Chapter Seventeen: Ride the Whitewater

 While Lieutenant Song piloted Maelstrom back toward Pendragon's location, D'arko and Omehrtiis were in the rear cabin. It had taken some time, but her crying had finally subsided enough for them to talk.

"I... can't really explain it, Da'mi'en. It was you, but... it wasn't you. You... HE... was just brutal. In all my life, I've rarely seen anything like it. Even the most violent, Sadistic, or barbaric bastards I've encountered have some purpose to their brutality, twisted as it may be, but this was..." She trailed off, her breath hitching again.

"It's okay," D'arko tried to soothe her. "That was probably some alternate timeline. You said it yourself; it wasn't me."

"No, Da'mi'en. It wasn't an alternate timeline. I'd have sensed that. No, this was REAL. It was happening while I watched. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't some vision of the future. That... version of you... was torturing that woman. Slowly. He was deliberately keeping her alive so he could continue it and he was enjoying it. You... HE... didn't ask her any questions, just tortured her and smiled and laughed like some evil child with a toy he wanted to break."

"Okay... Why do you keep saying he was some version of me, though? I mean, he could have just looked like..."

"He was DUTH!" Omehrtiis shouted. "He was Duth!"

D'arko's body tightened.

"You know better than to call me that, Omehrtiis. You know what it..."

"No, Da'mi'en. HE was Duth. It was like he embraced the name. It wasn't an insult to him, it was a badge of honour."

A chill climbed Captain D'arko's spine. He'd been labelled "Duth" as a child and he knew it's meaning: mystery. He was an orphan with no known lineage. A mystery. The word stung like a frost vesper every time he heard it. It never occurred to him that someone might actually claim the epithet as their own... that they might actually embrace it. Why?

The Captain placed a hand on Omehrtiis' shoulder, lightly. It felt awkward to do this, since it felt like the normal dynamic between the two was reversing, but even though he lacked her extra-normal intuition, he knew she was shaken to the core.

"I need to check on our progress and see if we've had any response from Starfleet. You just stay in here and rest. Sleep if you need to. Whatever you saw, it wasn't me."

The El-aurian nodded, slumping back in her chair.

In the cockpit, Song was at the controls, but clearly distracted.

"Is the counsellor alight, Sir?" She asked.

"You can't tell?" D'arko replied, already knowing the answer.

"I... can't read her, Sir. Never have been able to. Some people are like that, I guess."

D'arko smiled a bit.

"She'll be fine. Whatever we all experienced was a bit much for her. I imagine your telepathic abilities allowed you to shield yourself a bit from it."

"And you, Sir?"

"Well... Maybe I have a little Aenar in me. Any word from Starfleet?"

"No, Sir. I can't even be sure the probe got through the wormhole. I guess we just have to put our trust in the Prophets."

Da'mi'en D'arko chuckled at that.

"You don't strike me as someone who adheres to another  culture's religions, Lieutenant."

"I don't, Sir, but... well, always calling them 'the wormhole aliens' does get tiring." she smiled.

The next several hours were travelled in silence.

"Pendragon on long range sensors, Captain," Alinn broke the silence. 

"Maelstrom  to Pendragon, requesting permission to dock," the Captain said into the communicator.

"Granted." Was the curt reply from D'arko's Klingon first officer.

"Captain, what's that?" Song indicated a faint, almost imperceptable blip on sensors which disappeared almost immediately.

"I... have no idea. One crisis at a time, though, Lieutenant. Bring us in."