The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [33]
“And you were there just a day or two ago,” Klerran said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Another question, Kerajem,” Picard said. “I believe you mentioned something about a theocracy having been overthrown by a revolution—a rather recent one, if I understood correctly.”
Kerajem looked at his hands again. “Yes, Captain,” he replied. “When our people finally arrived on Nem Ma’ak Bratuna after their long journey, they fell almost immediately into barbarism. The rigid civilization that had preserved us and our ways inside the asteroid ships could not be sustained after we made landfall. We had lived with great discipline and self-control for two millennia. That was more than long enough.”
“It was a bloody, brutal time,” Klerran said. “The historical records of our people before their escape from Eul Ma’ak Lethantana are sketchy to nonexistent, but the record of our life here is fairly complete. We entered a long, dark age, losing our technology along with our civilization.”
“We spent centuries conquering each other, killing each other, and losing whatever it was that made us Lethanta, a united people,” Rikkadar said. “Then came the monks. That was about twelve hundred years ago.”
“Monks?” Troi asked, a little puzzled.
“The monks,” Rikkadar said. “They were few at first, but they went about preaching peace, love, and tolerance to the warring tribes. Many of them were killed for their pains, but enough lived to spread what they called the Word of Reconciliation to most of the world. Over the course of time, things began to calm down, and real societies began to form. The monks gradually came into power because, once we had a civilization again, someone had to run it. The monks were the only people that everyone would listen to.”
“They eventually formed the theocracy you mentioned,” Picard observed. “What went wrong?”
“The theocracy lasted a very long time,” Kerajem said, his mouth a tight line. “It wound up making slaves of us. About six centuries ago, the leadership of the monks was taken with the notion that our new world must prepare for an eventual assault by our old enemy, the Krann.”
“But is that not what has happened?” Worf asked.
“This was not a rational plan, Lieutenant. This was theology gone awry, religious ritual run amok. The monks had no more idea who the Krann were, or what they could do, than we did.”
“Like building tanks to fight the Devil,” Riker said.
“Eh?” Kerajem was puzzled. “Well, if you say so, Commander. We ‘built tanks to fight the Devil’ for some five and a half centuries. The entire effort of all our people was bent toward preparing for an assault by unknown forces from no one knew where. Generations of our children were raised with the notion that they could be killed by invading Krann at any time, any place. All of our people, young and old alike, were put to work in war-related industries—and all industries were war-related, in one way or another. Six hundred years ago that meant making candles and gunpowder and digging in the mines. More recently it meant building fighter aerocraft—and the mines were still there. I was down in the mines myself, as a boy.”
Kerajem held up his hands for the Enterprise party to see, spreading his fingers and the stumps of his fingers. “I’ve caught all of you glancing at my hands from time to time,” he said. “My guess is that you don’t often encounter people with these kinds of injuries.”
“Kerajem,” Picard said, “we apologize deeply if we have given you any offense.”
“There is no need for that, Captain,” Kerajem said kindly. “I only wanted to make the point that age was no bar to dangerous work when I was young. By the time I was twelve, I’d lost four fingers and a dozen of my friends in the mines. I swore to do all I could to end that, to make it impossible to work children to death.”
“He became a subversive,” Rikkadar said, smiling. “I knew him then. I was a subversive, too. The monks tried very hard to catch us at it, let me tell you.”
“But they never did,” Picard