The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [18]
Crusher frowned at the explanation. “What an odd choice for one’s dying words.”
“Not so odd for this particular Vulcan,” said Picard. “For the past two decades, T’Sara has … had been obsessed with tracing an object which she believed appeared in the mythology of disparate worlds. Her theory, widely discounted by other scholars and historians, is that this talisman really did exist and that it was the factual source for all those legends. She also believed that the Ko N’ya had somehow ended up on Atropos, and she spent the last ten years trying to find it there.”
“What a waste,” said Riker. “Could this obsession of hers have been caused by the Bendii’s?”
“Would everyone please stop speculating ahead of the evidence,” snapped Crusher. “Sorren was an archaeologist, not a doctor, and he was not qualified to diagnose such an extremely rare disease. Until my lab tests confirm—” “How soon—” began Picard.
“I’m working as fast as I can, Captain,” said Crusher stiffly. “My staff is working as fast as they can. When the results are ready, I’ll let—” She stopped suddenly, took a deep breath, then began again. “And when I’ve gotten some sleep, I may even remember how to be civil again.”
“No offense taken, Doctor,” said Picard. Sleep might help, but he suspected her weariness had another, darker, source; Beverly’s next task was all too obvious.
His chief medical officer rose from behind her desk. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have another autopsy to attend to.”
“Captain?”
“Sorry, Number One,” said Picard, when he realized that he was still standing in the corridor outside sickbay, lost in thoughts of T’Sara and her fruitless quest. He launched himself forward, setting a brisk pace. “You were saying?”
Riker fell into step beside him. “According to Worf’s progress report, the research camp is almost completely dismantled. We should be able to break orbit in the next few hours.”
“Not yet,” said Picard. “Not until we have a clear idea of what happened down on the surface. We may need to examine the site again.”
There was sufficient truth in this statement to ease Picard’s conscience. An additional, unspoken reason was his need to make peace with T’Sara’s murder. His grief at the scholar’s death was more intellectual than emotional, yet an empty feeling of deep loss could not be dislodged no matter how fast he walked.
“I think it’s time for me to see Atropos for myself.” Without slowing his pace, Picard executed an abrupt turn to his right and marched through the open doors of a turbolift that had just discharged a passenger. “Deck 6.”
Riker dashed into the compartment just before the doors closed. As the turbolift whined into motion, the first officer said, “Are you going down there as an archaeologist or as a detective?”
“A bit of both,” admitted Picard, “but also to pay my respects.”
When T’Sara’s life had been cut short, her ceaseless quest for the mythic Ko N’ya had also come to an end. Atropos, with its covering of ruins, was a fitting tombstone for both of them.
The hard metallic grill of the transporter platform transmuted into spongy turf, and Picard felt his boots sink ever so slightly into the ground.
He surveyed his surroundings, from the plants crushed under his boots to the strange jumble of ruins, like the bleached bones of an ancient goliath scattered all around him.
Massive tiles had once paved the area with alternating squares of bright colors, but their pattern was disrupted now. Some tiles had settled unevenly, their surfaces tilted at wild angles; others were shattered into pieces; all were smeared with a thick layer of dust and dirt.
In the center of the plaza was a jagged ring of stone, all that remained of a high tower that had crumbled down to its base. Judging from the amount of debris, the structure had dwarfed every other building within