Perfection, 13 of 28
"PERFECTION"
by Jim Smith
Fine print: I don't own Star Trek and I'm not claiming to. I just own the story. Ask me before you do anything with it.
Chapter Thirteen.
In spite of their hyper-evolved mental abilities, the Xhiryptyr'x were over a century behind their captors in science and engineering. Once Unimatrix Zero found a way to overcome, and surgically disable, their telepathic powers, it was a trivial matter to enslave them in the thousands. Aboard Intercomplex 934, they were corralled in a enormous docking bay, with nothing but force fields and minimal security to keep them contained. Conditions were overcrowded and miserable, with meager supplies stretched to their limit. Surrounded by advanced Borg technology, they subsisted in a 24th century shanty town.
Despite their reptilian features and dinosaurian plumage, the Xhiryptyr'x culture was thoroughly Kazon. The Kazon race as a whole was only just beginning to recover from centuries of oppression, and this evolutionary offshoot had not fared much better. Under the harsh conditions of their conscription--with their best and brightest often becoming casualties of war--the population trapped in the intercomplex was led by a poor imitation of a patriarchy. "Elders" had an average age of twenty-three, were exclusively male, and motivated more by aggression and personal ambition than the needs of their people.
As a female, a juvenile, and an orphan, Saa had no standing in this society. Her role would be to fend for herself until she was claimed as property by a male--she could only aspire to become the lowest of her race. But through a twist of fate, she was the one Xhiryptyr'x on the intercomplex that had somehow been unaffected by the Zeroes' lobotomy procedure. That alone demanded that she rise above her station, whether her people accepted it or not. She was the only one who could save them.
So when she barged into a meeting of the conscripts' leaders, she refused to reveal any hint of intimidation or timidness. And she insisted on doing so alone--Tirava's assistance was appreciated but counterproductive here. The Xhiryptyr'x could not afford for her to appear weak, or co-dependent. If she couldn't convince them to rise up against Unimatrix Zero, all would be lost.
The Xhiryptyr'x elders were gathered around a large communal table in the middle of the bay--the "town square," for all intents and purposes. Saa climbed onto it and stood in the center. "Heed me!" she demanded.
The men did their best not to. "What is that doing here?" one of them muttered.
"I am doing more here for our people than you!" Saa countered, with all the defiance she could muster. "You, who sit and choose for our masters which of us will be murdered in their war!"
It was a brash statement, designed to offend their honor. The flaw in her plan was that these men had little honor to offend. There was little for her to admire about her culture, but she had at least expected that it was honest with itself, and true to its stated principles. But the Xhiryptyr'x creed, like that of the Kazon, was little more than a thin justification for the whims of their patriarchs. And though every conscript yearned for freedom from Unimatrix Zero, the most influential yearned more still for power. Under the circumstances, power came from collaboration.
The man at the head of the table signaled the youngest of them, who climbed onto the table. Saa turned to see him approaching, a crude metal weapon in his hand. He would kill her on the spot, if she did not flee.
But Saa stood her ground, as Tirava would in her place. She closed her eyes and concentrated, summoning a psychokinetic burst that threw the assailant off the table and down to the floor. It was not an unusual display of strength by Xhiryptyr'x standards--even for a slip of a girl--but it was unheard of among the conscripts. Now, she hoped, she had their attention.
"I am nothing to you," she said. "I am less than a woman, and no one's child. I will never earn my name as you have been allowed to. But I am willing to fight for our people, in their time of peril. The Mechanical People who rule us have constructed a miraculous weapon, daring their rivals to attack this place. When the battle comes, there won't be enough men and boys among us to shed blood for them. We will all be destroyed."
Another elder worked up the nerve to jump up and ambush her, but she sensed his intentions before he could climb onto the table. Another psionic salvo put him in his place. "You don't want to hear me, but I'm the one with the power here. I am the one to retain my birthright, which the Mechanical People robbed from each of you! Follow me to seek your righteous vengeance! Earn your names again, for the good of us all!"
"What is it suggesting?" one of the men asked her, though he went out of his way to address her in the third person.
"You've seen what I can do," she explained. She hoped a greater demonstration wasn't necessary. As Tirava had seen, her power had begun to expand beyond even that of the Xhiryptyr'x, and she wasn't certain she could control that. "I have had the chance to summon our brothers who went uncaptured. They can liberate us from this damnable place! We have only to secure a way to board their ships when they come!"
That had them buzzing. Even collaborators couldn't pass up an opportunity to be liberated, as long as it required little effort on their part. For all that the Xhiryptyr'x lacked true honor, they excelled at personal ambition. If there was a chance to turn the situation more to their favor, they would take it.
"Who are you?" the one at the head of the table asked. She was impressed that he offered her even this simple courtesy, and approached him.
"I am called Saa," she proclaimed, kneeling down to look him in the eye. "And I will deliver our race to--"
A diversion, she realized, as the pain crossed her throat. His courtesy had only been a distraction, to lower her guard. And like a simple-minded female, she had let it doom her. Saa tried to turn to confront the third elder who had assaulted her--the first to succeed. But as her life began to spill from her neck, she lacked the strength to even support her own weight. The last thing she saw was the chief elder, grinning a the pathetic deception he'd employed to murder a trifling girl. The last words she heard were the men around her, debating whether her story of a fantastic weapon and hope of reinforcements was true...and how to manipulate it to their advantage.
Golden blood covered the table, as the elders continued their conference uninterrupted.