But the question might never be answered. Despite the jellies’ shared memories, Counselor Troi had reported that their recall grew hazier the further one went back in time. Even telepathically transmitted memory was a subjective thing, susceptible to alteration and forgetfulness, and with each duplication it blurred further. Past a certain point, it was no more reliable than oral history and legend.
For now, though, Jaza admitted that Fasden’s theory was the more probable one, so he didn’t argue the point. At least, not that part of it. “You’re only assuming they turned on these hypothetical masters.”
“What else do you suppose could have become of them?” She shook her wide-featured bronze head. “In our researches we have found the remains of more than one civilization which attempted to master cosmozoans and was destroyed by the effort. They are simply too powerful to control. One world attempted to harness a variant of the sailseeds to extract the vital elements from its system’s asteroids and comets. They engineered away their migratory behavior. As a result, their whole system was overrun and its planets slowly disassembled.
“One great empire at war took a species of predatory cloud creature with metadimensional abilities, engineered it with warp capability and a hunger for humanoid blood, and turned it loose on its enemy. The creatures ended up nearly destroying both sides before they were stopped. And a few escaped to plague the rest of the galaxy, their fate still unknown.”
“I think I’m aware of encounters with two of them,” Jaza said, realizing that Fasden’s tale could explain some of the anomalies about the “vampire clouds” encountered by James Kirk and the Klingons. “Both creatures were ultimately destroyed.”
“That is good. But it does not mean I want to see a new scourge unleashed on the galaxy.”
Jaza could understand her fatalism. The Vomnin’s original technology had been left by a race which had colonized their world while they were still scavenger-gatherers, but which had died out in some ancient cataclysm. Upon learning of the region’s hazards from the settlers’ records, the Vomnin had mastered the remnant technology and used it to found many colonies of their own, most of them far from the Vela Association, to ensure that their species would survive any catastrophe. Along the way they had acquired more technology and knowledge left by other ancients, some destroyed, some regressed to primitivism, others apparently ascended to higher planes. Given the hazards of this region, it was even more littered with such ancient ruins (at least ones younger than several million years, and thus more likely to contain viable technology) than Federation space. The Vomnin had made a career out of harvesting such ruins, building their science and culture on the whispers of the dead. So a certain preoccupation with failure and destruction was understandable.
Another consequence of this history was that the Vomnin had little in the way of religious belief. The ancient settlers had appeared as gods to the primitive Vomnin, but discovering the truth—of their instrumentality and their mortality—had disillusioned them. On their travels they had come across relics of other religions based on beings they knew to be merely advanced civilizations. As a result they were skeptics and secularists, more concerned with making the best of this life than with anything after it. They indulged their Pa’haquel allies’faith in the Spirit of the Hunt, but Fasden had made it clear in private that she saw it as mere superstition.
But maybe that was the key, Jaza realized. “You keep talking about cosmozoans turning on their ‘masters.’ If that’s true, maybe the problem is that they weremastered. Treated as servants instead of equals. Take it from a Bajoran—that kind of treatment has a way of provoking rebellion.
“And maybe that’s why this can work. The Pa’haquel already feel great reverence for the star-jellies. They cherish them as a divine source of life. If we can redirect that reverence toward partnership with the jellies rather than predation upon them, it could help to ensure that they’re treated well.”
“How do you redirect an article of faith? Their divinity is a hunting deity, not one of peace and amity.”
“They allied with you, didn’t they?” Jaza reminded her. “There are as many aspects of the divine as there are believers to behold them. So faith can adapt to suit anyone’s needs. If it couldn’t—if it only applied to a finite number of people—it wouldn’t be divine, would it?”
Fasden looked at him oddly. “I would not have expected such talk from a scientist.”
Jaza smiled. “I think that’s exactly my point.”
“Well? Have you extracted the data?”
Fasden shook her fat-faced head. “No, Hunter Se’hraqua. Their computer security ciphers are extremely sophisticated and rely heavily on biometric identification. A consequence of their recent war, I suppose.”
Se’hraqua hissed in frustration. “I do not care why, Vomnin. I only care about results. We must get that information!”
“There is only so much I can do without attracting suspicion. The information on your skymounts’ sensor signatures has been encrypted, no doubt to guard against precisely what we are trying to do.”
“Yes, yes, I do not need one of your lectures.” Had the smug intellectual not been an ally, and would it not have drawn the attention of Titan’s security, Se’hraqua would have been sorely tempted to give her a head start, hunt her down, and rip her throat out. It would be a satisfying release for this frustration, this inability to achieve the holy task Aq’hareq had assigned him. The Starfleeters were being unreasonable, determined to keep the Pa’haquel from the sensor information they had given the skymounts—thus giving the lie to their claims of nonpartisanship. All they had to do was share the knowledge, and the Hunt could be resumed, the balance restored. All would be as it was—except Se’hraqua’s status would be considerably higher. If he brought home a prize of this magnitude clenched in his jaws, Aq’hareq would surely reward him with a mount to command and a bride from a high family, perhaps Aq’ha itself. Indeed, since he had a whole line to repopulate, Aq’hareq might even reward him with multiple brides. Fathering so many directly would bring him to high status swiftly, especially with so many noble females to crew his mount and make it strong and swift in the Hunt.
But such triumph was contingent on his retrieval of useful information, and he had run out of ideas on how to retrieve it. His Rianconi servant, Ujisu, had been unsuccessful at seducing the ship’s first officer, science officer and all the others he had propositioned. Perhaps he was not as persuasive as Qui’hibra’s slut Oderi, or maybe the Starfleeters were more protective of this information, seeking to keep the skymounts from the honor of being righteously hunted. And now Fasden, as skeptical of Riker’s plan as he and thus a potential ally, had failed as well. He wanted to command her to dig deeper, but he knew that was unwise. Her inquisitiveness to a point could be interpreted as the Vomnin’s natural desire to scavenge others’ technology, but if she dug too deeply or were caught trying to compromise their computer security, it could expose them to the Starfleeters.
So for now, Se’hraqua’s only option was to watch and wait. As a hunter he knew the value of this, but at least in the Hunt he knew the waiting would culminate in a strike, and possibly the glory of a kill. In this kind of hunt, the hunt for hidden information, he was out of his element. He could see no way to make the strike, to claim the prize. No way to escape the disgraced state Qui’hibra had trapped him in and gain his rightful place as an elder. It made him want to rip something’s throat out. Somebody’s.
“Go. You are dismissed,” he said to Fasden, before he gave into the impulse and did something…indiscreet. Once the soundproofed door had closed behind her, he let out a scream, though it did little to sate his rage. Maybe he should try that holodeck hunting program that the doctor had recommended, though hunting unreal prey would not serve the Spirit and could not ease his soul. Perhaps later he would take out some of his frustrations on Ujisu’s body. Rianconi were always so obliging, and bore a suitable resemblance to the humans, Vulcans and others upon whom he would like to unleash his rage. He could only inflict such punishment up to a point, of course—even Rianconi drew the line at permanent damage—but it should be satisfying.