A/N: As a young boy struggles to find his place in the world, a chance encounter sets his feet on a path that will ultimately change the course of his planet's history. Really can't say more without giving too much away…

Written for the 'Page from History' challenge at Ad Astra.

The Awakening

He was running blindly, hands clapped over his ears to shut out the blood-curdling screams. As he disappeared, higher into the mountains bordering the Forge, the sounds gradually faded, lost in the music of the night.

What was wrong with him? Why was he so different from those around him? None saw the world as he did, and so far, he had had the good sense to keep these heretical thoughts to himself. As the eldest male child born into a prestigious military family, he knew he would be expected to carry on that auspicious legacy someday. However, the lifestyle did not fit with his personality. He was not a fighter. A cerebral, introspective child, he was often disturbed by the worrisome skirmishes and all-out violence that permeated his daily life. To him, there had to be another solution—one that would not cost the lives of so many of the best and brightest of his people—to the ills that plagued the warring population of his planet.

So far he had been able to hide what he perceived as a flaw in his character, but now it was out in the open; on display for all to see. Today, as part of his training, he had been made to stand witness as members of a rival faction had been forced to undergo gruesome physical torture in an effort to get them to divulge critical tactical information. But the ten-year-old had been unable to stomach this blatant mistreatment of other living beings. To him, it did not matter that they were considered the enemy; it was simply wrong to subject another to bodily harm, no matter the reason. It had made him physically ill as he watched the prisoners being carved up like prize cuts of meat, their agonized cries slicing through him just as sharply as the well-honed edged weapons sliced through their enemies' flesh.

He had immediately fled the scene amid a cascade of laughter and jeers from those relatives present, the distress and disappointment on his father's face clearly evident as he disappeared into the deepening twilight. Swiping at his eyes, he felt the anger and self-loathing bubble up within him. He would never be like them; would never be able to live up to his family's expectations. He simply didn't have that killer instinct, that lust for violence that seemed to be a staple among the male members of his clan. For him, being born into this family hadn't been a blessing, but a curse. Being unwilling to fight, once he came of age he would be forever labeled a coward, bringing disgrace upon himself and tarnishing the reputation of generations of his ancestors.

And yet, cowardice was not the problem. Already quite skilled in the use of various weapons, it was more of a moral repulsion at taking life rather than a fear of losing his own. In sparring situations there were none his age—or even several years older—who were able to defeat him, but he was unable to reconcile himself to senseless killing, even of those individuals classified as enemies. His young mind envisioned a different, better way to deal with conflict and strife. It was a completely unconventional outlook on the way things had always been done throughout his planet's long, tumultuous history, and it led the youth to wonder if somehow he was inherently flawed.

These were the thoughts that plagued him as he slowed his pace to a walk, chest heaving as much from the exertion as the horrific images that were burned into his brain. Since the dawn of recorded time, conflicts on his world had been solved through aggression. And yet, as their intelligence grew, so did their technology, his people finding ever more inventive ways of bringing about the destruction of their brethren. Unsure of why or how, he simply knew this mindset was wrong. It disturbed him greatly that the adults around him could not see that continuing down this path of vengeance and unbridled violence would soon lead to the annihilation of all sentient life on his world.

He settled himself on a stone outcropping high above the desert floor below, chin upturned to the heavens, consumed by these conflicting thoughts and emotions. The tiny points of light seemed to wink at him, as if to say, "Don't worry about it, it will all be revealed to you when the time is right. Fate has other, much greater plans for you."

His planet had no natural satellite, so he could see the cosmos in all its splendor, the view unobstructed by natural or manmade light. In an effort to calm himself, to restore some sense of normalcy to this chaotic night, he began silently naming the constellations, and the stars contained within. He was on the fourth star in the constellation of The Dagger when a bright streak blazed across his vision, disappearing behind the hills beyond. Straining his ears, he could not make out the sound of an explosion. Was it a comet that had skimmed his planet's atmosphere as it continued its journey through the solar system? Or a meteor perhaps, one that had not burned up entirely upon entry, leaving a piece of itself behind? Eyes glued to the last location he had seen the object before it disappeared from view, he did a quick mental calculation. Allowing for speed, trajectory and the topography of the ground beyond the hills, he estimated he could reach the position where it had likely made planetfall in point seven hours. Without conscious thought he climbed to his feet, certain only that he must find the mysterious object, drawn by an unexplainable yet irresistible feeling that it would somehow yield the answers he sought.

oooOOOooo

As he rounded the last corner, an unbelievable sight met his eyes. There before him was a rectangular metal box, as tall as two men, and six times as long. The damage was immediately evident: Long furrows were torn into the soil of the desert floor. Dents and numerous jagged black rents marred the smooth, gray surface of the craft while thick, dark smoke and a shower of glowing sparks poured from what he surmised was an engine that powered the little vehicle. But that was not the most disturbing aspect. Beside it on the ground were two beings, their features exaggerated and grotesque in the flickering light cast off by a nearby bush, set aflame no doubt during the craft's tumultuous impact. They were dressed in short tunics of blue and gold, the fabric unlike anything he had seen before. In appearance one was very similar to him, but the other was…different, alien. There was no mistaking the shape of the ears, the cant of the brow, the color of the blood soaking through a bandage on the wide forehead; it was all wrong.

The two were speaking to each other in a language he could not understand, the being who looked like him cradling the head of the injured one on his lap. In his hand a strange, small object whirred and clicked as he waved it over his fallen comrade. He consulted another compact, black box before pressing a slim, cylindrical object to the injured man's arm. It made a peculiar hissing sound, but seemed to ease the alien's distress. Breath, that moments before had been coming in short, quick gasps now seemed less labored, as if his pain had instantly been eased.

Suddenly the youngster was seized by a feeling of…loathing. These beings were obviously not of his world. Why were they here? What was their intention? He toyed with the idea of killing them, fingering the weapon at his side—that would certainly make his family proud, and help him on the road to claiming his birthright—but watching them, those feelings slowly melted away. He could sense no malevolent intent, and the care and compassion exhibited by the one for the injured man was undeniable. Even at this young age, the boy had a profound respect for life. Should that not encompass all life, not just that native to his world? The two were obviously lost, in need of assistance, and one was badly hurt. He should be concentrating on how to help them, not dispatch them.

Unable to look away from the scene unfolding before him he shifted his position, his hand dislodging a loose stone which clattered to the desert floor below. He sat, frozen in terror, hoping the dim light would allow him to blend in with the surrounding bedrock; believing that perhaps the aliens would assume that a small animal had caused the disturbance. That was certainly not the case. With night vision as keen as his own, the penetrating gaze of the uninjured man came to rest unerringly on him. Their eyes locked.

"Come forth, I will not harm you," the alien said in the boy's own tongue, although the accent was off somewhat. The man made a motion, obviously an invitation for the boy to join them. The child remained immobile, shell-shocked; unable to speak or flee. The alien dropped his gaze to the head of the man resting in his lap, uttering a few incomprehensible words of comfort before gently disentangling himself from the injured man and rising to his feet.

"Do not be afraid; we mean you no harm," the strange, tall man said again, approaching him slowly, arms outstretched before him, palms turned heavenward in the universal gesture of submission, of peace. "What year is this?"

Licking dry lips with an even drier tongue, the youngster managed a reply: "6913."

The man muttered something under his breath; it sounded like "Over two thousand years in the past."

"Who are you?" the boy pressed. "Where do you come from? You could pass for a native of my world, but he—" the youngster said, pointing a shaking finger at the man stretched out on the ground, "—he certainly is not one of us."

"We are travelers from a distant world, to which we must return with all due haste," the man replied evenly. "However, I must affect repairs to our vessel before we can depart."

The boy swallowed bile at that revelation. He was now face to face with bona fide extraterrestrials. Or was he? Suddenly he was consumed by a powerful need to know the truth. "But you appear as I do," the boy reiterated, his voice cracking. "How is it you speak my language? I heard you talking among yourselves, the tongue alien, indecipherable. What is your purpose? Are you here to conquer us?" he asked, consumed by fear and mistrust once again.

"Negative. We are here by accident and only wish to depart as soon as possible in order to return to where it is we belong."

"I don't believe you," the child barked, braver now. "Aliens would not know our language, unless they had been studying us for some time. I can only assume you have come here with hostile intentions." The boy's sidearm was suddenly in his hand, pointed with unwavering purpose at the tall being before him.

Again the alien made a submissive gesture, taking care to step sideways, placing himself between the weapon and the injured man on the ground. "There is no need for violence, I assure you. I am one of you, only not from this time. I am from your future."

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

"It is difficult to explain. Suffice it to say that he and I must depart as soon as possible, before our presence here inadvertently changes the course of your history."

"Then I shall bring help," the boy responded matter-of-factly.

"No. You must not do that. Under no circumstances must anyone else be made aware of our presence."

"But why?"

"There could be…consequences."

"What kind of consequences?"

"We were not meant to be here. Our very presence could alter the future…my future," the strange being whispered softly. "We must not interfere with the normal development of your culture. Can you do this one thing for me? Can I rely on you to keep this secret?"

The boy felt his chest swell with pride. Never before had an adult seen fit to entrust him with something of such importance. While he didn't fully grasp the necessity for secrecy, he did understand the sense of urgency behind the request. And yet, a new thought occurred to him. If this was a precursor to an invasion, it followed that they would want their presence here to remain undetected. He was now straddling the horns of a dilemma: Return and raise the alarm, or put his faith in this strange being? "How do I know you are not lying to me?" the child asked at last. "My silence may buy your people the time they need to mass an invasion force against us."

"I cannot force you to trust me, however I can emphasize that I will not stop you from leaving; in fact, I urge you to do so. If my intentions were other than peaceful, I could simply dispatch you in order to prevent your giving away our position. As to whether or not you choose to divulge our presence, or to kill us outright, that is a decision only you can make."

Unprepared for that answer, the weapon the boy had trained on the stranger wavered; his hand dropped to his side. He turned and scampered up the hill without a word or a backward glance.

oooOOOooo

The boy lay tossing and turning in his bed. He had arrived home to an onslaught. "I can forgive such a display of weakness only once," his father had said in that soft, low voice he reserved for when he was at his angriest. "You not only embarrassed yourself in front of witnesses today, but besmirched the family name. It goes without saying that a transgression of this type shall not be repeated. Do I make myself clear?" The boy had nodded weakly, afraid to trust his voice. "Now get to bed. Think carefully about what you have done, and of how you plan to make amends for your error." He'd scuttled past his father, eyes downcast, racing up the stairs to his room, the clan patriarch's livid glare practically burning a hole in his back.

But that was not the reason sleep was elusive. His mind kept returning to the two alien beings he had encountered. There was something odd, yet strangely compelling about them. The fact that he was still alive was not lost on him. Had be stumbled upon a member of a rival faction, he had no doubt that the great carrion birds of the desert would be picking the flesh from his bones this very instant. And yet the man had spared his life; allowed him to go free, knowing that it could spell disaster for the traveler dressed in blue and his gold-clad comrade if the youngster chose to betray their location.

It was a most distressing situation, but somehow the alien had managed to face it with stoic calm; a sense of reserve and focus the boy had never witnessed before. His people tended to think with their hearts, feelings and emotions fueling their actions and decisions. And yet, this dispassionate and undemonstrative approach taken by the stranger had produced the desired result—the youth had left, and kept the secret of the travelers from the stars. Not only that, but the man had gained the boy's respect as well.

The child's thoughts were interrupted as a blinding flash lit up the darkness, followed almost instantly by an earsplitting peal of thunder. A pounding rain was not far behind—a rare event on his desert world. As he burrowed deeper into the safety and security of his blankets, he wondered how the two were faring. Were they able to weather the storm in their craft, or was it too damaged? The idea of them being at the mercy of the elements was most disquieting. Listening as the tempest raged outside he fell into a fitful sleep, vowing to return to the crash site tomorrow and offer the two men whatever assistance he could.

oooOOOooo

He set off for the mountains the next afternoon, armed with food, drink and a burning desire to help. And yet, he approached the site warily, once again torn by indecision. His eyes combed the small valley before him and the skies above, but there was no sign of an invasion force. A sigh of relief escaped him. It seemed the tall being had been truthful in that respect. When he reached the path leading down to the disabled vessel the injured man was nowhere to be seen, but he noticed a pair of booted feet protruding from the aft end of the craft, a peculiar buzzing sound corresponding to a cascade of sparks spewing forth from underneath the vessel.

Making his way to the desert floor he approached the crash scene, loudly announcing his presence. The legs proceeded to disengage from the craft, followed shortly by a slim torso and a head encased in a protective visor which was quickly removed.

He spoke with the alien for some time, learning that the injured man had not died as he had feared, but was now resting inside the craft. It seemed the heat and thin atmosphere were more than he could tolerate, given his weakened condition. The man had gladly accepted his gift of water, but refused the majority of the food the boy had brought, eating only the bread and leaving the meat.

The child then offered to assist with the repairs—not that he knew the first thing about how to get the alien vessel spaceworthy again, but for the chance to simply talk to the strange being. To his great surprise the man agreed, and the youngster found that for some unexplained reason he was able to freely discuss subjects with this man that he dare not broach with anyone else in his life.

Knowing the man was from his planet's future, the boy pressed for specific information, but the stranger revealed little, providing no details but assuring the youth that as long as he and his fellow traveler did not interfere with the timeline, the boy's planet would find a solution to the troubles that plagued it, and would survive.

The youth visited every evening during the next five days, and was struck by the manner in which the man conducted himself. Faced with the nearly insurmountable task of repairing their vessel and the ever-worsening condition of his friend, the alien did not exhibit feelings of despair or defeat, but approached things with a single-minded resolve and stoic calm the likes of which the boy had never seen before. As a matter of fact, he appeared emotionally detached from the situation, allowing him to fully focus all his intellectual energy on the mission at hand.

The boy had learned from his inquiries that the man from the future would try to use the gravitational pull of the sun to slingshot them into their own time, but the plan had its inherent dangers. While the stranger and his companion had done something of this nature several times before, they had never attempted it in such a small craft, or one that was patched together after suffering such severe damage.

Upon hearing that, the child felt his heart sink, a hollow pain settling in his gut as if some creature inside of him was slowly eating its way out. For reasons he could not fully comprehend, he found he was strangely drawn to the odd being, and the prospect of having him die a useless death weighed heavily on the boy's mind. The man seemed to sense this, and attempted to reassure the youth that his decision was sound.

"We must remove ourselves from this time and place," the traveler stated with conviction. "We do not belong here, he and I. Others are awaiting our return, and will be searching for us. I must try, not only for their sake, but for his." His eyes softening, they drifted to and lingered on the unconscious form of his alien friend, stretched out on the ground in the shade of the small craft. "He is suffering from a spreading infection; one that will shortly claim his life unless I am able to facilitate our return to where it is that we belong. My limited supply of medicines is nearly exhausted, and he requires more skilled care than I am able to offer. If we remain here, he will surely die. My only chance to save his life lies in returning him to our time."

"But if you fail, if your vessel burns up in the sun, you will both die."

"That is true," the man answered simply.

"Then why risk it?" the child argued passionately. "You are one of us, and could easily remain here. No one need know you come from the future."

The adult merely glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, speaking in that soft, measured tone the boy had come to respect over the last few days. "You know as well as I that that is not possible," he replied gently, exhibiting a warmth, a compassion the youth had not seen before, at least directed toward him. "While I might be able to blend in, it would not take long for my friend to be exposed as an alien, someone not of this world. You yourself have told me of the thirst for vengeance, for violence, of the xenophobia exhibited by those in power. Logically, how do you suppose they would react to him?" The ghost of a smile played about the man's lips, danced clearly in the soft brown eyes.

The boy quickly glanced down, feeling heat burn his cheeks, the tips of his ears. "I don't care. I don't want you to go!" he blurted out forcefully, a tear escaping and making its way down a dirt-smudged cheek. "Maybe you have it all wrong. What of the philosophy of kaiidth—what is, is? Perhaps you were meant to be here, and it is you who will provide a great contribution to our people," the boy maintained, anxiously searching the man's face.

"It is more likely that our presence here—that my presence here—will bring about catastrophic changes to the fabric of your history. He and I have faced such a scenario before, with near-disastrous results. It is a risk I simply cannot take. The needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. Can you not see this, and understand?"

The child dropped his eyes, willing himself not to burst into tears, his internal struggle evident by the quivering of his chin. If this man could exhibit such emotional restraint in the face of such a grim prospect, then he could do the same. "Your departure does seem inevitable," the boy admitted at last, defeated. "When will you go?"

"I shall be able to complete the last of the repairs tomorrow. I shall then wait until nightfall so we can depart under the cover of darkness and hopefully avoid detection."

"Then I'll come back to see you off and wish you luck."

oooOOOooo

Trudging along the path that would take him home, the boy reflected on the last hour. As promised, he had arrived shortly before dusk to bid the tall stranger farewell and good luck, watching the little spacecraft until it disappeared from sight. He would never know their fate, but would always look back on the five days he had spent in the alien's presence as the most influential ones of his life.

oooOOOooo

Twenty-five years later

He stood nervously in the corridor, waiting for his chance to speak before the Ruling Council. Stop fidgeting he admonished himself. How are they to agree to your proposal if even you cannot demonstrate that you have mastered the lifestyle you wish others to put into practice? Over the last twenty years the violence had spread, and his people's technology had finally reached its pinnacle. His entire planet was now one step away from nuclear annihilation. He had spent the last forty days on The Forge in intense meditation, trying to find a solution that would offer peace and salvation to a war-weary people. The time was now right; the population at large had become disillusioned with the warlords, with the constant violence, destruction and death brought about by the continuous infighting among the various clans and factions. During his time in the desert, his thoughts had kept returning to the encounter of his youth, and the strange man with strange ways he had met from the future. All at once he had realized that that man was the key; that if his people adopted the philosophies of the tall stranger from the stars, it would guarantee their survival.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door to the chamber burst open. "Sir, the Council will see you now," the aide announced, ushering him into the large, circular room.

Swallowing his nervousness, he conjured up an image of the man's face from his youth, and was instantly rewarded with a sense of calm. Stepping before the council he began speaking in self-assured, measured tones: "Members of the Council, I wish you peace and long life," he announced, his hand raised, making the gesture and quoting the ritual words the being from the future had spoken to him upon his departure. "I am called Surak, and I wish to put forth a proposal to adopt a new way of life for all people on our planet which will bring about an end to the violence and senseless killing that has plagued our world since the Time of the Beginning…"