay assemble an away team. It’s time to rescue those men.”

 

Part 6.4

Doctor Kina stood in sickbay, watching the newborn baby’s chest rise and fall. She’d aided a human science officer in giving birth to the child earlier that day. As she watched it sleeping, she suddenly found herself understanding a wealth of tired clichés about newborn innocence. The child was almost adorable enough to make her want to be a mother — almost. The pain, bloodshed and nagging responsibility of motherhood didn’t really figure into her future plans. Besides — what good was an Orion Animal Woman without her voluptuous figure?

Still, she did gain a certain satisfaction from having helped bring a new life into the world. In general, being an assistant medical officer aboard the U.S.S. Zapata was a surprisingly satisfying career — working for an Andorian CMO was always a barrel of laughs.

She started toward her office — as diverting as the newborn child was, she had a mountain of busy work to finish before she could hit the sack — something her throbbing head and sore back were beckoning her toward. As she walked through the door of the small cubicle-sized room that held her desk and computer station, the voice of the Vulcan first officer suddenly summoned her through her commbadge.

“Doctor Kina,” T’Pakay said. “Your presence is required on an away mission. Please report to transporter room 4.”

An away mission? This late in the day? Kina turned and exited her office, walking toward the corridor outside sickbay. It looked like that “hitting the sack” thing would have to wait — perhaps there really was no rest for the wicked.

 

Part 6.5

As night fell over Manatoba V, a hushed calm descended upon the subterranean compound. Sitting against the back wall of their tiny holding cell, Tommy and Peter could hear nothing save the snores of a Palaka guard, the sound of dripping water in some underground corridor, and the murmurs of their own quiet conversation. Despite the tense nature of their situation, Tommy found the atmosphere somewhat calming — and being with Peter somehow put Tommy at ease.

“On some level, I always knew Will wasn’t the person I’d convinced myself he was,” Tommy said. He’d been filling his friend in on the events which had proceeded his coming on board the Atlantis. “But then, I think that’s why I chose him. He was safe. I didn’t have to invest my emotions in an actual person. I didn’t have to give up control.”

He paused. “In retrospect, it was never a very adult relationship. But then, I suppose it’s easy to avoid adulthood when you have a mother who specializes in avoiding it.”

Peter smiled. The flickering hallway lantern cast appealing shadows on his already chiseled features — his captivating green eyes, his strong jaw, his Bajoran nose ridges —

“Would you say you’re over him?” Peter asked.

“I’m over missing him. I’m over wanting to be with him. I’m through being angry with him — so I would say yes. I’m over him. But I don’t think I’ve fully adjusted to life as a Starfleet officer. This last month would’ve been hell without you around.”

Peter grimaced. “Tommy — you deserve a much better friend than me.”

Tommy looked Peter in the eye. “Stop it. I don’t care what you think of yourself. You’ve been a better friend to me than you can possibly imagine.”

“Thank you,” Peter said. “I’m not sure I believe you, but thank you.”

“It’s your turn,” Tommy said after a moment of silence. “I spilled my guts. I think you should spill yours.”

“A bit demanding now, aren’t we?” Peter said, smiling coyly.

“I’m trapped in an underground cell on a strange forested planet. I think I’m allowed to be a ‘bit demanding’.”

Peter chuckled. “Fair enough — my last relationship was in graduate school.”

“And?”

“And it ended. There’s not much to tell, really. I was working on my doctorate in social history. I got fascinated by a book I was reading on the Klingon Civil War, stayed at the library until closing time and completely forgot our 3 year anniversary dinner. He decided it was the last straw and left me. I haven’t had the energy to try dating someone since.”

“Guess there must be something about the number three, huh?” Tommy grinned. “Bad luck year for both of us…”

“Tim was a great guy,” Peter said. “Young, energetic, giving — a lot like you. And I could never stop working — stop observing and evaluating him long enough to give him what he needed… what he deserved.”

Tommy grabbed his friend’s hand and looked him in the eye. “Stop beating yourself up. You work because you care about people. You’re a social historian because you loved him — you do what it is you do because you’ve loved each and every meaningful person that’s come into your life. Don’t rob yourself of that.”

Peter shook his head. “But how do I know it’s anything more than my desire to love them — some quest to care about them in a way I’m not capable of doing?”

Tommy placed his hand on Peter’s cheek. “Look at me — I know you care about people. I know you care about me.

— I’ve felt that. I’ve experienced it.”

“Thank you,” Peter said. “For trying to understand me.”

Tommy placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. He almost thought he could see a tear forming as he looked into Peter’s green eyes, and for a moment he was captivated by his friend’s gaze. He could feel the warmth of Peter’s breath moving across the back of his neck, the curve of his shoulder beneath his hand. Before either of them knew what was happening,

they had fallen into a kiss. Their lips wrapped around each other’s, electrically connecting. Tommy pulled Peter’s strong Bajoran frame into meet him, and felt Peter’s delicately muscled chest pressing into him between the folds of their uniforms. He slowly untucked Peter’s grey-blue turtleneck, running his hand along the smooth skin of his stomach.

Quickly, Peter pulled away.

“We shouldn’t –”

Tommy placed his fingers to Peter’s lips.

“Shh,” he said. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He pulled his friend on top of him and fell to the floor…

 

Part 7.1

Captain Lane Winn took a good, long swig of her syntheholic beer as she leaned back in her chair. It wasn’t hard liquor, but it would have to do. She had too many tasks left to complete before retiring to her quarters for the night. Besides, the replicators served nothing but synthehol — and the ship’s lounge was a longer walk than she had the energy to make.

Though she was exhausted, she took comfort in knowing there were others in worse shape than she. She had just finished speaking with Lt. Allen Zinthys, chief security officer aboard the U.S.S. Atlantis. Because of a vicious virus that was ravaging its crew, the Atlantis was currently unable to provide aid in rescuing its marooned officers. In the midst of this crisis, Zinthys had been forced to take command.

If her crew had to spend the majority of their careers playing taxi for Zuriyev’s ship, at least this time it was because the Atlantis crew were incapable of performing the task themselves. Winn smiled. Short of alcohol and a beautiful woman, there was nothing she enjoyed so much as a little healthy competition.

As she stood, making her way toward the Bridge, Winn’s thoughts turned to the away team. It had been several hours since T’Pakay, Doctor Kina and Ensign Gutierrez had transported to the surface. They had arrived at the crash site to discover the wreckage abandoned, with a large trail of footprints leading off into the forest. The away team had taken off down the trail, and it had been some time since their last communication. Perhaps it was time to check in on them.

“Captain Winn to Commander T’Pakay,” she said, tapping her commbadge. There was no answer.

“Captain Winn to Commander T’Pakay.”

Again, she was greeted with silence.

The doors of her ready room swished open, and Winn strode briskly onto the Bridge.

“Lt. Squawk,” she said. “Please attempt to open a communications channel with the away team.”

She watched as the security officer’s talons danced across the tactical console.

“Captain,” he chirupped after a moment. “They are not responding. The energy field would appear to be blocking our signal.”

“Why was this not a problem earlier?”

“The energy field’s effect is unpredictable,” he twittered. “It’s as though its strength ebbs and flows. Though it is primitive technology, I have not been able to fully decipher its patterns.”

Winn was silent for a moment. She couldn’t just leave her officers down there, fully unaware of their status.

“Lt,” she asked. “Are you able to get a transporter lock on the away team?”

“I shall attempt to do so.”

“Captain,” he screeched after a moment, his feathered head bobbing forward. “Our sensors are detecting a large number of life signs within the region guarded by the energy field. Any one of them could be our away team.”

“But Emperor Seneva told us it was an uninhabited region,” Counselor Bonaqua called from her seat inside the command area.

Winn stared forward, her jaw set. “Emperor Seneva told us a lot of things.”

“Captain,” Squawk warbled. “Should we assemble another away team ?”

Winn shook her head. “I can’t send more officers down there without some knowledge of what they’re going to encounter.”

Winn couldn’t afford to just sit and wait. She needed answers — answers Seneva was unwilling to give. Who could possibly tell them all they needed to know? The image of Seneva’s advisor suddenly flashed through her mind. Something about Danaka’s behavior had set him apart from the Emperor. Might he be willing to share information Seneva would not?

“Squawk,” she said. “Open a channel to the surface. I think it’s time we had a little talk with the Emperor’s advisor.”….

 

Part 7.2

Seneva’s head throbbed and her heart pounded as she paced across the floor of her throne room, her spiked heels wearing a hole in the plush carpeting. She was cornered — completely cornered. Her dialogues with the Federation had been an utter failure. She had returned to the Imperial Palace to find a stack of enquiries with regard to the Kanakava Festival. It was past time to begin preparations for the sacred event, and the Malakaba Forrest was still crawling with Palaka. If she didn’t find a solution in time, the planet’s fundamentalist forces would surely stage a coup. And with a failed Kanakava Festival for ammunition, she knew they would have the full support of the people. Her days as Emperor were numbered — and she was out of options.

She had only one chance. She still had time to dispatch an army to attack the Palaka. However, doing so would require the dismantling of the forcefield. The Palaka would be free to leave the Malakaba Forest. And with a year of repressed rage at their disposal, there was no telling what they might be capable of. She could be responsible for starting a full scale war. Not to mention that at least some of the Palaka must be kept alive. If all of them were died, she’d be back at square one — with an annual sacrificial

ceremony and no one to sacrifice.

She ran her hand along her closet’s diamond-studded gold doorknob, admiring its superior craftsmanship. There were times when she thought she loved her riches more than she loved life itself. She was nowhere near ready to give this all up — not without a fight.

“Danaka!” she called out. “Danaka, darling, I need you!”

There was no response.

She collapsed onto her fainting couch in crumpled heap. Where was her most trusted advisor? How dare he abandon her in her desperate hour of need!

Danaka slowly inhaled as he crawled noiselessly through the maintenance shaft that held the Imperial Palace’s central wiring system. Even the slightest noise might set off the Palace alarm — and failure was an option he didn’t have.

With the Zapata’s discovery of the shuttlecraft’s crash, it had become clear that Seneva had no intention of dismantling the forcefield. Danaka could not let Kalava’s plan fall apart. The Palaka had awaited liberation too long to be let down now. He had had no choice but to take matters into his own hands.

He pulled himself around a corner, and finally he found it — the long blue wire that carried power to the forcefield’s generator. He quietly pulled his pliers from his back pocket, slowly chopping the cord in half.

He felt a weight lift as the wire split in two. The Palaka would go free. Finally, he had set right what he had once done so horribly wrong….

 

Part 7.3

Nothing infuriated Ensign Miguel Gutierrez more than an obstinate Vulcan — especially when said Vulcan was his superior officer. The Zapata away team had spent hours following the mysterious trail of footprints which lead away from the shuttlecraft’s crashsite. The trail of prints was large — too large to belong only to the two marooned officers. For all they knew, the missing men could be in serious trouble. But instead of pushing forward, Commander T’Pakay had insisted upon stopping and setting up camp for the night. Apparently, lack of sleep was “illogical.” If there was one thing Gutierrez had learned in his various interactions with Vulcans, it was that “logic” was surprisingly fluid.

Gutierrez was nothing if not persistent. Once he’d set his mind to something, there was no stopping him until he’d achieved his objective. He couldn’t stand the thought of giving up — of sitting idly by when he could and should be getting something done. There were Starfleet officers in danger, and it was this away team’s sworn duty to rescue them. There was no way he was going to fall asleep.

The forest at night was dark, the massive trees blocking out any light the moon and stars might have offered. What light he had came from the flickering fire at their nearby campsite.

The sound of crunching needles behind him startled him. He swiveled, alert — ready to take on whatever might be waiting for him in the pitch blackness of the Manatoban night.

“Relax, Superman,” he heard Doctor Kina say as she approached him. “It’s just me — your run of the mill Animal Woman.”

She paused. “Didja think I was a blood thirsty tiger or something?”

Gutierrez chuckled. “Well — it never hurts to be too prepared.”

He watched as the sarcastic medical officer came and stood beside him, leaning against a nearby tree. Kina was the first Orion female Starfleet officer Gutierrez had either seen or heard of. He found himself mildly curious about her and her history — and he was enjoying her sharp tongue.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “How am I supposed to sleep when we’ve been entrusted with a mission — a sworn duty to uphold?”

“Preach it, Brother!” she said.

“I just don’t see how we can afford to stop until we find those officers.”

“I wish I had your kind of passion.” She smiled. “Now me? The only reason I’m awake is because I heard a scary noise. See, I’m not big on the whole “trapped in the wilderness” thing. And I’m especially not loving that we’ve lost contact with the ship. What can I say — I’m a product of the 24th century.”

Gutierrez chuckled, and they were silent for a moment. He thought he could hear the hooting of a nocturnal bird of prey from somewhere off in the distance.

A sudden and ear-piercing scream broke their reverie.

“What was that!?” Kina said, turning to face him.

“I’m not sure,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Stay here.”

Taking care to make as little sound as possible, he made his way back to the campsite. Entering the clearing, he found T’Pakay slumped on the ground, green blood seeping from her body. He grabbed his tricorder and quickly scanned her — she was dead.

The sound of weapons fire brought him to attention, and he swiveled to see two lavender-skinned beings tearing through the forest, lugging massive rifles. He dropped to the ground as a thick bullet whizzed past his head, silently cursing himself for leaving his phaser with his sleeping gear on the opposite end of the campsite.

He crawled on the ground until he made it to the edge of the clearing. He looked back to see the two Manatobans gaining on him. His heart beat fast. They had little time to escape.

He stood and made a mad dash into the forest, grabbing Kina as he passed her and pulling her along beside him.

“Run,’ he cried as bullets whizzed by on every side.

Gutierrez suddenly tripped on a tree root and went flying, falling flat on his face. He pushed himself off the ground, ignoring the stabbing pain which shot through his ankle. He could see Kina several feet ahead of him. He stumbled along, dragging his foot behind him — fleeing toward safety…

 

Part 7.4

Peter Kyle sat in the Palaka’s holding cell, his bare back pressed against the dirt wall. Tommy lay sleeping in his arms, his head resting on Peter’s chest. Peter slowly ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair, and despite the beauty of their post-coital embrace, found himself feeling familiar pangs of guilt. Once they left this planet — if they left this planet — he would be leaving for a new life on a new ship. He would have what he had spent his life working to achieve. He would be a social historian aboard a Federation starship. There was no turning back; his future had been decided. If he left Manatoba V alive, he would leave the Atlantis. In either case, he’d be leaving Tommy alone. He’d be failing the friend he’d come to care for so deeply.

He ran his hand down Tommy’s back, admiring the smoothness of his skin as it arched downward to meet his buttocks. Feeling his friend’s body rise and fall with each breath he took, he found himself noticing all his usual virtues — innocence, romanticism, youth, vitality. But now he saw something else, something he had failed to see before. Lying naked in the flickering candlelight of the Manatoban dungeon, Peter suddenly saw the depth of Tommy’s strength and maturity. Despite Peter’s self-perceived independence and emotional guardedness, Tommy had been able to support him. He had allowed him to become vulnerable. And yet he had nothing to offer in return, save the purity of this moment together. Was that what Tommy had meant when had said he knew “exactly what he was doing?”

The sound of movement in the outside corridor roused Peter from his reverie. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

He may have nothing to offer Tommy — but the least he could do was get them off this planet alive.

“Guard!” he called, trying to get the night watchman’s attention. “Come here!”

The guard came around the corner, unlocking and entering Tommy and Peter’s cell. The sight of the two nude men embracing had precisely the desired effect. Taking advantage of the Palaka’s momentary shock and loss of concentration, Peter jumped on him, delivering one fierce blow to the head. The guard slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Tommy, having awakened, looked around with bleary-eyed confusion.

Peter grabbed a crumpled uniform and threw it to his friend.

“Put your clothes on,” he said. “We’re going home.”

 

Part 8.1

“We have succeeded,” Kalava cried gleefully, twirling across the floor of the compound’s control room. “At last — the day has arrived.”

“Do you know what this means, Malata?” he asked, turning toward the Palaka’s leader. “The forcefield is gone!”

He knew exactly what it meant, Malata thought as he watched Kalava’s face contort in fits of virtual ecstasy. He had been awaiting freedom since the day of his creation. He had lead the Palaka through their first rebellion. He almost felt as though his intelligence had been insulted.

“Of course, master,” he said. “The day of liberation has come.”

Initially, Malata had been more than willing to cede leadership of the Palaka to Kalava. Upon their imprisonment in the Malakaba Forest, Kalava had brought to them ideas and access to technical resources surpassing anything they had previously known. He had the passion and the vision to see them toward freedom. But increasingly, Malata had perceived in Kalava a mania that frightened him. At times, he almost doubted Kalava’s respect of the Palaka’s experience. The Palaka’s ultimate goal was freedom — he couldn’t help wondering if Kalava had something else in mind.

However, today was not a day to question his leader’s motivations. Today was a day for celebration. Kalava the Vanished had lead them toward freedom.

“Have you gathered together our forces?” Kalava asked him. “It is time for them to got to work.”

“The Palaka are prepared,” Malata answered. “They await your command.”

“Very well . These are my orders. Tell them to descend upon the capital. Bring death and destruction to their Manatoban oppressors. Sacrifice them as they intended to sacrifice you. Leave no stone unturned.”

Kalava turned to face Malata, fires of righteous rage burning in his eyes and his twisted grin. “Give them this order,” he said. “Then meet me at the central sacrifice site.”

“Yes, master,” he said. “Your orders shall be carried out.

Kalava smiled. “Good — now go! We are losing time.”

Malata exited the control room, making his way to the Palaka forces gathered outside the compound. It had been a year since they had seen the world outside the Malakaba Forrest. Finally, they would go free — not only from their imprisonment within the forrest, but from their lifetime of imprisonment at the hands of the Manatoban people. Malata felt anticipation building within him. There were times when he never though he would live to see this day…

 

Part 8.2

The Palaka descended upon the Manatoban capital with all the rage and frustration borne by their years of captivity. Unsuspecting Manatobans, from shopkeepers to government officials, were dragged from their homes and massacred. Buildings were lit on fire. The city erupted like a giant powder keg, as Palaka fought Manatobans and Manatobans fought back. From somewhere within the chaos, a child’s ear-piercing cry rose like a phoenix…

From within the walls of the Imperial Palace, Danaka watched with horror as the Palaka army overtook the city. It was an army he had created, an army born to satiate the religious blood-thirst of the Manatoban people. Now, that same army flew toward freedom like a swarm of locusts, leaving death and tragedy in their wake. Once again, Danaka was responsible for the destruction of millions of lives. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have not seen the Palaka’s potential to commit such violent acts?

There had to be some way to stop this massacre — some way to secure a lasting peace for both the Manatoban people and his Palaka creations. He couldn’t live any longer with the guilt of having perpetuated this cycle of violence.

His mind flashed to the computer in his quarters — to the unanswered communiqué from Captain Lane Winn. Perhaps it was not yet too late. Perhaps he could still salvage the future of his planet…

 

Part 8.3

“How dare you presume you could escape!” Kalava cried, moving theatrically about the floor of the subterranean control room. He was annoyed. Today was a day for boundless glee, and he was forced to deal with the nuisance caused by the two captured Starfleet officers.

Ensigns Tommy Spark and Peter Kyle sat in a corner of the room, tied to a metal pole with an old-fashioned rope. They had been on their way to the compound’s exit when they were intercepted by a Palaka guard and dragged to Kalava’s control room.

“You must understand,” Kalava said. “It’s nothing personal. You were merely pawns in a greater plan. You were useful to me. Now, your usefulness has expired. But if I free you, there’s no telling what you may do to foil my years of tireless work!”

“What sort of tireless work?” Tommy asked, wriggling in the ropes that confined him. “Who are you?”

“I am Kalava the Vanished.” he said, flashing the boy a cheshire-cat

grin. “You may or may not be aware that our people have a long history of ritual sacrifice — ”

“I did come across some vague mention of it,” Peter Kyle said. “In my readings on your people. The Federation’s database on Manatoba V is very limited.”

“Yes,” Kalava said. “Making it easy for Emperor Seneva to trick your Federation into thinking the Manatobans are a peaceful people — when really, we are a vile race — a disgusting blot upon the radar of history!”

“Emperor Seneva?” Tommy questioned.

Kalava snarled. “Seneva is our planet’s ruler. A deceptive, treacherous tramp!”

Kalava paced the floor of the control room, his righteous indignation mounting.

“Each year, at our sacred Kanakava New Year’s festival, a Manatoban is offered up for ritual sacrifice unto our Gods. It is a horrendous, bloody ritual. Traditionally, a civilian — someone deeply committed to our faith — has stepped forward to be sacrificed. However, for years the numbers of the faithful have been declining. Our people are just as addicted as ever to the carnal satisfaction of murdering their own — but no one believes in our gods deeply enough to volunteer to be sacrificed. Emperor Seneva’s first Kanakava Festival was the first year no volunteers stepped forward. Not even members of our most deeply fundamentalist factions were willing to turn themselves over — hypocritical fiends!”

He paused, anger rising as he reviewed the duplicity which had lead to his eternal exile. “Seneva was eager to be Emperor — eager to stay in power. If she delivered a Kanakava festival without a ritual sacrifice, she knew for certain the people would overthrow her. I was Seneva’s aide — one of her most trusted advisors. She tricked me into being the sacrificial volunteer. I was told to meet her early in the Malakaba Forrest the morning of the festival. When I arrived, I was held down and tied to the sacrificial platform. As no volunteers had come forward, she intended to murder me.

“But I escaped. In front of all those gathered for the Festival, I miraculously broke loose from my bindings and ran off into the forest. The Emperor’s guards were never able to find me. I have remained in hiding since — my whereabouts a mystery to the Manatoban people.”

“So you — vanished?” Tommy asked.

“Yes,” Kalava replied. “But not unscathed. The sacrificial rite is a vicious, bloody proceeding. We don’t just kill the person being sacrificed. We cut them apart, body part by body part — offering each piece to the Gods as we chop it off the whole. We begin at the very center.”

He looked downward. Venomous rage oozed from every pore of his being. “I escaped being sacrificed — but I was not able to escape before the sacrificial ceremony began. For years, I have been but half a man.”

He stared at the Starfleet officers. His lower lip shook, quaking with bitter wrath. “I was castrated!”

“I’m sorry,” Peter Kyle said. “Far too often, solitary individuals are forced to bear the brunt of their society’s transgressions–”

“How dare you!” Kalava cried, lashing out at the officer’s misguided attempt at sympathy. “How dare you pretend to know my pain!?”

“Look at me,” Kalava whimpered after a moment. “Today is a day for rejoicing — and I am dwelling upon the past. Even as we speak, my army is descending upon the capital — massacring the Manatoban citizens. And within minutes, it will be my turn to kill. I shall transport Seneva to the central sacrifice site — the location where our people hold their yearly ritual. I will watch as she experiences the pain she forced me to experience. I will rip her apart — limb for limb!”

“But that will not be enough. No — the Manatoban people deserve a far worse fate.” Kalava felt himself quivering with anticipation. It was time to reveal his greatest secret — a secret he had been unable to reveal even to the Palaka. The Starfleet officers — soon to be dead — were the perfect audience.

He moved across the control room and grabbed the explosive device from his safe below the central control panel.

“I bought this,” he said, “From a ship of Ferengi traders. I was aided in the purchase by my informant within the Imperial Palace.”

Kalava laughed. “Poor fellow — he had not idea what he was helping to do.”

He raised the explosive device, allowing the officers to examine it. “The Manatobans are an unredeemable people. Each and every one of them must be made to pay for their transgressions. This bomb will explode with enough force to destroy all life upon our planet.”

“You do realize,” Peter Kyle said. “You’ll be killed as well.”

“What makes you think, young man, that I’m any more redeemable than any other Manatoban?”

Kalava smiled wickedly. “I know exactly who I am. I am as evil and destructive as every other being on this sorry planet — and I like it that way!”

Kalava pressed the large button which activated the explosive device. “Within 40 minutes, this planet will be history. “Which means I’d better be going. I have a rendezvous at the central sacrifice site. I’d hate to run out of time to destroy Seneva.”

He moved to the central control panel, getting a sensor lock on the Imperial Palace’s throne room., and entering the commands which would transport Seneva to the sacrifice site. Because of the primitiveness of Manatoban transporter technology, it would be 10 minutes before she arrived — enough time for him to travel to the site.

“It’s been lovely chatting with you, gentlemen,” he said as he moved out the door. “Do me a favor — enjoy your deaths.”

He left the officers behind and headed toward the compound’s exit…

 

Part 8.4

Seneva whirled desperately around her throne room, clutching at whatever possessions she could get her hands on and flinging them into her leather satchel. Perhaps her time as Emperor had come to an end — but she was determined to get off this planet alive, with whatever riches she could carry. For years, she had kept an emergency shuttlecraft stowed in the depths of the Imperial Palace, should she be forced to escape from just such a situation.

She grabbed her diamond-studded mirror, again admiring it as she threw it into her satchel. Whatever she could take would aid her in attaining a new and secure existence on another world.

As she scurried about the room, she suddenly felt a strange but familiar sensation overtake her body… She was being transported.

 

Part 9.1

“So, just to clarify — these ritual sacrifices occur annually?”

Danaka watched as Captain Lane Winn threaded her way around the desk in her Ready Room, clutching a pink-colored cocktail. He suddenly found himself feeling great respect and admiration for the Federation captain. However, judging by his experiences with both Seneva and Kalava, he was clearly a poor judge of character.

“Yes, Captain,” he answered. He had been filling her in on the complete story of Manatoba V — in hopes that she might be able to offer some aid in curing their situation. “The ceremony of ritual sacrifice has been of utmost importance to Manatoban religious tradition. The people have come to expect it — and the religious fundamentalists have played upon this expectation in the achievement of their political aspirations. Seneva’s rule was challenged from day one. In order to stay in power, she had to ensure the continuation of the sacrifice tradition. Yet there was no one willing to be sacrificed.”

Danaka continued, telling the Captain the story of Kalava the Vanished.

“The incident with Kalava should have been enough for me to realize the depth of Seneva’s hunger for power. But I was still devoted to her government — still devoted to her. Several years passed between Kalava’s disappearance, and the creation of the Palaka. Each year, we were able to find someone to sacrifice in the nick of time. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that a more permanent solution was required.”

Winn stopped, leaning against the side of her desk. “So you found one?”

Danaka nodded. “I had some training in genetic engineering. Using my knowledge, I was able to give birth to the Palaka — a race of Manatobans whose sole purpose was to be sacrificed. Having a vast pool of sacrificial beings to call upon, we would be able to ensure Seneva’s rule far into the future.

“But as you know, we are not the most technologically advanced people. I was unable to prevent the Palaka from being born with intelligence — the desire for freedom.”

“And so they rebelled?”

“Yes. For several years, our plan seemed to have succeeded. But with each passing year, and with each Palaka sacrificed, the other Palaka became increasingly restless. Finally, they mounted an insurrection — but Emperor Seneva’s forces overpowered them. Seneva was forced to place them inside the Malaka Forrest — our most sacred region — surrounded by a protective energy field.”

Winn nodded. “No wonder she was so determined to keep us out of that forest — she wanted to keep their existence a secret.”

“Exactly,” Danaka said. “With this year’s Kanakava Festival fast approaching, Seneva once again faced the dilemma of having no one to sacrifice. And this time, the Malakaba forrest wasn’t even available for the festival. She needed a solution — quickly.”

“So she approached the Federation?”

“Precisely. She felt that with Federation technology at her disposal, she would have some way of taking care of the Palaka ‘menace’.”

Winn shook her head. “I knew I didn’t trust that woman. There was just something about her–”

“Her thirst for power knows no limits, Captain. Unfortunately, I didn’t see that until it was far too late. It took creating the Palaka — experiencing their pain — to show me the truth. All they wanted was to be free. As their creator, their life-bringer — how could I not sympathize with that? Because of my misplaced admiration for Seneva, I was responsible for bringing an enslaved race into the world.

“I realized quickly that I had to do something to help them. I began journeying into the Malakaba forest in secret — providing aid to he Palaka in their quest for freedom. It was then I discovered that Kalava the Vanished lived. He had come forth as a leader of the Palaka. At first, I was mesmerized by his passion, his charisma. But I suppose there was always something there that bothered me — a buried anger I refused to acknowledge.”

Winn frowned as Danaka told her of Kalava’s capture of the Starfleet officers, and of the role he himself had played in seeing it happen.

“Now, I fear my denial has once again brought death and destruction to my people. The Palaka have descended upon the capital, at Kalava’s command. Full-scale war has erupted. Thousands of people are dying as we speak. I fear Kalava’s rage. I am afraid of what he may be capable of.

“Captain, I can no longer live with the guilt of having caused so much pain for so many people. All I have ever desired is peace

— for the Palaka, and for all of Manatoba V. I have failed miserably in that goal.”

Danaka pushed back tears as he made his vital request. “Captain, I beg of you — any help you and your crew may be able to give in ending this cycle of violence–”

Winn looked at him, her expression unreadable.

“I have no doubt your intentions are pure, Danaka. However, we humans have a saying —

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

She moved behind her desk, placing her hand on her chair and looking him directly in the eye. “You yourself admit the plethora of mistakes you have made. In addition, the Federation is governed by our Prime Directive of non interference. I’m afraid Manatoba V will have to solve its problems on its own.”

Danaka felt his hope sinking. He had felt surely there was something, anything the Captain could do–

“However,” she said, after a moment. “Against my better judgment, I like you. And there may be some way in which we can be of assistance. My primary objective is to rescue those stranded crew members — as well as the away team I sent out in search of them. Since it seems clear that the officers are in the custody of this “Kalava” — perhaps there is a way we can rescue them, as well as neutralizing any threat he poses either to them — or to your people.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Danaka said, feeling a slight weight lift. Perhaps it was not too late–

“Lt. Squawk,” Captain Winn said, tapping her commbadge. “Please report to my Ready Room immediately.”

Within moments, the doors of the Ready Roomy swished open as the large bird waddled off the bridge.

“You called?” he chirped.

“Yes,” the Captain said. “Danaka requires our assistance — and it’s high time we rescue those men. I believe, with your help, there is a way we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Squawk’s head jutted forward as he emoted a harsh sound of disapproval.

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” she said. “Bad choice of words.”

 

Part 9.2

Peter Kyle watched with mounting dread as the timer on Kalava’s bomb slowly ticked away. They were running out of time —

to save both Manatoba V and themselves.

“Tommy,” he said, peering around the side of the metal pole. “I want to apologize for bringing you here–”

“Shh,” Tommy said, as he moved up and down against the side of the pole. “I think I’ve almost got this–”

Without warning, the rope holding them in place slumped to the ground. They were free.

“Let’s go!” Tommy said, coming around to where Peter stood. “We don’t have any time to lose.”

Peter stared at him, his mouth agape. “How did you–”

Tommy smiled. “Don’t you ever read adventure stories? No villain does a decent job tying the heroes up in the climactic scene. They’re too consumed by their own emotions.”

He pointed to the metal pole. “There was a sharp edge — enough to cut the ropes.”

Peter stumbled forward as Tommy suddenly grabbed him, pulling him toward the door. “Now come on — we’re running out of time!”

“You are amazing, Thomas Spark,” Peter said as they fled the control room, grabbing the bomb as they left. “Utterly amazing.”

Seneva looked around, disoriented, as the transporter released her. She stood in a clearing, surrounded by towering conifers. She recognized the place immediately — she was in the Malakaba Forrest, at the central sacrifice site. Who had brought her here — and why?

“Welcome, Emperor,” a voice behind her said. “We thought you’d never arrive.”

She swirled to see the figure of a Manatoban male, standing before her, his all too familiar face twisted in a manic grin. She felt a chill pass through her, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. It couldn’t possibly be–

“Kalava?” she said. “Is it really you?”

“What’s the matter, Seneva?” he snarled. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

She felt her terror mounting. “And the captured Starfleet officers — the attack on the capital– you were behind all of this?”

Kalava flashed her a wickedly sardonic grin. “Have you enjoyed my handiwork, Emperor?”

Seneva felt her heart beating wildly as he circled her, moving in for the kill.

“For years, I have wandered these forests, a partial man — an exile in my own land. I have been victim to the most vicious treachery imaginable. I have eagerly awaited the day when I could see those who betrayed me not only brought to justice — but utterly, completely destroyed!”

Seneva’s stomach somersaulted. She watched with horror as the sacrificial slab materialized before her.

“Years ago, you attempted to sacrifice me. Now, Seneva, it is your turn to be sacrificed!”

“No!” she cried, in desperation. “You can’t do this to me. Think of all we once meant to each other. You were my aide, my most trusted advisor. Think of all I did for you!”

“You betrayed me! You are a vile, vicious woman and we — We are a vile, vicious people. And now, it is my turn to be vicious. Your day of atonement has come. Seneva, you shall pay for your crimes against me.”

Kalava’s face contorted, overtaken by fits of ecstatic rage. “Malata — prepare her to be sacrificed!”

Seneva screamed as the Palaka leader grabbed her…

 

Part 9.3

Lieutenant Squawk soared through the sky above Manatoba V, savoring the feel of the wind moving beneath his wings, lifting him in the air. It had been far too long since he’d had a chance to fly. Though the holodeck offered opportunities to stretch his wings, the sensation it offered paled in comparison to being in a real sky above of an actual planet.

He had been ordered to search for signs of life, for both the captured officers and the missing away team. He swooped around, using his predatory vision to scan through the tops of the Manatoban trees.

“Look out!” Peter cried, watching as Tommy piloted the Manatoban hovercraft, threading in and out between the towering trees. They had found the abandoned transportation device sitting near the entrance of the subterranean compound.

“I’m doing the best I can!” Tommy called. “You’re the trained pilot — you should be driving this thing.”

“You know as much about it as I do,” Peter said. “Besides — I’m the one who crashed our shuttlecraft.”

Tommy pulled the hovercraft around a sharp turn, and they suddenly found themselves entering a large clearing. Kalava stood in the center, watching as a Palaka guard overpowered a lavishly dressed female.

“We found him!” Tommy said, pulling the hovercraft to a full stop. “Time to deactivate this bomb.”

Ensign Gutierrez and Doctor Kina traipsed through the Manatoban Forest, dragging their feet behind them. After fleeing from their Manatoban attacker, they had spent the night moving from place to place, ready to defend themselves should another native discover them. They had both lost their commbadges in the struggle. If communication with the Zapata was now possible, they had no way of knowing it.

They weren’t even close to finding the marooned officers, Gutierrez realized, and they were already exhausted. If only that infernal Vulcan hadn’t forced them to stop for the night, he thought, then quickly stopped himself. It was inappropriate to speak badly of the dead.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices in a nearby clearing. He motioned for Kina to keep quiet, and moved to see what was transpiring.

“How dare you escape!” a booming voice cried out. He looked to see a menacing lavender skinned male standing before two men in Starfleet uniform, who he took to be the missing officers. Behind the officers, another lavender skinned male — apparently lavender was the common Manatoban pigmentation — held a lavender female at bay. Dressed in elegant fabrics, she appeared to be royalty of some sort.

Gutierrez watched as the man holding the royally dressed female slowly lifted a rifle, pointing it directly toward the medical officer — a tall and attractively spunky-looking young man. He pulled back the trigger, ready to fire.

The officer had no idea the rifle existed — let alone that it was pointed in his direction. Gutierrez realized he had little time. He dove out of the clearing, on a path to collide with the officer — determined to save his life.

 

Part 9.4

“How dare you escape!” Kalava cried, visibly livid.

The atmosphere was tense. Tommy glanced at the bomb in his hand — 2 minutes until detonation. He tried to ignore his spinning head and focus on the situation at hand. The fate of an entire planet rested in his hands. It was the kind of intense Starfleet moment he’d fantasized about for years. Yet somehow, it suddenly seemed surreal. He stared forward, mesmerized by Kalava’s cheshire-esque grin, trying to formulate the words he needed to say. He needed a solution — some way to prevent the bomb from detonating.

Without warning, a uniformed figure careened out of the forest, knocking Tommy off his feet. He heard the harsh sounds of a rifle being fired, and feared that the bomb might be going off. He looked up to see — and feel — a stunningly attractive Latino male ensign holding him to the ground.

The Ensign stood up, brushed himself off, and extended a hand to Tommy.

Reigning in his libido, Tommy grasped his hand and stood.

“Ensign Miguel Gutierrez,” the man said. “Of the U.S.S. Zapata.”

The Zapata — that was the same ship which had carried Tommy to the Atlantis from Earth. What a strange coincidence.

“Sorry about that,” Gutierrez said.

“You were about be shot.”

The Palaka leader stood nearby, his rifle still raised, as he held fast to the woman who was apparently Emperor Seneva. Tommy turned to see Peter, with a rifle they had found on their way out of the compound, aimed directly at the Palaka.

“Malata!” Kalava cried. “Don’t just stand there — I don’t care about his rifle. Shoot him!”

Tommy glanced at Malata, and for the first time, Tommy noticed his strangely disapproving stare. Could it be the Palaka were not fully content with Kalava’s leadership?

Tommy glanced at the bomb – a minute and a half.

“Kalava,” he said. “It is too late. You are no longer in control of the situation. Deactivate the explosive device!”

Malata narrowed his eyes. “What explosive device?”

Tommy lifted the bomb in the air, holding it where the Palaka could see.

“This explosive device. This bomb will explode with enough power to destroy this entire planet. Kalava purchased it, and programmed it to detonate. We have very little time.”

“Help us,” Tommy said, staring Malata directly in the eye. “Make him give us the deactivation code.”

Malata looked angrily toward his leader. “Kalava! Is this true?”

Kalava’s wild grin had morphed into a look of virtual terror — his neatly formulated plan was collapsing around him. “Of course not,” he cried. “You aren’t going to believe them over me

– your entrusted leader? After everything I’ve done for you — for all the Palaka!”

“It’s true,” Tommy said, holding the bomb directly in front of Malata. “See for yourself.”

Malata glanced from Kalava to Peter — his gaze resting once again on Kalava with a look of pure distrust and disgust. He cocked his rifle.

“No!” Kalava whined. “You can’t do this! I haven’t even had a chance to sacrifice Seneva!”

Kalava glanced at Peter, coveting Peter’s weapon. In desperation, he dove toward him — and crumpled to the ground — killed by Malata’s rifle fire.

The Palaka stared forward with mingled regret and release. “He promised us freedom,” Malata said. “And instead he tried to kill us all.”

“He may still have the last laugh, Tommy said. “The bomb still hasn’t been deactivated. And without Kalava, we have no hope of discovering the code–”

Tommy was interrupted by a loud screeching from above. He looked up to see an extremely large bird, wearing a Starfleet uniform, descending through the trees.

The bird alighted gracefully beside them.

“Lt. Squawk,” Gutierrez called.

“I have been sent,” he warbled. “To rescue all of you.”

“There are only 10 seconds left before this explosive device detonates,” Tommy said, approaching the winged creature. “It has enough force to destroy the entire planet.”

The bird tapped his comm badge. “Lt. Squawk to Captain Winn.”

After a brief exchange between the bird and his captain, the bomb dematerialized — transported off the planet to detonate in space, at a safe range from any living being.

Tommy felt his body untighten — they had succeeded.

“Well,” Gutierrez said. “I think it’s about time we got ourselves off this Godforsaken planet.”

“I think that would be more accurately stated as Gods-forsaken.” Malata said. “Those of you who have the ability to leave should be grateful. This will not be a pleasant planet to live on in the months ahead.”

“You weren’t thinking of leaving without me, were you?” a voice called from the edge of the clearing.

Tommy turned to see another Starfleet officer — an Orion female — sauntering out of the forest. She looked around her, surveying the chaos. “Shame — looks like I missed all the fun.”

“Are we all here now–” Squawk chirruped, bobbing his head. “Commander T’Pakay–”

“Was killed,” Gutierrez said.

Squawk cocked his head, quizzically, then tapped his comm badge. “Squawk to Captain Winn. 5 to beam up.”

As the transporter enveloped them, it suddenly occurred to Tommy that someone had been absent from the clearing as they departed. In the midst of the chaos, Seneva had disappeared.

 

Part 10.1

The circle of candles cast a calming glow upon Peter Kyle’s temporary quarters aboard the U.S.S. Zapata. Though nowhere near as breathtaking as the Malakaba Forest, the setting was tranquil. And in light of their recent experience, Tommy was more than happy they’d relocated their Bajoran naming ritual to a more stable location.

He watched as Peter lit a candle, and his thoughts flashed to the last time he and his friend had been alone together by candlelight, in the Manatoban prison. Somehow, sharing a ritual such as this seemed equally intimate to that shared embrace.

“This represents my mother,” Peter said. “A powerful freedom fighter — a passionate woman. Antana — the path — her family name. My family name. Gienah — peace — her given name.”

He lifted the candle, letting its beacons of light cascade down the walls of the room.

“My mother — Antana Gienah — the path of peace.”

Tommy watched, fascinated, as Peter lowered the candle, then lighted another.

“This,” he said. “Represents me. The light of my ancestors guides my future. My mother’s voice speaks to me upon my current path.

He paused for a moment, letting the room’s silence speak for him.

“I honor this matriarchal line. Antana — the path — my family name. Kordel — justice — my newly given name.”

Again, he lifted the candle high above him.

“I — Antana Kordel — the path of justice.”

He lowered the candle, placing it inside the circle with the others.

“Ehbara per ziv — Become and live.”

Ensign Antana Kordel and Ensign Tommy Spark clutched hands. Tommy felt their heat transferring between them.

They sat together, listening — voicing their wordless prayer to the prophets.

 

Part 10.2

“Computer — one Vodka Stinger.”

Captain Lane Winn snatched the cocktail as it materialized beneath the replicator. She was proud. Her crew had successfully completed their mission. They had rescued two captured Starfleet officers, and prevented an unprepared world from joining the United Federation of Planets. Though the loss of T’Pakay would be keenly felt, Winn was confident her crew had proven their abilities. She made a mental note to keep Lt. Squawk in mind for a promotion.

Unfortunately, the Zapata would be forced to rendezvous with the Atlantis once more before continuing on to its next assignment. One of the two rescued officers would be returning, along with two officers from the Zapata — Ensign Gutierrez and Dr. Kina — who, much to Winn’s chagrin, had been reassigned to fill vacancies on Zuriyev’s overrated vessel. The second rescued officer would remain on board the Zapata, which would carry him to his assignment aboard the newly commissioned U.S.S. Cervantes.

“Danaka, I’d like to thank you,” Winn said, addressing the man who sat in the chair facing her Ready Room’s desk. “Our rescue mission might have failed were it not for your help.”

“And thank you, Captain,” the Manatoban said. “For doing what you could to stop Kalava.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Winn said, settling into her chair and taking a long and satisfying swig of her beverage. “So what happens to Manatoba V now?”

“This will be a difficult time of rebuilding for our people,” he said. “The cities are in shambles. Many people — including a great number of fundamentalist leaders — perished in the Palaka’s massacre. The people are eager for leadership — for someone to step in and guide them into the the future. Malata — the head Palaka — and I plan to work together to instill a government that is equitable and humane toward all Manatobans — including the Palaka. We will be forced to leave behind some old traditions — but we hope these will be superceded by the fire of a new vision.”

“I trust you will be a prophetic voice in the future of your planet,” Winn said.

“I can only hope so. In the past, I have failed miserably in just such an endeavor.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I have no doubt you’ve learned from your mistakes.”

“Thank you, Captain. I await the day when Manatoba V may truly be stable enough to join your Federation.”

His comment carried Winn’s thoughts to the diplomatic dialogues — suddenly, she found herself curious about the fate of her velvet-cloaked nemesis.

“And what of Emperor Seneva?”

“She has disappeared. For the sake of our people, she has been presumed dead.”

Winn smiled knowingly. “For your sake, I can only hope that is true.”

Seneva leaned back into her chair as she entered her desired coordinates into the shuttlecraft’s control panel. It had been a narrow escape. Taking advantage of the distraction the Starfleet officers provided, she had managed to escape undetected before Kalava could harm her, making her way back to the Imperial Palace and her emergency shuttlecraft.

Now, she was a woman with a mission. She would weasel her way back into power, no matter what it took. There was a universe of possibilities out there, waiting for her to grab them. She had survived — and she was determined to rise again. She ran her hand across her green velvet cloak. Her clothing was all she had left from her glorious reign as Emperor of Manatoba V. She was penniless — thrown out into the Universe with only a primitive shuttlecraft. She vowed to once again have access to such glorious material wealth. She had not done this to herself. It had been done to her. Kalava was dead. There was nothing she could do to punish him for destroying her. But there were others–

None of this would’ve happened if Captain Lane Winn had trusted her, if she hadn’t insisted upon sending her away team into the Malakaba Forest. Manatoba V could’ve completed their dialogues with the Federation, and Seneva would’ve had her hands on their technology just in time to squash the Palaka. A treacherous smile spread across Seneva’s face as she pictured Lane Winn. This was the Captain’s fault — and she would make her pay.

“I’ll be back,” Seneva cried, as the shuttlecraft engaged and shot forward.

 

Part 10.3

Peter stood inside the transporter room of the U.S.S. Zapata. He had spent his entire life searching for a cultural connection, to define himself as something more than Peter Kyle, son of David Kyle, Starfleet scientist. Throughout his life, all he truly longed for was to truly connect with the living beings who so fascinated him. Now he had become Antana Kordel , the path of justice — and in front of him stood the truest friend he had ever known.

It was time to say goodbye.

He drew Tommy into him and held him tightly, trying to memorize every curve of his body. He placed his hand on the small of Tommy’s back. He could feel his heart beat through the folds of their uniforms.

The words fell from his lips effortlessly, unexpectedly — and for the first time in his life, he said them truthfully.

“I love you.”

He could feel Tommy pull himself closer. “I love you too.”

Tommy pulled away, squeezing Peter’s hand as he moved to the transporter pad.

The transporter chief’s fingers danced across the console.

Peter and Tommy’s eyes met, silently sharing their last moment together. Peter could feel himself pushing back tears. It had been years since he’d been able to cry.

Peter watched as Tommy disappeared in a shimmer of light.