The Red King - Michael A. Martin [104]
Bolaji was grateful to have learned several minutes ago that her husband had emerged from his sole foray down to the planet unscathed. The Ellington, silhouetted on the viewscreen against the raging fires of Oghen, hadn’t been quite so lucky. Now, apparently, Captain Riker was in the midst of rescuing the shuttle’s passengers and crew.
“So why didn’t they save any of the animals?” Noah asked. “On the Vanguard?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Maybe they did. But I think they were trying to save as many of the sentient beings as possible.”
Noah screwed up his nose in a thoughtful scowl. “Animals are sentient beings, too. They just think differently than we do. Why aren’t they just as important?”
From out of the mouth of babes, Bolaji thought, unable for the moment to formulate an answer the young boy could accept.
“I mean, back in the olden days, when Noah built the ark, he took two of each animal, plus all of his family, so they’d have people and animals once the floods were over,” Noah said. “He’s where I got my name from.”
“Really?”
“Well, kind of. Actually, my great-grandfather was named Noah, too, but I think he was named after the guy with the boat.”
Bolaji nodded, and looked over at her own child, who was sleeping in his incubator. “Totyarguil was named after a star.”
“Totyarguil is kind of hard to spell,” Noah said guilelessly. He looked back at the screen. “My mom said that there never was a real Noah, that it’s all just stories. I hope that’s true. I don’t think a god should destroy a world just because he’s angry.”
Bolaji smiled. “Neither do I,” she told Noah. “But there’s more than one way to think about gods, if you believe in such things.”
“I know,” Noah said. “Like the Prophets of Bajor. But I heard they’re just wormhole aliens.” He thought for a moment, then wiggled his finger in the air. “Do you think that wormhole aliens look like worms?”
Suppressing a laugh, Bolaji said, “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never seen one.”
Noah pointed to the viewscreen. The image had switched, now showing the Ellington being tractored toward Titan’s main shuttlebay. The blue glow of an atmosphere-retention forcefield covered the bay’s broad opening. “They’re getting them back aboard Titan. Good. Uncle Ranul is on that ship. I was sort of worried about him. He wasn’t even completely better yet from his coma.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“Me, too.” Noah continued to watch the screen intently for a few moments, then looked back at Olivia. “So, do you think this thing that’s trying to destroy their planet is their god getting mad at them?”
Bolaji wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question either. She’d read some of the preliminary reports; Starfleet characterized the destructive force as an emerging protouniverse, while the local people and even some Neyel called it the Sleeper.
Some of the latter people certainly did consider it a vengeful god.
She was about to open her mouth to speak when the orange-tinged world on the screen seemed to collapse on itself, molten magma and rocky crust and mantle material jumbling, falling, flying, like a gigantic egg being beaten in some celestial mixing bowl.
She was about to deactivate the viewer for Noah’s sake when the screen flared brightly, then abruptly went dark.
Oghen just died right in front of us. One of the interspatial energy discharges she’d read about, no doubt an enormous one, must have just ripped out the entire planet’s guts. The thought was jarring, incredible, but also undeniable.
Bolaji heard the muted blare of the red alert klaxons and instinctively looked toward her sleeping baby. The tiny infant slept on, blissfully unaware of the sometimes violent universe into which he’d been born.
“Come sit up here with me,” Olivia said to Noah, and scooted over to one side of her chair. The boy clambered up beside her quickly.
Her eyes fixed on Totyarguil, she held Noah tightly to her, saying a silent prayer to all the gods of her people, even though she, herself, had