Miracle Workers (SCE Books 5-8) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [83]
I’ve also instructed the remaining workers to construct a sonic barrier around the camp. The electric fence we put up didn’t even slow this creature down, and we need some kind of defense. True, the sonic weapons didn’t work, but that may have been because they’re not powerful enough. J’Roh—who is now the foreperson, following Kejahna’s death—pointed out that we’d have to cannibalize some of the sonic rifles to accomplish this, but, to my mind, it’s worth it.
It’s not like the weapons were doing us any good. . . .
My next task is to find a way to conduct an active scan on this planet. I need to get proper sensor readings of this area, see what it is that’s attracting the shii here. I suspect that we’re doing something to provoke it. Animals generally don’t attack without a reason. Since it can’t digest carbon-based life, it obviously isn’t pursuing us for food. Besides, the specificity of the attacks indicates a possibility of intelligence. But this is all speculation until I can get this tricorder to do some actual scans.
Personal log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53284.1
Amiracle has happened. I was up all night working on it, but I finally figured out a way to adjust the tricorder so I can get at least partial sensor readings of the chimerium-laced area. The resolution is awful and the readings are spotty, but it’s better than what we had before, which was nothing. I hope that I get to live long enough to share this breakthrough with Starfleet.
Razka’s at my tent. . . .
Supplemental
For the second time on this expedition, Razka has asked me to perform the funeral rites for the people who were killed by the monster shii, which reminded me that I hadn’t yet written condolence letters to the families of the ones who died. I already did one for Kejahna’s family. I have to admit—I hate to admit—that I forgot about both duties in the rush of getting the workers to build the barrier and adjusting the tricorder.
I just remembered that time on the Enterprise —our first encounter with the Borg. I was an ensign, fresh out of the Academy, working in engineering under Geordi La Forge. The Borg cut parts of three decks out of the saucer section—with eighteen people in them. They were missing and presumed assimilated. I kept trying to focus on getting the shields back up, but I couldn’t get those eighteen people out of my mind. Geordi said two things to me: “Just put it out of your head” and “We’ll have time to grieve later.”
But the Nalori peoples have very particular funeral rites. And I’m a part of it now, whether I like it or not.
Besides, there’s not a helluva lot I can do until noon, when we send the messages.
Supplemental
The funeral was subdued. The ceremony was for everyone who died except Zilder. I think I did a better job of commending the mazza of the dead to the Endless Wind this time. I wish that I didn’t have to keep practicing, though.
Eridak, one of the Nalori who died, only had two scars—both on his face, none on his forearms. From what I’ve learned, those are the basic coming-of-age scars. Every Nalori here has them, but he was the only one I remember who had only those two. Which meant he was very young. Too young to die.
Afterward, I checked the tent that Zilder had shared with three other workers, and it turned out that he had made up a will since arriving on Sarindar. Rather than follow any Bolian traditions, his wishes related to the death rites of the Damiani. Zilder had worshipped the Damiani god Ho’nig, and according to the Se’rbeg —the holy book of Ho’nig-worshippers—he was required to be buried within three days of death.
That, of course, isn’t going to happen. The crystalline nature of this world makes it impossible to bury anything.
Zilder wrote his will on a piece of paper. He had made many corrections and addenda to it during his time here. He left the Culloden to the Nalori Republic, “as my thanks for hiring me to work for them.”
He left his copy of the Se’rbeg to me. He had originally left