|
|
"Are you the sage master Turek?" I ask as I step into the Vulcan monastery.
"I am," the elderly Vulcan replies as he turns to face me. For only a fraction of a second, I sense surprise from him over my appearance. To his credit, he shows no outward display. "I believe you are the first Klingon to step foot inside this monastery." He raises an eyebrow. "Klingons are not known for their desire to meditate. What has made you decide to seek my counsel?"
"I have endured difficult times in my life and wish to learn to control my raging emotions. You may find, I'm not like other Klingons. I'm only half. I'm also part Betazoid and Human." I place my hands behind my back. "If you have the time and are willing to tolerate me, I'm ready for a challenge."
"Half or not, your discipline must be strong. I instruct only the most dedicated students." For a long moment, he stares at me and to show my determination, I return his gaze without a blink or movement of any kind. "Very well, return tonight at 1800 hours and you may join my novice class. I must warn you that the other students will be younger than you."
"I can handle that." Silently, I welcome the interaction with children.
*****
Leaving the monastery, I check into a room at the Aris Mountain Inn and while I am unpacking my belongings, I receive a visitor.
"You are foolish to believe you can fit in here."
"I'm sure I'll manage here as well as I have anywhere else," I reply as I set my journal atop my dresser. "Are you playing Q's messenger again?"
Red smirks. "No. I have come of my own volition. If you persist this avenue you will stagnate yourself. The Continuum needs a passionate leader."
"You're assuming, of course, that I will eventually choose to lead the Continuum into this new revolution you and Q dream of."
"You are our only hope for salvation."
I toss my now-empty away bag into the bottom of the closet. "Oh, I doubt that in seven-million years, I'm the only hope you've had. What could I possibly accomplish that you haven't tried since you formed your faction?"
"You can read minds."
I consider the implications of that statement for several seconds and sense Red growing flustered by my hesitation. "And pinpoint their weaknesses," I surmise. "The Q are no more amnipotent or omniscient, than they are immortal. You believe that I can win many of them over to our faction by playing on their emotions. You want me to use guile and trickery to win their loyalty."
Red smirks. "Of course."
"How do you propose to win mine?"
The smile wanes from Red's face. "Surely you understand the need to form an alliance and to finally end all this suffering."
"Whose suffering will it end? Not mine. I believe for now, I will seek Turek's teachings and learn to curtail my Klingon genes."
"It is not the Klingon part of you that we're interested in utilizing."
"You will exploit no part of me. Now please leave!"
Red leans toward me, only centimeters from my face. "You will find your Vulcan dictate a bore. One day, you'll come running to Q." With a smug look, she flashes out.
No matter where I travel, I cannot escape the Q. Their interest in me goes beyond all reason. I recall an old Earth saying that goes something like "If you can't beat them, join them." Maybe we are doomed to remain in a stalemate forever. And the Q can no more escape me than I can them.
With time on my hands before Turek's class, I decide to take a walking tour of the area. If I'm going to behave like a Vulcan, I must familiarize myself with their culture.
Although I once studied the Vulcan culture under Data's tutelage, text descriptions cannot compare to actual exposure. As I walk through the hot arid streets, I do not tap into the power of the Q, so I may experience the Vulcan climate fully. The Vulcan sun is extremely bright today as it is most days. It seldom rains on this planet and most of the plant life are cactus. There is little grass or flowering plants. It is interesting that like the Klingons, the Vulcans have chosen not to use climate control devices.
The buildings are mostly of a twenty-fourth century design, but one three-story structure stands out as distinctly old. Curious, I step inside and find I've entered a library, one with hardbound books rather than computer consoles and data padds. I'm further amazed by the number of patrons I see wandering the shelves. Browsing the shelves, I select a book from the middle row. I cannot immediately tell its topic, because I cannot read Vulcan, but as I flip through its pages I realize from the pictures that it is a history of wars on Vulcan.
I return the book to the shelf, more intent on studying the patrons. As I pass each of them, they glance briefly my way. I sense curiosity in many of them, about the only emotion I've sensed since arriving on Vulcan. I greet a couple of them, but after receiving looks of disapproval, I head toward the door and back outside to the sweltering heat.
Most of the civilians are wearing hooded cloaks to protect themselves against the heat. Some eye me suspiciously, because they view me as underdressed, but most ignore me. Vulcans tend to mind their own business. If only the Q were so inclined, I would not be here now. Will abandoning all my emotions rid me of the Q or am I wasting time on this stoic planet?
"I can afford to waste a millennium or two doing anything I want," I mutter.
"Yes, you can," a voice whispers. "But why bother with these dull humanoids?"
"All right, Q, I say, stopping to sit at a bench. "Which faction are you from? And would you mind showing yourself to me?"
"I'm from Faction 69 and I'm already here, at your feet."
I glance down to see a tiny black creature with six legs scurrying from underneath the bench to rest at the toes of my right shoe. "You're a bug!" I exclaim, grinning.
"All the better to spy on you. You did not know I was following you until I let you."
I am no longer amused. "Why were you spying on me?"
"I'll never tell. Why should I give you the advantage over me?"
"That is so like you, Q," I say with confidence, though we've only just met. "What makes you so sure that I am not the more powerful one?"
He laughs dryly. "You are young and naive. You will never be a true Q for as long as you cling to your mortal ways."
I smirk. "I've met other Q who enjoy interacting with mortals. They behaved with more integrity than you and treated me with far more respect."
"One from such a barbaric species is undeserving of any respect. Better to be a bug than beasts who growl and claw at one another."
An image of Wet'zel pouncing on me assaults my memory. Although I'd felt pleasure in the moment, it only brings me regret now.
"Ah, no witty response from the Klingon. You are beginning to bore me." He moves several centimeters away only to stop and turn around. "You will never fit in with the Continuum. Perhaps I should put you out of your misery."
Alarmed, I stand up. I can't allow him to send me to that cold, dark oblivion! "Perhaps, is should put you out of yours!" I exclaim, taking one step forward and crushing his tiny carcass. I wipe his guts on the sidewalk. "Who's more powerful now?" I say defiantly. Then I fall back onto the bench as I suddenly realize what I've done. I've killed a living being! No matter how vicious or vile a creature is, no one should have the right to end their life. I don't deserve to be a Q, certainly not one under Faction 1687. "I'm supposed to be their great leader!" I mumble sarcastically. "But I'm no better than Faction 17."
"Oh, don't flatter yourself," someone whispers in my ear.
I jerk around, but see no one behind me. Not another bug, I think but a thorough search of the grounds turns up no sign of Q. "Why do you taunt me?" I demand.
Passersby actually stop to look my way, surprised by my outburst. They are unaccustomed to an outward display of emotions and do not wish to tolerate my presence. "I'm sorry. I've come here to take a discipline class. I will rid myself of these emotions."
*****
There are eleven students besides myself standing before Turek. The others are extremely composed. I sense very little emotion from any of them. Clearly Vulcans begin teaching their children stoicism before they even learn to walk. How do I expect to rid myself of my temper at sixteen? If Turek knew that I'd killed another sentient being...even a widely despised Q...before coming to this session, he would have me escorted out of the building. I am a waste of his time. Not even the most disciplined mentor will ever succeed at training me to completely rid myself of basic emotions. I should leave this class and this planet. I am less at home here than I was on Q'ronos.
"Shannara!" Turek exclaims, getting my attention. "You must focus. Place your fingers together in front of you like this." He demonstrates the Vulcan meditation technique. I follow his example. "Concentrate al your energy on the tips of your fingers. Your entire body, your entire existence is at your fingertips."
I could cheat and literally place myself at my fingertips by using the power of the Q, but that would not accomplish my objective. So instead, I close my eyes and use my imagination to place myself mentally at my fingertips. I think about how it would feel to be that tiny and shudder as I recall the moment I stomped Q from Faction 69. I open my eyes and take a step back, almost bumping into the student behind me.
"This is your first day," Turek says, "so I will overlook your outburst. Continue practicing this exercise on your own time. I will expect some improvement at the next lesson."
I nod as I move out of the other student's space. "You won't be disappointed."
"I assure you that I never experience disappointment in anyone or anything."
How many more blunders will I make before my dismissal. Perhaps one more and I will be dismissed early. "Of course not, sir. I will try harder."
Raising an eyebrow, he nods before directing his attention to the entire class. "I apologize for the interruption," he tells everyone. "Did anyone experience any emotions while they were forced to wait for Miss Rozhenko to regain her equilibrium?"
I glance around the room, expecting a hand or two to raise. I did sense impatience and annoyance from a couple of students, though I'm unsure which of them displayed the raw emotions.
"It is better to admit your emotions," Turek warns them. "You cannot concur an emotion covered up."
Hesitantly, two hands are raised and a boy around seven years old steps forward. "I was annoyed that she was wasting meditation time. I need much practice and will take the same advice and practice at home."
"That is a logical course of action. I will accept that disciplinary action." Turek nods at a girl to my right and she steps forward.
"I wanted this lesson to progress smoothly," she says, "so I could return to my mother. She is ill. I know it is wrong of me to worry."
"Worrying does not change the outcome," Turek advises the child. "She will live or die the same whether you react emotionally or not. Your worry only slows your own accomplishments. I would advise the same meditative discipline for you as Miss Rozhenko."
"Yes, Sage Turek," she says, bowing. "I will not allow my emotions to distract me in the future."
"Very well. You may retake your place and resume your meditation." He again focuses on the entire clas. "Everyone resume meditation." He assumes the meditation stance. "Focus your energy on your fingertips. You and you alone exist in the universe."
We remain, ironically as a group, in this isolated state for twenty minutes. It becomes increasingly difficult for me to keep my eyes shut and to not move, but I am determined to prove I can rival any Vulcan discipline. Determination, I know, is an emotion. I will rid myself of it.
And the guilt I'm feeling for killing that scum from Faction 69.
After the meditation, we enter a thirty-minute discussion about how to suppress emotions during the most stressful situations. It is definitely a lesson I need to learn! No Q will want a Betazoid who behaves with stoicism during a crisis. Although I listen intently to Turek's every word, I leave the meditation hall feeling disoriented. Do I really want to rid myself of this guilt? Don't I deserve that at least in punishment?
I return to my room, barely noticing anyone I pass along the way, and retrieve my journal. I open it to the first blank page and begin writing of my recent Q encounter.
Today, I met a Q who chose to present himself as an insect. He was cocky as the majority of Q are. I sensed that he intended to do me harm. Whether he meant to kill me or not, I am uncertain. I thought so at the time. I did not give him a chance to try, for giving his microcosmic size, I easily stomped him out. Did he deserve to die? Maybe. But I did not have the arbitrary right to carry out that punishment. I should have summoned other Q to help me deal with him. If only I'd had the forethought.It is too late now and I feel enormous guilt, which I will be faced to live with for the remainder of my life, whether that be a hundred years or immortality. I cannot bring him back. Not even the power of the Q has the ability to resurrect anyone."
I stop writing suddenly as a possibility strikes me. I recall once when Q insisted that I follow my destiny and become famous among my people. The Q can't help me here, but maybe the Akodians can!
My mind races over ways in which I can convince the Akodians that this regeneration is imperative. "He didn't deserve to die" certainly won't work. Neither will, "he was destined for great accomplishments." Hardly.
Maybe I should ask Q for advice first, I consider. If he will show up when I call him. What if he decides after learning I've killed another Q that he wants nothing more to do with me? After all, Faction 1687 doesn't sanction executions for any reason. Not knowing what to do, but knowing that encountering Q again is inevitable, I choose to get the telling over with.
"Q! Are you busy?" I ask the empty room. "I really need to talk with you. It's never been more important than now, so please pop into my room." Silently, I count to ten before scooping up my journal and returning it to my dresser.
"You rang?" Q asks, startling me.
I turn around to face him. "You always have to make a grand entrance." He smiles affirmatively. "I have a problem, Q. A really big problem."
"Living among these repressed humanoids, I can see why," he says, tugging at his collar as though it is choking him.
"I'm being serious, Q! I had a visit from a member of Faction 69. I believe he meant to kill me."
"The despicable excuse for a Q. I bet he was spying on you in hopes of testifying at your admittance trial."
"My what?"
"Your admittance trial. All new Q must undergo a trial to prove their worthiness within the boundaries of the Continuum. Faction 99 insists upon it."
"I met with some of their members once."
"Then the trial has already begun."
"But Q, that's not why I called you." I take a deep breath to prepare myself for his reaction. "I stomped on Q; I squished his guts out. It was a split-second decision. I was so sure he was about to turn me into Targ ta-ta. But now, now I'm not so sure. Maybe he did only mean to testify against me, to have me banished from the Continuum." I look into Q's grey eyes, expecting a reaction. Instead, he appears as stoic as any Vulcan. "Well, aren't you going to say something? Do something? How about relinquish my powers? Banish me from ever stepping foot inside the Continuum!"
"You believed you were acting in self-defense, you say?"
"Yes!"
"Then your actions are forgiven."
"By you? By Faction 1687? That's all there is to it? No slap on the wrist? Or a thousand years inside a penalty box? I doubt the entire Continuum will forgive me, though some may pat me on the back." I shake my head. "I want to contact the Akodians. Maybe we can convince them to regenerate Q."
"You can't do that! Many Q would view that as a greater crime than murder: a superior race asking another for assistance! Blasphemy!"
"I hadn't looked at it that way...but if I let the killing stand, I cannot forgive myself. Maybe I should go on trial for murder. Let Faction 69 or some other faction decide to execute me."
"That would be suicide!" He grasps my arm and looking into his eyes, I see and feel the most compassion I've ever witnessed from my guardian angel. He really does care about me! "Let me tell you about another Q, a very dear friend of mine, who committed suicide."
"I've never heard of such a thing! Was he a lost Q?"
"No. Actually, he was a great philosopher of the New Era. He once believed that the Continuum would enter a state where everything would once again become new and exciting. But he eventually grew bored with the notion and thought to end his life. Only Faction 1058 got wind of his plan and feared that if he were allowed to carry out his suicide that the consequences of that action would ripple throughout the Continuum and destroy the multiverse as we know it."
"How could one death have such an adverse effect on the multiverse? Thousands have been executed over the course of Continuum history and the multiverse is still in tact."
"Executed....killed by the hand of another. That is hardly the same as taking one's own life. Can you imagine what would happen if word got out that a Q had taken his own life? All the bored, depressed Q would take his example and line up for permission to become mortal so they could take their life as well. Do you know how many of them there are?"
"So you're saying that existence inside the Continuum has become dull?"
"Yes! To many, it has. Anyway, this Q was granted asylum aboard Voyager by Captain Janeway...and what a delightful specimen she is. Then Kat conducted a trial to determine if Q had the right to choose mortality and she ruled in his favor. However, she beseeched him to choose to live out that mortal life, to explore humanity for all its glory. He agreed and took on the name Quinn. That state of euphoria lasted for a day when Quinn called on me. He told me how much he'd always admired my irrepressible nature and wished I'd never changed into the doldrum I'd become. He couldn't bear to live out such a mundane existence, he told me and so I produced some Nogatch hemlock for him to ingest."
"You preach about the ripple effects of a Q suicide and then you turn around and aid Quinn's suicide?"
"Yes," he replies with a proud smile. "The irrepressible Q is back."
"Then why stop me if I wish to kill myself?"
He fixes me dubiously. "Shannara, I can neither read your mind nor feel your emotions, but I do know you. There is too much lust for adventure inside you. I only wonder why you spend so much of your time in this single universe instead of exploring the multiverse."
"I was born here. It is my home."
"And what have you always said you wanted the most? To escape the Enterprise; to leave your dull, boring life behind. How else do you propose to do that other than jumping from thread to thread along the multiverse?"
I bite at my lower lip as I contemplate the logic of Q's words. Have I lived a life of contradiction? I've been holding back on my true nature, allowing myself to live a shallow life.
"While it is true that your execution of Q will not be sanctioned by Faction 1687, his loss will have no adverse effect on any of our lives, including your own. He was an insect and worthy of being treated no better."
"What about the other members of Faction 69? How do we deal with them?"
"They are few and far between, but you leave the handling of them up to me. I'll see to it that they leave you alone. Now if you will excuse me, I was in the middle of a game of croquet when you summoned me."
He flashes out, leaving me to ponder my options alone. I jump onto the full-sized bed in a lying- down position and think about whether I should Q-flash to another universe or allow myself to sleep through this one.
What will either option solve? Probably nothing, but if I'm faced with billions of years ahead of me, then any choice I make is arbitrary. I can always go back and make a different choice later. With that thought to comfort me, I allow myself to drift into sleep and find myself surrounded by bright whiteness.
"She hasn't been here in a while," a man says.
"How long do you suppose she'll stay?" asks another.
"Not for long," a woman answers. "She doesn't like to stay anywhere for too long."
I focus on their voices, trying to pinpoint exactly where they're coming from and slowly the whiteness gives away to other colors. The three figures squint at me as though affected by the same bright colors.
"Can she see us?" asks the first.
"Of course, I can," I respond. "This is my dream. I can see what I want to see. Who are you?"
"We are aligned with Faction 1315," the woman responds proudly. She is much shorter than her two companions, with curly auburn hair. "We exist in your dreams and those of others. This is where you are most relaxed."
"And most susceptible to reason," the second man adds.
"We've come to warn you of several factions, whom are planning an uprising," the woman continues. "They believe you are quite vulnerable right now. Shed your emotions, and you will lose any edge you have over them. Do not continue to pursue this Vulcan discipline, Shannara Rozhenko. It will be your undoing."
"So you think," I mock them.
They respond in unison, "So we know!"
The bright whiteness suddenly returns and as I shield my eyes against it, I realize I am lying in my bed, having returned to the land of the awakened. I get up, check the chronometer to learn it is nearly 0700 hours, and walk to my closet to retrieve my away bag. I now realize that I have only one option and before I embark on this journey, I must pay Sage Turek one final visit.
"Turek, may I speak with you?" I ask as I find the sage sitting at his office desk.
"You may," he responds as he terminates his link with the main computer.
"I've come to inform you that I will no longer be attending your classes. I don't wish to rid myself of my emotions."
"I see. Very well, then. You may pursue other interests."
"That's it? You're not going to request a reason for my withdrawal?"
"There would be no point in that. You have made your decision for whatever emotional reasons seem logical to you. It will neither benefit me nor please me if you stay. Therefore, I will accept your decision to leave without question."
"Fine," I say and slowly turn toward the door. I feel odd as I leave the room, sensing no emotion from the man who was briefly my teacher. I shouldn't; he is a disciplined Vulcan master. As I walk out of the building and toward my transport, I feel a bit easier with every step.
Even though I have no clue as to where I'm going next.
