Caretaker - L. A. Graf [78]
The hologram sighed. "That isn't possible." It faded back into the shadows, then swelled toward solidity again, this time without the banjo. "I have barely enough strength to complete my work."
Janeway knew the work had nothing to do with manifesting for her here.
"You're sealing the conduits before you die."
"If I don't, the Kazon will steal the water. But in a few years, when the Ocampa's energy runs out..." Another sigh seemed to ripple through its diaphanous body, and Janeway realized that what she saw was really only the entity's failing control over its own systems. "It won't matter. They'll be forced to come to the surface, and they won't be able to survive. Without me, they're helpless. I've failed them."
He turned to her with eyes so dark, she thought perhaps she was seeing the barn walls through the back of the projection's head. "You once spoke to me of your responsibility for your crew. The Ocampa were my responsibility."
It all made sense, in a sad, lonely sort of way. "Something you did turned their planet into a desert," Janeway hazarded gently.
"Didn't it?"
The projection blinked almost into brightness as it focused a little more of its attention upon her. Janeway thought she saw very human surprise flutter somewhere distant on its features.
"We know there was an environmental disaster about the same time you arrived," she explained. Then, guessing again, "That was the debt that could never be repaid, wasn't it?"
"We're explorers from another galaxy." Its voice rang more strangely now--more like its own thinking, Janeway suspected.
"We had no idea our technology would be so destructive to their atmosphere. Two of us were chosen to stay behind to care for them."
She thought of Tuvok exploring the Array all alone, and her heart stuttered in alarm. "There's another like you here?"
But the entity shook its head, raising one dim, elongated hand to wave the suggestion away. "Not anymore. She went off to look for more interesting places. She never understood why the Ocampa needed so much care..." It directed deep eyes outward, no doubt in the direction of the beleaguered planet. "... didn't realize how vulnerable they were..."
"Why were you bringing ships here?" Janeway asked. "Infecting people with a fatal illness?"
Its face folded into an expression of dismay and distress. "I never meant any harm. They didn't die from illness--they died because they were incompatible."
She frowned. "Incompatible?"
"Don't you understand?" It didn't wait for her to answer, but shifted blurrily onto its knees and leaned forward on the edge of its now near-invisible hay bale. "I've been searching the galaxy for a compatible biomolecular pattern. In some individuals, I found cellular structures that were similar, but..."
Janeway could only stare at the projection in stunned disbelief.
"You've been trying to procreate?"
In a blink, the projection shrank in size and huddled back among its shadows again. The structure of its face barely supported features anymore, just the suggestion of humanity, the possibility of life. "I needed someone to replace me," it sighed in a spidery, whisper-thin voice. "Someone who would understand the enormous responsibility of caring for the Ocampa.
Only my offspring could do that."
But how long did it take such a long-lived creature to breed?
And who would have cared for the young between their birth and adulthood once the Caretaker died? "Did you ever consider allowing the Ocampa to care for themselves?"
It seemed horrified at the suggestion. "They're children."
As would be your offspring. Instead, Janeway scooted around in front of it in an effort to make it look at her instead of out into nowhere.
"Children have to grow up."
An expression that was clearly anguish writhed across what was left of its features. Janeway reached out to