Blood of Heroes, Part XIII
Posted: 2004-09-28 06:34pm
Darkness gave way to consciousness, but it took a while to get to lucidity from where Sebastian had started from. Still, as the minutes passed he became more aware of his surroundings. He was still on board their ship, the Raven. That name had been a source of some minor disagreement between him and his Klingon friend. Gorren had names like "The Righteous Fist" and "Kahless' Vengeance" in mind. Sebastian had pointed out that they were trying to maintain a low profile and that those kinds of names tended to attract attention. Besides, the ship was a light freighter whose best chance of killing their enemies was accidentally landing on them. Sebastian had decided on naming it after his grandparent's ship, in remembrance of their own rebellious status among the Federation. Explorers outside of the official government, and now he was a defender of a government that wanted him dead. It had almost succeeded, although Sebastian had given them a little help on that.
Right, the crash, he thought as his stream of consciousness brought him back around to the moment. He was on board the Raven, and he was getting treated. He could feel the various equipment being applied to his broken body, but it was detached, as if his body was miles away from where he was right now. There was a dull ache, though, and he knew this was even after some kind of pain killer had been administered. Gradually he focused on the random shapes above him, and it gradually coalesced into a more familiar blur. "Han?"
"How you doin' kid?" his uncle asked with that familiar smirk. He put a hand on Sebastian's shoulder; it hurt, but that didn't outweigh the comfort of the familial grip.
"Had a disagreement with the ground... then a tree, and then some more ground. And possibly another tree, but I was a bit distracted."
"Yes, you're in my lucky-to-be-alive department," Bashir said. "You've got multiple compound fractures and have lost a lot of blood. If it weren't for your physiology taking after your mother, you'd probably not have made it."
"You almost didn't," Han said. "Gorren caught us just as we were preparing to move on."
"We were very fortunate," Gorren agreed. "I don't know of anywhere else safe I could have brought you."
"You've get friends on Qo’nos," Sebastian slurred. "You're resourceful."
"It's safer here than on the Klingon homeworld," Bashir remarked. It was hard to think, but the statement fired a few synapses. Right, he thought, the Klingons broke away from the Empire, just like hundreds of other systems. That was going to mean one of two things: retaliation by Imperial forces, or a bloody power struggle among the local authorities.
"How goes your work?" Gorren asked Han.
"Straight down the sewer," Han rumbled. "Every lead we have ends with a door slammed in our faces."
"It seems that Nom Anor was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time," Bashir said.
"With those duplicates," Han said, "it's pretty much like he was."
A heavy silence hung over the group at the remark. Bashir was the one who eventually broke it. "Did you lose anyone?" he asked Han.
"Not really," he said. "I don't have many friends left these days. You?"
"Joan and Orin," Bashir said. "Two of my friends on the Charity. Good doctors, good people."
"My niece," Gorren said. "Part of the revolutionary movement. A pity she wasn't able to see its success."
Two out of three, Sebastian thought. Nom Anor's duplicates had touched so many lives, and brought so much grief to the galaxies. And not only did he steal them away, but he stole their knowledge as well. The Vong had launched eighteen successful attacks since the chaos that had followed their activation a few months back. The Empire was trying to hold on to itself, and face wars on multiple fronts. Even Garak's groups had gotten back up to their old tricks with the return of their leader. Jacen's fledgling Jedi academy wasn't going to make a dent in this. They needed Ben Sisko now more than ever, but he was gone. They were on their own.
Well, not completely on their own. It was Sebastian's job to get them through this, but being a wanted man made that rather difficult, and even if he wasn't, what good could one man do against all this? Everything he'd worked to do, bringing in Garak, stopping the Vong expansion, all it did was delay things. And with Sisko gone the Empire was crumbling, so he didn't even have access to the Imperial resources any more. What good could he expect to do?
Sebastian realized his thoughts had become much clearer and he sat up a bit to assess the situation. Bashir had done a great job so far; aside of some soreness in his joints, he felt much better. Bashir was looking over his right leg now; he had that look Sebastian had seen dozens of times when visiting his mother. "Something wrong?" he asked.
Bashir turned back to look at him, visibly uneasy. "There's no easy way to say this," he said with a downcast expression. "Your wounds have been infected with the fungal disease."
Sebastian didn't realize he was holding his breath until he finally let out a deep sigh and fell back down on the bed. He was still light-headed, and this news hadn't helped. "There's still something you can do though, right?" Han asked. "It's still early in the infection."
"Yes, there's two options available to us," Bashir said. "Although at the rate of spreading we have less than an hour. I can treat this without a problem if we can get him to a bacta tank."
"That would mean a hospital," Sebastian remarked, still laying back on the bed. "There's a chance I'd be recognized."
"Not necessarily," Bashir said.
"It's a chance we can't take," Gorren said emphatically. "Not unless there's no other option."
"Wait, this is Ferenginar," Han said. "If you can't buy it here, it can't be sold. Can't we get one off the black market?"
"In less than an hour?" Bashir asked. "And install it properly? I wouldn't count on it."
"What's the other option?" Sebastian asked.
Bashir hesitated a moment. "Amputation." Sebastian closed his eyes, he'd been afraid of that. Again, it was Bashir who broke the silence. "Sebastian, we can use the bacta tank. For credits the Ferengi would look the other way."
"And for more credits, they'd turn me in," Sebastian said, his eyes still closed. "It won't work."
"I hate to say it," Han remarked, "but I think he's right."
Bashir nodded. "Then we have only one other choice." He noticed there were tears in Sebastian's eyes. "We can replace it," he said. "Organic limbs are available-"
"No, we tried that with Anakin," Han interrupted. "The limb was rejected... they think it had something to do with the Force and foreign tissue. It has to be cybernetic."
"All right," Bashir said. "The point is, we can replace it."
"I know," Sebastian said, wiping his eyes. "But if you think that makes this any easier, you're crazy."
"I understand," Bashir said.
"No, you don't!" Sebastian snapped. He dropped his hand on his forehead as he lay there. "I'm sorry. Please, just get it over with."
Bashir nodded, pulling out a datapad. "I'll need a few things, Han," he said as he entered the information. He passed it over. "Can you get them?"
Han was nodding as he looked it over. "Like I said, if it can't be bought here, it can't be sold." He gave Sebastian's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then gestured for Gorren to join him.
Bashir pulled out a hypospray. "This won't hurt," he promised.
"Yes,” Sebastian said, “it will."
--------------------------------------------------------------
With the destruction of the Bajoran space station, Lando Calrissian had moved his operations into the Beta Quadrant. Nobody ever talked about the Beta Quadrant; the Alpha Quadrant (at least, what they usually called the Alpha Quadrant) was the hotbed, where the different forces lived in an uneasy truce forced upon it by the Empire. The Gamma Quadrant was quiet; the Empire was positively benevolent compared to the Dominion and their Jem'hadar, especially near the end. And without the Borg the Delta Quadrant was fairly relaxed too, although the Hirogen and holographic attacks did require a constant Imperial presence.
That was what was nice about the distant Beta Quadrant, you could go unnoticed, which is what Lando wanted at his time of life. He was getting too old to try toppling governments, and he came out here so he could leave that life behind. Besides, the Empire was in shambles, and no amount of prodding on his part was going to make any difference. Sure, he could sabotage the H-Wing fighters in his factories, but that would paint a big fat target on Lando's forehead for the Imperials. Best to leave it to the experts, like Anor and the Sith. However, while Lando considered himself out of it, others didn't quite see it that way.
Garak was waiting in Lando’s office in the morning; sitting in his chair, of course. That was Garak’s way, let the situation say it so you don’t have to. “I can get to you. I can get anywhere.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Lando demanded wearily. He knew why, of course, but some distant part of him seemed to wish the question could banish the Cardassian.
“Just making sure we’re all still on the same page,” Garak said. “I would have been here sooner, but it seems that some of the members of my organization thought my incarceration was a sign they could assume control.” He leaned back in the chair, putting his feet up on the desk. “Oh, I wish it were so,” he sang quietly. “But alas, I’m afraid duty still calls me to see this through until the end. If only they’d seen it that way; we could have avoided some messy misunderstandings.”
“Well, here’s something you can’t misunderstand,” Lando said, knocking Garak’s feet off his desk. “I’m out!”
“Absolutely,” Garak said. “You’re a business man now. I respect that.”
“And that means I’m not getting involved with your organization.”
“That’s perfectly fine. Ties severed, going our separate ways, I understand completely. Our partnership is dissolved.”
“Don’t think you can manipulate me,” Lando warned. “I know where this is going.”
“Do you? I seem to be surrounded by people who can see the future.”
“You can’t threaten me, you can’t intimidate me,” Lando said. “The Empire’s got more on its hands right now than you, so trying to blackmail me isn’t going to work this time.”
“I understand. I’m here merely as a potential client.”
Lando let out a laugh edged with bitterness. “I’m sure you are.”
“Really. I have revenue that I need to invest, and I know a good venture when I see one.”
“Ah, that’s your game, is it? You want me to wash your money.”
“Let’s just say I’d like to keep things on the up-and-up.”
“Not if I was down to my last decicred,” Lando said as he leaned across the desk. “It’s over, Garak. I’m sitting the rest of this out.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Garak said as he stood up. “But I’m sure you have your reasons. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few errands to run.”
“Don’t think you can scare me, Garak,” Lando warned.
“Yes yes, much as I’m enjoying this exchange, I’m going to have to cut this short. Good day, Mr. Calrissian.”
Lando watched Garak exit. He could try to tip someone off or have his security forces try to nab him, but Lando still knew enough about odds not to gamble on it. He dropped into his chair instead and contacted his VP of operations. “Sridhar? It’s Calrissian. Yeah, he finally showed. We’re going to want security raised across the company, every factory, every warehouse, the works. Garak isn’t going to sucker us back into anything.”
--------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness turned to light and Sebastian took in the ceiling of the Raven. He glanced around and saw he was alone. He tried sitting up but was too woozy and had to lie down again. But he had to… he reached down and pulled the sheet aside, and he strained to see. It looked right… he flexed it, and it felt right. Mostly. But it wasn’t really him, it was machinery, replacing what he had been. It was one thing to be cybernetic, it was another to lose a part of yourself.
What do they do with it? he wondered as he lay back on the bed. Do they gather them together in mass graves? Some future archaeologist comes along and finds a pile of arms and legs with no bodies to go with it? They probably just cremate it or something, something sanitary and “respectful,” no doubt following the rules laid down by people who had all their parts. Of course, this was nothing new for the Jedi… his father had had it, Anakin… but it was different, somehow. Different because it was a choice, even if it was a necessity. With a lightsaber it’s over before you can think, and its dealing with the consequences; no Jedi had to ever voluntarily give it away, had to willingly sacrifice a part of himself to preserve the whole.
“They’re going to take it all away from you, Sebastian.” It wasn’t enough, was it, to take his father, and leave his mother near death… to negate his life’s work and turn him into a fugitive who couldn’t see his wife in daylight or visit his dying mother without a firefight. No, they had to take away a bit of his humanity to, a piece of himself. And here he was, in his grief, without being able to turn to the woman he loves for comfort, to give him a little of her strength so he could carry on. How can you do this, Ben? How can you ask anyone to fight for a galaxy that stood against them, without even the smallest of comforts? What is there to fight for?
“You know what it is?” a voice answered.
Sebastian sat up, his light-headedness gone. “Father?”
“Don’t give in to despair, son. You know what path that is.”
Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, but the rollercoaster ride of emotion left him with little reserves. “I can’t walk this path, father,” he sobbed. “It’s too hard!”
“I wish with all my being, son, that I could take this burden upon myself instead. But it’s been laid before you.”
“No,” Sebastian said weakly.
“They need you.”
“’They’ want me dead!”
“They will learn the truth in time. Truth has a longer half life than lies.”
“Even so, what difference would it make? Look at me, I can’t even fly through the jungle without nearly killing myself?! What kind of Jedi am I?”
“Human,” his father answered. “And that is not where your strength lies, Sebastian. You are a fine warrior, and a great tactician, both of which will aid you during your trials. But your strength, son, is not in the power over matter, but power over spirit. You dwarf my feeble skills.”
“You moved a moon!”
“But you will move civilizations. Sisko laid the groundwork, but Unity can only come from within, and it will take you to help them find it.”
“What difference can one person make?” Sebastian demanded.
“In your case, son, it makes all the difference. They don’t need a hero, Sebastian, just a man they believe in to point the way.”
“To be their leader,” Sebastian said, having heard the story before.
“You will lead when the situation demands it, but when the time comes, they can look after themselves. Like I said, son, Unity must come from within, or else it can’t last. You’ve already seen that. May the Force be with you, my son.”
Sebastian felt the hypospray discharge as he returned to consciousness. Bashir was looking at him with as reassuring an expression as he could. “It’s finished,” he said. “You can try walking, if you feel like it.”
Sebastian nodded but said nothing as he pulled himself up and gingerly stepped to the floor. His steps were shaky, mostly from exhaustion and the ordeal of his body. His leg hurt, but oddly enough it was his real one. He soon found himself using his cybernetic limb to hold his weight. He let out a small laugh at the thought. “How long until I can go out again?” he asked.
“I’d stay off your feet for a few days,” Bashir said. “Your body needs time to adjust to the new limb. But don’t worry, I’ve done this hundreds of times, and I’ve yet to have a rejection.”
Sebastian nodded. “Doctor, what happened to my old leg? I want to know.”
Bashir cleared his throat. “For sanitary reasons we cremate the limb. When I was with the McCoy foundation, we developed a… I wouldn’t call it ritual, but it was what we did. We mixed the ashes with a drop of the patient’s blood and placed it in a small capsule and inserted it inside the cybernetics. It seemed more befitting given the trauma of the loss.”
“Did you do that with me?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes,” Bashir said.
“Good. I like that thought.”
Right, the crash, he thought as his stream of consciousness brought him back around to the moment. He was on board the Raven, and he was getting treated. He could feel the various equipment being applied to his broken body, but it was detached, as if his body was miles away from where he was right now. There was a dull ache, though, and he knew this was even after some kind of pain killer had been administered. Gradually he focused on the random shapes above him, and it gradually coalesced into a more familiar blur. "Han?"
"How you doin' kid?" his uncle asked with that familiar smirk. He put a hand on Sebastian's shoulder; it hurt, but that didn't outweigh the comfort of the familial grip.
"Had a disagreement with the ground... then a tree, and then some more ground. And possibly another tree, but I was a bit distracted."
"Yes, you're in my lucky-to-be-alive department," Bashir said. "You've got multiple compound fractures and have lost a lot of blood. If it weren't for your physiology taking after your mother, you'd probably not have made it."
"You almost didn't," Han said. "Gorren caught us just as we were preparing to move on."
"We were very fortunate," Gorren agreed. "I don't know of anywhere else safe I could have brought you."
"You've get friends on Qo’nos," Sebastian slurred. "You're resourceful."
"It's safer here than on the Klingon homeworld," Bashir remarked. It was hard to think, but the statement fired a few synapses. Right, he thought, the Klingons broke away from the Empire, just like hundreds of other systems. That was going to mean one of two things: retaliation by Imperial forces, or a bloody power struggle among the local authorities.
"How goes your work?" Gorren asked Han.
"Straight down the sewer," Han rumbled. "Every lead we have ends with a door slammed in our faces."
"It seems that Nom Anor was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time," Bashir said.
"With those duplicates," Han said, "it's pretty much like he was."
A heavy silence hung over the group at the remark. Bashir was the one who eventually broke it. "Did you lose anyone?" he asked Han.
"Not really," he said. "I don't have many friends left these days. You?"
"Joan and Orin," Bashir said. "Two of my friends on the Charity. Good doctors, good people."
"My niece," Gorren said. "Part of the revolutionary movement. A pity she wasn't able to see its success."
Two out of three, Sebastian thought. Nom Anor's duplicates had touched so many lives, and brought so much grief to the galaxies. And not only did he steal them away, but he stole their knowledge as well. The Vong had launched eighteen successful attacks since the chaos that had followed their activation a few months back. The Empire was trying to hold on to itself, and face wars on multiple fronts. Even Garak's groups had gotten back up to their old tricks with the return of their leader. Jacen's fledgling Jedi academy wasn't going to make a dent in this. They needed Ben Sisko now more than ever, but he was gone. They were on their own.
Well, not completely on their own. It was Sebastian's job to get them through this, but being a wanted man made that rather difficult, and even if he wasn't, what good could one man do against all this? Everything he'd worked to do, bringing in Garak, stopping the Vong expansion, all it did was delay things. And with Sisko gone the Empire was crumbling, so he didn't even have access to the Imperial resources any more. What good could he expect to do?
Sebastian realized his thoughts had become much clearer and he sat up a bit to assess the situation. Bashir had done a great job so far; aside of some soreness in his joints, he felt much better. Bashir was looking over his right leg now; he had that look Sebastian had seen dozens of times when visiting his mother. "Something wrong?" he asked.
Bashir turned back to look at him, visibly uneasy. "There's no easy way to say this," he said with a downcast expression. "Your wounds have been infected with the fungal disease."
Sebastian didn't realize he was holding his breath until he finally let out a deep sigh and fell back down on the bed. He was still light-headed, and this news hadn't helped. "There's still something you can do though, right?" Han asked. "It's still early in the infection."
"Yes, there's two options available to us," Bashir said. "Although at the rate of spreading we have less than an hour. I can treat this without a problem if we can get him to a bacta tank."
"That would mean a hospital," Sebastian remarked, still laying back on the bed. "There's a chance I'd be recognized."
"Not necessarily," Bashir said.
"It's a chance we can't take," Gorren said emphatically. "Not unless there's no other option."
"Wait, this is Ferenginar," Han said. "If you can't buy it here, it can't be sold. Can't we get one off the black market?"
"In less than an hour?" Bashir asked. "And install it properly? I wouldn't count on it."
"What's the other option?" Sebastian asked.
Bashir hesitated a moment. "Amputation." Sebastian closed his eyes, he'd been afraid of that. Again, it was Bashir who broke the silence. "Sebastian, we can use the bacta tank. For credits the Ferengi would look the other way."
"And for more credits, they'd turn me in," Sebastian said, his eyes still closed. "It won't work."
"I hate to say it," Han remarked, "but I think he's right."
Bashir nodded. "Then we have only one other choice." He noticed there were tears in Sebastian's eyes. "We can replace it," he said. "Organic limbs are available-"
"No, we tried that with Anakin," Han interrupted. "The limb was rejected... they think it had something to do with the Force and foreign tissue. It has to be cybernetic."
"All right," Bashir said. "The point is, we can replace it."
"I know," Sebastian said, wiping his eyes. "But if you think that makes this any easier, you're crazy."
"I understand," Bashir said.
"No, you don't!" Sebastian snapped. He dropped his hand on his forehead as he lay there. "I'm sorry. Please, just get it over with."
Bashir nodded, pulling out a datapad. "I'll need a few things, Han," he said as he entered the information. He passed it over. "Can you get them?"
Han was nodding as he looked it over. "Like I said, if it can't be bought here, it can't be sold." He gave Sebastian's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then gestured for Gorren to join him.
Bashir pulled out a hypospray. "This won't hurt," he promised.
"Yes,” Sebastian said, “it will."
--------------------------------------------------------------
With the destruction of the Bajoran space station, Lando Calrissian had moved his operations into the Beta Quadrant. Nobody ever talked about the Beta Quadrant; the Alpha Quadrant (at least, what they usually called the Alpha Quadrant) was the hotbed, where the different forces lived in an uneasy truce forced upon it by the Empire. The Gamma Quadrant was quiet; the Empire was positively benevolent compared to the Dominion and their Jem'hadar, especially near the end. And without the Borg the Delta Quadrant was fairly relaxed too, although the Hirogen and holographic attacks did require a constant Imperial presence.
That was what was nice about the distant Beta Quadrant, you could go unnoticed, which is what Lando wanted at his time of life. He was getting too old to try toppling governments, and he came out here so he could leave that life behind. Besides, the Empire was in shambles, and no amount of prodding on his part was going to make any difference. Sure, he could sabotage the H-Wing fighters in his factories, but that would paint a big fat target on Lando's forehead for the Imperials. Best to leave it to the experts, like Anor and the Sith. However, while Lando considered himself out of it, others didn't quite see it that way.
Garak was waiting in Lando’s office in the morning; sitting in his chair, of course. That was Garak’s way, let the situation say it so you don’t have to. “I can get to you. I can get anywhere.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Lando demanded wearily. He knew why, of course, but some distant part of him seemed to wish the question could banish the Cardassian.
“Just making sure we’re all still on the same page,” Garak said. “I would have been here sooner, but it seems that some of the members of my organization thought my incarceration was a sign they could assume control.” He leaned back in the chair, putting his feet up on the desk. “Oh, I wish it were so,” he sang quietly. “But alas, I’m afraid duty still calls me to see this through until the end. If only they’d seen it that way; we could have avoided some messy misunderstandings.”
“Well, here’s something you can’t misunderstand,” Lando said, knocking Garak’s feet off his desk. “I’m out!”
“Absolutely,” Garak said. “You’re a business man now. I respect that.”
“And that means I’m not getting involved with your organization.”
“That’s perfectly fine. Ties severed, going our separate ways, I understand completely. Our partnership is dissolved.”
“Don’t think you can manipulate me,” Lando warned. “I know where this is going.”
“Do you? I seem to be surrounded by people who can see the future.”
“You can’t threaten me, you can’t intimidate me,” Lando said. “The Empire’s got more on its hands right now than you, so trying to blackmail me isn’t going to work this time.”
“I understand. I’m here merely as a potential client.”
Lando let out a laugh edged with bitterness. “I’m sure you are.”
“Really. I have revenue that I need to invest, and I know a good venture when I see one.”
“Ah, that’s your game, is it? You want me to wash your money.”
“Let’s just say I’d like to keep things on the up-and-up.”
“Not if I was down to my last decicred,” Lando said as he leaned across the desk. “It’s over, Garak. I’m sitting the rest of this out.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Garak said as he stood up. “But I’m sure you have your reasons. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few errands to run.”
“Don’t think you can scare me, Garak,” Lando warned.
“Yes yes, much as I’m enjoying this exchange, I’m going to have to cut this short. Good day, Mr. Calrissian.”
Lando watched Garak exit. He could try to tip someone off or have his security forces try to nab him, but Lando still knew enough about odds not to gamble on it. He dropped into his chair instead and contacted his VP of operations. “Sridhar? It’s Calrissian. Yeah, he finally showed. We’re going to want security raised across the company, every factory, every warehouse, the works. Garak isn’t going to sucker us back into anything.”
--------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness turned to light and Sebastian took in the ceiling of the Raven. He glanced around and saw he was alone. He tried sitting up but was too woozy and had to lie down again. But he had to… he reached down and pulled the sheet aside, and he strained to see. It looked right… he flexed it, and it felt right. Mostly. But it wasn’t really him, it was machinery, replacing what he had been. It was one thing to be cybernetic, it was another to lose a part of yourself.
What do they do with it? he wondered as he lay back on the bed. Do they gather them together in mass graves? Some future archaeologist comes along and finds a pile of arms and legs with no bodies to go with it? They probably just cremate it or something, something sanitary and “respectful,” no doubt following the rules laid down by people who had all their parts. Of course, this was nothing new for the Jedi… his father had had it, Anakin… but it was different, somehow. Different because it was a choice, even if it was a necessity. With a lightsaber it’s over before you can think, and its dealing with the consequences; no Jedi had to ever voluntarily give it away, had to willingly sacrifice a part of himself to preserve the whole.
“They’re going to take it all away from you, Sebastian.” It wasn’t enough, was it, to take his father, and leave his mother near death… to negate his life’s work and turn him into a fugitive who couldn’t see his wife in daylight or visit his dying mother without a firefight. No, they had to take away a bit of his humanity to, a piece of himself. And here he was, in his grief, without being able to turn to the woman he loves for comfort, to give him a little of her strength so he could carry on. How can you do this, Ben? How can you ask anyone to fight for a galaxy that stood against them, without even the smallest of comforts? What is there to fight for?
“You know what it is?” a voice answered.
Sebastian sat up, his light-headedness gone. “Father?”
“Don’t give in to despair, son. You know what path that is.”
Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, but the rollercoaster ride of emotion left him with little reserves. “I can’t walk this path, father,” he sobbed. “It’s too hard!”
“I wish with all my being, son, that I could take this burden upon myself instead. But it’s been laid before you.”
“No,” Sebastian said weakly.
“They need you.”
“’They’ want me dead!”
“They will learn the truth in time. Truth has a longer half life than lies.”
“Even so, what difference would it make? Look at me, I can’t even fly through the jungle without nearly killing myself?! What kind of Jedi am I?”
“Human,” his father answered. “And that is not where your strength lies, Sebastian. You are a fine warrior, and a great tactician, both of which will aid you during your trials. But your strength, son, is not in the power over matter, but power over spirit. You dwarf my feeble skills.”
“You moved a moon!”
“But you will move civilizations. Sisko laid the groundwork, but Unity can only come from within, and it will take you to help them find it.”
“What difference can one person make?” Sebastian demanded.
“In your case, son, it makes all the difference. They don’t need a hero, Sebastian, just a man they believe in to point the way.”
“To be their leader,” Sebastian said, having heard the story before.
“You will lead when the situation demands it, but when the time comes, they can look after themselves. Like I said, son, Unity must come from within, or else it can’t last. You’ve already seen that. May the Force be with you, my son.”
Sebastian felt the hypospray discharge as he returned to consciousness. Bashir was looking at him with as reassuring an expression as he could. “It’s finished,” he said. “You can try walking, if you feel like it.”
Sebastian nodded but said nothing as he pulled himself up and gingerly stepped to the floor. His steps were shaky, mostly from exhaustion and the ordeal of his body. His leg hurt, but oddly enough it was his real one. He soon found himself using his cybernetic limb to hold his weight. He let out a small laugh at the thought. “How long until I can go out again?” he asked.
“I’d stay off your feet for a few days,” Bashir said. “Your body needs time to adjust to the new limb. But don’t worry, I’ve done this hundreds of times, and I’ve yet to have a rejection.”
Sebastian nodded. “Doctor, what happened to my old leg? I want to know.”
Bashir cleared his throat. “For sanitary reasons we cremate the limb. When I was with the McCoy foundation, we developed a… I wouldn’t call it ritual, but it was what we did. We mixed the ashes with a drop of the patient’s blood and placed it in a small capsule and inserted it inside the cybernetics. It seemed more befitting given the trauma of the loss.”
“Did you do that with me?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes,” Bashir said.
“Good. I like that thought.”
yet more angst for poor seb.
