Chapter Text
Peak of Fools
The disruptors had turned into guests. The Strah-leus hadn’t had many opportunities to be hosts and practice hospitality during their long history. And yet, the light-beings understood that every visit would have to come to an end eventually and the moment would arise to bid farewell.
Ro-n-do was hovering in front of the five men, his dim aura slightly flickering. Their visit had been a steep learning curve for him, he reflected privately.
Earlier, Mo-n-iht had responded with delight about the young harvester’s progress report which summarized how he had dealt with the unexpected guests, and how the plan to return them to their ship was developing. When Ro-n-do shared Ensign Checov’s highly logical, yet fairly simple, plan which outlined how they could reduce the energy surplus and close the wormhole forever, Mo-n-iht had been delighted yet further. The supervisor shared the data and information Chekov had compiled, which explained how exactly the new cubes needed to be built, with the Egnaro’s engineering committee of which he was a member. They responded with relief and enthusiasm that a fairly simple solution had been found to prevent any unwelcome intruder events in the future, at least as far as the wormhole was concerned. It was estimated that their unwanted neighbour in D-JMA’s local vicinity would disappear within months once Chekov’s plan had been fully implemented.
As he scrutinised the men opposite, who were looking at him with evident gratefulness, Ro-n-do felt that unfamiliar sensation again he had experienced several hours earlier after he had heated up the break room to revive First Officer Spock: He felt pleased with himself. Mo-n-iht had communicated a similar sentiment to him earlier. Just before the harvester had left the Egnaro to be with the men during their final hours on D-JMA, his supervisor had approached him until their energy auras slightly overlapped for a moment. Comparable to a human pat on the shoulder or applause, such gesture was a clear sign of approval, especially from someone in a senior position directed towards someone of lower status. Ro-n-do’s aura had flickered briefly and he had to use quite a bit of willpower to dim it down again as to not let his excitement about such praise overwhelm him. He then quickly took his leave from his mentor, before he could be deemed to be immature in his uncontrolled enthusiasm.
During their final connection of minds a few minutes ago, the light-being had communicated the praise he had received from his superior to Mr Spock, who in return, had shared the welcome news with his crewmates after the mind-meld had been completed.
Furthermore, the Vulcan had also been able to put their minds at ease regarding Lieutenant Monet’s body which was stored in a safe location below the Egnaro. His remains would receive a burial with all honours that the Strah-leus usually only awarded to their own kind. The Humans and the Vulcan had voiced regret that they were not able to take their fallen comrade with them. They had decided that Louie Monet deserved to be buried in a way so that he could be honoured. The men didn’t want to take the risk that if they were to die during the transportation process, Monet’s molecules would just disappear into the ether amongst their own particles. It would be an undignified end Louie didn’t deserve and they weren’t prepared to take such a risk, especially since a much better, and honourable, alternative existed. If they were to survive, they would be able to communicate to his grieving relatives and friends that Louie was the only Human, or any alien life-form for that matter, who had ever received a burial with all honours by the Strah-leus species. Del Brown mused that whenever he’d look at the night sky again, regardless on which planet he would find himself, he’d seek out Andromeda in the firmament, and remember his friend.
Monet’s remains were to be taken to SHE-BE. There, he would be laid to rest on a gigantic furnace of sorts in a large hole in the ground, located in the centre of the planet’s largest desert. The furnace would convert his remains into pure energy which would be stored for eternity underneath in the ground. At the next burial, Monet’s energy, amongst the energy remains of billions of departed Strah-leus before him, would be used to ‘cremate’ the next dead body. And so the Lieutenant’s remains would become part of the circular process of energy cremation the light-beings had practiced and celebrated for eons.
The last outstanding issue Spock and Ro-n-do had conversed about during their final mind meld, was the Strah-leus’ interest in the now defunct Hoffmann 7 probe.
Although, strictly speaking, the visitors were not allowed to leave behind any alien technology, as this could be construed to be in breach of the Federation’s Prime Directive, Spock had agreed to listen to Ro-n-do’s pleas, who was speaking on behalf of Mo-n-iht and the Egnaro’s engineering committee. They had expressed hope that one day their species would develop the skill to repair the probe.
As of now, the Hoffmann 7 was beyond repair in light of the insufficient tools Spock and the others had brought with them. It was also beyond repair as far as the men’s technical skills were concerned. However, the committee deemed it logical that maybe at some point they’d be able to develop the necessary tools and skillset to repair the probe. This was unlikely to happen anytime soon though, especially since the Strah-leus race on a whole, aside from the arguably more scientifically curious energy harvesting engineers, currently didn’t put much effort into developing communication abilities between planets other than D-JMA and SHE-BE. But Mo-n-iht and his colleagues didn’t want to rule out that their species would overcome their general indifference towards alien life one day – and Ro-n-do shared the same hope.
If anything, the harvester mused, his fascinating encounter with Human and Vulcan representatives could potentially lead the Strah-leus to eventually question their own ignorance. In the future, the light-being speculated, his kind might develop some form of ‘curiosity’ that would allow their brightest minds to have a look at the damaged probe again. Even though the wormhole would no longer exist at that point, he didn’t deem it beyond his species’ capabilities, that they could repair and alter the probe to be capable of interstellar communication. What’s more, Ro-n-do was certain as to who the first message should be directed at: The United Federation of Planets.
At this point, Spock had paused the mind meld in order to consult with his crewmates. After the men had talked quietly amongst themselves for a short while, the Vulcan reestablished communication with Ro-n-do who was pleased to learn about the following plan of action: The Vulcan offered that they could simply ‘forget’ the damaged Hoffmann 7 probe. Since it was for all intends and purposes damaged beyond repair, such ‘oversight’ would be neglectable.
Spock ended the connection of minds with expressing his heartfelt thanks for Ro-n-do’s efforts in not only saving his life, but for his attempts to save the lives of all five men.
Now, irretrievably, the time had come to bid farewell.
After Spock had shared with the others what he had discussed with Ro-n-do in their final mind meld, the five men stood quietly for a few moments. They nodded towards their alien friend, appreciation and gratefulness reflected on their faces. The harvester increased his energy levels slightly and made his aura sparkle momentarily – the equivalent of a Human applauding and shouting to show appreciation. The men noticed and watched on in awe as the usually white, glowing light that surrounded Ro-n-do started to sparkle with golden, blue and orange fluctuations. It seemed as if their host was putting on his own little firework display in their honour. The amazing spectacle lasted only a few seconds, but all of the men knew in that moment that should they live beyond the next few minutes, they would never forget the remarkable sight.
Spock now turned to McCoy, Scott, Chekov and Brown. The Vulcan’s eyes were expressing so much at this moment that no words were needed: hope, dread, concern, anticipation. His shipmates nodded in acknowledgement, their eyes mirroring his own emotions.
The time had come to throw the dice.
Spock noted how calm his companions were, as if they all believed that good fortune should grace them one more time.
Silently, the men got into position on the pre-arranged coordinates not far from the nearest cube: Scotty, Spock and McCoy at the front, Chekov and Brown just behind them.
This is the logical conclusion of everything that has come before. There is no fear and if there shall be grief, my mind won’t be burdened knowing of it. If there shall be joy, I need not fear expressing it. Amongst friends, fear is illogical.
So that’s it. Our lives in the hands of the blasted transporter and that bloody wormhole! What a life you’ve lived, old feller! And if there’s more of it, it will be even more magnificent and beautiful. Thank you dear Universe for letting me exist. And live, and maybe die, amongst friends.
Aye, let’s get on wi’ it! I cannae believe I feel so calm. I cannae wait tae get back tae the Enterprise. I just know we will. It’s where I belong. Where we all belong. All roads always lead back home, as gran used tae say. And she wis always right!
Poor Louie. I wish he’d made it this far… he’d also would have tried to get home. If we make it, I guess I’ll have to work for two now. Mr Scott won’t let me rest much if we get back, I reckon. And why should he? I’m ready for whatever needs doing. God, I’ve never been so ready to get back to work.
Tis has been so beautiful. I’ll never forget tis world and Ro-n-do. I’m so glad I was able to come along. I tink I really helped the Strah-leus. I’m so glad, I did. And helped everyone else by making sure no one gets stranded here ever again! I’ve made up now for everyting, I guess. Vat’s tis bright light? Is tis the sun raising above the Peak of Fools? Am I dying… ?
As Ro-n-do watched the men de-materialise in front of him, he wondered if he’d ever be able to communicate with them again. Or if any of their, or his, descendants would be able to. The thought brought upon a sensation of deep melancholy. The five humanoid forms were slowly fading away in front of him. Until nothing remained. Just air and the gentle desert breeze.
For a moment, Ro-n-do’s aura exploded into a bright ring of red, burning fire. Then it dimmed again to its normal level and the light-being disappeared between the cubes.
If any of Ro-n-do’s kind would have witnessed the brief explosion of energy within his aura, they would have comforted the harvester, like Humans would comfort a crying youngster.