“Koon-ut-kal-if-fee,”M’Benga said. “Marriage or challenge.”
“Yes,” T’Nel confirmed. She said nothing for a moment, then turned so that she faced Pennington and M’Benga. “You understand that these are not matters normally discussed with outworlders, but Sobon has spoken for your trustworthiness.”
“I’m her doctor,” M’Benga said. “I want to help her, any way that I can. To do that, I need to understand things that I admit are beyond my expertise.”
Resuming their walk, T’Nel said, “That is logical. During the challenge, when they were in physical contact, T’Prynn was winning the combat. He was near death, at her hand, when Sten initiated the meld. He knew he was about to die, and in his last moments of life, he forced his katrainto her mind. The meld was interrupted when T’Prynn killed him. Since that day, she has been val’reth.”
“My God.” Pennington shook his head as he tried to imagine what T’Nel was describing.
T’Nel said, “In the years following the meld, T’Prynn was able to erect and maintain mental shields to combat Sten’s katra,but keeping those in place required much effort. Now it appears that those barriers have failed, and she and Sten are once more locked in mortal combat. Essentially, they are struggling for control of her mind. She attempted to find a cure for her condition, of course, but none was to be found. Finally, she chose to leave Vulcan, for reasons that remain known only to her. I have not seen her since that time.”
“Fifty years of fighting off that bastard,” Pennington said, feeling overwhelmed by what he had just heard. What must it be like, he wondered, trying to live with the essence of another person living inside one’s own mind, dueling with whatever it was that defined one as an individual? The very notion was too much to take in, at least not all at once.
His eyes shifting to the dozen or so vre-katrascattered among the books and other items on the shelves of Sobon’s study, he asked, “T’Nel, this ritual Sobon is trying, do you think it can work?”
“I admit that I am unfamiliar with the Dashaya-Ni’Var,” T’Nel replied. “It comes from a time before Surak, and there are no accounts of its practice in modern times. Most adepts will not even acknowledge its existence. I suspect that only a small number of healers and adepts possess the mental skill required to carry out the ritual, and even fewer would be willing to risk such an undertaking. Fortunately, Sobon is one such individual.”
“What will happen if Sobon isn’t successful?” M’Benga asked.
Once more, T’Nel paused, and Pennington noted the slight shift in her otherwise passive expression. There was something new just beneath the surface of her composed veneer. Resignation, perhaps? Pennington could not be sure.
“T’Prynn has spent many years battling Sten. She has never yielded. She never will yield. If the Dashaya-Ni’Varproves unsuccessful, I believe T’Prynn will continue the fight within her mind so long as she is able.”
She did not say it, but Pennington knew what came next. T’Prynn would never submit to Sten. She would die for that choice, and she would die fighting, trapped within the inescapable confines of her own mind.
35
“Ensign Ribiero, please describe to the court your primary duties.”
From where he sat at the table he shared with Rana Desai, Commodore Reyes watched as Captain Sereb, once again in full theatrical mode, circled the small dais on which sat Ensign Gisela Ribiero, one of Starbase 47’s junior communications officers. Though she faced away from him and toward Admiral Moratino and the other board members, Reyes still could see the nervousness and uncertainty wracking the young ensign’s body. He doubted that her short career in Starfleet had been sufficient to prepare Ribiero for anything as disconcerting as the court-martial of her commanding officer.
Trial by fire, kid. I’m sorry about that.
“I’m assigned to the station’s primary communications control center,” she replied, hints of her native Portuguese still evident as she spoke. “We handle the receipt of all incoming communications, both real-time and prerecorded.”
Behind her, as he paced a circuit around the dais, Sereb asked, “And as part of your duties, are you not often tasked with the screening of all communications to ensure that they do not violate station security protocols?”
Ribiero nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“In particular, are you tasked with ensuring that incoming and outgoing civilian communications traffic complies with these security protocols?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
Leaning to his right so that he could speak almost directly into Desai’s left ear, Reyes whispered, “He loves the buildup, doesn’t he?”
Desai’s only response was a muted grunt, her gaze never wavering from the proceedings unfolding before her.
It had gone this way for the past two days, with Sereb calling witnesses and starting out with the mundane, matter-of-fact questions to lay groundwork for the line of questioning he actually wanted to pursue. The senior staff had been called to testify during the first two days of the trial, and all of them had offered little to nothing in the way of damaging testimony. The reasoning for this was simple, in that Reyes had acted to insulate all of them from any fallout from his decisions and actions. Therefore, Commander Cooper and the rest of the command staff had been unable to speak to any direct action Reyes had taken in violation of Starfleet regulations.
However, Sereb still had managed to find some way to make even the most innocuous statements appear damning toward Reyes, establishing a pattern of apparent secretive conduct and furtive conspiring to undermine the lawful operation of the station and its crew. Because none of his people knew anything about what Reyes was doing, he must have been acting with deliberate intent to circumvent regulations and protocols. While Desai had objected several times during different rounds of questioning and Admiral Moratino had sustained some of those objections, Sereb still had done his job, sowing the seeds of doubt in the minds of the court’s board members.
He’s a crafty bastard,Reyes thought. I’ll give him that.
“Ensign,” Sereb said, now pausing to stand before Ribiero, “you are currently assigned to Gamma Shift, are you not?”
Again, Ribiero nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Gamma Shift is the least busy, in that it is scheduled from twenty-three hundred hours to oh-seven-hundred hours the following morning, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
The burly Tellarite looked up from his questioning, locking eyes with Reyes for a moment, and the commodore was certain that the smug blowhard might have smiled at him if he had not chosen instead to continue his pacing. “As such, is it typical to receive visits to the communications center by members of the station’s command staff?”
“Objection,” Desai said, rising from her seat. “Calls for speculation.”
Moratino nodded. “A bit borderline, Captain, but I’ll sustain.”
Clearing his throat, Sereb said, “I’ll rephrase the question. Ensign Ribiero, for what reasons might a member of the station’s command staff visit the communications center?”