We have entered the Patch. Our travel time is slowed even further by
having to avoid certain obstacles. There is much dangerous space matter
here; my blindness will not allow me to help Hiroko in navigating some
of the worst patches. We go slowly and I sense Hiroko is trying to find
ways around some of the worst areas. She insists I must not concern
myself with more than monitoring channels for possible pursuit.
Subspace chatter shows that Imperial attention is decidedly elsewhere.
War with Rihannsu has been formally declared. Our ship is not even
listed as missing, and is certainly low priority. Even so, I am careful
to keep monitoring as much as I can. Scanners work erratically here,
but that, again, is all to the good, as the inverse would certainly be
true for any possible hostile beings' starships.
I am sitting at the computer console when Hiroko channels speakers on
and tells everyone to buckle in for turbulence. We are encountering an
ion storm of much intensity, and Hiroko says we must land. But
something is wrong. She will not answer my requests for information. I
make certain all the others are netted into the padded alcoves built
for rough travel and landings, and I myself claw my way to the small
bridge.
Hiroko orders me to strap myself into the side seat. "I don't have time
to argue, Spock. This is bad." She has shown she is a skilled pilot but
says the ion storm has damaged or curtailed instrument readings and
that we are flying blind. I obey her, and illogically, wish for my
eyesight again. I could be of use.
We seem to be above a planet, at least, though one I have not charted.
Gravity plates fluctuate and I hear Hiroko cursing; that worries me
more than hysterics. She does not curse as a rule.
But I have time only for that one thought and we impact ground
abruptly. I hear the twisting of metal and the screech of plates giving
way, and am thrown back into the upholstery and almost black out. Then
all is silence.
I wonder momentarily if I am alive and decide I am. I fight myself free
of the straps enfolding me and claw my way to Hiroko's chair; it is
twisted and she is still. I feel her neck and it lolls at an angle I
can tell with my fingers is unnatural. There is no pulse and I can feel
no answering whisper of her mind. She is dead, nearly instantly. I
think her neck may be broken. I hear a sob and realize it is my own
voice.
I still myself and negotiate the passage back. The Hope must have
landed at an angle, as I must climb the final steps of what was a level
corridor, and I call out.
"T'Pel! T'Pau! T'Amanda! Tes, Deezen! Are you all right?" The door is
blocked and I push at it, sliding it back. When I am inside, I feel
around the bulkhead, until my fingers encounter the netting. I touch my
wife's face.
She breathes, but her eyes are closed. T'Amanda is strapped
in next to her, and is also unconscious, but my fingers find no obvious hurts. Suddenly T'Pau is next to me.
"They are alive, Spock, and they seem unhurt. See after the others. I will look for our Mistress."
"No need, T'Pau. She is dead. I grieve with thee."
"And I with thee, Spock. Very well. I shall look to the Andorians."
They prove to be entirely unhurt, just shaken up, and in a few moments
both my wife and daughter awaken. All of us seem numb, and I am aware
that we all may be in shock. Someone will have to assess damages.
I make my way to the computer console, leaving Hiroko's body strapped
in for now. To my relief, the console powers up, and I scan through
Hope's systems. She isn't going to be going anywhere soon--if at all. I
am the only one in our disparate crew with any experience repairing
starship engines, but blind, my expertise is useless. I can show some
of my knowledge to T'Pau, but some of the circuitry may be irreparable
by anyone without hands-on experience.
I scan the place we have crashed in, and there is a breathable
oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. I recommend that someone go out and scan
with the tricorder for hostile lifeforms. It appears to be midday here,
if T'Pau's explanation of the position of this planet's sun is
accurate. I check our heading; this is an unknown planet even to those
in my own universe. We are far enough inside the
space of the Briar Patch that we can be reasonably certain that no
Imperial vessels will be looking for us any time soon. Perhaps never.
We have ventured far outside Hiroko's filed itinerary, and by the time
anyone looks for us, even our ion trail will be long dissipated.
While we have not yet found any evidence of rebel
colonies, neither is it likely Imperial forces will find us,
either. This world may be the best chance we have of freedom, for now.
Sighing, I shut down the console in order to preserve power, and go to
help lay out Hiroko's body. Then I find the emergency beacon and
dismantle it.
Tes is helping me in laying out the body. He proposes using a sheet for
a makeshift shroud and I reluctantly demur. "We may have need of
whatever cloth we can salvage, Tes. We may be here for the long
haul. What I propose is that we dig a grave, as soon as
possible--not only for respect, but also for sanitary reasons. We have
no stasis unit large enough to preserve her. In fact, we will have to
allot even emergency power to only necessities. We cannot know how long
we will need to rely on some ship's functions, nor how soon they will
give out."
Tes is already opening the airlock, and soon he and Deezen are
conferring. I hear him move away for a moment and I strain to hear what
they are discussing. It has to do with the scans of the area. There are
hills, and nearby is a small river. If we had to crash-land, this would
seem an idyllic place to do it. Deezen is telling Tes that there are no
large predators at all within range of the sensors in the tricorder.
Tes returns after a short time. He and Deezen had walked around the
Hope, and out of even my hearing range, but he tells me that the area
we are in is flat and he has located a spot with what appears to be
soft dirt. He recommends that we all help dig, all but T'Pau, and she
can look after T'Amanda, and keep her occupied. She is trying to
explain death to the child. T'Amanda appears to accept it with
equanimity, more than even I did at my first taste of death to someone
close to me, when my sehlat, I-Chaya had died protecting me from the
le-matya so long ago.
And I was older, more versed in the Disciplines than she is.
I locate by touch the compartment wherein are stored the tools I had
requested--there are two shovels and a short spade. I strip my shirt
off, unwilling to dirty it while we may have to conserve power so we
will be unable to use the ship's facilities for laundry. Tes shows me
by touch where to dig. It takes us 2.25 hours to complete a grave deep
enough to not become a health hazard.
Now it is my turn to take my daughter, as I cannot see to help carry
the body. When she is laid out, Deezen picks flowers from the glade
nearby and covers her with them. I remember the safe and get her
jewelry out. I think it is safest to inter it with Hiroko. If we are
ever found by Imperial forces, it is best that her valuables stay with
her. And if it is rebels, I find myself unwilling to have her things,
some of them heirlooms, pawed over by those who will only see them for
their intrinsic value.
Once the grave is complete, we stand in silence, each remembering
Hiroko in our own way. I know T'Pau is grieving; she helped raise this
woman, after all. But her control holds, and she stands for a moment,
then speaks in our language, honoring our friend. "Dor-tor etek
nash-gad vokaya t'Hiroko -ko-fu t'Yoko. Nam-tor ek'etek nelauk
k'tevakh hi vesht tvidonik k'ha'kiv t'osa-veh."
For the benefit of the Andorians, who have not learned much of our
tongue, I make the ritual answer in Standard.
"We honor her this day. We honor the woman, the daughter of her family,
the friend of ours. We honor her memory. We were enriched by her life,
and we are diminished by her death." I turn to where I know they stand.
"It is the custom of my people to speak of the one we honor. If there
is an Andorian equivalent, we would ask that you consider sharing that
ritual now."
Tes speaks. "On Andor, so I learned from my fathers, we would sing the
soul song, to carry the soul to the afterworld in safety. I will now
sing it." And he lifts his voice in a high and tremulous, but beautiful
voice, in a sibilant tongue I understand only a few words of, as it is
in a ritual language only partly related to the modern tongue of Andor
as I learned it when my father was on an ambassadorial errand to the
capitol city of that world, and took me along to increase my knowledge
of Federation members. After a moment, Deezen joins in, and trills an
answer to the now urgent voice of Tes.
T'Amanda has toddled to me and takes my hand and we listen as the notes shrill and then die. I remember to breathe.
As we turn from the grave and go back to the ship to plan our next day,
I know that the haunting song will stay with me a long time. It is an
extraordinary tribute.
Remembering that year's events has been extremely fatiguing. The
emotions once associated with that time have long since been patterned
and stored, but nonetheless, it was an eventful time. I will resume
this journal again in the morning.