Oblivion
At night the moonbeams snap.
The stars are suffocated.
That maligned, unhappy barn owl
Screeches out its grief.
The old train on the tracks
Hurtles to its destruction
Wheezing out its last breath.
And I? I send my thoughts beyond these walls
Day in, day out, from dawn to night
(From dawn to night, day in, day out)
I dream the endless daydream,
Dream the endless journey
Through the night, fretting,
Champing at the bit;
The one I call for does not come,
The one I wait for never appears
Ah, if I could only stop the
Thinking, seeing, hearing, dreaming...
I wouldn't feel a thing
Zargana (1988)
Freedom was sweet, that was the truth. Being able to decide what to eat and when, being able to walk from one end of the shuttle to the other were simple luxuries. I felt lightness, a happiness which had not been there for thirteen years. For the first time in all those years, I could see the universe in colour, not shades of grey.
But we all knew it would not, could not last as it was. Disabling the Defiant had bought us some time, but we could never clear Federation space in a stolen Starfleet shuttle. As terrible as it sounds, the war, even ten years over, brought us some advantages. Space had never been the same as it had been before the war. Starfleet was no longer invincible, there were more independent worlds, worlds which now believed that the best way to safe was to remain small, remain no threat. Isolationism was everywhere, and this isolation enabled us to continue.
It was not easy, though. A Starfleet shuttle listed as stolen, three men aboard with no currency to speak of. We bartered skills to get by, Kim and Chakotay mainly fixing engines and computers in return for safe passage, skulking from system to system, slowly moving out of Federation space, towards the Badlands.
As we got closer, the situation worsened. We were barely sleeping, always keeping watch, being more and more reckless with our piloting to escape. Thanks to Kim's incredible skill, we were able to hide in low orbits, in magnetic fields, in nebulae, everywhere. But we all knew it was a matter of time before we would have to fight, destroy or being destroyed. And somehow, even though we were all fugitives, all held prisoner by Starfleet, all renegades with our Federation citizenship revoked, the idea of destroying a Starfleet ship was unconscionable, disgusting. We had all seen enough death and destruction, none of us wanted to be a part of it.
It was Chakotay who finally brought the matter to a head.
"We have to get rid of this ship. It is attracting too much attention"
He announced as he sat at the Conn, fingers poised ready to initiate yet another set of evasive manoeuvres at a moment's notice.
He glanced up at Kim
"Kebron IV?"
Kim smiled his usual twisted half-smile
"At least if you get another bottle round your head we have a doctor to fix you this time"
Chakotay snorted.
I stood, feeling excluded from the conversation. I had never heard of Kebron. I guessed they were talking about a bar, but I was at a loss as to the significance of this. Kim must have seen this from my face, as he turned to me
"Refugee planet"
He offered as an explanation.
"Lots of desperate people, lots of unsavoury people taking advantage. If we need a ship, we can find someone at the bar there."
"What do you mean 'Refugee Planet'?"
I asked, quietly.
Chakotay sighed.
"During the war, many isolated planets were set up as refugee camps. Some of the larger ones still exist, mostly abandoned by the powers now, they carry on functioning for the people who are too frightened or can't afford to get home."
And so we went to Kebron. What I saw when we arrived horrified and angered me. I had always thought that by imprisoning me and people like me on suspicions had been a sign that Starfleet had sold its soul, but when I saw Kebron, I realised that my treatment was irrelevant compared to that metered out to so many innocent, desperate people.
As we came into land at the Sanctuary Spaceport, all that was visible beyond the boundaries of the landing strip were shanty towns. Stretching in every direction across the dusty plain, these small shelters perched, interspersed with fusion reactors, solar generators and recycling plants. Kim and Chakotay barely seemed to notice, but I could not take my eyes off the squalor and deprivation.
I followed Kim and Chakotay into a small bar, not far from the spaceport. Chakotay was straight down to business, moving straight to the bar, buying drinks, beginning to talk. Kim and I made ourselves as comfortable as possible in a secluded corner of the bar, and it was not long before we were joined by Chakotay and an unpleasant looking part Orion.
"I would give you three bars for it" muttered the Orion
"Three bars? For a fine, almost new ship! You could buy wreckage with that, my friend, but not a ship fo this class. Fifteen bars?" Responded Chakotay
"Pffft. Five bars or nothing. Who knows where this ship came from?"
"Are you questioning my honour, friend?" Chakotay sounded a little more threatening this time.
"You know, there are rumours about a stolen Starfleet ship floating about. And your ship does have the look of the Federation about it."
Chakotay was silent for a split second, and in that split second our downfall was made.
"It is not a Starfleet ship" he replied, after pausing too long. "We got her from a trader on Denobius, but we need something a little more long-range"
Kim realised it was lost, that we had been caught out. He prodded me, hard, and gestured discreetly to be ready to move. The prod caught my startle reflex, and my ever-present phaser shaking, and made me jerk harder than usual, hitting my knee on the table. All present turned to look at me, and the Orion assumed a particularly vicious expression.
"You know, there is also a rumour about escaped prisoners. The Federation are paying hansomly for their return. There is more profit there than here. Maybe I need to place a transmission."
He rose to leave, but Chakotay grabbed him hard, holding him in a choking grip.
"I wouldn't do that, friend" He whispered. "You'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life waiting for..."
At this, he drew his finger slowly across the Orion's throat, the threatening action causing the Orion to pale visibly. Chakotay dropped him onto the floor as we all began moving out of the bar. As soon as we cleared the threshold, we ran.
"We have to lose that shuttle tonight. I don't trust that Orion at all" Chakotay panted.
I stumbled blindly after them towards the spaceport. I vaguely wondered why we were going back to the port if we were abandoning the shuttle, but I had no breath left to ask the question. I used to be fit, healthy, able to run. Now I puffed and panted, struggling both to breath and not to fall over.
Once in our shuttle, as Kim readied the departure sequence, I was finally able to ask.
"Where are we going?"
"Kir'tana, on the other side of the planet. Where the really desperate ones live. The ones who put everything into getting out, absolutely everything"
Kir'tana. Literally "Graveyard" in the Imshi language which seemed to make up the majority culture on this planet. I wondered what the name implied, what sort of graveyard we would find.
When we arrived it was not as bad as I had feared. Hot, dusty and uncomfortable yes, but the real horror I had half expected to find was not visible. I saw why it was called Graveyard though. Surrounding a primitive spaceport were the hulks of various ships in different states of repair, some flyable, some hulks. Others nothing more than shadows of burnt wreckage in the distant hills. We surely could find a ship here.
We found our ship. But in doing so, we sold another portion our souls. Or I did, anyway. I think that Kim and Chakotay were past caring. How? How did Starfleet officers fall so low, come so far? Had I, in all that had happened since DS9? Would I now fall as we attempted to escape? Would freedom take the soul I had never let imprisonment take?
The ship was one of the mediocre ones dotted around the edge of the spaceport. Not in great condition, but not a hulk either. Chakotay first noticed it, noticed the huddle of dishevelled children sheltering below one of its stubby wings. It was a medium sized freighter, warp-capable. Old, but not too old, it looked perfect for our needs. And just in time too, surely it would not be long before Starfleet or bounty hunters found out we were here.
It was parked on the edge of the crude landing strip, a medium freighter with a small shelter constructed below one stubby wing. I had not given it a second look when Chakotay and Kim had pointed it out originally. Later I understood why they had chosen that ship, it was anonymous, looked repairable and most importantly, the people sheltering below it were children, they looked frightened and wary. Naïve, easy to deal with, to manipulate. I suppose you do what you need to do to survive.
Chakotay started the conversation with the oldest child, a boy of about fifteen, ragged and wary.
"Is this your ship?"
"Hmm, what of it?"
"It's a nice size. Good storage. But it doesn't fly?"
"No,"
"But you want to get out of here? You want it to fly?"
"Yes"
The conversation continued and I watched, amazed, as Chakotay charmed the boy into agreeing to swap the freighter for our shuttle. He seemed to exude an air of trustworthiness, which I envied and respected at the same time. I could see flashes of the skill which had enabled him to be so successful in the Maquis and with Kim, a man clearly on the edge.
Kim was clearly reluctant to lose the shuttlecraft, he was fighting some sort of inner battle, knowing it was essential but realising that it would put the technology he craved out of reach. Eventually, he walked away. I considered following him, but a look from Chakotay stopped me. Instead, I joined the Native American with the children, finalising negotiations. The youngest child looked terrible, pale and sweating, every so often coughing a soft but obviously painful cough. My heart jumped as I saw a telltale orange rash spreading out across her hands - Terosian Pika Flu. A common complaint amongst children, easily treated in my clinic back on DS9, but without treatment, without shelter, warmth and food, this child would die. She had weeks maybe.
I could not stop myself. I stepped in, spoke up
"Your sister is sick?"
The oldest boy froze.
"What of it? You want her as well as the ship?"
I felt like I had been slapped in the face. What did he mean? Then I realised, he thought I wanted her as part of the deal, he clearly thought this was the catch he was expecting from a straight swap flying ship for non-flying ship.
"No, no" I stammered, horrified.
"I am a doctor" It had been many, many years since I had last used those words. "I can help her"
He glanced at Chakotay, who nodded, then he pushed the small girl towards me.
For a split second, I froze with nerves. A real live patient, after so long. I had spent many hours in Starbase 53 going over case histories and hypothetical treatments in my mind, but I had not really ever thought I would see another patient again. And here she was.
The nerves soon dissipated though, as I could finally assess her. The tricorder readings were classic, Pika flu. It hadn't changed in the years I had been out of practice. The treatment involved several hyposprays, but was quick. Myceliacin for the virus, Beta-oxygen for the cough and hypoxia and Litamapin for the rash. Within five minutes her breathing had improved, and by the time our belongings had been moved out of the shuttle and the oldest boy had done a crash course in flying the ship, she was fit to leave.
I watched them take off and leave the atmosphere, only slightly less steady than an experienced pilot. Much better than an average cadet would manage. That was slightly reassuring.
It was only much later, when we were in the freighter inventorying the necessary work that the elation of my first patient left me and the reality dawned. We had sent a group of children off towards Federation space in a shuttle associated with three fugitives. I was in the engineering space with Chakotay when I said, partly to myself.
"What will happen to them?"
"What?" Chakotay's voice was muffled by the access panel he was reaching into
"What have we done to those children? What risk have we put them in?"
Chakotay withdrew from the panel and looked at me for a long time.
"Doctor, we've done them a favour. We have saved their lives. Why do you think I chose them, there were plenty of other ships around and many people who would have bitten our arms off to have that shuttle, even guessing at its history? So why them?"
My answer of
"An easy target"
Seemed hollow after that response.
"No. Think about what will happen. The shuttle will be picked up on a ship's sensors, which will detect five non-human lifesigns. They'll probably beam a security team onto it, find the children. I know the Federation has changed, but they still haven't sunk so low as to leave five sick children in a Starfleet shuttle drifting in space. They'll be rescued, be warm, fed, get medical care and either have help finding their parents or be taken into Federation care. You saw the littlest one, the one you treated. She may have recovered from Pika Flu, but if she stayed here, something else would get her. This way, we can try and save her."
It was a long speech from a man who didn't seem to speak much any more, and it was a speech full of logic. But I couldn't shake the feeling that we had endangered these children, that we had exploited them for our own gains.
Being a fugitive is about exploitation, I was soon to learn, however. We exploit them, we are exploited. We are all desperate people; it was a whole new world I had never seen before. A seam of desperation crossing the universe. You can't make a grounded ship fly without help, and on a world like Kebron, you can't get help without taking it by force or selling yourself to get it.