Copyright
1999, Lyta. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be re-posted in part
or in full without written permission from me.
Disclaimer:
Gene Roddenberry’s Earth: Final Conflict is copyright 1998, Tribune
Entertainment Co. Its characters are used without permission, no infringement
is intended.
Rating:
PG
Title:
Kyrie
Author:
Lyta
Lyta_1028@yahoo.com
Summary:
Ronald and Dee Dee Sandoval’s lives are forever altered by his implantation.
"Kyrie"
Dee Dee Sandoval smiled as she
walked into her living room to find not only her husband home early but dinner
already in the process of being prepared. Ron was not the most versatile cook,
but he could and did prepare a limited number of dishes exceedingly well. One
of those was spaghetti, which Dee Dee could see simmering on the stove.
"Hi honey," Ron said with
a smile. "How was your day?"
"Fine," Dee Dee answered
keeping it brief. She knew if he pressed her she'd fold like a house of cards
and her big surprise would be lost. "Need any help?"
"I'd appreciate it if you could
pass me the strainer thing."
Dee Dee chuckled. Ron could never
recall the names of cooking utensils and had developed his own unique kitchen
vocabulary that she had by necessity learned. She put her purse down on the
counter and rummaged around in the cabinet until she found the required item
and handed it over to her husband.
"Thanks." Ron put it in
the sink and dumped the noodles in before dousing them with water for a minute
before allowing the water to drain. "Who knows, huh. This CVI thing is
supposed to help improve my recall. Maybe I'll remember the difference between
a teaspoon and a tablespoon someday."
"We can only hope." Dee
Dee said, then she looked up and frowned at the open spice cabinet. "Maybe
it will also help you remember to close cabinet doors."
Ron shut the door and turned to face
his wife. "Are you sure that you are all right with this CVI thing? If you
have reservations let me know and I won't go through with the implantation. The
bureau has already told me they won't hold it against me if I decide not to do
it."
Dee Dee took a deep breath. "To
be perfectly honest, I am worried, but I've been a lot more worried by the
things the FBI has asked you to do that don't involve cyber implants or
Taelons."
***
Ronald Sandoval took a deep breathe
to calm himself as the whirling sound of the machines signaled the beginning of
the implantation process. Maybe it was nervousness or the idea of the probe
which was far too needle-like for his preference, but he was anxious for this
to be over and done with. Dr. Belman had explained the procedure to him in
detail, but Ron could not help but wish he was going in blind. Exactly what and
where that CVI would be made him queasy.
He could just barely see the edge of
the probe as it neared him, he tried not to look at it but strapped down as he
was to the implantation table it was not as though he had a great many options.
Then he noticed Da'an observing the proceedings with interest from behind an
observation window. No matter how many times he saw the Taelon, Ron still could
hardly believe he was real. Maybe it was due to his long held belief in aliens
finally being proven and he was afraid he'd make up to find it was all a dream
and Dee Dee looking at him sleepily wondering if he was under too much stress.
Then he felt the probe make contact
with and pierce his skin.
It came as a shock to him, such a
strange sensation that he was too startled to do anything more than gasp
slightly. Belman checked the readings of the equipment, and his vital signs,
before indicating that the procedure was a success to Da'an. Ron neither saw
nor heard the exchange, he was too focused on an odd feeling blanketing his
mind, then everything mercifully went black.
***
Dee Dee was awakened by the sound of
a car pulling into the driveway. She glanced at the clock, 3:23 am, and threw
on a robe before walking over to the window. Below her she could see Ron
approaching the house.
He had not called as he had promised
to let her know if everything had gone well and when she called him he seemed
irritated. Dee Dee tried not to read too much into it, for all she knew he had
a headache and Ron turned into a veritable grizzly bear when he had a headache.
Still there had been something
incredibly foreign and chilling about the look he gave her.
Shrugging off those last thoughts,
Dee Dee went downstairs. Ron was hanging up his coat in the hall closet and
seemed not to have heard her approach.
"How was your
implantation?" She asked.
"It went well." Ron said
flatly. "Da'an was very pleased with my response to the CVI."
"I'm sure he was," Dee Dee
said annoyed. " You promised to call me after it was over, I got worried
after a few hours and decided to call you. Even then you brushed me off, are
you feeling all right?"
"I have never been better. I
simply did not have the time to waste on your questions when there is much
important work to do for the Companions." Ron told her if he was
reprimanding a child. Then he brushed past her and went up the stairs, the
sound of his steps echoing in the darkness.
Stunned, Dee Dee stood in the
hallway for several minutes. The doubts and suspicions of earlier seemed to
have been confirmed, but a large part of Dee Dee refused to believe them. She
went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring longingly at the wine
coolers, before removing a jug of orange juice and pouring herself a large
glass. She settled herself on the couch in the living room and flipped on the
television.
She knew that she would not be able
to sleep tonight.
***
A week had passed since her
husband’s implantation and she had given up most of her hopes that he would
come home and be the Ron Sandoval that she had married. Instead he was an icy
eyed man who looked at her with disapproval etched across his face when he
deigned to look at her at all. Dee Dee pulled on a pair of stained old
gardening gloves and walked into the backyard. It was a lovely late spring
evening and it bolstered her spirits just looking at the garden, her pride and
joy. She could see the driveway through the fence and frowned momentarily at
the sight of the lone car parked there.
It seemed so surreal that she would ever find herself thankful that he
seldom bothered to come home these days, preferring to stay at the embassy and
work.
“Damn the Taelons.” Dee Dee whispered, it felt good
to say the words aloud as though they were a release of a kind. She knelt
beside the herb garden and ruthlessly pulled out the weeds, tossing them into a
black plastic garbage bag. Before the Taelons, Ron usually was home in time for
dinner, though it was true they ate later than most people. They would talk
about their days and plan for the future over the meal or while cleaning up
afterwards. They had such plans…
Dee Dee felt a tiny wave of nausea come over her
hand leaned against the fence for a moment until it passed. She internally
cursed the Taelons, the Ron she had married would have been so thrilled and
excited when she told him her news, but she had wanted to wait until after the
implantation.
She was pruning the roses and still
trying to clean her mind an hour later, when he came home unexpectedly on time.
She heard his approach and knew with just a glance that he seemed troubled, the
first outward sign of emotion other than disdain and contempt he had shown her
in seven days. Her first impulse was to comfort him, but something about his
manner made her wary.
“Good evening Dee Dee.” Ron said, he
took a deep breath and fingered the petals of the nearest rosebush as though
lost in a memory. Then he shrugged it off and met her gaze.
“I still love you.” Those were the
words Dee Dee had wanted to her, but his tone was unusual, as if he hated
himself for feeling that way about his wife.
Then he turned and gestured, two men
came toward her dressed in white coats. Dee Dee blinked in surprise. This
seemed like something out of a movie. She struggled against them belatedly and
felt a prick on her upper arm.
“No!” She cried out as she went
limp, one hand moving to her stomach.
“It’s really better this way.” Ron
said almost casually. “It really is.”
***
Sandoval was carefully detailing a
list of security protocols for an upcoming event that Da’an had decided to
attend when his global began chirping. He pulled it out and opened it,
surprised to see Dr. Hernandez from the Vandewater Institute. He had left
specific instructions not to be contacted except in case of an emergency.
“Dr. Hernandez?”
“Agent Sandoval, there has been an
unforeseen circumstance concerning your wife.”
Sandoval frowned deeply. Part of him
felt fear gnawing away that something, anything permanent could have happened
to Dee Dee. That part of him prayed she was all right. The part of him under
the control of the motivational imperative was annoyed by the intrusion. After all,
he had put Dee Dee in that institution so he could focus for fully on his duty
to the Taelons.
“What sort of ‘unforeseen
circumstance’?”
“She was pregnant.”
That hit Sandoval like a ton of
bricks. Even his CVI could not quell his initial horror at the doctor’s use of
‘was pregnant’. “What happened, is she all right?”
“Physically she will recover,
psychologically however…” The doctor shook her head. “Only time will tell.”
“Was there something wrong with the
baby?”
“No, but we were unaware that she
was pregnant and the medications used on her have some unfortunate side effects
in pregnant women.”
Sandoval winced. Da’an would not be
pleased by this, the Taelons valued new life above all else and he ached to
have been even an unwitting participant in the death of an unborn child.
“If we had known that she was
pregnant this would not have happened.”
“Thank you doctor, keep me
informed.”
***
Dee Dee lay on her bed staring at
the ceiling tiles. The one directly above her had a faint brown stain in the
upper right corner and 123 little black dots. The one to the left of it had a
crack and 128 dots.
Everything seemed a blur from the
moment Ron had unexpectedly shown up in the garden, except for the moment when
she realized that she was going to loose her baby. She remembering bending over
with a sharp pain and people asking questions. They demanded to know why she
had not told them she was pregnant. Dee Dee almost wanted to laugh, when had
they given her the time? She had been sedated and dragged away and woken up
here all without anyone asking her anything.
She did not care anymore now. Her baby was dead now.
The child she and her husband had longed for, planned for and created of love,
the last gift from Ron before he was snatched away from her by the Taelons. Oh,
there was a man who had his memories, his voice, his body, even his mannerisms
and quirks, but he was not Ron. He was Agent Sandoval. Her baby and her
husband, sometimes she almost blessed the forgetfulness the drugs brought and
cursed the brief clarity before someone came in with a syringe.
Almost.
They killed her baby and she wanted
to never forget, to hate them and the Taelons for it.
One of the nurses had told there
that they had called her husband and Dee Dee curled up into a ball and cried.
After a while someone came in and spoke to her in a soothing voice, but she did
not care. Eventually she cried herself to sleep. She guessed they changed
whatever drug they had her on because after that night she felt dead, no joy or
sorrow just days of vacantly passing time.
Agent Sandoval sent her some
flowers, yellow roses, but she paid them no notice. It made her remember when
the only way she could get through the days was to allow the drugs to numb
everything. She blinked and resumed her inspection of the ceiling.
On the tile next to the one with the
crack were 134 black dots.
***
Sandoval lay back and stared at the
featureless ceiling, his CVI mercilessly dragging forth memories that a small,
guilty, part of him wanted to forget. At the time it had seemed correct to
commit Dee Dee, now it sickened him that he could have done something like that
to the woman he loved.
A first degree relative, a parent or
a child…
Maybe this was justice, for the
death of the baby he and Dee Dee should have had. Justice for the guilt he had
felt at learning the news was not for locking his wife in an institution but
for having caused a death that Da’an would not have approved of. At the time
all he had cared about were the Taelons in general and Da’an in particular,
everything else took a distant second.
Everything else, including his
family, friends and most especially Dee Dee.
Now Dee Dee too was dead thanks to
William Boone, another casualty of his decision to join with the Taelons. He
wanted to destroy them for how they had betrayed him. He wanted them to suffer
as they had made him, Dee Dee and countless others suffer.
Sandoval found it difficult to truly
hate William Boone. Had not he himself arranged the murder of Kaitlyn Barrett
Boone? The red headed implant was likewise dead now by Taelon hands, though in
his case Zo’or had not bothered to use a proxy. In his nightmares he still saw
Zo’or’s expression as he stared into the empty blue tank that only moments
before had contained Da’an’s protector. It was at that moment that the last
vestiges of his motivational imperative crumbled and he felt a searing hatred
for the Taelons.
Ever since the day his motivational
imperative failed the baby he and Dee Dee should have had haunted his dreams.
His CVI brought back every little hint of Dee Dee’s condition and he cursed
himself for his blindness. He had been too concerned about his upcoming
implantation, and Dee Dee had obviously wanted to wait until it was over and
done with before telling him that they were going to be parents.
A voice in his head mocked him, told
him that his illness was justice for the deaths of Dee Dee, the baby, Kate
Boone and all the others whose blood stained his hands.
Maybe it was
He fell asleep, more exhausted than
he’d ever been. Someone else would have to carry on the fight against the
Taelons. Maybe he would be granted the opportunity to see Dee Dee and their
baby again, but he doubted he deserved such a boone.
***
The church was quiet, only the sound
of her high heeled shoes clicking softly against the marble tiled floor broke
the pregnant silence. She made a quick survey of the area, her eyes drifting
towards the hallway that led to the Resistance Headquarters for a fraction of a
second, but she saw no one else. Then again Dee Dee had not expected to find
many people in St. Michael’s Church at half past eleven at night.
Dee Dee seated herself in a back pew
where the shadows would envelope her and mask her features. She was taking an
enormous risk in coming here, but she had felt drawn to Washington. It had been
several days since she had last seen Ron on the news and Zo’or had canceled all
his appointments for an unspecified reason. Dee Dee immediately knew something
was terribly wrong when she noticed it was Major Kincaid who made the statement
to the press, brushing off the expected questions from reporters. Ron was
always the one who delivered such statements; something had to have happened to
him.
If someone had asked her how she
would respond if Ron came back into her life after she lost their baby, she
would have responded with a conditional answer. Ron Sandoval she would welcome,
Agent Sandoval she would spurn. Her memories of Ron taking her from the
institution were hazy, another casualty of the drugs, but nothing could ever
dull the memory of his reimplantation. It had felt as though she had lost him
all over again.
And yet, there seemed to be more
expression in his eyes after the reimplantation. It was hard to tell from video
clips played or the news or printed photos, but she detected a definite
something there. It was a struggle not to contact him. Time had done nothing to
close her wound, how could it when the source of her hope and her pain was such
a public figure?
She looked up at the magnificent
stained glass windows with their jewel-toned panes that depicted scenes from
the Bible. Her father had been a Lutheran minister and thus skipping church or
Sunday school was not an option available to her unless she was ill. A smile
flitted across her lips as she recalled the old saying about preacher’s
children: they were either obedient or impertinent. Dee Dee considered herself
somewhere in between.
She prayed as she had not prayed in years that God
would protect her husband. Her lips moved silently in the familiar words of the
Lord’s Prayer. Then she heard the door to the church open and close behind her
and immediately tensed. Dee Dee scooted further into the shadows and ducked her
head, her hands folded in her lap as if in prayer. The other person’s footsteps
continued in the same rhythm, without any hint of pause or hesitation. As they
passed by her and went further into the main pain of the sanctuary, Dee Dee
finally saw who it was and blanched.
The newcomer was a young man with dark hair that Dee
Dee immediately recognized from the news as Da’an’s protector, Major Liam
Kincaid. It was unlikely that he had ever so much as seen a picture of her, but
Dee Dee felt a stab of fear and retreated from the pew and up a nearby set of
stairs that led onto the balcony where the choir was seated on Sunday mornings.
.Dee Dee knew she should leave, it was dangerous to remain, but there was
something about the Major’s posture that was alarmingly like how Ron moved when
he was under a great deal of stress. She shook her head, her worries were
coloring her observations.
Kincaid stared at the section of the
floor for several minutes, obviously deep in thought. Dee Dee could not help
but notice that he held his right arm in an odd manner as though it were sore.
Finally he went to light several candles before departing as he had entered.
Dee Dee walked over to where the
Major had been and pulled a long match out of the small box and struck it. Then
she lit three candles: one of Ron, one for their baby and one for herself. She
silently prayed that Ron would be all right. He might not be there to call her
cooking utensils by his unique names for them, ask her about her day, or hold
close in the night but at least he would be alive.
She walked out of the church and
into the cool night, echoes of church services from her past running through
her mind. The familiar scent of burning candles, parents trying to hush young
children, the sound of the church organ playing the kyrie.
“Lord have mercy…”
FIN