A Time to Sow Read online

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “IT WAS A MANDATE of the council that the world selected for this project be completely devoid of life,” said Creij, the Dokaalan introduced to the Enterprise officers as Hjatyn’s science minister. Also the current director of the massive effort to transform the planet Ijuuka from an inhospitable world into a new home for the Dokaalan people, she had been tasked with explaining the endeavor to their visitors.

  Like Hjatyn, Creij looked to be quite old to Picard, perhaps even close enough in age to have survived the destruction of Dokaal generations ago. That thought also made the Enterprise captain wonder about normal Dokaalan life spans, which seemed to be even greater than that of Vulcans.

  Time enough to learn about that later, he reminded himself.

  “This narrowed our choices to two candidates,” Creij continued, “after which it was determined that Ijuuka was the better option. With our planet selected, we began the process of erecting massive atmospheric processors at fifty-six key locations around the planet. Just as we predicted, the process of converting the planet’s atmosphere is a long and laborious one. It will be well into the next generation of our people before the air is fit to breathe. Still, preparations are under way for the next phases of the project, so that we can be ready when the time finally arrives.”

  “The Federation has been involved in several projects very similar to what you are attempting,” Data said as Creij concluded her presentation. “From what I have seen, your level of achievement to this point is extraordinary, particularly given the limitations that you face.”

  Nodding, Creij replied, “It has produced a variety of ancillary benefits, as well. Developing new technology for the project has also resulted in the creation of many new tools, skills, and chemical compounds, to name but a few, that have found uses throughout the colony. Our standard of living has improved markedly in many other areas because of the work necessary to culminate this vision of ours.”

  Picard had listened with increasing admiration to the science minister’s presentation. The atmospheric processors, already in place and operating for decades, had taken years to design and build. What had been accomplished so far was a stunning achievement, to say the least, and yet it would pale in comparison when the Dokaalan’s ultimate goal was reached. The determination of these people, as personified by their leaders, was nothing less than inspiring.

  “I am also impressed by your commitment to insuring that no innocent life is placed at risk by this effort,” Picard said. “In doing so, you’ve already circumvented one of the larger issues taken into consideration when the Federation contemplates any terraforming effort.”

  “We have always been a people that attempted to live in harmony with our surroundings, Captain,” Hjatyn said. “Though we did utilize the natural resources of our planet to aid in our progression as a civilization, we always endeavored to minimize the impact to the rest of the environment. In time we learned that a balance with nature could be achieved if only we made the effort to do so.”

  Picard nodded. “It is a belief we hold dear, as well.” Of course, such awareness had not come easily. Humanity had instead taken generations to reach that level of understanding toward their own world, but the rewards that had come as a result of that realization were, to Picard at least, incalculable.

  “I take it that a pursuit such as ours is commonplace in your society, Captain?” Creij asked.

  “We have had some experience with the concept,” the captain replied, “but I would not consider it a common practice, no.” Though he was aware of the current effort to terraform the planet Venus in his own solar system, Picard knew of no other such projects currently under way.

  Not intimately familiar with the concept of terraforming himself, the captain had read enough that he was able to hold his own in conversations on the subject. From what he did know, there had been several such projects completed just in the last few decades. Despite these successes, terraforming was still a significant undertaking even by the standards of twenty-fourth century Federation technology, and that was only if one measured the effort’s technical aspects. “Long ago,” he continued, “the Federation established the Terraform Command, which is charged with overseeing all such projects and insuring that they are properly conducted.”

  He recalled the project on Velara III that had ended in near disaster almost fifteen years ago. The circumstances surrounding that incident had provided an unequivocal justification for the need to monitor such projects with a relentless scrutiny. In that instance, the supposedly uninhabited world had in fact been the home to a race of crystalline life-forms dwelling beneath the planet’s surface. When the project called for raising the water table, that action threatened the existence of the planet’s indigenous inhabitants.

  Going forward at that point would have been devastating enough had it been done in ignorance, but the larger crime was that the project’s director had known about the life-forms and yet elected to proceed anyway. Fortunately, Picard and his people had discovered the truth about Velara III and averted disaster, after which the project was abandoned and the planet quarantined by the Federation.

  Though no one would ever openly admit it, Terraform Command had been established in the wake of the most formidable example of planetary reformation technology ever devised, Project Genesis. Even the name assigned to that astounding venture was still among the most closely guarded Federation secrets, and with good reason. Created more than a century ago, Genesis had been and still was the ultimate realization of transforming an uninhabitable planet into one capable of sustaining life, reducing the time needed to complete such a process from decades to mere hours.

  It had taken little time for the usefulness of Genesis as a tool of aggression to become apparent. The notion that an enemy could pervert the promise of Genesis into a weapon of catastrophic and unmatched offensive power was one that had persisted for decades after the original designers’ initial experiments. It was also a threat that had come to horrible fruition only recently, with the effects of the awesome technology still being felt across hundreds of worlds in one sector of the Alpha Quadrant.

  Yet another example of our innovation getting ahead of our wisdom, Picard mused. It was because of incidents such as Velara III and the Genesis Wave that the Federation took a very hard stance on terraforming. While there could be no arguing the benefits of such technology if employed properly, there would always have to be defenses in place to guard against its misuse.

  “First Minister,” Picard said, “now that we are aware of your situation here, I would be more than happy to submit a report to my superiors detailing your efforts as well as my recommendation that we provide whatever assistance you may need, up to and including relocation. Starfleet can dispatch transport vessels capable of evacuating all of your people and transferring them to a planet ideally suited to your species. There are hundreds of worlds throughout the Federation where you would be welcomed, or we can find one that is uninhabited that you can settle on and make your own.”

  Hjatyn did not say anything immediately, apparently considering the suggestion for a moment before returning his gaze to Picard. “It is an interesting idea and a most generous offer, Captain. When we first learned that our world was doomed, the idea of attempting a large-scale evacuation was put forth. Our limited space-travel capabilities made that impossible, of course. Since then we have made our way as best we can despite the obstacles laid before us. The topic of relocation has been raised occasionally at council meetings, usually in the context of a miraculous rescue by visitors from another world.” Smiling as he spoke the words, the Dokaalan added, “You must understand that those discussions were held with the belief that such circumstances would never actually occur. In any event, it is felt by many among my people that we should remain here and continue our attempts to make a new home as well as we are able.”

  “Captain,” Data said, “I am sure that Terraform Command would be most interested in learning a
bout the Dokaalan’s efforts here.” Turning to Hjatyn, he added, “They may even be able to suggest alternatives to your current methods that would take less time to complete.”

  Picard had no doubt that Terraform Command would take great interest in the Dokaalan’s efforts here. Given their current state of technology, their goal of remaking Ijuuka to suit their needs was indeed formidable, if not impossible. Surely Hjatyn understood that, just as he had to recognize the extraordinary value of accepting Federation assistance.

  To Picard’s surprise, the aged leader held up a staying hand at that proposition, as well. “I have no doubt you could teach us about a great many things, Commander. However, it is important to our people that we complete this task ourselves.”

  “First Minister,” Troi said, “your conviction is inspirational, as is that of your people, but there is no reason for you to continue this endeavor yourselves. The Federation will almost certainly be willing to help in any way you require while respecting your wishes.”

  Indicating the large display screen with its images of the Dokaalan’s hoped-for new world, Hjatyn said, “Ijuuka will be as much a memorial to the millions lost when our world was destroyed as it will be a home for those of us left behind. For such an effort to have true meaning, it will have to be completed solely by us, and with the resources and skills we are able to fashion for ourselves.”

  A noble goal, Picard conceded, to say nothing of a remarkable demonstration of these people’s character.

  “I admire your principles, First Minister,” he said, “and have no wish to intrude on them in any way. Please know that we stand ready to assist you should you change your mind.”

  Bowing his head respectfully, the Dokaalan leader replied, “For now, I think it best to continue as we have. I will not claim that what we are doing here is universally accepted. There are many who feel that the effort is insurmountable, given our requirement literally to envision and create the necessary technology at every turn. They believe that simply surviving out here on the colonies is difficult enough without expending resources remaking an entire world. Some have even gone so far as to accuse us of committing deliberate acts of aggression in order to frighten people into supporting the project.”

  “Such as the reactor explosion on the colony outpost,” Data said. “Do they believe that to be a deliberate act of sabotage on the part of your government?”

  Hjatyn replied, “We have received preliminary reports that suggest this, yes.”

  “Surely they don’t have grounds for such accusations?” Picard asked.

  His expression one of disapproval, Hjatyn replied, “Certainly not. I could never condone such action. In truth, it has always been our intention that anyone who wishes to stay here on the colonies be welcome to do so. After all, we will still have need of the resources mined from the asteroids even after the bulk of the population moves to Ijuuka.” Shaking his head, he added, “However, it is very possible that an underground effort may be responsible for some of the incidents that have occurred recently, including the outpost accident.”

  The doors to the command center opened and Picard turned to see a Dokaalan, dressed in a simple beige-colored jumpsuit, enter and proceed directly toward Hjatyn, carrying a metallic rectangle perhaps twice the size of a standard Starfleet padd. The new arrival handed the object to the first minister. Picard noted with curiosity that the Dokaalan glanced twice in his direction, each time with what the captain regarded as a look of nervousness clouding his pale blue features.

  Hjatyn studied the device for a moment before returning his attention to the Enterprise officers. “I am sorry, Captain, but the council and I have some business to address. Perhaps we can continue our conversation over dinner? We would be honored to have you and your staff as our guests this evening.”

  After following one of Hjatyn’s assistants from the command center, Data said to Picard, “Captain, with your permission I would like to continue my research on the Dokaalan’s terraforming efforts. Though they have refused our offer of assistance, we may still be able to provide suggestions for accelerating their processes using resources at their disposal.”

  The captain nodded. “Excellent idea, Mr. Data. Make it so.”

  As the android headed back for the docking port and the shuttlecraft they had used to travel from the Enterprise, Picard turned to Troi. “Anything new to report, Counselor?”

  “While I believe they are sincere in wanting to finish the project for themselves, Hjatyn seemed unnerved by your suggestion of Federation assistance with the terraforming of Ijuuka. He was also uncomfortable discussing the possibility of sabotage within the colonies.”

  The captain frowned at that. “Do you think he or any of the others still harbor uncertainty about our motives?”

  “It’s possible,” Troi replied. “There’s definitely more to what’s going on here than they’ve shared with us, but I can’t say for certain that their intentions are malevolent.”

  Picard wanted to believe that Hjatyn was simply suffering from the pressures of his office. Guiding these people through such trying times would be a challenge for even the most gifted leader, after all. A situation almost surely complicated by the arrival of visitors from another world, he mused.

  Still, he had learned long ago not to discount Counselor Troi’s observations. Her ability to tap into the emotional state of an enemy had given him a tactical advantage on more occasions than he could count, and it gave him pause now. If there was something sinister taking place here, just out of their sight, Picard was certain they would discover it soon enough.

  And that was what worried him.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ALONG WITH HJATYN and the other seven council members, Creij took her place at the large table that was the most significant feature of the ruling body’s meeting chamber.

  As did nearly everything else in the room, the table’s design reflected function rather than form. The bulkheads were bare metal plating just like every other wall in the colony, uncluttered for the most part by artwork or other embellishments for the sake of the room’s occupants. Even the chairs used by the council members, salvaged from a passenger transport long since retired from service, were in need of new upholstery. Hjatyn, as always, had deferred such priorities in favor of focusing on the council’s real responsibilities.

  The chamber’s sole capitulation to decoration was a painting that portrayed a sunrise as seen from Egiun, the botanical gardens that had once graced the center of Dokaal’s capital city of Wyjaed. Rendered by one of the elder citizens who had survived the planet’s destruction, it had been presented to the council as a gift upon the completion of the central habitat. Creij herself had always been enamored with the painting, for some reason seeking comfort in the tranquillity it depicted. Even though she had been born after the disaster, it was as though the scene reached out to her and offered a tenuous link to a world she had never known.

  At the moment, however, even the painting could not soothe her anxiety.

  “My friends,” Hjatyn began as he settled himself into his seat, “this is a wondrous time for us, even without our new guests. Our people are counting on us for confidence and leadership, particularly now. We cannot afford to lapse in our duties, either together or as individuals. I am looking to each of you to continue displaying the same calm and poise you have demonstrated to this point. Do you not agree that this is the best course of action, for all our sakes?”

  The other council members all voiced their approval, Creij included, but the anxiety she already felt only deepened when Hjatyn turned his attention to her.

  “Creij,” the first minister said, “you have been troubled of late, my friend. How can we help?”

  It was true that she was worried, about Hjatyn. Creij was sure something was wrong with the first minister, though it was nothing she could easily explain and there seemed to be nothing empirical on which to base her suspicions. At first, she had been hesitant to mention anything, wo
ndering if perhaps Hjatyn simply was feeling the pressures of his enormous responsibilities. The first minister had always taken more work upon himself than normally was required for a person in his position, reluctant to delegate even the most mundane of tasks to other council members or his cadre of assistants. While this sometimes had the effect of aggravating his fellow leaders, it was one of the many qualities that endeared him to the rest of the Dokaalan people.

  Even before ascending to the Zahanzei Council as science minister and becoming one of its longest-serving members, Creij had been a friend of Hjatyn’s for nearly all of her adult life. Among the first children born here on the colonies after the loss of Dokaal, Creij was one of the many who had looked to the council for guidance. As an adult, she had discovered a way to return that gift, using her natural affinity for interacting with people in order to help them find the strength to carry on with the Dokaalan’s makeshift existence. It was a function she continued to perform even as she moved into public office, providing support and assurance for the citizens as well as fellow members of the council, including the first minister himself.

  More than anyone, Creij believed she knew Hjatyn best, which was why she had finally decided to confront her friend with her concerns at the earliest opportunity.

  She had just not expected that chance to come now.

  As if sensing Creij’s unease, Hjatyn asked, “Come now, surely you can unburden yourself to us. After all the times we have come to you for your wisdom and strength, it is only fair that we return the favor.”

  Nodding, Creij said, “I have sensed some things that worry me, yes. While I was at first fearful of these visitors, I now believe that they truly wish to help us. Many of the people feel the same way, but many more are expressing uneasiness, even distrust, toward the visitors. Those feelings are being reflected here among the council, and I fear that our divided positions will only serve to make matters worse.”