By Nathan Warner
After the Dominion War, a colonizing mission runs into a crashed Dominion ship with a startling secret
No matter that it had been several week, Commander Sandra Dar’es still got a chill every time she returned to the valley from exploring this new world and saw the U.S.S. Protectorate's massive Galaxy class saucer resting above the forest canopy.
It had been a little under a year since the close of the Dominion War, and the refitted Protectorate had been commissioned with a redesign of the Saucer section, allowing it to ingress and egress from planets for extended surveys and colonization purposes. The engineers at the Utopia Planitia fleet yards had finally addressed the “design flaw” of the crashing Saucer, and a number of Galaxy class ships now had the added capability for particular situations.
The U.S.S. Protectorate had arrived at PV-1102 several weeks ago and Captain Chraver had separated the ship and taken the Drive section to continue exploring the solar system and nearby astrological oddities. Commander Dar’es was under orders to establish a colony on PV-1102—an uninhabited M-class planet in the Gamma Quadrant. The only downside was that there seemed to be naturally occurring interference with the transporters. Engineering teams were working to cut through it.
In the meantime, Dar’es had landed the Saucer on a gradual rise in the center of this long valley to give them a good view of their surroundings. Her Vulcan science officer, Lt. Pires, determined the valley was an ancient crater, created by a massive meteor strike that had struck millennia ago. The families and colonists were dispatched from the ship to get acquainted with the surroundings and help the crew with detailed soil sampling and flora and fauna categorization. Already, they had discovered and named over 2,000 new species—in this valley alone.
It had been hard going, but good work. The main shuttle bay was temporarily converted into a colony fabrication "factory" and the tractor beams were always humming away, moving parts and pieces of structures and equipment out of the ship to the clearing below. Shuttles from the other bays were daily dispatched with exploration teams to survey the continent. Nightly reports from all sections were reviewed in the briefing room back on the Protectorate in the evening. These were the times Sandra wished she could be outside with the colonists, enjoying a bonfire under the two overlapping shadows of the Saucer cast by the planet’s two moons. It was a gorgeous view—and the stars were brighter in the sky than on many other planets.
“I wonder if that has to do with the atmospheric interference?” she wondered.
Today, Sandra had finally got a chance to get away from the ship and trek out of the valley with two of her officers. The air was invigorating and crisp. The forests seemed to transport them all back to a simpler time. It was soon after they had climbed out of the valley that they stumbled upon the ruins—ancient stone structures besieged by vines and brush. They stood several stories tall in some areas.
“Someone lived here,” Sandra reflected, wondering if their initial survey of the planet was lacking seriously enough to halt the colonization efforts.
“How did we not see this before,” she asked Lt. Pires. The Vulcan shrugged.
“I cannot give you an adequate answer at this time, Commander,” she replied waving her tricorder over the area like she was drawing imaginary ellipses in the air. Ensign Bateman reported that the structure had been recently disturbed by an advanced, warp capable race.
“Perhaps the Dominion was here years ago?” Dar’es aired what she knew everyone was secretly thinking.
“Perhaps,” Lt. Pires replied with maddeningly vagueness, raising her Vulcan eyebrow as if to add further doubt. After taking samples and making a 3-D scan for Holodeck review later, they moved on through the ruins. That was when they found the crashed ship—definitely a Jem’Hadar fighter.
“Oh, Dear,” Ensign Bateman mumbled when he stumbled up behind them and saw the vessel, “this might ruin my lunch.” After carefully exploring the wreckage, the team reconvened near the upturned port nacelle.
“The ship appeared to be transporting a large quantity of Ketracel White,” Lt. Pires reported, dispassionately. Sandra ignored the emotional baggage that came with the statement and tried to mirror Pires’ calm.
“Life-signs or signs of casualties?” She asked uneasily.
“None here,” Pires replied, “but it seems the crew did survive.” She pointed to a clearing nearby with what seemed to be an abandoned campsite. Sandra’s heart fell. A few steps later, they found the remains of a Vorta.
“He's been dead for about a year,” Pires reported from her tricorder scans, “however, he appears to have died from a Jem’Hadar weapon blast, and I’m not registering any Jem'Hadar remains in the area.”
Great! Sandra thought, we might have some Jem-Hadar soldiers with a large supply of White who don't know that the war is over! She tried to steady the panic in her thoughts, instinctively tightening her grip on her phaser, which somehow had found its way into her hand.
“Alright,” she said, “everyone back to the ship...this changes everything.” Sandra tapped her communicator, “Dar’es to Protectorate.” Static chattered back at her. She tried a few more times, but there was nothing.
“What do you think?” she asked Pires.
“I would advise caution, Commander,” the Vulcan replied.
Oh, really! Sandra thought, as if I need to be told that! But she bit it off before it came out.
“I meant, what do you think about the atmospheric interference—could it be from an unnatural source?” she asked.
“Possibly,” Pires shrugged unhelpfully. Dar’es motioned for Ensign Bateman to huddle.
“Okay, we’re going to assume there are some Jem’Hadar soldiers out there,” she said, “so keep your phasers quick and your eyes sharp, but act like nothing is wrong—if they’re watching us, we don’t want to tempt an assault until we are safely back to the Protectorate.”
They shuffled from the ruins and set out east. On the long hike back to the valley, Sandra caught herself starting at shadows and breezes, constantly looking over her shoulder, despite her own commands to act naturally. It terrified her that this pristine world had been instantly turned into a labyrinth of menace by one simple little discovery, and that it was triggering her trauma from the terrible war. Memories of ambush and fear and death flooded her mind. She took a deep breath, steadied her breathing, and cleared her head—she was a Starfleet officer, and they were here to discover the unknown, even if that involved great risk—that was the job!
A shimmer in the brush ahead caught her attention. The sunlight seemed to be reflecting off something, and then it clicked. She could see the silhouette of a humanoid being in the edges of its distortion. She stopped short. Her instinct was to shoot first and debate later, but her Starfleet training arrested the twitch in her hand. Instead, she raised her empty hands with her palms out.
“The war is over! The Founders are at peace! We come in peace!” she called. Pires and Bateman turned to look at her quizzically and then followed her gaze. Sandra continued, “I can see you, Jem’Hadar—I could have killed you, but I didn’t, because we are no longer enemies.” The shimmer dropped to reveal a Jem’Hadar leaning against a tree, eating a cylindrical tube of red fruit. He wiped his lips. “I am not your enemy,” he said and stood up so they could see he carried no weapons. Pires and Bateman backed a little ways behind her, but Sandra was too preoccupied with the Jem’Hadar to take any notice. Something about him besides his demeanor was odd, and Sandra suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing the combat suit of a soldier, but what looked like hand-tailored civilian clothing, made from coarse organic fibers.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Crusoe,” the Jem’Hadar replied with a nod, and then smiled, “I believe it is in the human custom to introduce yourself, also.” Sandra shook herself—this was all totally unexpected and she still half expected a trap.
“I am Commander Sandra Dar’es of the U.S.S. Protectorate,” she replied, “...and we are here on a peaceful colonizing mission.” Crusoe bowed.
“Then I say welcome to my house,” he replied. Sandra caught herself staring again at the Jem’Hadar in disbelief. So many questions rushed into her mind that she didn’t know where to begin.
“Uh...okay,” she laughed nervously, and then asked the first question that condensed from her evaporating thoughts: “How did you get your name?” Crusoe smiled.
“I found a collection of human books in one of Gul Dukat’s estates where I was posted during the Dominion buildup,” he replied, “He studied human literature and had a keen desire to understand them. He even sarcastically told me I should try my hand at reading them, but I took it to heart as a challenge. And the first book I read was Robinson Crusoe.” Crusoe paused and gestured toward the valley.
“Shall we walk while we talk?” he asked, “I should like to welcome your crew.” Sandra couldn’t help but nod, and they started off towards the Protectorate. “Anyways, I read it several times. “ he continued, “and I read more books, even your Holy Scriptures. Reading these things about humans changed me. I began to think and feel in ways I never had before. I no longer longed to harm others and felt no desire to continue warring. I called the Founder’s wisdom into question. Eventually, my behavior became so bad in the eyes of the Vorta that I was stripped of my post. They would have killed me, but the Vorta like to learn from their mistakes, so I was being transported to a cloning station for psychosurgical assessment when we were attacked by Klingons and my ship crashed here.”
“And the others?” Pires asked, raising her eyebrow, as if gesturing back to the crash site.
“Ah, the others!” Crusoe smiled bitterly. “Immediately upon arrival, my Jem’Hadar brethren fell into a violent fit and killed our Vorta for the White he was supposedly protecting in the cargo hold—only to realize afterwards that there was none. The ship had delivered its cargo before picking me up. While these two soldiers fought amongst themselves over the last vial, I took my opportunity to escape. Within a few days, they were dead, and I buried them beyond those ruins, where my home is located.”
Still with a hint of mistrust in his voice, Bateman overstepped his bounds and asked the question on everyone’s mind: “How did you survive without the White?” Crusoe sighed. He plucked at a leaf above his head.
“I do not know,” he said, “One day, the White stopped having power over me, and I found I could see and think more clearly as time went on.”
“What have you been doing all this time,” Sandra inquired, “I mean have you been living your namesake’s life out on this planet?” They had just come to the lip of the valley, and she could see the Protectorate down below, nestled above the trees like a mother hen roosting over her eggs. Crusoe nodded.
“In some ways, I suppose I have lived as that character” he said, “But really, I have embraced this experience—it is a new lease on life in paradise., and I have spent it experiencing all the wonderful and little magical moments that you probably take for granted, but which I was never allowed to feel.”
“Such as?” Pires asked with a puzzled expression.
“Splashing your feet in a stream?” he asked. Pires seemed to inwardly sigh, and Sandra held back a smile—she doubted the Vulcan had ever splashed her feet in anything. Crusoe continued, “And listening to the birds sing their mating calls, watching sunsets become sunrises, running my fingers through the earth—I find myself reflecting on the miracle of life. And through it all, I have found inexpressible joy in writing it all down—I have composed a small tome of poetry and am attempting to write my memoir, which I hope can help other Jem’Hadar like myself cast off their slavery to instinct.” An embarrassing laugh blurted out of Sandra, and she covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Its just that I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I would meet a Jem’Hadar author!” They had come under the shadow of the Protectorate and Sandra was just now becoming aware of all the colonists scrambling out of their way with wild eyes fixed on Crusoe.
“It’s okay!” she declared, “He’s a friend!” And then she thought about what she had just said. What a miracle this was!
Suffice it to say Captain Chraver wasn’t convinced when he received Sandra’s report that evening about the Jem’Hadar poet she had met in the woods. He was a hardened military man, and she was afraid he wouldn’t accept Crusoe. She was even more concerned when he warped back from his solar survey to beam down and meet the man himself.
Chraver still had a scar from a Jem’Hadar over his right eye that shone up whenever he was materializing. He looked cold and harsh facing the Crusoe, but after a moment of sizing the Jem’Hadar up, his face softened a little.
“Take a walk with me,” his gravely voice boomed, and they set off together towards the ruins. They were gone for hours and Sandra was growing worried, but at dusk they appeared coming up the slope to the ship, laughing and deep in conversation.
“Yes, I should like to visit your cottage,” Chraver was saying, “and I’ll be sure to bring my collection of Hawthorne to discuss his merits with you!”
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