Dark Matters_ Ghost Dance (Book 2) - Christie Golden [68]
Son. Yes, that was why it was here. A child was
dying from the ravages of the dark matter in its system. And though the Entity knew that there was no reason for it to love the Kazan, it felt pity for an innocent child.
It engulfed the ship, gently, so as not to draw attention to its presence. Now it was on the bridge of the vessel, and a violent argument was taking place.
"You are growing soft, Maje!" one was crying. "Once, you had Voyager within your grasp. How we permitted you to remain maje of the Kazon-Nistrim, I do not know."
Names the Entity knew: Voyager, Nistrim. And it knew that the haggard-looking maje who slumped in the command chair was called Culluh.
"You lost the burning in your heart when you lost Seska," the underling continued. "For a woman, Culluh! A female and her suckling babe!"
The maje seemed to stir, and a hint of anger sparkled in his eyes. "You were told never to mention her name. And as for our son-"
"Seska!" said the underling in a singsong voice. "Seska, Seska, dead, dead, dead! Just like her brat will be in-"
Culluh roared to life. He screamed his rage, leaped up from the chair, and flung himself at the insubordinate underling. The Entity recoiled from the fury, and for an instant wondered why there was no trace of dark matter, and why it did not sense the awful feeling of malevolence in Maje Culluh.
Then it understood. The emotions pouring off Culluh were grief and... love. He had loved Seska, loved her strength of will and her cunning, even
when she played him for a fool. The soft flow of hair, the ridge of hard bone on the brow-all of these things were committed to Culluh's mind forever, superceding his previous passion, power. And the son-he loved this boy. And the boy was dying from the dark matter.
With a thought, the Entity was in the maje's private room. A small shape huddled on the bed. As the Entity watched, he moaned and writhed. It could see pans of him appearing and disappearing, and ached with compassion.
It wanted to assume a form the boy would know and trust, but did not know how to do so. Perhaps later it would. It would apply itself to learning how. But for now, it simply settled on the boy like a soft draping of mist, and pulled all the wrong things into itself.
The boy-half Cardassian, half Kazan, all innocence at this tender age-sighed. He relaxed. His body was stable and whole again, and his brain had not been damaged by the attack of the wrong things.
One more thing to do here.
It returned again to the bridge. The maje had triumphed for the moment. Gently the Entity passed through the maje and planted a soft suggestion in his brain: Go to your son.
Culluh blinked, but the suggestion was too strong. He fairly raced through the ship, and the Entity could read his thoughts. He was certain his child was dying-his child, his only link to the treacherous, sensuous woman he had so adored.
The boy was sitting up in bed. "I had an awful
dream, Father," he said. "I dreamed my legs were-"
But Culluh, heedless of the softness the gesture revealed, had caught the boy up in a tight embrace. He whispered his son's name over and over again, kissing Ms dark, furrowed brow. The boy hugged back, tightly.
The Entity knew its task was to gather up the wrong things, but it could not resist. It settled itself on father and son, and so gently that it could not be noticed, planted a thought in the father's brain.
This is the way. This is ever the way. Nothing lasting and true can be bought by blood or hatted.
It did not know if the maje would remember this moment, but it knew that, for this brief instant as he held his miraculously cured son, Maje Culluh agreed with the Entity.
CHAPTER 16
THERE HAD BEEN NO SLEEP FOR EITHER JEKRI OR HER second-in-command