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I stared at him. “What’s the real reason?”

“Does there need to be another reason?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure there is one.”

Razka sighed, and then he smiled at me. “All my life, I have prided myself on always doing the best job I could. I have always excelled at the tasks I have been given. Mind you, not all those tasks were especially challenging, but that wasn’t the point.”

He started to pace. “The other day, I was given another simple task: to help you track down the monster shii. When it attacked, I did nothing. I could not fire my weapon. I could not move. You were threatened, and I did not move. My comrades were wounded, and I did not move. Zilder was killed right in front of me, and I did not move.”

He looked up at me with a stricken look. I’d never seen him like this—he’d always been so easygoing and pleasant before.

“So I have stayed. Becaue it is my job to aid you, and I will not fail again.”

I nodded and said, “All right, fine. It’s just you and me, then. We can either wait until that thing comes and gets us, or we can stop it once and for all. It’s not going to listen to reason.”

“Why should it, Commander?”

I actually chuckled at that, which surprised me. I hadn’t thought I had any chuckles left in me. “You were right. I forgot the first rule of programming.”

“Which is?” Razka asked.

“A machine is only as good as what’s put into it—no more, no less. Garbage in, garbage out. Now, c’mon,” I said, hefting my sonic rifle, “we’ve got to take out the garbage.”

Razka and I went and used the remnants of the camp perimeter barrier and the remaining Nalori-issue sonic rifles to form a small barricade for the pair of us. We’re within the confines of that barricade now, having just finished modifying my own sonic rifle. It now emits a pulse intended to immobilize the shii for several minutes. Of course, there’s no way to test it until the shii attacks. . . .

We’re waiting for midnight to come around. The next window in the pulsar/quasar interference will provide us with the best chance to stop it. I’m recording this log entry while we wait. We’ve both eaten some field rations, and we’re as ready to go as we can be.

It’s funny, I’ve been thinking back on all the life-or-death situations I’ve been in in my career. I mean, I spent the first three-and-a-half years of my career on the Enterprise, where we had life-or-death situations on what seemed to be a weekly basis, starting with the Borg. Then there was that one-year project on the Oberth, which was pretty sedate until all hell broke loose at the end, when the Romulans turned up out of nowhere.

Then there was the Sentinel. And the war.

I’m sick of people dying. I’m sick of losing people. Whether they’re friends, comrades, subordinates—it doesn’t matter.

It stops now.

I reached into one of the pouches on my uniform—where I’d normally keep my tricorder. I had put Zilder’s copy of the Se’rbeg there—not entirely sure why. I’m not particularly religious. I remember what Kejahna joked when we tested the antimatter reactor: “Ho’nig helps those who help themselves.” He mainly said it to tease Zilder, who didn’t think that the reactor would be ready in time with only two antigrav units.

Now they’re both dead. And I need to use their work to help stop the monster that is trying to destroy that work.

It’s almost midnight. Time to get moving.

First officer’s log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53290.6

At ten minutes prior to midnight, I came out from behind the barricade, leaving Razka safe inside. I had the feeling that the shii would attack us as soon as it could. Its function is to collect heads for its owners. It had targeted my particular head on three occasions now without getting it. I don’t know if it’s capable of grudge matches—in fact, I’m sure it isn’t—but I also suspect that it was programmed to keep trying to fulfill its goals. That meant that it would keep trying for me until it had my head.

That, at least, was my plan. It turned out to be accurate. I waited near the concave dish that formed